#though that fight was LONG. i swear when the dragon finally dropped i was so locked in i was like. it's staggered?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shushposting · 7 months ago

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I can be your Prince or I can be your Dragon

Possessive Full Demon Form Vox, intersex Val, toxic relationships because Vox and Val being Vox and Val, they’re so codependent it's disgusting can you have make up sex and hate sex at the same time? Yeah kind of.

Valentino stays gone too long after a fight, Vox doesn’t handle it well

It’s a dance at this point, well practiced and predictable. They fight, they break apart, they fuck, and the broken pieces fit back together. It didn’t matter how many times they stormed out they always always came back.

But even the most practiced dances stumble sometimes, right?

Valentino had walked out of the Vees tower two weeks ago. The longest he's ever stayed away in all their years of euphoric highs and sickening lows. Any attempt Vox made to contact him was ignored. Texts left on read, calls dumped to Vmail, assistants baring messages and gifts shot and left wherever they crumpled. That was the first week and by the tenth day, the texts and calls stopped.

After that, it got more drastic. TVs in the hotels he stayed or in window displays where Valentino walked on the streets burst. Voxtek appliances shorted and sparked or just combusted once he touched them. Lights shattered in his clubs, showering him with sparks and colored glass.

The moth’s last frayed nerve snapped when the next casualty was his phone. He'd only glanced at a text from Velvette that he needed to haul ass back home before every contact and app changed to Vox's speed dial.

Vox vox voxxy V̸̨̊o̶̺͛ ̴̀ͅxv̴̎͜o̸̰̐x̵̢̚x̶̡̒v̴̙̕oVox ̷̬́x̸̪̊ẍ̵͎v̷̱̍ȏ̶̧x̶̄͜Y̴̞̚v̸̟̓Ǒ̸͎X̴̞̍V̸̄͜ö̸̟́X̴̫̀vXY̸͌ͅo̵͖̓Ơ̶̯0̴̡͂0̸͕͘x̶̉͜

The thing rapidly heated and glitched in his hand until the screen cracked. He'd just barely managed to throw it down before it shattered apart with a sharp pop!

Under threat of being sent back to the goddamn stone age Valentino finally relents, he tells Dia to call his car for him and thankfully she's able to do it with minimal static and sparking around the phone. The car was suspiciously close, too close for it to not have been waiting on standby for him. It's not his usual driver who opens the door for him, it's Vox's and he's not asked where it is he wants to go. He swears he sees Vox's eye staring at him in the driver's V-Watch through the partition the whole way back to the tower.

The walk to the media overlord's surveillance room is.. honestly a shitshow. Vox's area of the tower was always pristine, sleek, and perfect. Now it looks like a war zone, with pieces of employees and debris scattered along the floor. Lights hang from their fixtures in ugly wirey tangles, ceiling tiles broken on the floor, elevator doors stand jarred between floors, doors not able to close properly and ding obnoxiously. One shudders to life and opens for him, the light overhead indicating the destination was Vox's lair.

It's not a smooth ride but it doesn't drop him to a temporary death either. Small mercies. It does leave him though, the second he steps into Vox's private space the thing slams shut behind him and groans back up the chute, stranding him.

Wires and cables writhe like snakes along the floor, the ceiling, and walls; all feeding back to the bank of monitors. Vox's highbacked chair was in a gnarled heap, torn from where it had been fastened to the floor, more wires coming up from the hole it had left. The TV demon himself hung in front of the screens, the cables connected to his body holding him aloft like a puppet. Or maybe he was just standing. It was hard to tell with Vox's disjointed limbs, too-long cables and wires lengthening his joints like some grotesque doll. And he said Val was theatric.

Valentino's own reflection looks out from the screens. Recordings and still shots of him over the last two weeks cover every monitor. In his clubs, hotels, the street, looking up at him from his phone before the damn thing detonated. Right in front, the one Vox was fixated on, was the live feed of him standing there in the here and now.

"And you get mad at me for wrecking shit?" Val says to his partner's back- might as well get this shit started "I take a siesta and you trash the whole tower while I'm out."

"G⦻N3" The glitched snarl seemingly comes from everywhere as the screens go red, Vox's black-ringed hypnotic stare broadcast across each one, glaring down at him "Not 'out'. You were gone."

A sneer pulls Valentino's upper lip off his teeth "Oh excuse me, I didn't know I had a fucking curfew."

"Two weeks" In a surging wave of sparking cables Vox is in his face, bodily slamming him against the wall.

"Ow- Goddammit, Vox-"

"You left me." Vox's claws fist into the ruff around his partner's neck as wires wrap painfully around him, sparks of electricity singing the fur. "For two weeks. You. Left. Me."

"Oh poor fucking baby," Valentino growls through a mocking grin, sucking in the electrical smoke and hissing it back out red and thick, cocooning around them as his body threatens to change, to grow monstrous in the face of Vox's own more demonic form even if it makes the wires cut into his skin.

They snarl and growl in static glitches and insectoid chirps, pushing and pulling at each other with too-sharp claws. Val's teeth grow in his mouth, snapping loud in front of Vox's screen when the hypnotic stare tries too obviously to catch his eye.

"You want to bite me? Here-" Vox's throat is suddenly right in his face, synthetic skin pressing against sharp dripping fangs. The hold feels suspiciously like a hug, cradling the back of Valentino's head as he tucks him into the crook of his neck, offering to let him bite and rip. "-bite. I don't give a fuck if we're fighting. Scream. Cuss me out. Hit me. Level this goddamn tower to a parking lot, Valentino I. Don't. Care. But you will fucking come home when I call you."

And fuck if that horrible- pathetic- declaration doesn't have Valentino's hips rolling up against Vox's leg where it pins him between his legs and takes the invitation to break skin under his teeth. "You miss me that bad, Papi?"

Vox's groan is miserable and angry, the cables writhing and tightening around Valentino's limbs, but he grinds his own aggression-hardened cock down to meet his partner's rolling. "You're not supposed to stay gone."

Electricity crawls across his skin as he lets go of Valentino's neck fluff to forcefully lace their hands together. The moth retaliates against the shocks by moving to the TV demon's shoulder and sinking his teeth in there too. Their hips slot together, rocking their cocks against each other, Valentino's pink-tinged slick dampening the panties under his short dress and the front of Vox's slacks. Finally back in step with their dance.

"We have a goddamn deal, Val." The surging electricity burns them both, smoke wafting off Valentino's fur and from Vox's overloaded processors. Burns down their arms, raising lighting-shaped marks to their joined hands where rings manifest around their fingers, the delicate chain joining them unseen between their clasped palms. "We don't leave each other. You don't leave me."

Valentino laughs bratty and condescending, breathing more red into the air around them, "Maybe if you reminded me more often why I shouldn't then I wouldn't have to take a two-week vacation fucking and getting fucked like I deserve. You've not really been acting like my prince have you? I thought I was supposed to be your Princesa?"

The eyes watching him from all over the room spark and glare and threaten to drip digital tears. His poor, hopeless little Voxxy. His ingrained 1950s ego was too fragile to even insinuate he wasn't doing enough, wasn't The Man, wasn't the steadfast and proper provider. That he was failing as a lover. Vox's screen flashes lines of rainbow before going blue, white text typing out frantically

Mine. Mine minemiN3youucaN'+1eavemme3y0u're MmineCaNT13avemem1n3on1ymine

Vox tears through his fishnets and raises bloody lines on his thigh as he pulls Valentino's leg up to hook over his hip. The cables tighten and yank sharply, taking them down to the floor. He's not easy either when he goes up under the tight little skirt, blindly slitting the soaked panties straight down the middle, not minding whether or not he nicks his partner. The grinding, insectoid hiss tells him he must have and the thick cherry scent of Valentino's pheromones flooding the air tells him he liked it.

Finally, some attention. The moth rolls his hips against the sharp points making them slide and rub over his cunt, teasing himself as an obscene gush of candy pink slick coats the media overlord’s fingers and drips down his wrist. "Come on, Papi. I'm yours? Show me."

Vox's digital face loads back in sharp and snarling, bringing the fingers to his mouth, licking his fingers clean before grabbing Valentino by the jaw and spitting it back into his panting mouth "You taste like a whore, Princess."

He snaps his belt at the buckle, not bothering to try and undo it before tearing his zipper down. He doesn't tease or let his tip kiss up sweet and slow like he has for decades when they come back together and he's winning his princess back. The push is sharp and faster than either of them are ready for, fucking like they fought, full of snapping teeth and cutting claws. The media overlord is ruthless, thrusting hard enough that they slide across the floor. Valentino tears a bloody wrist out of the wires to press above them to keep his head from knocking against the wall, stilettos slipping loudly as he digs his heels into the polished floor trying to give just as good as he got.

"I'm going to kill every worthless nobody you let touch you." His voice crackles over the wet sound of driving himself into the moth's cunt, "Your pussy is mine. I don't give a fuck who you let suck you off or how many whores you stick your dick in. But this-" Two fingers slip in beside his cock, "is mine. Nobody else fucks you. I'm going to start hanging them flayed in the streets, do you understand me?"

Long tongue swiping at the drool and blood painting his lips Valentino arches up with a chuckling moan, gushing and dripping around Vox's cock. "Mmhm, medieval. My Prince knows how to make my heart flutter."

"Maybe I'm done being a prince." Vox leans all his weight into the hand laced with Valentino's with a static rumble, hilting hard until he can see the outline of himself through Valentino's belly with each deep stroke, "Maybe I need to be a dragon and keep my princess in his tower where he belongs. Keep you tied up in silks and jewelry until I get home and I can show you you're mine over and over and over. How many times do you think I would have to write 'mine' with my tongue inside you before you came?"

"Oh fuck- Vox"

"If that doesn't work I'm sure I can make a lock strong enough. Whatever it takes. What about this Val? Would this keep you?” There’s a whirr and a vibration pulses from his cock.

Valentino wails, hand leaving the wall and flying to the vibrating bump buried in his guts, feeling like it was jarring down to his bones and he gushes. “Vox Vo- Papi, please fuck”

“Say you’re mine, Val.” Vox growls, hips snapping faster, the hand tucked in beside his cock slipping out to hold him by the neck. “Tell me you know you’re mine.”

“Yours, Vox. Ah-always yours- only yours”

He pulls Valentino into a kiss by the throat, and they rut like that, rocking and shouting around each other’s tongue until the vibrations pushed them over the cathartic edge of orgasm.

The cables don’t loosen. Vox’s body doesn’t return to form.

“Val.” Static laced lips rub softly across the moth’s “If you ever leave me like that again I’m dragging you back to this tower and I’m chaining you to it.”

Valentino only laughs, long tongue dragging across the screen. “Wear the dragon attachment and it’s a date.”

#staticmoth #voxval #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #yall hungry? I'm hungry #the dragon thing has been knocking around in my head and I had to get it out #quick little dibble dabble drabble #they’re horrible #but oh so fun #dibble dabble drabble

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damn-stark · 2 years ago

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Chapter 16 LONG LIVE THE QUEEN

Chapter 16 of Sandstorm

A/N- Two more chapters before the big finale!!

Warning- Swearing, death, violence, blood, fluff, long chapter, and there’s changes that depart from the show!

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“…that was the story of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, my favorite story when I was a little girl. Albeit…my father, your grandfather, would tell it a whole lot better.” Your voice quietly fills the room Jon walks into.

Today was the day you parted from Dorne to march towards Kings Landing for one last time, for the big fight, the last battle. Neither of you knew if either of you were going to make it, you kept hoping you would, but anything can happen. And because your fate is unclear you haven’t wanted to leave the twins' side all day today. Jon didn’t either, he was happy now with his family, with his children only a few weeks old, with you.

This is where you belonged, here with them, and now you’re leaving. This is all you ever wanted and you’re leaving again.

But it has to be done for…Rhaenar, for their own safety; they’ll always be a threat to her now that the Lords allied with you have turned a blind eye about Jons true parentage. It’s not hard to guess why; he’s a man, the last Tagaryen male with a dragon, he’s valuable to them. He’s their true King.

They can think whatever though, fuck them, you’ll still be the one on that throne at the end of the day.

“Y/N,” Jon makes himself known, albeit you don’t look back at him, you keep admiring Rhaenyra and Robb falling asleep in your arms. “It’s time to go love.”

You begin rocking your body gently to make them fall asleep faster, ignoring Jon’s approaching footsteps.

“They’re falling asleep,” you whisper. “I just fed them.”

Jon’s hand presses on your back and slowly slides it around your shoulders as he crouches down by you to admire the twins as well. One last time before you left.

“I think they know we’re leaving,” you mention and look at him with a smile. “They’ve barely slept all day today.”

Jon hums and reaches out to caress Robb’s chunky cheek. “We’ll see them again,” he assures you so it can make your departure easier. “I promise.” He then slides his hand up to cup your cheek and tilts your head to the side so you can meet his gaze. “They’re waiting, come on. Before it gets harder.”

You draw in a deep breath and look down at them again, they weren’t in deep sleep, but their eyes are closed now, and Jon is right. So you get up and approach the wooden cradle that has your new family sigil carefully carved on the wood; the three headed dragon wrapped around the sun with a spear stabbed through it. They share it for now since they’re still not used to being apart from each other. You tried to sleep them in different ones but they cried all night until you figured out the solution.

“Here,” Jon whispers and picks up the dragon eggs off their warming chamber and places the sapphire blue colored egg to the right where you put Rhaenyra down, and he then places the silver colored egg on the left side where you place Robb.

Before you pull away from them you caress their cheeks one more time before you lean in and press a soft kiss on their heads. “I love you my babies,” you whisper in a quivering voice before you force yourself away from them.

Jon then proceeds to lean in and press a gentle kiss on their heads before he digs in his pocket and pulls out a small pouch. You watch him carefully and notice him pull out thin silver necklaces with a pendant that has a direwolf engraved on it.

“It’s made of Valyrian steel,” he whispers and clasps it around their necks. “A gift…for just in case.”

You drop your head and wipe away the tears that he made break from your eyes.

“We’ll be back,” he whispers to the sleeping twins. “Before you know it.”

You clutch onto your chest and turn away so you wouldn’t sob there. Jon then approaches you and grabs your shoulder to turn you to face him. “Are you ready?” He asks.

You glance down at your silver armor protecting your chest, and catch the red rubies that are in the shape of your new house sigil shine against the candle's light, and then look at him and nod. “I am. You?”

Jon glances behind you and hesitates before he nods. “I am. It’s just…hard, you know? I don’t want to leave our children without their parents, I want to be there for them.”

You wrap your hand around his and use your other hand to cup his cheek. “And you will. I promise you you will.”

Jon smiles softly at you before he presses his forehead against yours. “We’ll both come back to them. I swear. War won’t be what breaks us apart.”

You muster a soft smile and close your eyes. “Promise me you won’t leave me alone in this world.”

“I won’t,” Jon whispers before he pulls you in for a deep, lingering kiss. You melt into it, you pull him closer as much as he can be against you, and feel tears roll down your cheeks. When you pull away he wipes the tears off your cheeks and flashes you smile. “I love you,” he says. “From this day until the end of my days.”

“I love you too,” you say back without hesitation. “From this day until the end of my days.”

Jon’s smile widens and he lets his hands linger on your cheeks for a moment until a knock raps on your door.

You hesitate to address the visitor, but you can’t stay here and delay this final battle.

“Come in,” you break your silence as you pull away from Jon.

Sarella then walks in with a sheathed spear and other sheathed weapons. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I just wanted to let you know that your blades are coated and prepared.”

You offer her a stiff nod and walk to her under the doorframe. “Good, thank you Sarella.” You whisper while you grab your weapons from her and tie the sheaths on you. “Take good care of them all right?”

Sarella grabs your hands and offers you an assuring nod. “Of course I will, as if they were my own. You have nothing to worry about.”

You sigh. “If anything happens the three Queensguard I left behind will take them back North with Lady Sansa,” you let her know. “Accompany them the way there.”

Sarella nods and then wraps her arms around your neck, catching you by surprise. Albeit you don’t wait to hug her back.

“Kill all those bastards.” She says by your ear.

You smirk and nod before you pull away and assure her. “I will.”

Sarella shoots you one last smirk before you leave the room with Jon by your side.

“I need to make something known,” you break your silence. “When we face Gendry, I need you to swear to me you won’t stop me from killing him.” You look over at him and see his eyebrows begin to furrow with discontent. “Arya nor Ser Davos can either. I know how much you all care for him, but if I let him live, the life of our kids, my own life and yours will always be in danger because they’d want him sat on that throne. And they’d do anything to make it happen.”

Jon sighs before he meets your gaze without judgment, he’s expressing sincerity and determination. “I swear,” he assures you.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

The dream is still recurring, that same dream of those two cradles in the destroyed throne room of King's Landing. The sigils carved on the wood are still clear in your head, your new sigil on one, and the old Targaryen sigil; Daenerys sigil, on the other cradle. You still can’t see what’s inside the cradle even if the cries of babies echo in the hall.

Albeit now there’s no fire that starts around you, there’s no blunt ending to it, there’s no need for more. It ends just as you see inside and you know you’re happy and satisfied.

Yet how can you feel satisfied when you can’t find the meaning and it haunts you everytime you sleep?

Does it mean you’ll win this war?

That you’ll live and get to see Rhaenyra and Robb again? Hopefully that’s the meaning, you’d be happy if that’s what it means.

Regardless, that dream has nothing to do with right now. Right now you have to worry about winning this battle and sitting on that throne. Right now, you cut your palms and watch the blood drip from them to then wipe that blood down your face to remind you of your reasons why you fight, why you’re risking your life and that of the others. For Rhaenar. For justice. Vengeance. For fire and blood.

Your uncle Doran said not to let vengeance cloud your judgment, Jon said not to let anger cloud your judgment. But what they don’t know is that anger and vengeance has finally cleared your mind. Because of it you finally see the goal you were blinded to before, that that throne belongs to you.

“Your Grace,” Ser Brienne’s voice filters in through your tent.

You pull away from the mirror and wipe away the tear that had broken out before you bandage your cuts, and address the loyal knight. “Yes, come in.”

The flaps get pushed aside and Ser Brienne's tall figure casts over you. “Prince Gendry Baratheon is approaching, he wants to talk to you.”

You lift your gaze to meet hers and smirk. “He’s eager,” you comment and push yourself off the chair to follow her out.

Ser Lana hands you your spear as she and Ser Rayne, Ser Alys, Ser Brienne, and Sansa follow you out.

“Still nothing from the Westerlands?” You ask Sansa as you sheath your spear.

Sansa shakes her head. “No. But you know how they are, they’re waiting for the moment either side is winning. As long as they don’t attack us they’re nothing to worry about.”

You nod softly in agreement and turn your head completely to the aide to look at her as you ask your next question. “What of Prince Mors and the fleet?”

Sansa slowly meets your gaze, knowing your teasing insinuation behind your question. “He’s started his battle against the Iron Islands fleet, and that of the Second Sons. He’s…alive. He’s fighting well…so I’ve been told.”

You smirk and look ahead again. “Once this is done I’ll fling you two together and lock you in a closet.” You snicker. “Or I’ll demand something to happen. I will be Queen after all.” You steal a glance at Sansa, and see her smirk at the ground before she looks at you with a serious glare.

“Focus,” she deadpans. Albeit you see her hidden smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” you drop the subject. “Now, take care of yourself Sansa, I’ll see you once it’s all done.” You throw her a wave and don’t take a moment to give her one last hug in case this is your last moment, you can’t face her and say goodbye, you’ll falter and want to leave this battle with her.

“Wait!” She forces you to stop regardless.

You slowly turn around and only see a glimpse of her before she closes the small gap between the two of you with an embrace.

“Be careful out there,” she whispers. “Okay?”

You hug her back gently and nod, “okay,” you whisper. “And please if anything happens to Jon and I, take care of them okay?”

Sansa nods. “I will, but I know you’ll both make it out. I know it.” She assures you.

You pull back quickly so you wouldn't follow her out of battle. “I’ll see you.” You throw out before you turn and walk away.

Once you get past the army line, when you reach the top of the hill just a few clicks away from Kings Landing's gate you see Gendry approaching with an army of Dothraki men behind him.

“Has there been sighting of Drogon?” You ask Ser Alys.

“No, but our scouts say they saw him flying away last night.” Said knight informs you whilst you come to a stop

You then hum and raise your chin to glance at the Red Keep, hoping you’d see Daenerys overlooking the army that surrounds her city, but there’s no one on any balcony.

What if she left? She’d have to care more about her unborn baby now, she wouldn't risk her life here.

“Queen Y/N Targaryen,” Gendry greets with the right title surprisingly enough. “It’s unfortunate that we meet under these circumstances.” He searches the group of woman for Jon you assume, but he’s not amongst them or behind you.

"Where's Jon?” Gendry asks and meets your gaze. “I wish to speak to him.”

You scoff. “You’ll see where he is soon enough,” you counter with a smirk since you don’t want to give away that he's going to attack from behind the castle with Rhaegal to get rid of the army that resides within the walls. You want Gendry to be surprised.

“What do you want?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Peace,” Gendry blurts and takes a step forward, making your knights take a step forward to protect you. “You don’t have to do this, we don’t have to fight. It’s useless. Daenerys is willing to negotiate peace”

You narrow your gaze and suck in your cheeks before you spit at the ground before him. “Fuck her peace. This war means everything to me,” you snap back. “I was willing to give her peace and do you know what she did?” You scoff and shake your head as tears fill your eyes.

“She killed my son. My boy! He was only ten years old, he didn’t do anything, he wasn’t at fault because I fell in love with Jon and made his kids, he was innocent and she killed him!” You cry out. “That may not mean much to you, nor will you ever feel that kind of pain or love for your own kid, but it meant everything to me. He had a whole life ahead of him, he had dreams, he had goals!” You exhale shakily and let your tears stream down to mix with the blood on your face. “He wanted to fly on his own dragon, he wanted to meet his brother and sister, and now it’s all gone like he is. So no, Gendry I won’t accept her peace, we won’t stand down,” you grimace and take a step forward. “We’ll fight, we’ll give our hearts, and I’ll kill you and end the Baratheon line once and for all.” You raise your chin with pride and see him swallow thickly.

You then step back and discreetly reach for one of your daggers rather than raising your spear to give your army the signal that battle has started.

“Tell me where Daenerys is Gendry,” you add and slowly begin to pull out your dagger.

Said man lifts his own chin and remains quiet, making you snicker to stall for Jon to make his move and for you to be able to pull out your dagger. “You know it’s said that your father,” you point at him. “Wore a helmet just like that,” you point up to his silver helmet over his head that has golden stag antlers at the sides. “When he fought my own father. Will you prove to be as legendary of a fighter as your father was? Or will the dragon get its revenge?”

Gendry shrugs. “We’ll see won’t we?” He says a bit smugly, making you smirk in amusement.

Albeit now you do have your dagger in your hand, you can throw it at him now, but you wait. He turns to head back down, but you wait for a second, and a second longer until finally there’s a big boom and battle cries fill the air before debris raides in the air, and there in the distance is the sound of Rhaegal’s booming roar.

Jon broke through the wall! He made the first move, now it’s you. So while Gendry freezes and hears the battle play out in the distance you hurl your dagger at him, intentionally letting the poisoned coated blade just cut his cheek as it flies past him.

He quickly turns in disbelief and touches his cheek to feel the blood that begins to spill out.

You shoot him a mischievous smirk and reach for your spear now. “I drew first blood. Your turn,” you grumble and then snatch your spear from your sheath before you throw your arm in the air to give the signal.

Battle horns then break the silence behind you before thousands of hooves hit the ground like thunder breaking in the sky. Gendry begins to back up, and as he does Eraxis reveals herself to the enemy armies as she comes shooting down from the sky.

Gendry's eyes widen whilst behind him the Dothraki let out battle cries of their own before their horses come sprinting forward, responding back to your own battle call.

However as it all begins to unravel, Gendry doesn’t move, nor does anyone move him or protect him, he lets the warriors behind him begin to run towards your army filled with men and women from the Reach, the North, Dorne, The Vale and The Riverlands. You on the other hand shoot him a malicious smirk as you lower your spear and point the blade at him.

“It’s okay,” you tell your women Knights. “I got him.”

The women hesitantly disperse as the armies meet halfway and start fighting, all while Gendry still doesn’t try to move.

“I won’t fight you,” he says.

You slowly lower your spear and flip it around in your hand as you narrow your gaze on him. “Greyworm didn’t want to fight me either. I still killed him, so choose, die like a warrior or die a coward.”

Before he can answer, nevertheless you charge at him. He catches your action and swings his huge hammer, but you quickly snap your body back and slide down, letting your blade slice the side of his leg as you move past him.

Gendry groans and turns slowly to face you now behind him. He parts his lips to speak, but the sound of a horse charging at you steals your attention, so you proceed to jump out of the way to avoid being cut by a Dothraki.

Before he can turn around and come back for more you pull a dagger out and hurl it at the back of his throat, causing him to immediately go limp and fall off his horse.

He really thought he was going to kill you, how sweet. You caught him though when you were sliding past Gendry.

“It doesn't have to be this way,” Gendry interjects loudly so he can be heard over the sound of battle.

You shake your head. “No,” you agree. “It doesn’t, that’s why I’m fighting down here and not on Eraxis and obliterating everything. Now fight—”

“Our children can grow up together,” he cuts you off, making you hesitate. “If we have a son he can marry your daughter and rule together. There can be peace! Don’t you want that? Don’t you want them to have what we couldn’t? A united family?”

You swallow thickly and think about his offer, you really give it thought. He’s right after all, you want nothing but peace for the twins, you want to be there for them, you want to have more kids, have a big family with Jon. You want to live happily. But, when you close your eyes you see them, every single one of your ancestors has their eyes on you, they’re waiting for you to take back what was lost. They’re waiting for you to win and change what they failed to do. You close your eyes and see Rhaenar’s little face burnt, lifeless and gone because of her.

There can’t be peace.

You let out a deep scream and run at him, just before you can reach him you jump up and try to bring your spear down at him, albeit he lifts his heavy hammer and blocks your attempts. You scoff at him and quickly follow that action by grabbing another dagger and then shifting back to let his arms fall. You don’t let him take a break and quickly spin around him again, managing to slice his ankle and knock him off his feet.

It was easy work really, he’s probably not a trained fighter like you are. And you don’t have an ounce of care for him like some of others do, it’s just killing that’s the problem.

But you have to, or else you’ll die, or else your children will be in danger. So before he can move you hold your spear with both hands and lift it up to bring it down.

However, before the blade can hit him, from the corner of your eye you catch someone pointing an arrow at you, so you snap to the side to face him and throw your spear up in the air to catch it in the right position, before you then hurl it at the dothraki warrior when he shoots his arrow. But unlike yours, his arrow only skims past the side of your head managing to nick your flesh, while your spear impales him in his chest and knocks him off his horse.

Now back to Gendry.

Yet when you turn to face where he was on the ground he’s no longer there, just drops of blood staining the dirt.

You sigh and try to look through the crowd but the sight of running bodies, of horses and clanging blades blocks your view. All you can see is his trail of blood leading towards the wall gates.

“Fine,” you grumble and turn to pick up your spear. “I’ll play.” You roll your head around to crack your neck whilst you stride towards the spear impaled through the man.

Nevertheless, just before you can reach your weapon another Dothraki warrior comes charging at you, he’s screaming at the top of lungs and jumps on top of his horse. You stumble back and pull out your last dagger, you clench your jaw and hold his intimidating gaze. You get ready to face him even if he has the high ground.

Luckily though just before his blade can come down, a leather whip wraps around his throat and yanks him off his horse. You gasp and don’t pay attention to the horse getting run over by another horse nearby, you move past the violent scene and then notice that Ser Alys was the one that helped you.

“Thank you!” You throw at her and pick your spear off the other mans body.

Said woman bows her head. “Of course, You Grace! What next?” She asks.

“I find Gendry, he ran past the walls I assume. Help me get past this battlefield.” You tell her honestly and glance up at Eraxis in the sky, wishing you could climb on her to reach your destination, but your own soldiers are mixed here so she’d squish them if she lands. So on horse or foot it is, she can follow.

“Right away!” Ser Alys agrees, and ends up quickly finding horses you can mount to reach your destination faster.

Albeit it’s getting past the Dothraki soldiers that’s the problem. They see you and try to attack you, and you’re not used to fighting on horseback as much as they are, but you try your best to block their attempts. You kill some others, cut the arms off others. You bathe yourself in their blood, adding to the intimidation around you.

Thankfully though, after some struggle, and thanks to Ser Alys help you get past the battlefield of fighting warriors, and sea of dead bodies piling around.

“Here is as far as you go,” you tell Ser Alys as you jump off your horse. “This fight is mine and mine alone.”

“But,” she argues. “I won’t leave you. You are my Queen. If you die what becomes of me?”

You stop walking and turn to face her. “I won’t die. But if you must, get rid of any obstacles ahead, Ser Brienne should already be ahead, Eraxis will help you clear a path to the Red Keep regardless. Remember don’t harm any civilians. I’ll catch up when I’m done.”

Ser Alys hesitates, but listens nonetheless, letting you get back to the trail of blood that you have been following. Sure now it can be anyone’s, but when you were fighting the Dothraki you did catch a glimpse of Gendry running this way. He also won’t get very far considering the poison running its course, he’ll be nearby, so you stalk forward like a hungry predator.

“Prince Gendry,” you taunt him. “Come out, I bet you want to talk to me.” You flip your spear around in your hand to let your blade drag on the dirt whilst you study the street you walk down, spotting a trail of blood going towards a nearby market, so you follow it.

You open the tents flaps and see it unoccupied, thankfully. But he’s nearby, so you slow down your pace to be quieter and hopefully surprise him.

However, just as you turn to walk to another part of the tent suddenly something hard slams into the back of your leg, causing something to snap in your leg that basks your entire leg in an obliterating pain. You cry out and fall on your knees, but that only makes the pain intensify to the point you can’t stand being on your knees, so you flip around to sit and stretch your legs out.

That’s when you see that a part of your bone is sticking out. It’s broken….

“I’m sorry,” you hear a familiar voice interject.

You snap your eyes up and see Gendry approaching you with his hammer in hand. You want to drag yourself back, but it hurts too damn much to move, you have to snap your bone back in place.

“Let me help—”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you sneer and don’t hesitate to slam your hands on the bone sticking out to snap it back in place. You cry out even if you don’t want to, and then drop your head to let your tears out.

Gendry in the meantime is cautiously approaching you, you can hear his boots hit against the ground.

“You’re not going to ask me what’s happening to you?” You ask in a hoarse voice and slowly take a peek up at him, noticing the blood coming out of his nose and ears. “Why your veins are on fire? Why blood is coming out of your ears?” You add and shoot him a smirk whilst you reach for your spear beside you.

“Look,” he ignores you even if you guessed exactly what he was feeling. “I don’t want to kill you.”

You begin to chuckle and roll your head up, causing him to blink repeatedly in surprise as he sees the blood that cakes your face and bathes your armor, and that turns your silver-white hair crimson red.

“That’s funny,” you counter and completely grasp your spear before you shove yourself to your feet and charge at him.

Albeit Gendry is quick and avoids your lunge, instead he grabs you by your throat and begins to shove you back out of the tent.

The pain on your leg burns the entire time, he makes it feel worse as he drags you out, but you have to ignore it now, you have run on your adrenaline so as to not let the pain affect you. However, he then proceeds to shove you to the ground and climbs onto you, stabbing his knee in your wounded leg and bringing you more agony.

Before you can scream this time he presses the stick end of his hammer against your throat, cutting off the air that comes into your lungs.

“I won’t kill you,” he makes himself clear. You try to scoff in amusement, but all that comes out is a strangled choking sound.

Now he might not want to kill you, but as every second passes you feel your consciousness slip, and if you fall now then you can’t reach Daenerys, you might lose this battle. So with all the strength you can muster you pat the ground, finding a good sized rock, and then proceed to throw your hand up and stab the rock in his eye.

Gendry bellows out, and immediately lets you go to get on his feet and grab at his eye pouring out blood.

You proceed to ignore your pain and grab the hammer he left over you to push yourself up. The pain threatens to weaken you, but you stay on your feet, you fix your grip on the hammer since you dropped your spear in the tent, and raise it.

Gendry notices and you raise your chin. “This is for my father,” you spat out, and use as much force as you can muster to swing the hammer across his chest, knocking him down to the ground at that very moment.

You may have no respect for your father, but he still is your father. He still did love you when you did have him, and you loved him unconditionally before Robert Baratheon robbed him of his life, before your uncle Oberyn told you the truth—poisoned your mind and memories.

“I’m sorry,” you tell Gendry with sincerity as you approach him unable to grasp onto air, as blood begins to stream out of his eyes like tears as the poison also brings him closer to death. “But if I kept you alive my family would never be safe. Life would repeat itself, and I’ve already lost too much��” you pause as wings flapping close by steals your attention. When you look up you see Eraxis wanting to land ahead of you.

“For whatever it’s worth,” you say and crouch by Gendry. “You were a good man. Better than the beast your father was. May you find peace Gendry Baratheon.” You stay there beside him and watch him take his last shaky breath before his eyes roll back and he goes limp.

“Y/N?!” Your name is then called ahead.

You look up and see Eraxis hover over the ground as Arya approaches all covered in blood. Just what you needed—albeit it is too late for her to even talk to him now.

“Arya,” you call back and stand up to your feet.

Said girl's eyes lower to the body beside you and she goes rigged, making you avert your gaze and instead go back inside the tent to pick up your spear. When you come back outside you see her by his lifeless body hovering her hand over his wounded eye, and then lowering to his chest that was encaved. In the distance Eraxis lands on the ground, and since it hurts walking you have to ride her.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter softly to her as you see tears escaping her eyes. “I’m sorry,” you repeat before you break away from the spot and limp towards Eraxis.

Once you’re by your white dragon you steal one last glance, noticing her still by Gendry's side. There was nothing else you could say, Sansa said Arya knew him, that they lay together, they have history, and you were the cause of his death, so there’s nothing to say to comfort her. So instead you slowly climb on Eraxis and now fly towards the Red Keep, towards Daenerys.

Will you kill her with as much ease like with Gendry?

Not now of course, you’ll wait until her baby is born, show her that you were being serious about the threat, a son for a son before you also kill her.

You’ll probably struggle to kill her but she did kill Rhaenar, she has to pay. You’ll make her pay.

Nevertheless, while on your way to the castle you can see the empty streets Arya helped clear so there wouldn’t be any civilian casualties, you can see the battle at the back of the castle Jon started. You can see Rhaegal resting by the castle, letting you think that maybe Jon is fighting with your men below; or inside the castle already. And In the distance, out at sea you can see the fleets battling, you cant see who’s winning from here though.

Another thing you can’t see is Drogon. Where did he go?

Is Daenerys with him?

Regardless you’ll check.

Thus why you have Eraxis land inside the castle, on the steps that lead inside the castle that was once your home, that was the place your mother and siblings died in. The Red Keep.

You’ve been here before since the tragedy, you walked past the gates like now, albeit then it was lively, it was decorated with Baratheon banners, people came and went out for the wedding, you blended in with the crowd. Now as you walk in the hall is empty, it’s cold and dark, it’s deafeningly quiet. Are there even guards?

You walk further inside and notice that the rubble was picked up from when Daenerys destroyed the castle. It also seems like they’re trying to rebuild it, but since you’re here now it’s put on pause.

You then proceed to head to Maegor’s holdfast, knowing well that that’s where Daenerys would take residence. And surprisingly enough, there’s hardly any guards. Those who did seem to be inside were outside trying to stop Jon and his army from getting in, but it was too late, the wall was still not fixed completely, and what was fixed Rhaegal broke. Those few guards that were inside you evaded, there was only one you had to kill but it was done fast and quietly, luckily.

However, as grateful as you are that you don’t run into any more difficult obstacles, it’s not a good sign. Perhaps it’s a sign to leave and finish the battle since the retreat nor the surrender bells are ringing, but if she’s still here you have to find her. You’re so close. Fuck the pain.

Alas, when you reach the hall, it’s empty, there’s no guards anywhere. The hall is cold since the cold breeze creeps in through the open windows. You expect Daario Nahris to be here to protect Daenerys and the unborn child, but it’s too quiet. No one’s here….

Still! You continue to search desperately, you check each room again and again. You check the massive closets, every corner and secret door, but there’s no one, there’s only clothes left behind; her clothes that probably don't fit anymore. She’s the only one missing. Fuck,

“Fuck!” You exclaim and throw off the perfumes and glass containers on a vanity out of anger. “She’s not here,” you mutter to yourself. She’s gone!

At least her husband is dead now, so if she isn’t here then the battle should end soon, leaving you to do one thing now that you are here in Maegor's holdfast. The tower may be different from when you lived here, but the walls are still the same, the ground is unchanged, the halls still hold memories. So with your limp and pain, you drag yourself to the hall you once lived in.

Last time, a couple years ago you couldn’t come here, you were a mere guest undercover, but now you’re here in the same hall, your home. It doesn’t hold the same sweet scent as before, the halls aren’t brightly lit for you and your sister, but as you close your eyes you can still picture the good days, you can imagine your mother; fragile but sweet and loving. You can see Rhaenys chasing after you, you can see your fathers bright and long white-silver hair, you can hear him softly playing his music for your family.

This. This is your home. This is where you belonged, this is where you were meant to die before you could even truly live. Here. You’re home.

When you open the door that leads to where you last saw your mother, you wish to see her still there, helping Rhaenys read. You want her to look up to see you walk inside, you want her to greet you. You want to see her again, but all you see is an empty room, there’s dusty furniture, and all that greets you is the sound of bells beginning to sound in the distance; the sound of retreat. Their retreat.

Yet you can’t get up and celebrate, you can’t smile, you just fall on your knees and begin to sob as you’re embraced by the cold breeze and welcomed by ghosts. Your leg begins to hurt so you have to turn and sit down.

You don’t know how long you do end up staying there, the bells stop ringing at one point, but you stay there remembering and crying as you’re striked with agony.

A few more minutes pass of you all alone in the cold room before you hear Jon’s voice out in the hall. “Y/N?”

You lift your head and bring his attention to this room. “I’m in here.”

Footsteps shift before they hurry over to the room, as the door begins to open you see guards stepping in before Jon hurries inside to where you are on the floor. And before either of you can say anything you both embrace each other, finding relief in each other's presence even as dirty as you are.

“You’re okay,” you whisper and hold the back of his head. “You’re okay,” you whimper.

Jon lowers his head and digs his face in the crook of your neck. “I was so worried,” he muffles. “I couldn’t find you.” He pulls back and wipes the blood off your eyes. “I’ve been looking for you,” he says.

You reach over to cup his jaw and study his face for any wounds, but there’s only blood staining his skin. “Are you okay?” You ask him softly.

Jon grabs your wrists and nods. “Yes. Are you? What are you doing on the floor?”

You part your lips to explain the simple reason; you came here for Daenerys, you’re in this room because you wanted to remember, but tears just spill out and clear a path on your face caked with blood.

“I,” you stammer shakily. “I was meant to die here Jon. I was here and then that stupid cat distracted me. I never saw my mother again, Rhaenys, baby Aegon. I chased after the cat and never saw them again.”

“It was for a reason,” he assures you. “You’re here now for this. This very moment. They retreated, they’re leaving, it’s time for you to get on that throne, be what you were meant to be.”

You lift your gaze and meet his eyes. “You really believe that?” You ask. “Daenerys is gone, but she’s still alive. The war isn’t over yet.”

Jon shakes his head. “No, the war isn’t, but the fighting is done. Without the capital, or allies, Daenerys is done, she lost. Now it’s up to you. This fighting can’t be for nothing. You avoiding death that day happened for a reason, don’t you see it? I know it hurts. I know, my love. But we get to be safe with our children now, you can keep them safe and avoid them having the same fate you did.”

You scoff softly and offer him a sweet smile. “I’ve never heard you talk like that. You believe in fate?”

Jon blinks and shrugs. “I rose from the dead, I had nothing before, but after that I got everything I could have wanted. You, the twins. If that’s not fate then I don’t know what is.”

You smile wider and press your forehead agaisnt his. “You’ll rule with me then? Help me? Make this a good place for our kids? For…people who need help from the horrors of this world? So they don’t have to suffer the same way our family did? Because if you don’t want this we can leave this all behind. We leave now, we pick up the kids and leave.”

Jon nods softly. “I’ll follow you until the ends of this world. I will help you.”

Your heart flutters and your grin widens. “Good,” you whisper and then glance at your leg. “But help me up, I broke my leg.”

Jon pulls back and stares at you with a shocked expression, but you assure him. “It’s okay. That’s all that happened.”

He hesitates, but he then gets guards to help you with your leg before he helps you to your feet. And now since that adrenaline that once pumped in your blood has faded the pain is a lot more immense, now you need Jon by your side to help you walk.

This time though, rather than seeing empty halls once you reach the grande hall, there’s people, your people all bloody bruised but filtering inside slowly. The civilians once warned to hide or evacuate before and during the battle wander inside as well, slowly and cautiously. The once dark halls are slowly getting lit by candles and torches alongside the hall, and Daenerys banners get replaced by your new house banners.

“How many of our people were lost?” You ask Jon.

“We can discuss that later,” Jon says and glances at the open doors that lead to the throne room. “As for now, it’s time.”

You come to a stop to meet his gaze and smile softly. “Will you help me down there?” You ask him.

The corner of Jon’s lips tug to a smile before he offers you an assuring nod.

Now all that follows is the ascension. It seems like a long walk down to the throne, but you’re determined. It hurts to keep moving, but the throne is down the grande hall still filled with gaps on the walls from the last attack, the throne that was meant for your father, the throne built by your ancestors, your throne.

“All hail Queen Visenya, of House Targaryen, second of her name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm!”

The murmuring goes quiet, and feet shift and shuffle as bodies turn to see you. There’s so many times as you walk down the carpet that you want to duck your head and avoid the stares of both your soldiers and the civilians that fill the hall, but they can’t see you embarrassed, they need to see you strong, so you raise your chin high and keep your lips upturned.

Besides as you get closer, Eraxis and Rhaegal appear outside the castle walls and land in behind the gaps that look inside the throne room. Some people get frightened by the presence of the green and white dragon, but they don’t leave, they watch you as Jon lets you go so you can climb the stairs.

However, you then come to a stop before you can climb up, and stare at the throne made of blades of fallen enemies with tears in your eyes. “This is for you Rhaenar,” you murmur. “This is for all of you.” You let out a shaky sigh and smile down at your rings on your fingers. You then peer back and notice Sansa beside your cousin Prince Mors, she meets your gaze and shoots you an encouraging smile.

You mirror her gesture before you face the glimmering metal throne again and continue to walk to it. It takes you a moment to reach the throne, but once you do Eraxis leans her head in through the gap and groans softly, as if comforting you. You look over at her and meet her dark eyes to shoot her a smile before you touch the cool metal and admire the grand design in awe.

This is for them, your family. All of them.

You finally turn to face the crowd and finally sit down on the Iron Throne.

“All Hail her grace!”Jon exclaims.

“Long live the Queen!”

You draw in a deep breath, and raise your chin smugly before you exhale and raise your hand to silence the crowd. Once the commotion silences you put your hand down and interject. “Let’s begin.”

——

*A COUPLE MONTHS LATER*

“Where’s your mummy?” You ask in a playful baby voice and peek through the gaps between your fingers, noticing Robb is serious now as he sees your hands over your eyes. “I’m here!” You exclaim softly and pull your hands off your face with a grin, causing the baby boy to blink in surprise before he starts giggling.

Your smile widens at the sound of his giggle, and then a knock raps on the door.

“Come in,” you announce and pick Robb off the bed to carry him instead. “Do you want to go find your daddy and your sister?” You ask Robb as if he can answer you at 4 months old.

“Your Grace,” you hear Ser Brienne say, making you turn to face her standing by the foot of the bed. “I have news.”

Your smile fades as you see how serious her expression is painted on her features, and probe quietly. “What is it?”

Ser Brienne blinks and sighs. “It’s Daenerys. We finally found out where she is.”

The amusement you just felt gets replaced with shock and disbelief over the news. Finally after months of not hearing about her, of not getting attacked by fire from the sky, or of being attacked by what remains of her army, they've found her. Now it’s time to finish your revenge, it’s time for Rhaenar to get justice.

“Good,” you mutter and walk to Ser Brienne. “Where? Is she at Meereen?”

Ser Brienne shakes her head and shares that Daenerys is hiding in Dorne, hidden past any town that would give her away, where Drogon can hide without being spotted, and where she can rest and wait for her child to be born. You should’ve known.

If she would’ve made it to Meereen someone would have told you, maybe she even would have even wanted to negotiate peace again, but there was not a word from her or about her and her army for months. She wasn’t at Dragonstone, nor at the Iron Islands, it’s like she disappeared. Until now.

And maybe hiding was for the best, you would have too if you were in her position. Yet the truth is nothing would have stopped you from searching for her, not becoming Queen officially, you would have searched for her until the ends of the world for your revenge. Now that she’s been revealed she’ll know what your revenge is, she’ll know the same pain you feel, the ache that still breaks your heart every single day.

“Mummy will be right back, okay?” You tell Robb as you play him in his cradle. “Your sister should join you soon.” You press a kiss on the top of his head and then brush his little black hairs down before you step back and turn to stride out of the room, even as he begins to cry because you’re out of his sight.

However, you don’t make it far out of the castle before you spot Jon, and Rhaenyra in his arms as they seem to be heading to the kids' chambers. “Hello my loves,” you greet them and lean in to press a kiss on Rhaenyra’s forehead before you give Jon a kiss on his lips.

“Eraxis and I are leaving. I’ll be back before Dinner.” You let Jon know as you pull back and caress his chin.

Jon’s gaze narrows in confusion. “Where are you going?” He asks since youre being vague, and you haven’t asked him to go with you.

You draw in a deep breath, knowing how he’ll react. “I’m…” you breathe out. “I'm going to Daenerys. They’ve found her in Dorne. I’m ending this war.” You caress your babygirl's cheek once more before you break away.

Nevertheless before you can continue to walk away, Jon’s hand wraps around your arm, forcing you to stop and look back at him curiously.

“You promised,” he says in a serious voice and with a deep narrowed gaze that makes you uneasy. “You promised you wouldn't hurt that baby. Blame Daenerys all you want, burn what remains of her army, but don’t hurt that baby.”

You could say thousands of reasons why you should, he’d understand now after all; he’s holding onto one of his twins that loves them with all his heart. He’d understand why Daenerys' kid has to get what it deserves, but you know him, you know his morality, Jon won’t understand, and you love him too much to see him go. So you lie.

“I would never do that,” you interject bluntly as you gently push his hand away from your wrist to continue outside towards Eraxis.

This time there’s no more stops, you reach your beautiful white scaled dragon and mount her to then ascend to the skies. You fly over green lands, through a small storm that soaks you entirely. You fly through white fluffy clouds that make you raise your hand to run your fingers through it, and smile. You feel the breeze turn dry the closer you get to Dorne; and the once green fields slowly begin to transcend to golden fields of sand.

Where Daenerys was spotted isn’t deep in Dorne, it’s passing Kingsgrave, just close to the center between that and Sandstone. The castle isn’t as big as you imagined either, it’s a small castle, only two stories high and with a pool in the center of the castle, making the castle stand out from the sky. Trees provide shade all around the castle, and there’s only a few Dothraki tents outside around the castle.

The strangest thing is that they don’t make any commotion. Drogon is resting by the side of the castle and doesn’t pay Eraxis any mind, he doesn’t attack either, letting Eraxis land with ease that begins to concern you. When your feet hit the ground you aren’t rushed by an army even if you have visible daggers hanging from your hips. It’s only once you reach the red doors that lead inside the beautiful vibrant castle that you get stopped by a couple of Dothraki men.

“<Turn back and return home, Dragonslayer,>” one of the men says in Dothrak.

You scoff and get ready to argue, but then a voice cuts in from inside. “<Let her in, the Queen demands it.>” Footsteps approach, and Daario Nahris appears out of the shadows with his eyes red and glistening with tears, with no armor on his body; instead his long sleeved shirt is baggy and stained with sweat, his sleeves are rolled and his hands are stained with spots of dry blood.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he directs at you as he comes to a stop under the red door frame. “She’s…in there…waiting for you.” He points back inside, making you glance at where he points, spotting white sheer curtains flowing inside thanks to the soft wind.

“I want to talk to her alone,” you demand and meet his watery gaze.

Daario nods stiffly. “She is alone. You made sure of that.”

You blink unfazed by his comment. “You’re still here,” you counter and look at him up and down with judgment before you walk past him.

“Upstairs to the right, red door.”

You hum as you turn to walk up the stairs already. And as it’s you’re walking up is when you take the time to study the hall, to admire the tall ceilings that have pretty blue designs on it. You notice the greenery that drapes down the railings, and the gold design that wraps around the archway that leads to the courtyard. It’s all so simple and pretty, relaxing. If you didn’t come here for a purpose, you would enjoy it here.

But you have a purpose that’s fueled by rage and grief. The closer you get to the room the more that concern vanishes to nothing. Your cautious walk as you reach the second floor turns to a determined stride. You only pause for one second when a baby’s cry breaks the silence that haunted this castle.

“There you are,” you mutter to yourself, and draw in a deep breath before you break away from your spot and exhale as you continue to the room with the red door.

Once you reach the door you don’t knock you slowly open it, and the first thing that greets you is a maester and midwives.

“Get out,“ you demand coldly as you step inside the room.

“Y/N,” you hear Daenerys mutter, but you ignore her call and shift your eyes around the room until you spot a single cradle in the corner of the room.

There it is.

The maesters and midwives filter out, leaving Daenerys and you alone to dwell in a tense silence, letting you eyes lock on the cradle. Letting your mind think of nothing else but your craving for revenge, not even Daenerys laying on her bed, just blood. Rhaenar.

As you stalk towards the wooden cradle you pull out a silver dagger and feel your heart begin to race violently.

Bah-dum, bah-dum, bah-dum, bah-dum.

Daenerys says something as she spots your intention, as she sees the rage in your gleaming glare, but her voice gets tuned out as memories of Rhaenar play in your head; both when he was alive and when you saw his dead body. They let you raise the blade in your hand as you’re inches away from seeing what the cradle holds.

However, you pause as you spot the sigil carved on the end of the cradle. It’s the same one you saw in your dream, and actually now that you’ve see that you notice that it’s on the same cradle from your dream too.

But it can’t mean anything. It doesn’t. Not when you’re so close. So you push that to the back of your mind and take a few more steps until you finally reach the side of the cradle and see the small baby inside wide awake, squirming away.

It seems to spot you and stops to stare at you with its big green eyes. It meets your gaze and you hesitate, but it’s only for a moment because you remember Rhaenar too, you remember when he was that small, you remember what he dreamed of doing when he got older. You remember how excited he was to be bonded with Helios. You remember your son and you raise the blade with tears clouding your eyes.

You raise the dagger and swing it down as you begin to sob. But then, before the blade can even touch the baby, you stop as there in the reflection of the silver blade you see his face, Rhaenar. He’s looking at you with his sweet brown eyes with tears, and he’s shaking his head at you.

Whether it’s some apparition of him, or just your own mind and guilt playing tricks, the reality of what you wanted to do to that baby slams into you roughly. It makes your hand holding the blade shake, and for that anger that poisoned you to completely disappear.

You won’t regret the war you started, no, but it’s this action you almost committed that you do feel ashamed of. What fault does this baby have? He didn’t kill Rhaenar, he’s barely living.

Were you really going to become the same monster that took away your siblings? The same monster you spent your whole life fearing?

No, you cant. You can’t be that person. So you drop the blade and silence your sob so as to not startle the baby any further.

Besides, there’s something familiar about the baby, like if you’ve seen him before…in a dream.

Of course in your dreams all you saw was two cradles, one with your new house sigil carved on it, and the other with the old Targaryen sigil. And this cradle was the exact same one from the dream, this is what the dream means. This baby.

“Daeron,” Daenerys voice finally finds its way inside your ears. “His name is Daeron Targaryen.”

You wipe the tears away and smile softly at the baby as you reach in to pick him up. “Daeron is a perfect name for a little prince. Hello,” you mewl. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I scared you…I’m sorry,” you say again and this time turn your head to glance at Daenerys laying on the bed.

That’s when you notice how exhausted she looks, how much paler her skin is; she looks almost sickly.

“I was being stupid,” you continue to say and approach her with her baby boy. “Forgive me please. I was angry, I was missing him,” you cry as tears fall from your eyes.

Daenerys shakes her head. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she says softly while she watches you take a seat beside her. “I should be the one apologizing to you…” she pauses and lets out a shaky and labored breath that makes your heart slowly begin to sink—“it was because of me that your son was taken from you. It was because of me that our family broke apart. I…I lost my way,” she shares in a shaky voice. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

You part your lips and stare at her in disbelief. You’ve heard her be sincere before, she’s been vulnerable with you before, but this time it feels different, she sounds desperate.

“Y/N,” She insists and grabs your hand with pressure. “Say you’ll forgive me. I can’t—I need to hear it.”

Ah. Now you know. You’ve figured it out; why she looks so sad and sickly, why she hasn't counter-attacked for what you did to Gendry and what you took, why her army of Second Sons or Unsullied isn’t with her anymore…yet you can’t accept that truth.

“We’ll have all the time in the world to make up for what we did to each other,” you try to deny the cruel truth of what’s happening. “I’ll grant you forgiveness, you can live here in your house with the red door. Our babies can grow up with each other. Daenerys,” you whisper shakily.

Said woman begins to cry, but she still musters a soft smile. “That’s all I want for him. I want him to have a good life….with you and your twins.” She grins. “I want you to raise them together, like family.”

You shake your head. “Dany, you’ll be here. You’ll get out of this bed and watch him grow up,” you argue, and hand her her son to then cradle her cheek and continue to insist what won’t happen anymore. “You’ll be a great mother.”

Daenerys glances down at her baby and her smile wobbles. “Thank you for giving me this blessing. Whatever the intent was behind what you did, still thank you. Because of you I got to have him, my Daeron. I love him, y/n, please take care of him, raise him as your own. Love him as I would.” She lifts her watery gaze to look at you and plead. “Please say you will. I don’t have much time, I won’t have the pleasure of seeing him grow up. So please assure me before I go that…that you’ll take him. Please.”

You lean your forehead against hers and nod. “I swear,” you assure her.

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject @dark-night-sky-99 @starwarssluts @stargaryenx @defiantblade12 @cloudroomblog

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xanvasofxords · 2 years ago

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“Natsu, what’s the matter?”

Lucy asks, pouring more coffee in her cup. Natsu doesn't bother answering, instead proceeds to open a bag of chips. Lucy leans on the doorframe and watches him with a frown.

She knows what’s wrong, though she wouldn’t, if not for Happy telling her. And she is upset, best friends are supposed to share everything with each other. He shouldn’t be the one to forget.

The celestial mage raises a brow, confused, when he motions her to sit beside him.

“Thought I was your best friend.” The dragon slayer rolls his eyes at this, as if she is the one acting weird. “What makes you think you aren’t?” “You’re not telling me anything!” She walks over to the couch and drops down beside him, visibly annoyed.

“And what exactly am I supposed to tell you?” His hard stare makes her stomach churn as he speaks, “Tell me.”

Suddenly, Lucy has to look away from him. There were so many emotions playing on his face, she swears, his gaze could be described as a sword piercing through her soul. Was she meant to see the anger, sorrow, pain, guilt... and love in his eyes? Or did she just her imagine all that?

“I just- I wanted to know if everything was alright between you and Lisanna,” she manages to say, “I know that’s personal but I want to help you. That’s what best friends are for.” She finishes without looking at him.

He just scoffs.

And the next moment Lucy finds herself straddling his lap. She squeals, her hands land on his shoulders for purchase. Embarassed, she almost forgets to breathe at his intent stare.

She tries to push off, “Natsu, what-”

“I’d prefer not talking about fights I have with my girlfriend, when I’m with you.” His hands on her bare waist keep her in place. His words don’t make any sense. Lisanna should be his only concern now, and he should be spending time with her.

And they sure as hell shouldn’t be sitting like this. What if Lisanna comes in, sees them and misunderstands the whole situation? Things can’t get worse.

“Natsu, let me go!”

He doesn’t, rather pulls her impossibly closer, arms wrapping around her middle in a tight embrace. He rests his head on her shoulder and draws in a long breath, making her shiver.

Lucy gives in, despite knowing it’s wrong, runs her hands through his unruly hair. The gesture always comforts him. Specially when he gets motion sick. “We shouldn’t be doing this, you know.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“But I don’t.”

Lucy rests her chin on his head. “Buy her flowers and chocolates tomorrow, hmm?” She feels him sigh, and then finally nod. “She loves Dandelions.” The blonde reminds.

“Fine, I will.”

#should i continue this? let me know guys #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu #natsu x lucy #fairy tail nalu #ft nalu #fairy tail 100 years quest #nalu fanfic #nalu angst #nalu fan fiction #nalu fanfiction #fairy tail fan fiction #fairy tail fanfiction

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thehydromancer · 7 months ago

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Lordship at Last; A Scrub's Tale

After 268 hours (I know) and 173 levels (I KNOW), I finally cleared my first Elden Ring run. I... love it. It took me a long time to realize exactly why, but when it hit me it made perfect sense. The whole game is the Water Temple. I don't think I need to explain that to anyone. A simple statement, but the more you think about it, the implications are layered and sublime. I vaguely recall an ancient game mag interview with some dev or another who, when asked what his dream project would be, described a grittier Zelda with more subtle storytelling and more interesting uses in combat for traditional equipment such as the hookshot. I remember loving the concept, and later Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom. Elden Ring though feels like the logical conclusion to exploring the freedom and flexibility of modern fantasy adventure games, the masterpiece bookend to the world of possibilities that the OG NES Zelda began to reveal to us.

And what a journey its been. My first Souls-like game, starting out as a bandit named Torrent (IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN THE GAME {I THOUGHT} ADDRESSED MY CHARACTER BY NAME IN THE FIRST FIVE MINUTES!!!), not understanding how shields worked, and grossly under leveling vigor (hell finished with only 40 before hearing after the fact that 60 is typically the goal). Dying to the lake side ruins bats again. And again. And again. Standing in the Church of Elleh thinking I was safe, studying the Limgrave Tree Sentinel with my shiny new telescope, only for it to drop the walls on me. Not understanding how elemental damages work till the last 3rd of the game. Breezing through some bosses only to be kneecapped physically and spiritually again and again by a pair of mangy mutts, cocaine bear, biblically accurate angel bubbles, or simply a zombie holding a torch causally away from their body. Spending the first half of the game dying in numbers that would make Rosus himself say 'hey slow down there partner, thanks for putting my kids through Raya Lucaria with all those runes you lost, but I really need a break.' Forgetting I'd picked up the crystal tear for cleansing during the Mohg fight, instead trying everything up to and including Law of Regression to clear the triple ring status effect during the fight.

Ever so slowly, painfully, learning the ins and outs of the game. Slowly morphing from a dex curved sword user with throwing knives and a bow to a mage knight desperately cheesing his way through the last 60 hours of the game. SO. MUCH. BACKTRACKING. I must have revisited Stormveil over the course of 100 hours, finding something new every time. Exploring every nook and cranny in the world, scrapping runes together as hard as I could in the early game, only to be shocked at how easy leveling became in the second half of the game. Hosting tryouts for every Spirit Ashes like I was assembling the outer-gods-damned Avengers to fight Thanos wielding the Elden Gauntlet. ACCIDENTALLY STUMBLING UPON DRAGON ELDEN LORD, WHOOPS SORRY SIR(S?) DIDN'T MEAN TO DISTURB YOUR ETERNAL TIMELESS SLUMBER! In the end, somehow, managing to defeat all demigods and I'd guess 95% of the bosses in the game. I know I missed a few, and there was 3 or 4 I purposefully decided to ignore for my own sanity (if Blaidd had been half red wolf he'd of been the next Elden Lord I swear).

Bosses that gave me the greatest trouble at the time;

Margit (pretty sure we killed each other at the same time, so I never got his runes)

Godrick (I'd like to think it'd be a different story now that I've developed some skill and muscle memory but boy was this a grind)

Dragon Tree Sentinel guarding Lyndell (probably over 50 deaths, just the worst, only read about the additional summons later!)

The Elden Beast (how do pure melee builds beat this guy!? I had trouble keeping up with it using various ranged spells, the opportunities to stab it felt few and far inbetween)

Bosses that I was shocked at how easy they were based on memes/carbot/the community;

Radahn (only demigod I beat my first time, still an awesome battle)

Placidusax (one of the most enjoyable fights in hindsight, really felt like I was hitting my stride with the ebb and flow of battle finally)

Malenia, Blade of Miquella (in fairness was probably grossly over leveled by this point, downed in 3 or 4 attempts)

Radagon (the cheese was real but I was also serving it)

Special shout out to the meteorite staff and rock sling spell, the true MVPs of my run and the breakers of bosses, especially dragons. The carian knight sword and grandeur skill had an incredible run until I was able to nab the Sword of Night and Flame, and eventually the Dark Moon Greatsword itself, fulfilling my transformation into Fierce Deity Tarnished. Loretta's War Sickle was surprisingly fun as well for non boss fights.

As I look ahead to the DLC and meander/experiment through a NG+ or 3 while I wait, I can't help but wonder, probably a true dark horse theory... are we, the Tarnished, in some way, shape, or form... Miquella? Why would Malenia, instead of seeking him out to rescue her beloved brother, wait for him in the one place she knows he isn't... convinced he'd return... when it was I, Tarnished, all along who returned? Silly I know. But Torrent (I hate that I have to specify this, the horse) also reacted to Torrent (the Tarnished) in a way that felt more meaningful the second time around after having experienced most of the story. Why would Melina choose us (assuming we were her only attempt) over all others? Did she even truly know?

Alright that was a lot. I wish I'd kept a running journal of my play through, there was just so much wonder and discovery. I look forward to picking up Bloodborne and Lies of P to continue feeding my new addiction!

#Elden Ring #Water Temple #LoZ #Torrent #Tarnished #legend of zelda

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druidx · 1 year ago

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Find the Word Tag - Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan - Part 1

I have a lot of Find the Word tag games. So I decided to put them all together to make me edit the Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan, a NaNoWriMo novel from 2012 based on the first TTRPG campaign I participated in the Fighting Fantasy World of Titan setting.

There was a total of 145 words to find so I've split these into batches of ~50. I've not removed any duplicates, and where there's not an exact match I've used synonyms instead.

I've grouped the words by the original tagger - though some of these are old enough the tagger has changed URLs...

Fair warning before you click:

I have tried to keep the snips short, but at ~7000 words, this post is 'colour of the sky' long.

Well, if we're sitting comfortably, I'll begin.

➤ @aquadestinyswriting

Bother

The dragon tilted its head, red scales flashing like fire and blood as it looked at her from another angle. "Well, if that's all it was…" It said, in a descending tone. Alexis nodded fiercely. "Then I suppose I can let you off… But I want you to do something for me, first." "And what would that be?" Richard asked. "There is a Blackguard," the dragon said, "who has been making a nuisance of himself in my territory. I would like him killed.” The dragon sniffed the air, gaze landing back on Richard. “A job, I suspect, for you, holey one.” "Why should we fight your battles for you?" Richard asked. Alexis hissed at him, but the dragon just. chuckled. It crossed its paws, laying its chin down, considering. "Quite frankly," it said finally, "why should I? Why bother sullying my claws when you have appeared at the perfect opportunity to rid this pest for me?" Richard pursed his lips, then gave a sharp nod.

Kettle (Tea)

While Kassandra stoked up the fire and set water over to boil, David, Richard's brother-in-law, bustled around fetching plates and bread for the travellers crowded around his kitchen table. When all had a cup of nettle tea and a plate of bread and jam, David settled into his explanation. “They came a few weeks back,” he said. “They told the village elders they just wanted to practice their new religion in peace. The elders agreed and gave them land to build a chapel. After all, there’re so many gods already – what could one more hurt? “Of course folks are curious. They dropped in to see what this new god was about. And these new priests started converting them.” Bastet raised an eyebrow. “That’s the problem?” “Doesn’t sound like it does it?” David gave a bitter laugh. “But something happened to the folks they converted. Became mindless and mean about it. Our neighbour Sam – you remember, Rich? The fella with the lazy mouser? – he always let me borrow his post-holer, and I’d always let him use my ploughshare. But I went up to ask him for it and he threw me out on my rear, saying the new god didn’t approve of it.” He shook his head. “We never had much, but we had each other. We were a community, see? Now, we haven’t even that.”

Language (Accent)

CW Swearing

Alexis paused at an intersection with Bastet and Victor on her heels and looked around. She couldn’t make head or tail of the street signs, so she grabbed a passer-by. "Excuse me, I’m looking for the trade district," she said. The woman she had caught looked down her nose, brushing away a wave of well-coiffed hair, from where it had fallen at her sudden stop. "It would be over that way," she said, gesticulating to the east. "Thank you," Alexis said, but the woman was already walking away, brushing at her sleeve as though something nasty had landed on it. "Spoiled bitch," Alexis muttered, turning to stick out a tongue at the woman’s back. Bastet winked. As the snooty woman passed, she stuck her foot out, causing the woman to trip. "Oh, my. So sorry," Bastet said, in mimicry of the woman’s polished accent. "I didn’t see you there." The snooty woman spluttered from where she sat on the cobbled street, as Bastet and Victor walked on. Alexis let them catch up and smacked Bastet lightly on the arm, but she couldn’t help smirking at the woman’s comeuppance.

➤ @corkythewriteblr

Citizen

Loyal

"We need to leave," Bastet said. "We don’t know who’s loyal to Dire. These people have their hands full right now, but it won’t stay that way.” "She’s right," Richard said, unfolding from his crouch. "Come on." Mute, Alexis stood, trotting to keep up with the others as they made their way down the castle bailey and into the city, swerving through the chaos of screaming townsfolk to retrieve their mounts from the Inn.

Qualify

Sand (Blacksands)

"Sirs," Richard said with a sharp salute. "I can confirm that both Zharradan Marr and Balthus Dire are dead. We have liberated Troll Tooth Pass, and the city of Castle Dire." "Excellent," Hengar said, his tone relieved. "This is just what I needed, some good news to cheer me up." "Good news? You mean there’s been bad news?" Alexis asked. "Yes, sadly." Hengar sat back in his chair. "Master Yastromo, if you please?" Yastromo inclined his head, long white beard swaying with the motion. "Of course, Captain." The old wizard sighed. "I am sorry, my children, to send you straight out again. However whilst looking through Zagor’s effects, I discovered something disturbing." He held up an amulet depicting a stylized eye in a circle. "He’s still dead, right?" Alexis said with trepidation. Yastromo gave her a sad smile. "Yes. I’m afraid this could be much worse. It seems Zagor was part of a cult called the Eye of Myurr. I have also received word that this cult of Myurr is gaining traction in the town of Port Blacksands. We do not know their aims, but given they worship a demon prince from the Pit, it is surely not anything good." Yastromo glanced at Hengar and stepped back.

➤ @talesfromaurea

Cliff

Desert

CW: Blood, animal death

"Very well. Good luck," Nicodemus said, gesturing at Cee-Jay. "Apprentice?" The boy nodded. With a flash and a jolting motion, the group were surrounded by torch-lit sandstone walls and wailing lizardmen. Victor sent a ball of flame rolling through the crowd, Richard close behind, cleaving a path. Bastet and Jay ran, Victor and Alexis, covering their rush towards the portal. Richard had turned aside, making his way through the press of bodies flung against his sword, towards the lizardman elder whose blade was already slick with the blood of desert rodents, and a wavering chant could be heard through the scrum for fighting.

Ocean (waves)

"Bast!" Alexis shouted. "I need you. Richard’ll take care of Victor. I need help now!" Goregut lifted Bastet around, dropping her next to Alexis. The two of them hunkered down, Gorgut shifting splintered planks as Bastet and Alexis lashed them together as best they could with freezing fingers in the torrential rain. It was a small, pitiful thing, but better than not having anything at all. The three of them tied themselves on long halters to the raft, and then with a joint effort, launched themselves into the heaving waves.

Storm

As is often the case the morning after a storm, a blisteringly clear blue sky beat down upon the sandy shore, with only the merest breeze to ruffle the black braids of the shipwreck survivor. Alexis coughed out sand and rolled over, pawing at the salt crusting on her eyes. She dragged out her water skin and washed off her face of sand and salt before taking a long drink. When she felt slightly more alive – certain that the Great Ever After wouldn’t leave her with crusty eyes – she stood up and started to explore the island and see if she could find her friends.

➤ @whimsyqueen

Fascinate

Alexis clenched her free hand as he walked towards her and forced a smile across her lips. "Most feared Lord Dire," she said. "We have come from the Fort at Trolltooth Pass, sent by your brother in darkness, my Lord Marr, to bring you this gift." "Now, isn’t this a treat," Dire said, stepping around her and Three, his eyes feeling as though they lingered on her as much as the patchwork construct beside her. Dire stopped in front of them, taking a few steps backwards. "Please, show me what it can do," he asked, his silken voice and sickly sweet perfume writhing about her, like the snake of temptation in books of yore. Alexis stepped away and glanced at Richard. They hadn’t planned any of this out, and she wondered how long she could keep the charade up before Dire would know something was wrong. Richard dipped his head, his eyes skittering to where Bastet was signing at her in thieves' hand signals. It was a pattern, followed by the sign for someone getting flattened. Alexis cleared her throat, brushing her nose, signalling she understood. “Three,” Alexis said, addressing the construct. “We’re going to play a little game.” "Goody! I like games," he said. “Please take two steps backwards, and then four forwards for me.” “Okay,” he said, and, squinting at his feet, walked back then forwards, quietly counting his steps. Delighted, he looked back at Alexis. “Done it,” he said happily. “What’s next, ‘Lexis?” “One step right, one back, two forward.” “Okay!” Again, Three’s face scrunched in concentration as he counted his steps, stopping right in front of Dire. “Fascinating,” Dire said, staring up at Three. “You can control it even without it’s crystal.” Alexis glanced back at the others. Victor shrugged. Richard loosened his sword from its scabbard. “Yes,” he said, “it’s a new system my Lord Marr is trialling. Woodling, show him the final command.” Alexis murmured her assent. “Three? Smush!” she yelled.

Gentle

Breakfast finished, Alexis slipped outside with a plate of raw steaks and headed towards the stables. “Good morning, Three,” she called. “Hullo, ‘Lexis,” he said, giving her a wave. She knelt beside her riding dog, placing the plate of steak in front of him. Neisk’s tail beat back and forth as she peeled one steak off and passed it to Three. “Eat,” she commanded, ostensibly to the dog, but Three also devoured the steak as Neisk gave a chuff and settled down to eat. “How are you this morning, Three?” she asked as the construct licked his fingers. “I’m fine,” he said, giving her a big goofy smile. “Your doggy is cute.” “Yes. My to'mae is a very good boy.” Three gave Neisk a gentle pat as the dog was licking the plate. “Listen, Three,” Alexis said. “Me and the others have to go into the city, but we can’t take you. You, um, stand out, a bit. Are you okay staying here with Neisk?” “Oh,” Three’s face fell. “Okay ‘Lexis.” Guilt gripped Alexis’ heart, so she reached over and hugged his arm. “I’m sorry, honey. We’ve got some very important work to do in the city and it’s… difficult when you’re with us.” She looked up into his big, trusting, mismatched eyes. “It’s okay, ‘Lex. I understand.”

Holy

CW swearing

"Yeah… It's some kind of powerful magical item, for sure," he said. "It’s glowing bright blue, but I can’t work out what it’s been enchanted with. Give me a sec, I’ll cast Detect Alignment to find out if it’s evil." Once again the rest of them exchanged looks but kept silent as Victor wiggled his fingers in a slightly different pattern. "Revelux in denomination!" he commanded. The wind sighed. Sand scuttled. Victor screamed. He dropped the dagger, falling heavily into the sand, and covering his eyes. "Holy mother of fucksticks!" Bastet rushed over to him and Alexis swiped the dagger. "What happened?" Alexis said. "Are you okay?" Bastet said, cupping the wizard’s shoulders. "Vic, talk to me?"

Ritual (Rite)

Nicodemus raised an eyebrow. "Indeed." He gestured to the viewing mirror again. "As you can see these cultists are devoted and stubborn fellowes. They have almost finished clearing the temple and preparing for their heinous rite which will allow them to open a portal to the demon dimension, or as you might call it ‘the Pit’, bringing their foul lord Myurr through to wreak whatever havoc he wishes on our world. We can not let this happen. As such I am sending you back with this." He handed Richard a cylindrical device, then waved a hand to bring forth a man in pale robes. "This acolyte will transport you back to the temple, and assist you in sealing this portal forever."

➤ @eli-writes-sometimes

Heir (Prince)

"Are you okay?" Bastet said, cupping the wizard’s shoulders. "Vic, talk to me?" "I… I’m all right. I think," he said, his voice shaking. "So. Um. Yeah. That thing is pure evil. As evil as a prince of evil in the dimension specially reserved for really evil things." "What did you see?" Richard asked. "Red," Victor said. "Only red. That thing is giving off an aurora of evil so strong that I see nothing but the waves of light from it. Give me a moment – I must wait for the spell to wear off."

Humanity (Human)

"Richard!" came the delighted cry of a woman. The door flew open and out sailed a middle-aged woman, long braids of ashy-yellow hair streaming out behind her. "Kassy!" Richard cried as the woman threw herself into his arms. "Kassy, what’s wrong?" Her fingers dug into his shirt, her face pressed against his chest for a long moment, before she looked up with reddened, haunted eyes. "Oh Richard, it’s terrible," she said, tears in her voice. “What is? Kassy? What’s happened?” "Richard?” Sticking out from around the door was the head of a human male. His eyes were heavy and his thatch of dark hair was in disarray. With one flickering glance, he took stock of the mismatched adventurers on his doorstep. “Richard, are these people your friends?” “Yes. David, what-” The man pushed the door wider. “You need to get inside now. Hurry!”

Take

"Ho! Whoa. You hold up a moment there, lassy," the captain called. Alexis stopped and turned back, arms folded and head tilted with a glare. The captain grabbed a line, swinging from the ship to the dockside, and landed, silken waist sash fluttering in the breeze. He struck a pose, one hand on the hilt of his sword. "Are y'trying to suggest that I, Captain Dragan Bloodbeard, of the beautiful Oaken Rose, is not fit to take a couple of poncy humans over the seas to Khul?" The captain took a few, stalking, steps forward, glaring down. "Well, are ye?"

Tough

(Word edited out for better prose) CW: Slavery

Once all the women had eaten, the guards unlocked their cell. The slaves filed out and, one by one, were locked to a long chain. The chain was dragged by a guard down to dim pits where veins of opalescent stone ran through the rock. The chain was locked to a staple on the wall, and pickaxes handed out. The other slaves began to attack the rock face. With a glance at Bastet, Alexis followed suit, struggling to even lift the pickaxe.

➤ @thewriteflame

Erase (Remove)

Alexis must have slept at some point, as she woke in a dog pile of small children and blankets. The sun was burning its way through the hall’s high windows, promising a fine day; what little the weather cared for mortal tragedy… She lay back, staring at the wide-beamed ceiling, exhausted down to her bones. At least it would make assessing the damage easier than if they had to manage it in the rain. Her thoughts turned to Richard and Ithanor, passing buckets in the rain, and to Bastet who’d vanished into the dark, and to Victor, throwing magic and water around with only one care. She should, probably, go check on them. Alexis slithered out of the warm pile, pulling the blankets over those who were left shivering with her departure, watching the children with a fond smile as they snuggled together, filling the hole she’d left. She adjusted her armour – apparently never having managed to remove it the night before – and found her travel pack and weapons close by. On soft feet, she padded out of the Town Hall and into the courtyard.

Flight

"Thank you, so very much," said the dragon. "I’m afraid I was in over my head there. If you kind folks hadn’t come along when you did, I would have been dragon kebab for sure. Thank you again, for saving me, Kypris of the Copper Dragon Flight. Is there anything I can offer you for your excellent service? Alexis instinctively held out her hand. "It’s very nice to meet you, Kypris," she said. The dragon extended a talon and they shook "Why didn’t you use your acid breath attack?" Bastet asked. "My my, you’re very knowledgeable, aren’t you little drow. Well…” Kypris scuffed a foot into the sand. “I was taken by surprise and they tangled my mouth shut before I could use it. I sadly haven’t yet learnt the full way of magic. So I couldn’t do much against those wretched little creatures. Now, please! What can I do to repay your kindness?"

Sleep

CW smoking/ drug use

Slowly they all woke, grateful to find both their necks and belongings intact. “Usually I do not let people sleep here,” the barman said, taking a suck from a long pipe, huffing out a cloud of scented smoke. “But I see you are new here, with no place yet to rest your heads. For the service of keeping the braziers lit and protecting you through the long night.. Eh, I will give you a discount for your newness. Two silver bits each.” He waggled his eyebrows and held out a hand. “Thank you, good sir,” Richard said, passing over his money. “Your kindness in protecting us while we slept is greatly appreciated. You are a godly man.” Silently, Alexis passed over her money. As the coins slipped from her grip, she signed in Thieves Cant, ripoff. The barman grinned widely. With a little prodding, Victor and Bastet also parted, grumbling, with their coins. "Now we’re all friends," Alexis said, "perhaps you can help us further. We’re looking for a ruined temple, somewhere deep in the desert. It’s rumoured to contain a portal to other worlds. Have you heard of such a place?” The barman shook his head. “I have not. But there is a man who sells maps from the marketplace. His name is Hassan. Perhaps he can point you the right way.” “Thank-” Alexis began, but stopped when the barman held out a hand, rubbing his thumb against his forefingers. “The desert is cruel,” he said. “A silver bit.” Alexis scowled. “Two copper is all that direction is worth, and we both know it.” The barman grinned as the copper coins landed in his hand. “Assamarra go with you, tree-child.”

Sound (Hearing)

Before she could get her answer, Richard came pounding over the hilltop. "She shall give it up over my dead body!" he roared, launching into the midst of the cultists, blade flashing in the sun. Fire roared from overhead, arrows zipped through the azure sky. Alexis felt like she’d blinked, and all the cultists lay dead, bleeding into the sand. “Greg damnit!” Alexis snapped, rushing over. “Why in the Pit did you kill them all? We could have gotten information from them. Like why they only wanted the dagger!” Muttering she began to riffle through the bodies for clues. “They… They were cultists,” Richard said, shrinking down. He toyed with the hilt of his sword. “Evil-doers. They were trying to kill you. You’re so small, and you hurt easily. I was just trying to keep you safe.” Alexis looked up, hearing the upset in his voice, and gave a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Thank you, for saving me. I just don’t understand why they wanted the dagger. It’s a piece of junk. I only wanted it because…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just wanted it.”

Space

"Arts, I want you to show these lubbers to their quarters, then report back to deck. We’ll be setting the sails in half a turn of the clock." "Aye, Cap’n. Passengers, if ye’d follow me?" the First Mate said, leading the way below decks to show them to two cabins. "Ladies, ye’ll be in here," Arts said, pointing to one. "Gents, this'll be your cabin." He pointed to another. "I'll leave ye get settled. It’d be appreciated if ye could stay in your quarters till the Oaken Rose is underway. Dinner will be shortly after then." With a nod, he left them to their quarters.

"Well this is cosy," said Bastet, as she and Alexis arranged themselves in the cabin. It was indeed a tiny space, with narrow bunks on one side and a small tin sink, recessed into a dresser, on the other. Opposite the door was a porthole, letting in the smallest amount of light, over which hung a hurricane lamp. "Mm," Alexis agreed.

➤ @the-writing-rat

Boiling

"Yes!" she said. "We have been sent to rid your menace from the face of Titan." To her surprise, Zagor laughed. "Oh my," he said, wiping away mock tears of mirth. "What an adorable notion. Whilst you all look the part, I doubt you have the skill. So you are welcome to try, but do not think you will succeed." "We have might and right on our side!" proclaimed Richard, raising his sword. "We cannot fail!" At that signal, he and Ithanor made their charge The villain’s smirk dropped and his black eyes became those of death. He flicked out a hand and the last thing Alexis felt was the hissing and boiling of an orange inferno headed straight for her.

Charity (Offering)

"Excuse me, good sir," Victor called up to the pirate. "We are looking to secure the services of a boat and a captain to take us to the continent of Khul, the new land of adventure. Might your good self be available for this service?" "’Sir’?" the pirate looked around as if confused, and his crew laughed. "Ain’t no ‘sir’s here. Ain’t none but us brigands and rouges." Alexis ground her teeth. The seaweed under the hot sun was pungent, the lack of beer from the ridiculous rules of this cesspit pounded at her head. “Your h'excellency might be in the wrong place, eh lads?” “Enough!” Alexis snapped. “Brigands and rouges it is, if you can’t even see your way clear to not making fun of someone offering you good manners. C’mon Vic, these fools aren’t fit to take us up the street, let alone to Khul in this rickety old tub.” She turned on her heel, marching away when the laughter ceased.

Puzzled

She sat down next to the former barbarian, his hair and attire neater than she had ever seen it. "So what of you, old friend?" she asked. "Business booming for you too?" "Oh aye," Ithanor said. "As if I wasn't busy enough with the repairs and upgrades on the town, they've got me drafted in building a host of new homes. All these new bodies want places to live." "That's excellent news." "Oh and," Ithanor said with a shy smile. "Roderick’s not the only one with a new addition to his life." "Oh?" Alexis gave a puzzled smile. "Yeah. I, ah, managed to find myself a wife as well. Very soon after you left actually. Her name is Maeve, and we’re expecting a child, late spring of next year." Ithanor fiddled with his tankard. "I’ve got us a cottage close to the northeast wall, if you ever want to pop on over."

Succinct (Terse)

It wasn’t until evening chow when the winds picked up, large globs of rain hammering into the deck and soaking through anyone foolish enough to not have an oilcloth. When Richard stood to offer a hand, Bloodbeard held out a hand, saying, "I do thank ye for yer help, these past weeks, and by the end of the voyage we'll have made crewmen of you, I’m sure. But for now, let my boys work. Go down to yer cabins, and kindly stay until the all clear’s been given." With a terse nod, Richard led the way below, the First Mate's orders receding as they did.

Weather

Eventually, Bloodbeard came below, his hat drooping with the weight of water and his beard hanging in a sodden mess as he put his head around the door of the larger cabin which they’d stuffed themselves into. "Ah, you’re all here. Good, good. We seem to be having a wee bit of a storm, lads and lassies. But ‘tis nought to worry about – this ol’ girl’s weathered her share of rough seas.” He patted the bulkhead. “It’ll just get a bit bumpy at times. If you could remain here for the time being, that’d be grand. Can’t be having you lubbers out on deck, under me crew’s feet while they try to save her…” Bloodbeard’s eyes darted, and he forced out a chuckle. “Or risk ye being swept off to the briny deep, eh?”

➤ @sleepyowlwrites

Settle

The dragon clapped its paws again. "One moment then, please." It stood on its hind legs, squeezing its eyes tightly shut. The sand around it kicked up in a sudden twisting wind, knocking Alexis over as the others coughed and struggled to shield their faces. The wind died as suddenly as it came, dust settling around a handsome man with golden-tanned skin in the clothes of a travelling merchant. Alexis blinked and Kypris winked at her, his eyes – slitted like a cat – flashed with copper flecks. "Neat trick," said Victor appraisingly.

Sideways (Open-sided)

"Thank you," she said. "We should find someplace to sit and study this thing… Wait a sec." Alexis stopped, looking around with a frown. "Where the hell did Bastet and Victor go?" Richard glanced around, a hand shading his eyes. "There." He pointed to where a group of people congregated around a low table. On dusty cushions sat Victor on one side, his competitor – a dark-skinned elf – on the other. On the table were a set of bone tiles and a large stack of cash. Victor, in his bright robes, was frowning down at his hand, while Bastet stood behind him, hands on his shoulders, cheering him on. "They appear to be playing a game.” Alexis squinted up at Richard. “For money." "Yes, thank you. I know what gambling is. They can use their money however they wish." "They’re probably cheating." Richard pursed his lips and huffed. “Be that as it may, the fate of the world takes precedence over the immoral actions of our friends.” He gestured to an open-sided tent. “Let’s get something to eat while we look at the map.” They took a seat under the awning within sight of the gambling table, and a waitress brought them a tray of hard cheeses, nuts and cured meats. ”I assume you know how to use the map to find the temple?” Richard asked. “If the map is good, then yes, easily," Alexis said.

Sound

Outside, the day was warming up quickly. The four of them wandered through the tented village in search of a marketplace. It wasn’t hard, following the sounds of hawkers and hagglers, to reach the center of the oasis and the packed market. Narrow lanes bordered with awnings and tents, were filled with people and livestock, braying and hollering. Trestles covered in a dazzling array of food and goods, bright fabrics – soft, diaphanous, silky – dangling from racks, piles of skin and fleeces. The smell was incredible: sizzling meats, perfumed flowers, woody spices, offal and dung. Bright fruits alongside mounds of powders in umber and terracotta. Weapons and clothes and scents Alexis could never have dreamed of in a million years, sold by people of all creeds, their dialects and languages swarming into one joyous conglomeration. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Alexis trailed along behind the others, dipping fingers into pots of spice to smell the strange new smells, running her eyes over glittering treasures, laughing and playfully batting away the small children who thrust trinkets and flowers at her.

A lull in the tumult of sounds made her pause. Something like a whisper, a gut-feel, a tickle on the back of her neck made her look back at the stall she’d just passed. Under a lean-to awning of red and yellow were stacks of chests, some open with the papers inside spilling out. "Guys?" Up ahead Richard looked back to see Alexis wandering back to a stall of some wordsmith. “Victor, Bastet! Alexis has found something,” Richard called out, with a huff adding, “I suppose her ‘treasure sense’ is tingling.” Richard returned to her side, as Alexis was scanning the stall. Crackling stacks of papyrus, held down by painted stones, and rolls of parchment lay across the stall’s table. Idly, she picked up one of the rolls, peeking at its contents – a map, of some kind.

Spacious (Space)

Alexis reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, but Bastet shrugged her off. "It’s okay," Alexis said. “You tried, at least.” "When we get out of here," Bastet hissed at her. "That one is mine." Alexis backed away to give her some space and went to find the elven woman. "Nassurae," Alexis said “Yes, sá itil?” "I don’t know night from day down here, but I’m told you do. If my friends and I are to free everyone, I need to be awake three hours before the guards come to take us back down the mines. Do you think, if I sleep now, you’ll be able to wake me on time?" Nassurae looked thoughtfully at the other elven women in the cell. Each nodded, gripping hands, their eyes alight with hope. “Yes,” Nassurae said. "We can accomplish this. We will take shifts and wake you when it is time." “Thank you. I’ll rest now.” Alexis glanced at Bastet. “I would recommend leaving my companion for now. She’ll sleep when she’s able, and I’ll rouse her when it’s time.” "Quiet dreams, eshen," Nassurae said, as Alexis lay down and closed her eyes.

Supposedly

CW Racial slur - black american

A rustle came from behind them, causing the group to turn. Richard and Ithanor drew their blades as a human and a black-skinned elf emerged from the scrub. "Who are you?" Ithanor demanded, levelling his blade at the newcomers. "Umm, hi?" said the drow. "Well?" Nathardrin said. The human stepped forward, brushing down his shabby robes. "My name is Victor, with a monocle. It seems we both have had the same idea: to sneak into Firetop Mountain and destroy the evil Zagor who lurks within." "And what are you supposed to be?" asked Richard pointing at the drow. "Some kind of pointy-ear coon?" The drow straightened, shoulders pulling back as she looked down her nose at Richard. "My name is Bastet," she said coldly. "Despite your manners, I, and my comrade here, wish to assist you with your venture into the fortress to defeat Zagor." "Oh really?" Alexis said. "Yazty-" She turned back to where the wizard had been standing, only to find the patch of rocky grass empty. "Oh. Well, I hope one of you’s a spell-slinger." "Indeed, little one. I am the mighty Victor with a Monocle!" said Victor, swaying a little. "I will astound you with great acts of wizardry and maybe even set alight to some things." "And I am a fighter of great renown," said the drow. Those from the militia shared dubious looks. "Well, there’s not much point us standing around debating it," said Nathardrin. "We may as well get on with this."

Sweep

(edited the word out for better prose)

As the stablehand led their mounts out, Victor slipped him a silver. "We were never here, okay?" he said. Wide-eyed, the boy nodded, grasping his broom and vanishing into the stalls to send out little puffs of straw dust.

➤ @drabbleitout

Soon enough their packs were ready and armour had been donned, and now they stood in the blustery morning, the dirt of the courtyard underfoot. To one side their mounts stood patiently, as Hengar ran through the lists of evils they may face: Goblins, orcs. A bugbear, if they were unlucky. While Alexis listened with half an ear, she studied the mounts with concern, and when the captain was finished, raised her hand. "Yes?" asked Hengar. "Sorry, Captain. None of those mounts are short enough for me to ride." "Do not worry, little one," Yaztromo said, coming from the door of the Town Hall, tugging on riding gloves. "We shan’t make you walk. You’re to ride with me, if that’s acceptable?" "Oh." Alexis flushed and dipped her head. "I’d be honoured." Hengar tilted his head at Yaztromo, his eyebrows raised. Yaztromo replied with an allowing flourish of his hand.

Bark (growl)

"What did you find?" Ithanor asked. Quickly, Alexis outlined the layout of the fort, the two sets of stairs, and the pattern of the patrolling goblins. "We should take them out," Richard said. "Are you stupid?" Alexis growled. "What part of 'stealth reconnaissance' did you not understand?" Richard blinked. "Uhhh…" Alexis could see on his face that he didn’t understand, but before she could snap the answer, Ithanor beat her to it. "It means we go sneaky-sneaky-sneaky," he said, pantomiming a person stepping carefully. "We can’t take them out because it’ll make too much noise, and risk them raising the alarm. We just have to be like little mice, trying to steal grain." "Oooh," Richard said, in a rising tone of understanding.

Borrow (scrounge)

Alexis rose closer to noon than she would have liked, rolling out of bed with a series of groans. Her head felt ten times heavier than usual, and her mouth was as dry as pound cake. Aside from the snoring of the night watch, the barracks were empty. Victor, she supposed, was still in the pub, but where Bastet and Richard were she had no idea. By the neat folds, Richard would have risen early. Bastet, on the other hand, might have woken just before Alexis by the state of her bed, or been just as hungover. After dunking her head into the water ewer, Alexis wandered down to the mess hall to see if she could scrounge up something to eat.

Dry

CW Blood

Zagor was sitting in a chair by his desk on the far side of the room. He smirked at them as they entered and fanned out. "So. You’ve come back for more?" he asked, his voice the rasp of two dry sticks being rubbed together. Slowly the lich unfolded himself from his chair, as Victor darted around to fire off a Magic Missile. Zagor’s robe singed, but the creature inside remained unharmed. While Richard and Ithanor charged in, Alexis and Bastet took up flanking manoeuvres. The battle was arduous, but between the five of them, they whittled the lich down until finally, the pale creature lay deformed in a pool of its own black blood.

Fine

Slowly the group made their way down to the ground floor, exiting through the now open front gate and into the fort’s courtyard. "Yaszty!" Alexis cried, spotting the wizard perched on the back of a wagon. She hurried over to him, the others trailing behind. "I am fine, little one," he said, raising a tired hand. "I assume you were successful?" Alexis nodded. "Yep, we got that bastard and his phylactery. Is Lieutenant Nazaretian around? We should report our success to him." Yaztromo hung his head, letting his shoulders slump. "Sadly, the Lieutenant perished in the battle, taken out by an uncannily well-aimed goblin arrow. The men here have nearly finished their clean-up efforts, so I shall be returning with them to Toreguard soon. I shall convey our success to Captain Hengar on my return.” He cast an eye over the group, taking in their dented armour and bloody scars. “You should take some time to rest before returning. Now the Firetop is free, there is no rush.”

Large

"It doesn’t look like they managed to crack the combination," Marag said, running her hands over the outside of the vault. "Good ol’dwarven engineering, that. Everything inside should still be there, then." With that, she began to finagle the door mechanism, until, with a soft noise like a sigh, it opened. Marag pulled open the door, and Alexis’ jaw dropped. The walls of the vault were lined with gold and platinum ingots. The floor was filled with chests, weapons racks and armour stands, upon which hung the most beautiful items – plates of pale, glistening, silvery metal; bladed hilts crafted with tiny jewels; crossbows engraved with strange runes. Magar stepped into the room, gesturing for the group to follow her. With no regard for the horde of treasures, she went to a chest pressed against the left wall and threw open the lid. Inside, nestled in neat rows on trays, were hundreds of gemstones. Maga scooped up a handful, and moving through the group, doled out a large ruby to each. "I hope this will be compensation enough f’helping us. And as advanced payment for taking out that velskkus, feel free to choose an item that’ll help you in your coming fight."

Mercy

"And how much will this map and information cost us?" she said, squinting. "Ah ha! I see the little miss is shrewd, as well as beautiful," Hassan said with a wink, and without breaking stride, added, "Three hundred gold pieces." Alexis gave him a flat look. "Fifty" "Fifty! No no, I can not go lower than two hundred, seventy-five." "One hundred, and you throw in a compass." She cast her eyes over the pile of treasures. A beautiful curved dagger with a jewelled hilt caught her eye. "And this." "All for one hundred golden bits? No no! Lady, you are crazy. That dagger is five hundred gold alone. Two hundred and twenty-five, and that is like cutting my own throat." "Please," Alexis scoffed. "That dagger is thirty at most. You think I can’t spot coloured glass just because the sun’s brighter here? Two hundred and twenty-five for the map, information, the compass and dagger, and one misdirect should anyone ask about us or our destination. Agreed?" Hassan threw up his hands. "Gods have mercy on me! Beautiful, shrewd and cruel, tsh." He shook her hand. "It is agreed."

New

Twilight was falling, the sky banded with pastel rainbow shades, as Alexis returned from the market with her haul of fresh supplies. As she walked along the dirt track towards the pub chomping on a newly harvested apple, she passed a pair of elders gossiping over a fence about some scandal from a few villages over. She slowed down to listen in as one of them complained about the reign of terror from a monstrous elf who claimed to be a paladin. Back at the inn, Alexis knocked on the gent’s door. “Heads up,” Alexis said, tossing him an apple. Richard glanced up from where he was trying to buff out the dents in his armour and caught it with one hand. “Ah, we haven’t had apples in ages.” He sniffed the skin. “Makes me feel a little homesick. How was the market?” he asked, placing the apple aside and returning to his armour. “About that,” Alexis began. Richard’s head shot up. “No, not the market. The market was fine. I got everything we needed. I meant, um. The village you’re from. What was it called again?” “High Creek. Why?” Alexis bit her lip. “Um.” Richard’s brown eyes creased in concern and he set aside his work. “Alexis?”

Peel (skins)

"Hey," Bastet said, calling her back to reality. "I think there's someone in here." Alexis looked over to see Bastet peering through the bars of the cell door. "Hello?" Bastet called through them. From the other side of the door came a blistering string of curses in a harsh language. "Whaddaya dirty green-skins want with me now?" the voice said in common. "I think it is a dwarf," Bastet said, glancing at Alexis. "Whaddaya mean, ye think it be a dwarf?" asked the voice mockingly. "I most definitely am a dwarf, ye lousy stinkers." Alexis shrugged at Bastet. "Sounds like a dwarf, yeah." "You can pick locks, right?" Bastet asked. "Yes. You go get the others, and I will let the very angry dwarf out of his nasty cell." "'His'! I'm very much a ‘her’, ye cretin." Bastet tilted her head. Alexis nodded, making shooing motions. Baset shrugged. "That’s right," the angry female dwarf called, as Bastet hurried off to find their comrades. "You’d better run, ya mangey beskur!" "Hey, enough with the name-calling," Alexis said, looking up from her investigation of the lock. "You keep that up, and you can stay in there." "Och! Now I’ve heard everything. Yon gobbo thinks keeping me in here’s a threat!" "I’m not a gobbo. I’m eshen." "What’s that?" Alexis sighed, spitting the word. "A woodling." "A woodling? Tch! Can’t be. Woodlings never come out the Darkwood." "Well, this one did. Now will you please be quiet so I can concentrate."

Work

Tentatively, Ithanor moved forward, placing a hand on a tall warhammer. As if that was their signal, the others moved forward, selecting what they wanted. Richard selected a suit of plate mail, Nathardin a recurve bow, and new swords each for Bastet and Victor. "Excuse me," Alexis said as Marag was finishing up with Victor. "I don’t see anything smaller than dwarf-size…" "Ah, now, let’s see. What’re you after, hen? A weapon or armour?" "Armour, if possible?" Maga squinted thoughtfully. "Aye, aye. I’ve got just the thing for a quarter-pint. A masterwork project it is, and a bit of an experimentation for the crafter. I doubt he ever thought it’d be worn." Marag chuckled, pulling from a chest a beautiful set of supple black leather armour, studded with that pale, glimmering metal. "Aye, this should see you right well, hen." Quickly Alexis changed. The armour fit like it was made for her. She grinned at Marag. "Thank you."

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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 2 years ago

Text

@raigash's birthday was this week so here's a birthday gift!! Robbie is so so cute, and I'm loving exploring his relationship with Mariano and Bastian. c:< IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR, I SWEAR IT DOES--

TWs: Blood, death, gore, grief

They'd been ambushed.

It wasn't the worst fight they'd been in. They'd been outnumbered, eleven to three. Robbie had been quick to draw the dagger they'd given him, darting into the fray with Mariano and Bastian right behind him.

He'd been fearless, a streak of earth-red hair and flashing metal as he wove between the bandit. Mariano danced with him, separating wrists from arms, the swipes of his blade sending bodies down to the dirt, never to get up again. Bastian glimmered as he ripped limbs from torsos, teeth like the night flashing as he brought them together around wrists.

It didn't even last very long.

After a quick check-in, where Robbie said he hadn't been hurt and Bastian laughed at the very idea of being injured, Mariano had felt more than comfortable continuing on. Robbie had been traveling long enough that he knew what he could or couldn't handle. If there was something serious, he'd speak up.

Surely, he would let them know if he needed medical attention. Mariano had told him about their emergency potions, and his medical kit. It was important that anyone with them know what their options were if an emergency came up.

Neither himself nor Bastian expected to find Robbie collapsed in the middle of their camp when they returned from their hunting and water gathering.

Sprawled on the ground, copper-bright hair trailing behind him in the setting sun, he looked like he'd just crumpled mid-step. Had they left someone alive to come back for revenge? There was no sign of a fight, though. Mariano sprinted over and traded the bundles of deer meat and bones for Robbie's limp form. This close, the smell of blood was too fresh to have been lingering gore from their fight.

He held Robbie's face with one hand, pinky and ring fingers pressed against his pulse point. Robbie's heart was beating too quickly, thready instead of strong. His chest rose and fell like a little bird's, shallow and too gentle. "Robbie, can you hear me?" Mariano tried, as Bastian dug around in his bag.

"Nn..." Robbie tried, the noise reedy and weak. Long lashes fluttered as unfocused brown eyes tried to lock onto Mariano's face. "No..."

"It's okay, it's not going to hurt you." Mariano soothed, glancing to where Bastian had finally pulled the glimmering vial. "It won't taste good, but it'll stabilize you until--"

One trembling hand cupped Mariano's cheek, feather-light touch redirecting his attention as blood smeared onto Mariano's skin. "Don't...don't waste it on...on me." Mariano opened his mouth to retort, to say that it wouldn't be a waste. If someone was breathing, if their heart still beat, the potion would help. A smile flashing over Robbie's face cut him off.

"I'll...I'll be back." He whispered. "...Promise."

"I..." Mariano didn't know what to say to that. He felt blood soaking into his pants, into his sleeves. "How..."

Bastian dropped to his knees beside Mariano, already getting the vial open. "Don't worry Robbie, we'll fix you right up." He said, voice dipping into a growl as he fought with the clasp. They'd gone to a new alchemist. He'd promised higher potency and better healing with these. He'd promised that the fancier bottles would keep the valuable liquid safe and stand up to harsher impacts.

"Bastian..." Robbie sighed, the hand at Mariano's face drifting to Bastian's hands. His bloody touch stilled the dragon. "Don't...just...just give me a few hours."

"Robbie, we don't have a few hours." Bastian argued, his attention going back to working the potion open. Robbie had already been too pale when they'd found him, now he looked almost translucent. They both knew he'd lost far too much blood already.

"Just...jus...just a..."

Mariano and Bastian felt the moment that Robbie fell still at the same time.

"No--" Bastian snarled, as Mariano held Robbie closer. One hand pressed Robbie's face into his chest, up against his own beating heart. They couldn't just slice the vial open, it risked glass getting into it, or the searing heat rendering the potion possibly ineffective. "This stupid, fucking--I'm gonna--"

Bastian finally got the potion open two minutes later.

They worked together to drip the shimmering liquid between Robbie's ashen lips. They waited, with bated breath, as the vial was emptied. Blood had stopped seeping from the wound in Robbie's side. The sun began to sink below the horizon, and Robbie lay motionless in Mariano's arms as he and Bastian washed the blood from his skin.

They only set up the fire that night to start preserving the venison.

"He said he'd be back." Mariano said in quiet argument when Bastian just watched him get enough blankets set out for the three of them. "He hasn't lied before."

Bastian didn't object to Mariano bringing Robbie's body to lie between them. Just one more night to lay curled around their unexpectedly sweet traveling partner. They'd give him a burial the next day. If he actually came back, that was even better.

Wrapping their arms around their Robbie, neither of them spoke as they drifted off.

Gasping and shuddering woke Mariano. The moon was high and bright, the night sky painted with swirls of stars. Their campfire had died down completely by then, barely any glow coming from the remaining wood. Bastian was drowsy, blinking awake in confusion.

Robbie was clutching at their arms. "M...Mariano? Bastian?"

His eyes were alert and looking around, and although the moonlight washed him out horribly, the strength in his hands was unmistakable. "Robbie," Mariano whispered, all traces of sleep erased from his mind. "We're here." His heart hammered in his chest, unwilling to believe just yet. "You...you came back."

Wide, bright brown eyes flicked to Mariano's face, brimming with tears. Robbie swallowed. "You...you gave me one of your...potions."

Mariano nodded. He couldn't tell what was swimming in Robbie's voice, but he did know that whatever it was, it wasn't anger. "We wanted you here. It was worth a try."

"You...you didn't...you..." Robbie's hands found one of Mariano's and one of Bastian's. He held them close, as though he had expected to be alone. "I..." He blinked, the tears finally starting to roll down the sides of his face, disappearing into his hair.

"Shh." Bastian muttered, shifting on Robbie's other side and pressing his face into the top of Robbie's head. "We're here. You're alive now." His clawed fingers pulled Robbie and Mariano closer to himself. "We have you."

Robbie shuddered, a hitching noise escaping when Mariano kissed his cheek. "You're safe." He whispered against Robbie's ear. Robbie's heart pounded against the arm he had wrapped around him. His own chest felt impossibly full. He couldn't stop smiling. "Rest."

None of them slept the rest of the night.

None of them moved until the sun was high in the sky the next day, and the hunger pangs were too loud to ignore.

#whump #robbie #mage of violence #dragon of diamond #blood #deaath #gore #grief #I PROMISE IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING #I SWEAR #HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAI #ROBBIE IS LOVED

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avionvadion · 1 year ago

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*inhale* hoooooo my god this was the hardest boss fight I’ve ever faced in a Zelda game, and also the most epic. The first bit was awesome, fighting the demon kings army with the sages by our side, and then that moment they all stayed behind to fight the bosses again made me think Link would have a slight panic moment, remembering the last time a group of his friends went to face great evil (they never returned). Then the fight with Ganondorf himself, when he turned into the demon king and his health bar just kept going. Not to mention attacks that PERMANENTLY LOWER YOYR MAX HEALTH for that battle at least. Huuuuuuh I ended up just cheesing the fight with bomb arrows because he kept backflipping away from my sword. And then. THEN. THAT FINAL DRAGON FIGHT. LINK TRAPPED IN HIS JAWS. AND HERE COMES ZLEDA WITH THE STEEL CHAIR. Just fighting that giant dragon on Zelda’s head, how even with her losing her sense of self she still comes to Link’s aid and ends up fighting by his side for the final battle. AND THAT ENDING CUTSCENE. I’m not sure why they took my shirt, but Sonia and Rauru coming to their adopted daughter’s aid to help her restore her humanity, Link catching her and cradling her as they fall. THE PARALLELS TO THE START OF THE GAME, HE COULDN’T REACH HER THEN BUT HE DID THIS TIME. HE REACHED HER. HER HEARTFELT “IM HOME”

THE FINAL FINAL CUTSCENE WHERE MINERU PASSES ON AND THE NEW SAGES SWEAR FEALTY TO ZELDA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Also the thought came to mind of when Link is swept up by Draganon, if Ilia ends up flying up with him, poor Sidon has to watch his wife get swept away by evil incarnate. I also like how Draganon kind of resembles Calamity Ganon fromBOTW

IT WAS SUCH A GOOD BOSS FIGHT ALDJSKJSKSJSSJ

Not gonna lie I just ran around grabbing the dropped weapons and items, lol, and let the Sages take care of the big baddies because OOF. Ganondorf was an absolute delight of a boss fight though. I panicked so hard in the phase with the extra long healthbar that I forgot my OoT training until he knocked me down to six hearts.

DRAGON GANON VERSUS DRAGON ZELDA

Yooooo that was soooo cool!!! I loved it so much. The whole Ganondorf fight was such a fun mix between OoT Ganondorf and SS Demise, and then they amped it up like crazy. 10/10.

Also Sidon is absolutely going to see Ilia get swept up in evil incarnate alongside Link, and then he’s just gonna see her plummeting alone because Link and Zelda were both enveloped in light, and Ilia is gonna sailcloth into some water and Sidon’s just gonna be booking it to her because man is both terrified but also absolutely certain she’s okay because she’s Ilia but also oh gods she just got swept up in a dragon’s jaws and was then falling from like three hundred feet.

Chaos!

#totk #totk spoilers #tears of the kingdom #tears of the kingdom spoilers #ask

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vulturereyy · 2 years ago

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Reblogging with Hegemol whump/angst under the readmore that I sent to @dragons-age in DMs because I am being perfectly normal about this. It's a bit choppy since it's from a conversation.

What if Hegemol was already secretly starting to feel unwell but didn't think it too much to tell his fellow knights yet because he was sure it was just a little cold or something and it would pass like it always does. But then during a training spar Ogrim strikes him right in the head and Hegemol would usually back down after a hit to praise him and encourage him to try the move again, but this time he… Doesn't. Ogrim is briefly excited by the fact he landed a blow on the bulwark that is Hegemol (I imagine his fighting style is extremely defensive, like man is a walking fortress), but then tapers off when he realizes Hegemol… Isn't joining in like he usually would. He's just standing there, silent, still in a defensive pose, staring unblinkingly into oblivion. To the point even Dryya and Isma and Ze'mer on the sidelines are like… H--Hegemol? Is everything--

And then Hegemol so quietly requests he be helped to his quarters, and all four of them immediately feel their hearts drop because something is very wrong

And Ogrim believes for a very long time (and may still believe) that he was the cause of Hegemol's decline because of that blow :sob: but really it was just coincidence that it finally rattled his head enough for the infection to break past his first barriers 😭

what if thats even part of why he leaves the palace, the fucking GUILT 😭😭😭

also I think that this would lead the other knights, probably Dryya and Ze'mer, to go request for one of the royal healers and they want to alert the pale king because Hegemol, there's only 5 of us we're very important to his ranks, he needs to know if you're not fit for --

but one of the very first times Hegemol has ever displayed anger towards his fellow knights is insisting that they not tell the king and he's fine, he will be fine, he's just tired, that's all. He will give up on arguing about a healer, though. A healer can come visit, so long as they swear to secrecy about it.

Mighty "if I cant serve my kingdom i am a failure of a knight and a failure of a bug" Hegemol one day I will make a character that is not type 2 ennegram but today is not that day

Hegemol fights so long to be able to keep up his duties and he was overworked before the illness, and now he's definitely far beyond his limits. and then the knights get called back to the palace to discuss the state of the kingdom and they're in like the war room with TPK and hegemol has honestly not been able to take in anything he's said, everything is muffled in his head except for this awful pounding, it's taking all of his strength and willpower just to remain standing perfectly at attention, staring dead ahead toward the map, the bug equivalent of sweating bullets inside his armor. Even breathing has been difficult the past few days, but he's learned how to put his entire mind into masking it.

But the the Pale King asks him his opinion on protections for the city and… Doesn't get an answer. And there's a pause, and suddenly everyone's eyes are on Hegemol as the pale king steps up to him and repeats the question, slower this time, trying to gauge just what is wrong with his most trusted knight.

And this time Hegemol manages to look down at him, but still can't find the energy to respond. And the pale king just says very calmly to the others without looking away from Hegemol's mask to call for the royal physician. All of them.

And only after all four of the other knights depart does Hegemol finally drop to a trembling knee before his king and struggle to take in the deepest breath he can.

Something is wrong with Hegemol.

i think Hegemol very much puts himself as the. like. he's not over his fellow knights but to his understanding (and probably in practice), as the eldest and one of the first, and definitely the most level headed of the group, they always defer to him for advice and tiebreaking decisions, and his opinions on things. Ogrim and Dryya both are young enough to be his squires. (in my mind the age chart is Hegemol -> Isma -> Ze'mer -> Dryya -> Ogrim, with about ~30 human equiv years between Hegemol and Ogrim). He is like their older brother and he knows this, and puts a fuck ton of pressure on himself to consistently be there for them because of it. He can't let them worry about his weakness. He can't let his king worry either -- but his king is… Over him, far over him, in rank and mind. Hegemol has served him for decades at this point. If the choice is his fellow knights or the Pale King to break down in front of, he's going to choose the king. He can't let his siblings down, but he can disappoint his commanding officer.

Something is wrong with Hegemol :((

#the autistic experience of inflicting masking in a tangible way onto characters #I'm normal I'm fine I'm good we're good we're fine #hk hegemol #hk ogrim #hollow knight #mighty hegemol #loyal ogrim #five great knights #sorry not sorry #i have brain worms

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genshin-impact-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Streamer!Genshin Meeting Character!(Y/n) for the First Time

Characters: Scaramouche, Childe, Albedo, Kaeya, Venti

Scaramouche:

His viewers were constantly requesting that he play this game that’s been out for a little while now that was called Genshin Impact. So he finally gave in to see what all the talk was about

Getting through the tutorial and the first part of the chapter felt so long; visually it was beautiful as the story was pretty decent so far.

It wasn’t until he got to Liyue in the archon quest that things seemed to pick up for him. The character who saved him from almost getting arrested kind of irked him; it reminded him of his one roommate who was a rich kid type.

It wasn’t till the release of the event Unreconciled Stars that once again many of his followers flooded his messages telling him he needed to play the event during his streams so they could see his reaction to meeting a new character.

Curiosity peaked after hearing a bit that the character would be an electro catalyst. Which he started to play it instead of holding off for a few days; honestly he really wasn’t expecting much

It was until he finally saw you appear; he was a bit surprised as you weren’t exactly how he pictured you yet you looked cute but in a cool way? A little more of the interaction he’s a little on the fence on how he feels about you but he was interested in where this event was going, there was something just a little bit… off

Progressing he was a little bit bummed since he thought there would have been a bit more interaction with you. That was until he was back in Mondstadt with Mona who was helping solve this mystery when pleasantly surprised that you’ve showed up. Until Mona seemed to have some sort of revelation that caused her to teleport them all out of there

Needless to say he wasn’t happy that he was taken away from seeing you. “Excuse me you bring me back,” was his initial reaction but continued to watch when it was more clear that you were there to kill him. You were that other harbinger; number six of the fatui harbingers and the moment you snapped at one of the agents, you had instantly become one of his absolute favorites.

Childe:

Though his viewers have been requesting to play the soon released game Genshin Impact he has actually been long awaiting for this game.

To celebrate the release it was going to be a long stream as he’s stocked up on water and energy drinks and snacks. He’s definitely planning to do a giveaway for his viewers (though he won’t bring it up until he finally unlocks the wishing feature)

He enjoyed the plot so far as the conflict with Dvalin has been resolved but now the ameno archon’s gnosis was stolen by some woman who appeared out of nowhere. Soon to learn about the fatui group and their eleven harbingers

Off to Liyue at long last! There’s been chatter of one character that shows up fairly early in the quest and he is very curious to encounter whoever this character was

He was finally at the part where Rex Lapis came crashing down from the sky dead and now was sneaking to get to the exit. Definitely took him a couple of times and in the process of it all he was certainly singing the whole “Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious” song

Finally getting the cutscene where his character gets chased after unfortunately making sound. When things looked like it was going to turn into a fight he was surprised when hearing a new voice say “I got this one sweetie”. His mouth has dropped in pure awe of watching your character flip from above appearing out of thin air as you handled the Millelith with ease

Hearing you say follow me he had such a grin on his face; “Don’t gotta ask me twice I’ll follow you anywhere”. Of course his viewers in chat were raving and just spamming the laughing emote as the cutscene continued in a safe place

Looking at your character model admiring you as the reveal that you were a part of the harbingers but seemed to be rather friendly. “You guys I’m in love. (Y/n) better be a playable character at some point… I’ll be sad if I don’t get to travel the world with them” he says as when he finds out you're rich his initial thought was “So are they going to spoil me or do I get to spoil them? Cuz I really want it to be the second one” He hadn’t known you for long but he already wants to give you the world

Venti:

He was mainly known for his streams where he’ll sing or perform some of the instruments he enjoys and many of the games he’d play were a lot of rhythm games or one of the hilarious simulator games; so for him to pick up Genshin Impact it’s a little outside of the typical games he’ll usually play

He really loves the music so far, if the music wasn’t to his liking he’d probably drop it. Will probably take a moment to just listen to it and talk about what possible instruments used to compose it

After running around the world and looking for chests and whatever materials he saw along the way. He suddenly saw the big dragon fly over head and now making his way to the whispering woods to look for the feathered looking dragon

The cut scene started and there was the dragon on a rock but then he saw you; he doesn’t know anything about you but having seen you in some of the images that the company released he’s been interested in your character!

During your moment with your old friend had was making this face 🥺 but then that was when the snapping sound echoed causing the dragon to freak out and leave in a gust of wind. “Noooo I’m so sorry” he’s shouting at the screen when he watched the expression on your face turn sad before you seemed to just vanish

Has been bummed out since he hadn’t seen your character in a while until he saw you running with a lyre in your hand, he only fell in more love with you as he was running around with you trying to get the holy lyre from the church

Albedo:

It had been a while since more of the story was out but of course he’d play to do his commissions and gather materials he needed, but when his viewers showed him the announcement of the newest section of the map will be released; oh there was a new temperature mechanic that if it was too cold that his characters could freeze to death

Generally that would be fine… but he enjoys stopping and admiring the scenery which he easily gets distracted so he’s probably going to keep forgetting to stand by fire a lot

But the best part of all: they were introducing you, the chief alchemist of the Knights of Favonius. The one that was talked about by so many characters in their voice lines he finally was going to get a face to the name

He was already not liking that the so called ‘nun’ was insinuating that you weren’t trustworthy; the AUDACITY! Sure he hadn’t known your character long but he will defend you wholeheartedly, you have this charismatic to you that he’s just smitten

“If one day, I lose control… Destroy Mondstadt… Destroy everything… Can I rely on you to stop me?” After hearing that last line he needs a minute to take a double take to make sure he heard that correctly. “I swear if this is some sort of indication of something bad happening and I have to fight (y/n) I will not be happy,” he’s saying of course looking to his camera

Kaeya:

So many of his viewers were requesting that he play Genshin Impact as of course it would be a little different from the games he’s played in the past (Ya can’t tell me he wouldn’t have played Huniepop and doki doki literature club), but the idea of attractive characters in the game? He’s sold as the few characters he saw pictures of it seemed promising.

So he starts streaming it and all is going smoothly so far… Until it was time to learn about gliding right before Stormterror attacks and the mini flying fight happened

Once the cutscene starts he’s watching leaning back in his chair a bit until a clapping sound starts and that’s when everyone in chat was losing it and spamming the heart eyes emotes. Seeing you come into the shot he’s got a small little smirk; you were hot. He only seemed to love your character even more after hearing that you were the cavalry captain

When it came time to do your trail quest (which of course was the first one he went to do) he’s very much looking at your design and admiring your charming features. He asks his viewers if he leaves the domain if he gets to keep you or if you were one of the five stars that he’d have to wish for, spoilers don’t really bother him if he really wants to know what happens.

Seeing your summon art once he left he’s ecstatic that you will be forever in his team and once he’s able to he’s going farming so he can build you up

#genshin impact #streamer au #genshin impact fanfic #genshin kaeya #genshin venti #venti the bard #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #genshin albedo #genshin childe #tartagilla #reader impact

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izusun · 3 years ago

Note

*hands you an AU dump to hoard like a little goblin handing a small coin to a dragon*

OKAY so basically: after the doctor's visit where Izuku learns he's quirkless (I hc that they went when he was about five n' a half), Inko does a little bit of research on quirks and more specifically on her son's notebooks, learns that he's even more brilliant at quirk analysis than she originally suspected, and (after looking at some not great quirkless statistics) she instead informs Izuku that no, he's had a quirk all along! It's an analysis quirk!

So she updates the quirk registry, and Izuku goes through his life believing he has an analysis quirk, albeit teased for being a late bloomer, but he still can't shake the insecurity being quirkless for that one and a half year gave him.

He does research on all sorts of things, hacking, knife throwing, first aid, and building his own support gear and takes to all of it like a duck to water. He also does research on UA's policy for support gear in the entrance exam (cause surely they've gotta have a policy for non-offensive quirks like Koda and Hagakure) and finds that he can take one with him if he builds it himself. He goes fuckin bonkers.

Anyways: he trains with Katsuki, cause they're relationship is pretty good since Izuku has a 'quirk.' They both demolish the entrance exam. (Also Izuku kinda swears a lot because Katsuki rubs off on him)

Aizawa doesn't notice a goddamn thing is amiss until the battle trials on the second day (he decides to shadow All Might that day), where when he was using his quirk to silence his students while Izuku was rambling, he just didn't stop, as if he didn't notice anything was wrong. It happens again during the USJ.

So at some point during the sports festival, Nedzu (who is now intrigued because of Aizawa's complaining) invites Izuku into his office during a free period and lets him go ham on analysis, all while Aizawa is secretly there erasing Izuku's 'quirk.' Nedzu invites Izuku to be his personal student (making Aizawa go grey), he says yes, and then Nedzu drops the absolute BOMBSHELL that Izuku is actually quirkless. Cue an existential crisis.

(Also Izuku gets captured at the training camp alongside Katsuki because of his "analysis quirk," wonder how well that goes for him~)

- Goblin anon (sorry this one was kinda long)

GOBLIN?? DUDE???? HOLY SHIT I KNEW YOUR AUS ARE ALWAYS PHENOMENAL BUT THIS RIGHT HERE??? D U D E

i misunderstood the prompt a bit but i genuinely don’t know how to backtrack, so here you go goblin. sorry again o(TヘTo)

ok first of, inko taking on a stronger stance to support her son? love that of her. like, she doesn’t say sorry when izuku turned to look at her and cried that he can’t be like all might. instead, she took him in her arms and assures him that he will be a great hero. at first, of course half of it is lip service because she doesn’t know how to help her quirkless boy be a hero, since, you know, heroes need quirks.. (or do they)

and then she comes across a quirkless self help group which rang many many warning bells in her head. what kind of life do quirkless people live when a google research of them resulted in subsequent pages of results like how to stay safe when quirkless, or how to find jobs when quirkless, or quirkless mortality rates?

she fears for izuku, until she notices that her son’s smart. too smart for his age, but inko thought she’s just being biased. but izuku’s wit is something many people notice, for an instance, when izuku goes to the park to play and his friends’ (the few ones who stayed) parents tell her that her son’s smart for a quirkless person, she realizes that izuku’s wit is far more vast than normal.

then a thought worms into her head but wouldn’t it be bad to lie…but also, no one would be any the wiser.

further pushed by all the statistics she keeps seeing, or the lack thereof, about quirkless people, she makes the decision and pours it to izuku.

izuku who’s far smarter than his age and understood what his mom is asking from him. izuku who already saw the disparities between quirked and quirkless people at the tender age of five. izuku who knows what it means to lie about something as personal as a quirk, but realizes that it’s necessary for him to do so if he wants to live a “normal” life.

so he agrees; he tells inko that he’ll work even harder to sharpen his mind, and to keep expanding his knowledge.

when izuku’s quirk file is officially updated, he watches how his peers and teachers revert back into treating him as izuku. he regains his old friends, but he chose to drop them because he doesn’t want to surround himself with people who thought he was less for being quirkless.

katsuki stayed, surprisingly. katsuki stayed and everyday he kept bothering izuku to “get your quirk already!” katsuki stayed because he can’t fathom that the smartest boy in their class (of course not as smart as him, psshh) is quirkless. deku couldn’t be quirkless. (but if he found out that izuku, indeed, is, i wonder what would happen…)

katsuki was one of the loudest to celebrate when izuku announced that his quirk arrived.

“finally!” he screams and bothers izuku about the semantics of his quirk. he really wasn’t surprised to find out that izuku has an analysis quirk because he thought that nothing else would better be suited for izuku.

he doesn’t know that izuku pours so much of his time into learning and studying, often bypassing basics and intros to take more of the developed courses that are usually recommended for older ages. he doesn’t know that izuku is just a naturally smart kid with the ability to fill the gaps of his young mind with knowledge upon knowledge, storing and stacking them until he feels that he’s laid a sturdy foundation for his fake quirk.

then izuku began threading into different areas. he learns how to get into cyberspaces; hacking into accounts and delving more into how to access private information. he doesn’t thread too close lest he gets caught, but he learns the logistics of maneuvering around the web and burrowing in empty spaces to branch out his own. he creates and designs web algorithms for himself, just so he doesn’t trigger anyone who is looking into the web movements. he hones this and uses it to access more information.

then when he deems it enough, he turns his attention to something more tangible and something more physical. he learns other ways to be a hero; how to fight without a physical quirk, how to win against bigger opponents, how to use analysis quirk in fights.

izuku becomes more than a fake analysis quirk user; he creates it.

mental quirks are hard to describe, more so to compress, thus he creates new definitions of an analysis quirk. what used to be a silly lie is now a tangible fact that izuku believes in. because what makes a quirk? because what makes analysis a quirk? he learns these semantics (often political) and uses it to his advantage.

then he finally threads to hero analysis. at first it were classmates he analyzed; eyes running quickly at their forms and watching with great interest before calculating everything he’s seen and transversing it with the things he learned, and bridges these two facts together to create an analysis. it was a struggle at first: he didn’t know which to put emphasis on until he realizes, he doesn’t need to. he weaves them together and lets his analysis run long and watches how his hobby comes into fruition.

following his classmates are current heroes. these were more tough and more fun, and any of the information is less shared. he doesn’t tell his classmates or teachers about his analyses, only katsuki. and katsuki’s breath hitch every damn time at izuku’s talent quirk.

it is in their second year of middle school that midoriya begins to incorporate the facts with himself to create physical performances. the issues and things he learned through observing are now practiced by himself. he calculates the best way to fight with a body as petite as his, often taking examples from pro-hero hawks and other women heroes. their agilities and physicality suit izuku’s young body; he doesn’t see the merit in punching his way through things when he physically cannot.

so he learns ways to ease his muscles. he learns ballet and gymnastics; lets his muscles contort and mend themselves anew. he finds his balance and roots himself firmly, and learns to calculate his actions so he doesn’t waste his energy. katsuki doesn’t say anything, but he sees izuku’s dance and falls in love.

then in the spring of their third year of middle school, izuku learns how to build and handle weapons.

this is the easiest. izuku learns that weapons aren’t tools, but extensions of his arms and hands. they are not to be revered and not to be depended on because they can fail. instead, he learns to wield weapons as though they are parts of his bodies. he learns how to use swords and often narrowing to wooden sticks that can be picked up anywhere; he learns how to fire guns and how to hide daggers in his uniform. he learns that his body is the best weapon to use and that tools are just arsenal to help him win.

then he learns how to build them.

by summer, izuku begins reaching into UA’s servers. they are hard codes to crack, but not impossible. it takes him five days to access old entrance exam videos. the next day, the videos are snuffed and he is left to try digging deeper into UA.

he fails.

nezu must have caught onto his codes and proceeded to build walls against it.

so he slithers out. but a five minute video of last year’s entrance exam is enough for izuku because he learns two things: one, heroes must defeat villains and two, heroes must save others.

izuku prepares for this. unknowingly, katsuki is taught these same principles. katsuki would grumble and tell him that he knows what heroes must do, but izuku continues to hammer it down to him.

by the time of the UA entrance exam, izuku falls into the ease of having a fake quirk. he passes the written exam with flying colours and although it took three teachers to approve his support gears (present mic had to pull in powerloader, midnight, and hound dog to ensure that the well designed support gears are made by the hero student examinee and not by a support student examinee. majima saw the works and begged nezu to allow izuku to be his student.), izuku still succeeds and dominates the entrance exam.

when the zero pointer was released, he had flung himself towards the girl crushed by debris and yanks her out. he doesn’t waste a modified grenade to explode the zero pointer because through his calculations, doing so would not only create more collateral damage, but would also endanger the examinee in his arms because she still would be caught in the crossfire.

nezu hums in appreciation from the screening room, after all, smart minds always do think alike.

izuku gets a whopping 92 in the physical aspects of the entrance exam.

katsuki gets 85.

aizawa gleefully takes them in.

izuku thinks that no one will ever know of his and inko’s secret, but one look at nezu’s beady eyes and he knew that the stoat knew. it became a game to them, then. a game to see who else would realize.

and while izuku is smart, he doesn’t realize that nezu has basically taken him as his personal student the moment he and izuku had created a bet.

it takes two months for aizawa to figure things out. surprisingly, he is the only one to do so and he only realizes due to the many untimely attacks of LoV.

——

how angst would it be if katsuki realizes that izuku’s always been quirkless during their captivity in the LoV’s hideout.

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ura-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Trampolinist

Summary - You’re a player who jumps from server to server, often revisiting several and always trying to find access to new ones. When a victorious game of duos Skywars on Hypixel wins you an invitation to one of the most famous yet exclusive servers in the community, you find a world you never knew existed, allies you’re not certain you can trust, and enemies that may not be just that. Oh, yeah, and an anarchist piglin hybrid.

(c!technoblade/server jumper!reader)

Basic warnings: minor blood, swearing, light threats

A/N - hello! I decided to start this series as a result of a sporadic idea at midnight after quite an odd dream. Some information you might need:

A few select people can jump servers without using portals, and you (the reader) are one of them.

Some servers are public and some require invites. Hypixel and a lot of the other bigger servers are public, while SMPs such as the Dream SMP are private and require an invite.

Jumpers, as they are commonly referred to throughout the series, still require an invite to private servers, though some have figured out loopholes to this process and actively exploit it, earning the title of “Crashers”. You have figured it out but don’t use the ability.

The rating for this series is 14-15+, most likely including minor to graphic descriptions of blood/injuries, violence, swearing, minor manipulation and death.

There are select groups of people who hate Jumpers and actively try to perma-kill them or get them source-banned from servers, leaving them stuck in single player and isolation.

From the author:

This will be in second person.

There will be no use of Y/N or (Y/N) or anything along those lines. I understand some people use them as a descriptor, but in my opinion, it looks a bit messy/choppy.

Feel free to criticize, though don’t be super harsh.

Also gl free to point out spelling mistakes.

I love love LOVE feedback! Gimme it! Please! /lh /gen

Anyway, those are the basics that you need to know! For now, at least… hehe.

Enjoy the first part!

-ura

——

The familiar particles signalling a personal portal opening in the lobby sends a few people scattering, but most just move to the side, though there are a fair few that stay to watch the person step out of the rip in reality.

The person stumbles out, cursing the deities to high heaven, brushing dirt and sweat and even a bug off of their face, certainly looking a bit worse for wear.

This was certainly not what the audience was expecting. They were expecting a prim, proper or at least somewhat distinguished person to step out of the actively sparking spiral, as most Jumpers are that way, even just a bit.

Nope.

“What are you looking at?”

The people step back a bit, noticing the sword the person clutches in their hand.

That person is you.

“Fuck off, would you? You probably see Jumpers on the daily! Fuckin’ annoying.” you grumble, sheathing the sword at your side. “Fuck… is this Hypixel?”

With a cursory sweep of the attire of the people surrounding you and buildings towering over everyone, you determine that yes, it is, in fact, Hypixel.

Of course, that may have also been the big-ass sign in the sky with the server’s name on it. That too.

With a sigh and a wave of your hand, you pull your inventory up. The typical “please place your personal belongings in a safe place before playing a match, otherwise they may be wiped.” message pops up when you do. You huff, wave your fingers to dismiss the text. Not like you’ve been here a hundred thousand times or anything like that.

The Netherite blade at your side, your armor and any sentimental belongings you have on you go straight into your enderchest, categorized in one of the shulker boxes designated specifically for this purpose.

As you walk along, trying to sort your inventory out (fortunately the server provides a free repair and replace to anyone’s clothing, as yours are beaten pretty much beyond self-help), deciding what match you might want to play, the crowd that was surrounding you quickly scurries off with a few screams.

A quick glance upwards catches your gaze on a red and white nametag.

Huh. Don’t see those often.

Whispers of the name you can’t quite see from where you stand rapidly reach your ears, ringing with slight familiarity.

Dream.

Odd. The masked man doesn’t often come onto public servers, mainly sticking to his own private server, named after him. The Dream SMP. How egotistical.

Without another glance towards the fan-people, you select a game idly. The blue text pops up in front of you, confirming your want to play the match.

Skywars Duos.

Before you know it, you’re whisked off to the arena, a bit dizzy from your landing, but fine nonetheless. The timer for the start slowly counts down, ticking slowly as people pop into existence with increasing frequency.

A presence behind you alerts you to your teammate. You nod at them just as the beeping of the final ten seconds counts down.

After a few repeated sessions, most being losses, you decide on one more match before you head to a tavern for the night, preferably one with a view.

This time you’re the second one to arrive. And for once, you take a longer look at your teammate.

He’s the guy everyone was freaking out about a few hours earlier… what was his name again? Dr-something. Or was it a Tr-something? Ah, who knows. It doesn’t matter as long as he’s good. You don’t bother to look at his nametag; he’s probably just some hotshot who thinks he’s all that.

“Not going to freak out?” he asks you. You snort at the question, shaking your head with a glance at the timer.

“Just here to kick ass.”

“Fair enough,” he replies. “You any good?”

A laugh from you echoes as the beeping of the countdown starts.

“We’ll see.”

The barrier below you drops, sending you hurtling to the floating island below. You quickly hit the ground, rolling into a crouch while your teammate raids the chest beside you, tossing a few bits of armor and a stone axe as well as a golden apple, which you catch and nod gratefully.

The hood on his head drops when another player attempts to take him out of the game. He ducks, barely avoiding the glimmer of the enchanted sword, sweeping her legs out from under her. The enemy player narrowly rolls out of the way with her shield being knocked out of her hands into the dark blue void below the floating island.

She curses loudly as his axe lands beside her head, kicking it to the side.

In that moment, you shove her hard off of the crumbling stone, jabbing your axe in her shoulder for final measure. Her falling figure flashes red with the loss of hearts, and eventually, she disintegrates into dust, the announcement of her tag being eliminated in the chat making you smirk.

“Well, you are good.”

You send him a smirk and collect the spoils of your kill, mostly a few potions and the iron blade, tossing a few of the former to your teammate and splashing a speed potion on yourself.

With practiced movements you begin to build to the middle islands, your teammate throwing the occasional snowball at any approaching enemy players, even knocking one off their bridge. The message of their death rings in the chat, being the fifth elimination.

The chests there contain better loot, even a diamond sword and chestplate, a strength II potion and a Power I bow with fifteen arrows. You take the bow and chestplate (with permission from your teammate, who gladly takes the sword and potion) and book it to the center chests, almost laughing at the amount of snowballs and arrows lying there.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” you muse.

You hear a yell of your tag, quickly spinning around to block the swing of an enchanted axe, their teammate quickly turning to gang up on you after finishing off another person.

Great. You’re fighting two people now.

Swing, duck, dodge, swipe, duck, swipe, block—shit, you got stabbed! Two hearts disappear from your health bar, sending a flurry of curses flying from your lips.

But luckily, your teammate is fast enough to eliminate the weaker of the two.

The tables turn.

The clash of blades, splash of potions and grunts of pain quickly move to the edge of the center island. It’s two verses one now, and the three of you are the last competitors in the match.

Block the swing, return the blow, duck, block, dodge—

A sudden stab in your shoulder alerts you to an arrow stuck in the skin there, slowly depleting your health.

It’s merely a distraction.

The enemy player barrels into you, sending you stumbling backwards right at the edge of crumbling gravel.

Poison becomes your downfall.

The smack of another half heart.

As one last resort, you grip onto the block with one hand, the other dangling with your bow into the void. Gritting your teeth, you do your damndest to drag yourself up, the poison wreaking havoc through your body and strength.

Shit. I’m not going to survive this, am I?

The one-handed grip on your bow tightens, nocked arrow slipping between your dirt-covered fingers.

You make a decision.

Just as the enemy player comes over, smirking but low on health, you let go of the block, drawing your arrow back as you fall into the void.

The broadhead meets its mark just in time, signalling a victory with a dragon appearing underneath you right before you hit the death line. A sigh of relief escapes your lips; you direct the dragon upwards with a rush of gratefulness soaring through your body. Respawning isn’t a pleasant process.

Twenty or so seconds later, you appear back in the lobby with your teammate at your side. The lobby is nearly empty, only a few people milling around, most having traveled elsewhere or checked into a tavern or hotel.

“You’re good. We could use you on our side.”

“ ‘We’?”

Two other figures appear out of seemingly nowhere, one wearing white-rimmed black sunglasses with a blue hoodie, the other a bandana and a white hoodie with flames on the front of it.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, calling up a portal in your mind, ready to dash through it at the slightest hint of a threat. Sparks form by your palms, their signature color drawing the leader’s attention.

“Calm down. I have no interest in killing you.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you retort. “Three versus one isn’t exactly fair y’know.” The sparks grow brighter; though they are primarily used to call up portals, they can deal quite a blow to anyone who forcefully comes into contact with them.

Dream (you now read off his nametag, getting sick of referring to him by random aliases) extends a hand in front of his body. Something hovers in it, glowing a soft white and reading something you can’t quite make out.

“It’s not going to kill you.”

Bandanna laughs at that.

“Reassuring,” you snap, taking a closer look at it.

Invitation: Dream SMP

Active?: Yes

Expires: Never

Taken aback, you sputter out a few jumbled sentences before asking why they’d invite you of all people. Sure, you may be okay at Skywars, but that doesn’t warrant an invitation to literally the most exclusive server in the network.

“Uh—what?”

You take a quick glance at the two others, noting their tags are red and white as well, reading Sapnap and Georgenotfound.

“You don’t have to accept.” Dream steps forward to set the glowing orb in your hands. “Just know that we picked you for a very good reason.

How… interesting.

“Is it ‘cause I’m an inactive Crasher?”

The three stiffen at the moniker used for the infamous Jumpers, the ones who figure out ways around the system, the lines of fate that make up the different servers, finding loopholes that not even the best Mender can. They exploit them, gaining almost god-like abilities on the server only to wreak absolute anarchy on the infrastructure until the admin can step in, if they haven’t been eliminated from the system or perma-killed already.

From what little you know about the Dream SMP, you know the admin is a god of sorts, mostly staying out of the way but occasionally fixing matters that need it. Otherwise they stay… wherever gods stay.

“No,” George pipes up. You note his accent, odd and slightly out of place, but not unpleasant. “You being a Jumper does help, however.”

You’ve heard of elusive servers where Jumpers have access to a lot of power and near-unlimited resources, though no one can quite figure out why. Those servers are typically entirely anarchy.

“Yeah, sure.” But you clutch the invitation closer to your person anyway. It glows a bit brighter at the increased contact.

“Think on it.”

Those words echo through your mind throughout the rest of the night, in your bed, subconsciously in your dreams and into the next morning.

It’s no easy decision. You know you’ll be dragged into all sorts of politics, conflict and battles unlike the Skywars ones you usually find yourself dealing with.

Your hand grips the glowing ball a bit tighter, reading the same three statements engraved on it repeatedly until the words are branded into your mind.

And then it disappears.

“Invitation accepted.”

#mcyt x reader #reader insert #xreader #x reader #mcyt x you #technoblade x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #Trampolinist: Series

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makoodlesarchive · 4 years ago

Text

when i was young i fell into a river

pairing: kirishima x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: none, really! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff i guess?

notes: hello, it's me, back again with some writing! it's been a long time and i'm very sorry about that, but i've finally gotten around to writing and posting my spirited away au! i'm v stressed with college so this turned out more vent-y than i had originally intended, but hopefully it's enjoyable anyway! thank you all for being so patient with me, i am endlessly grateful for you

The dream is the same as always, comforting in its familiarity.

A salt-scented breeze cools your sweat-soaked brow as you pause behind one of the sliding screen doors, the rice paper windows doing nothing to block out the chatter of the other workers. The bubbling noise of the bathhouse is constant, and the quiet little moments you steal away for yourself in the middle of the working day is the only solitude you’ve gotten since you came here. The work is physically back-breaking, but you know that you’re working towards a goal. It’s just a shame that you can’t remember exactly what that goal is.

One of the other girls calls your name, and you sigh as your unofficial break comes to an end. You slip back into the room, ignoring the way the frog spirits snicker and hold their noses as you pass. They like to complain a lot about your human stench, but it doesn’t stop them from threatening to eat you every time you make a mistake. Fear, you’ve found, is an uncomfortably successful motivator.

The days bleed into one another, full of scrubbing dark wooden floors and the rich earthy scents of the herbal mixes they use in the baths. The spirits that frequent the bathhouse, that once inspired so much awe and fear in your heart, become so commonplace that you hardly spare them a glance anymore. From the cackling masked spirits that always travel in threes to the grinning cat spirits to the sombre, unspeaking river spirits, you only go as far as to offer them a polite bow before scurrying out of their way. They never spare you any attention, anyway -- most of the time, the spirits’ eyes seem to look right through you.

All but one, that is.

He looks to be a boy around your age, but appearances can be deceiving around here. His red eyes are often dull and blank, but even so they have a certain ageless quality about them that no human twelve-year-old could ever possess. His scarlet hair sticks up in gravity-defying spikes, and his skin is as smooth and clear as running water. His face is often stuck in a carefully cultivated blank expression; the only thing about him that doesn’t seem intimidatingly otherworldly are the deep purple shadows under his eyes.

He helped you once, when you first came here. The rare act of kindness had stuck in your head, made even more remarkable in the face of the following weeks and months of harsh work and cruel co-workers. You wonder if he remembers; he doesn’t often look at you, but sometimes when he does you swear you can see a flicker of something in his eyes.

Two of the girls start yelling at each other, arguing heatedly over the way the work is being divided. A foreman appears to break up the fight, but then they both start shouting at him instead. You take the moment of distraction to relax, wincing at the pull of your tired muscles in the back of your neck. All the other girls working at the bath house are older and bigger than you, which means you need to work twice as hard to keep up with them and prove that you’re worth keeping around.

In the brief moment of rest, your eyes are drawn slowly to the corridor, where guests and workers alike bustle past as they travel to the treatment rooms and bathtubs deeper into the bathhouse. As if you’ve conjured him just by thinking about him, the boy stands in the doorway.

You straighten up on instinct, suddenly self-conscious of your sweat-soaked body and dishevelled uniform. He’s not even looking your way, preoccupied with the two girls who are still yelling at the frog foreman. Slowly though, his eyes began to travel the room, and you take a deep breath and hold it as his dull ruby gaze lands on you like a physical weight. You crack a nervous smile, feeling the muscles in your cheeks that have gone unused for weeks ache at the strain, and raise a hand to give him a tiny wave.

For just a moment, that blankness in his face seems to quiver and fall away. He smiles back.

You jolt awake, breathing heavily and coated in a light sheen of sweat. You’ve had the same dream, or some variation of it, regularly ever since you were twelve years old and while it’s become familiar to you, you still find yourself feeling vaguely panicked when you wake up after it, as though you’ve forgotten something very important.

Once your heartbeat has calmed down a little, you pull yourself out of bed and trudge into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. The weak, milky light of dawn filters in through the windows, lighting your apartment up just enough so that you don’t have to turn on a light to make your way around. You take your tea out to the balcony and sit, gazing out at the purplish early morning sky.

Most of the time when you wake up from those dreams you feel blessedly lucky to be living alone with no one to question or bother you, but sometimes you can’t help but be overcome by overwhelming loneliness. The dreams are silly and most of the time they don’t even make any sense, but in the aftermath of them you’re always left with a vague sense of unfulfillment, though you can’t put your finger exactly on what it is you’re missing. You always end up exactly like this; sitting outside on your balcony in the early morning light, drinking tea alone and desperately wishing for something more.

You sigh, and go back inside.

The dream is the same, but different.

The garden is in full bloom, greenery overlaid with bursts of beautiful bright colours. Camellias, rhododendrons, and oleanders wave and shiver gently in the warm breeze, and apple blossoms hang heavily from a nearby tree. The flowering garden is enormous and maze-like, and you have yet to see it in any state other than fully flourishing.

It’s a beautiful place, especially after the hot, cramped working quarters of the bathhouse. You inhale the sweetly fragranced air and feel the knot of tension in your spine unfurl; it feels like the first time that you’ve been able to breathe all week, but that’s not the only reason that you’ve found yourself outside.

At the bottom of the garden, the grass drops off into a sheer drop. The cliff face overlooks a seemingly endless ocean, and you perch a safe distance from the drop before leaning back in the grass. The sky is an almost surreally deep blue and you watch as enormous fluffy clouds float by, looking as though they’ve been painted on a jewel-blue canvas.

It’s not the first time you’ve had this dream, and you know what you’ll see if you keep patiently watching.

It doesn’t take long — it never does. You time your lunch breaks precisely, all so you get to see this sight.

The clear blue sky makes it so much easier to spot the shiny white scales, flashing jewel-bright in the sunlight. The dragon writhes in the sky, streaking through the air like a great serpent caught in the wind. Even from this distance, you can see the knife-like teeth, the great sharp claws that gleam like pyrite, and the twisting horns that erupt from his head like daggers made from calcified bone. He looks deadly, a living weapon that swims through the air like a salmon in open water, but the sight of him makes something settle in your stomach.

You wonder what it would feel like to fall through the air with nothing but the wind to break your fall. You imagine it must feel like freedom.

The dragon flutters through the air, buoyed by the gentle sea breeze. If you didn’t know better, you might almost think that he was showing off — his movements are hypnotic, dreamlike, more like a dance than anything. His scales glow pearlescent in the midday sun, otherworldly and earthly all at once.

You could happily stay and watch him skim through the sky forever, but already the bell is being rung to call all workers back into the bathhouse. You heave a sigh so deep it feels as though your chest is about to crack with the force of it, before hauling yourself to your feet.

Your break is over, and now it’s back to work.

Sometimes you find it difficult to tell when you’re dreaming and when you’re awake. It feels as though everything is always happening all at once, in the present tense, forever. You don’t get to rest when you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, because the dreams just keep coming and coming. Sometimes you don’t feel like your life is real when you’re awake.

Riding on the train has always been therapeutic, especially at this time of the early morning. The sun rising lazily over the horizon sends milky threads of purple and pink across the cloudy sky, and you cradle your chin in your hand as you gaze out across the moving landscape. You love these little trips, feeling more at home in the creaky, overfull train carriage than you do in your own bedroom sometimes, though you can’t quite work out where that particular feeling comes from.

You know sometimes that stories end with “And then I woke up — it was only a dream”, but in your experience the story simply doesn’t end. You cannot fully wake up without the tail-ends of your dreams clinging to you for the rest of the day, and you never fully sleep. You just dream, dream, dream.

Sighing, you lean your head back against the seat that you’re slumped in. The train carriage is too full, and you were lucky to get a seat in the first place — from your vantage point, you watch as people sway in tandem with the motion of the train. It’s almost hypnotic, how they undulate back and forth with every turn, brushing against each other only to be pulled apart again by the lurching train.

Through the sea of bodies, you catch a man’s eye. It breaks the monotony of the morning commute and your own spiralling thoughts, and your spine straightens unconsciously. He quirks an eyebrow briefly, slightly, in such a way that no one would be able to safely accuse him of having done it.

You look away, startled for no good reason. Do you know him? He feels familiar in a way that you can’t quite put your finger on. The train rattles on, and it takes several long minutes before you work up the nerve to glance the man’s way again. He’s still watching you, but you’re ready for it this time. His attention isn’t such a shock, and you allow your eyes to wander over his face properly.

You must know him, you think. Your eyes track over his features as though they’re winding over a well-worn path, admiring the curve of his nose and the fullness of his lips and the arch of his eyebrows over his intense, watchful eyes.

He smiles at you, and it feels as though you’re sharing a secret from across the crowded train carriage. You smile back — it’s just a small tug of the corners of your mouth, but it’s the most you’ve smiled in months. Longer, maybe.

In the middle of the carriage a woman laughs at something her friend has said and sways backward, blocking your view of the stranger. It feels like a loss.

The train trundles onwards, and the carriage gradually empties out. You watch people step off the train with friends, with their heads ducked low, lost in thought, arguing over the phone, distracted with their book bags. By the time it comes to your stop, the man is gone.

You try not to feel disappointed as you step off the train — it’s silly, after all. You don’t know the man, and whatever you thought you felt as you looked at each other was surely all in your own head. Your head has been awfully full, recently.

As you step off the train you grapple with your bag, side-stepping a businessman who is busy shouting down the phone at some unfortunate coworker. You’re distracted, which is the only reasonable explanation for how long it takes you to realise that the man from the train is standing in front of you.

“Oh.” You blurt, startled. You had already begun to resign yourself to never seeing him again, so you can’t help but feel distinctly caught off guard at the sight of him standing before you. “Hi.”

“Hello.” The man says. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you have no idea what he’s waiting for — as it is, you get completely distracted by his eyes. You hadn’t noticed on the train, but now that he’s up close you see that they’re a truly unusual deep burgundy. He tilts his head when you remain silent, and bites his lip. Now that you’re really looking, you notice how sharp his teeth are. “You’ve barely changed at all.”

You blink at him. “Er…” You trail off nervously. You don’t recognise him, but you feel like you know him. Clearly, he thinks that he knows you.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it? Meeting again on a train?” He smiles, and it’s an impossibly knowing expression. You don’t think you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a look that intimate in your life, though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Someone collides hard with your shoulder and you stagger for balance. You only look away from the man for a mere second, but it’s enough; when you look again, he’s gone.

You take to walking. There’s a wooded area behind the town, and you enjoy traipsing idly through the trees. Ancient roots erupt out of the dirt and fan over the ground like hairs, and the moss that covers the trunks of the trees is such a deep green that it almost seems like paint pigment. It’s soothing, being surrounded by nature like this. It reminds you of childhood — the simplicity of being able to jump over tree roots under a canopy of pale green leaves, of being able to leave all your thoughts and stress at the boundary of the forest.

It’s where you come after waking sweat-soaked and disoriented from a dream that clings to you like a burr, where you walk among the ferns and the needle-leaved weeds until you manage to shake the last vestiges of memory from your mind. You need it, especially in the mornings where you wake up with the acrid scent of herbal cleanser stinging in your nose or the bite of hard calluses on your palms from non-existent rough cloths. On mornings like that, you walk and walk until you no longer feel as though you’re more alive in your dreams than you are in reality.

Deep in the forest is a great red facade, painted a flaking, faded red. You wander by it frequently, admiring the overgrown greenery that crawls up the walls like reaching fingers, the mossy stone guardian that stands sentinel amongst the cracked flagstones that lead into the tunnelled entrance. You’ve asked around in the town, curious about what exactly this building was for, but most of the locals either don’t know what building you’re talking about or admit that they’re not sure. One man told you that the facade was built for a theme park in the 90s that had ended up going bust in the recession, and that the building only looked old.

You remain unconvinced on that front. The building has the kind of presence that only very old things have; it feels like it’s watching you.

For the most part, your walks in the forest are peaceful. Recently though, you’ve found yourself plagued by an insistent, irritating sense of deja vu. You don’t know where it’s coming from, and it hits you at the strangest of times — when you’re making tea, or in the bath, or cleaning your apartment, or on the train, or admiring the sky on a cloudless day.

The man from the train is the boy in your dreams. It takes you weeks to come to that realisation. You just wake up in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday, with wide eyes and clammy skin and his name slipping from the forefront of your mind.

It shouldn’t be possible, but once it dawns on you, you’re certain of it.

Even stranger is that once you realise it, it feels as though you see him everywhere. You see flashes of red hair when you’re walking down the street, when you’re grocery shopping, when you’re walking home late at night. It’s only ever the barest glance out of the corner of your eye, just overt enough for you to know it’s him, but subtle enough for you to question yourself immediately after.

One night, you travel to a local city to meet some old school friends. At night, the city seems to pulse. The music from seedy clubs spills out into the neon-lit streets, muffled shouted arguments echoes from alleyways and apartments alike, and the streets are peppered with people either scurrying or stumbling home, with very little variation. Though the perpetually overcast sky hides any trace of the moon or stars, the streetlamps reflect in the ever-present stagnant puddles littering the street, lighting them up in varying shades of sickly yellow.

At night, the city seems alive. Chronically ill and struggling to breathe, maybe, but clinging to life all the same.

The way the neon lights flicker in the gloomy darkness, just barely illuminating the shadows of people hurrying through the streets to get in out of the rain, reminds you of something you can’t quite remember. It sits in the back of your mind like a sour taste, but no matter how much you reach for the memory it remains just out of reach.

You spend most of the night staring out of the steamed up window of the pub, entranced by the sight of the night streets and frustrated by the memories that seem to dangle just out of reach. You know that it doesn’t make for good company, and you feel guilty for that. Your friends don’t seem overly surprised at your detachment. You’ve been drifting away for years, and though tonight was supposed to be all about reconnecting it seems clear that it’s not going to work.

When you eventually stand up to leave, with forced smiles and awkward goodbyes, you can’t help but feel melancholy settle over you like a second skin. As you slip out of the pub and onto the dark streets, the thought crosses your mind that you’re not used to being alone like this. It’s a silly thought, really; you’ve been alone for years. But sometimes, in those liminal moments between waking and sleeping, you swear you can hear the gentle drowsy breaths of dozens of people sleeping all around you, as though you’re surrounded on all sides. On those nights you wake up hot and claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but never feeling lonely.

It is probably your own fault, you reflect as you drift down the sidewalk like a ghost. It’s difficult to make an effort to know people when you feel as though you don’t know yourself. You don’t know how to bridge the distance between yourself and other people. You think sometimes that you’re missing chunks of yourself.

You pass an open shopfront that’s serving street food, and glance briefly in at the kitchen. The cook is illuminated only dimly in the smoky room, standing out as a shadow figure more than anything, and for a split second you could swear that he has six arms. You look away quickly and carry on walking — you don’t want to look again only to be proven wrong. You want to preserve that little second of magic strangeness for as long as you can.

The puddles on the street seem like they’re glowing with the light reflected from the neon streetlamps, and you weave your way carefully around them to avoid getting your feet wet. The night has a strange quality about it, almost as though it’s holding its breath.

Considering the combination of your pensive mood and the expectant air of the evening, you don’t feel surprised at all when you look up from the wet cobblestones to find the man standing only a few feet ahead of you.

He smiles like he’s nervous, his gaze tracking carefully over your face. In his hands, he’s holding flowers. Camellias, you think. It’s the first time since you first saw him on the train that hasn’t been a fleeting glance out of the corner of your eye— he’s here in front of you and he’s real and solid and sturdy. He seems more substantial than the streets around you, than your friends back at the pub had been.

“Do you remember me?” He asks, voice soft as though he’s afraid of the answer.

“Remember you?” You croak. It feels as though the words are catching inside your throat. “No. But I’ve seen you every night in my dreams for years.”

If that’s the answer he’s expecting, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking at you, your face, your body. You wonder exactly it is that he’s seeing. “These are for you.” He says eventually, holding out the flowers. “I didn’t- I wanted to bring you something, when I saw you again. And I know that you always liked the garden.”

He’s talking as if the places that you’ve dreamed about are real. It doesn’t come as the earth-shattering surprise you might have expected — rather, it feels like a key turning in an old lock. A click, and then a sense of yes, that’s right.

You take the flowers, and clutch them to your chest. They’re a fleshy pink, with a vibrant yellow centre. The petals are as soft as velvet. Holding them feels like holding a safety blanket. “Thank you.” It’s the only thing that you can manage to say right now. Your thoughts are too full, and nothing else makes it out of your mouth.

It’s rather startling, the feelings that bubble up in your chest. It feels like something has just been unlocked, as though you had stored away all this emotion somewhere deep in your ribcage and then forgotten about it only for it to resurface at this precise moment, for this precise person.

“Eijirou.” You croak. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

His whole face brightens, and his eyes sparkle. “Yes. That’s me. You do remember!”

They’re not quite memories, you don’t think. They come in dreamlike flashes — the garden, an ocean, train tracks, the feral snarling of a dragon with sharp teeth, hard work and hot food, friends.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Kirishima is saying, his face open and earnest. “But I told you that I’d come and find you again, remember?”

You do remember, sort of. A flash of a warm hand holding yours, pushing you forward over a boundary between one world and another, and a goodbye whispered behind you that sounds like a promise.

“You saved me.”

Kirishima laughs, though his eyes look a little shiny. “It was the other way around, actually. I would have stayed trapped in that bathhouse forever, if it weren’t for you.”

“The bathhouse.” You murmur, wide-eyed. It was real, real, real.

“Things are different now.” He edges closer to you. He’s large and imposing and taller than you, but he’s hunched slightly in an attempt to make himself unthreatening. “That’s why it took so long for me to come for you. Things were changing. Me and Katsuki run the bathhouse now.”

Katsuki. In your mind's eye you see a boy with wild blond hair and a dangerous look in his eyes, a boy who gives you extra rice when he can manage and takes over parts of your chores when you get so tired that you’re fit to pass out.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait.” He says quietly, and the tide of emotion that you had just barely been holding at bay comes crashing over you. Before the first tear has welled over the edge of your eyelids, Kirishima has stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. The flowers are crushed between your chests as you cry.

“I didn’t even know what I was waiting for.” You cry into his silk suikan.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m not going to leave again.”

You don’t release your grip on him. You’re not willing to take the chance.

After a moment, Kirishima speaks again. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” You echo, finally pulling away. “Go where?”

“Home.” He says, and he means the bathhouse. He means the spirit world.

“You want me to work for you?”

“I want you to help us run it.” He corrects. The distinction is important for both of you — though the memories are distant, you both know what it feels like to have your names and voices erased so cleanly that it makes you wonder if you ever existed fully at all.

“I don’t know anything about running a bathhouse. Especially not one for spirits.” You say, but Kirishima just laughs.

“You were always a hard worker. You’ll learn as you go. That’s what we’ve all been doing.”

You want to say yes. The word beats in your head like a drum, and you can’t think of a good reason to say no. The bathhouse. Home. The chance to feel real and awake at the same time.

“Okay.” You say on a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. “Stay with me, this time.”

When Kirishima’s face lights up in a smile, it’s the first time that you think you can accurately describe someone as incandescently happy. “Good luck getting rid of me again.”

You laugh, feeling nearly delirious with relief and joy. It’s real. He’s real. He’s come back for you, and now you’re going back with him. You think you should probably feel nervous or hesitant, but this brief encounter has felt more solid and right than the rest of the night spent with distant school-friends made uncomfortable by your silences.

“So, how do we get there?” You ask, but Kirishima just grins at you like you should already know the answer.

The train station is tucked away down an alley just off a busy main shopping district.

“It’s easy to miss if you don’t know exactly where you're going.” Kirishima tells you with a sharp smile, and it’s easy to believe. The red brick building that housed the train station is unmarked, and the trains couldn’t be seen from the main street. The alley itself is home to many curious sights -- paper lanterns bob overhead (though they don’t seem to be suspended by anything in particular), a yellowed flyer from the 1950s advertising Marlboro cigarettes drifts along on what seems to be a breeze despite the noticeable lack of wind, and three magpies sit on a wall wearing little golden timepieces on chains around their necks and caw in time with the ticking.

“Ready to go home?” Kirishima asks quietly. In his hand, two train tickets flutter in a non-existent breeze.

A family of mice scamper past your feet, pulling a miniature suitcase between them. A tall, thin woman wearing a blank white mask assists them onto the train.

You laugh at the whimsy of it all — it feels as though you’ve stepped into a fairytale, into a dream, into your childhood. “Yes,” You grin, “I’m ready.”

Kirishima beams back at you, and holds out a hand to help you onto the train. Finding a seat was easy — despite all the passengers you had seen boarding, the carriage was oddly empty. As soon as you’re seated, you sigh. It feels as though you’re sinking into an old overstuffed armchair, comfortable and familiar. When the whistle blows and the train starts moving, you turn eagerly to watch as the train begins to pick up speed. Within moments, you find that you can barely recognise the landscape blurring past the window — It seems that you’re zooming passed a beautiful sea-view, despite the fact that the city the train station was located in was conspicuously land-locked. You sigh happily and lean against your seat.

You still don’t remember everything about your experience in the spirit world all those years ago, but you think you remember hearing someone telling you “Once you meet someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return."

You make eye contact with Eijirou, who smiles back at you so fondly that it nearly hurts to look at. He’s changed so much from the boy in your dreams, in your memories. His eyes are no longer glassy and distant — now they’re shiny and expressive and so bright. His hair is longer too; still spiked and wild, but longer and curling softly over the curve of his neck and shoulders. He’s the boy your remember from all those years ago, but he’s also a man now. Grown, like you have, but smiling at you gently just like you’re ten years old again.

Through the window behind his head, the sunrise begins to bathe the water in delicate pinks and yellows. You’ll wait for as long as you need to for the memories to return, but even if they don’t that’s alright. You can just make new ones.

#this is so cheesy lol but whatever i've been staring at this doc for too long and i want it out of my sight #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #kirishima eijirou #ghibli au #kirishima eijiro fluff #kirishima x y/n #mha x reader

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