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laukern · 1 month ago

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Spynosis : Satoru suffers, reader enjoys, geto worries and shoko laughs. Amen.

Btw I just said fuck it and posted whatever I wrote so NOT PROOFREAD.

Contains little angst,cursing and fluff

MINOR MENTIONS OF GENOCIDE, MURDER ETC. MDNI!!!

Satoru was certain that the longer you ignored him, the more this itching pain will grow. And he hated it so much.

He knew he was wrong, he knew he shouldn't have forgotten about your date and he knows nothing can justify him ditching you but aren't you being a bit too cruel? Ignoring him, very obviously treating him like dust and not even having your meals with him!

Okay yeah he deserves it but doing this for 2 weeks straight? That is too mean..

Another day and he might just die, god does he wishes death upon himself rather than you being cold. While you, on the other hand, were enjoying this a bit too much i mean who wouldn't feel powerful after getting the strongest on his knees?

Hah! Serves him right.

You planned on doing this for only a couple of days but those 'couple' of days turned into almost 2 weeks and you were impressed how he hasn't kissed your feet by now, maybe a few more days would suffice. Well, he did try to fix things but you wanted to make him suffer just a tad bit more but you swore you'd forgive him soon.

|~|

"Sooo when are you planning on forgiving him?." Shoko asked when you guys were hanging at her place, another attempt of ignoring satoru.

"Ahh a bit more." You responded before taking a sip of your drink.

She snickered at your response "man.. you're evil, I wonder what he's doing right now"

...

Satoru was an inch away from going ballistic, from going absolutely stupid and probably destroying the whole world including you and him. His impatience took a toll on his performance at school too and how suguru wished he could manipulate your brain into forgiving him cause honestly? He had enough of satoru's whines and complaints.

Suguru sighed, his hand gently playing with his bestfriend's hair as the blue eyed idiot laid on the table with his head hidden between his arms(still whining)

"Suguru I swear to fucking god I'll hollow purple everyone right here, right now, if I don't find her in my arms over the course of next 24 hours"

"Why don't you genuinely try talking to her instead of begging her to talk to you?"

"If only it was that easy." Satoru grumbled.

"It is, you're just procrastinating. Make her understand that you truly feel guilty for what you did and it might just work." The raven haired man advised, his hand leaving the snowy ambush and resting on the arm rest.

"Mm.. I really am sorry though, I just don't know how to tell her without making me look like a desperate fuck" he whined again.

"Satoru.. who are you kidding? You ARE a desperate fuck."

"..."

|~|

He swore he was alright with you ignoring him (barely) but you just HAD to take a step further and walk around with Nanami fucking Kento, didn't you?

You think you're soooo sly. Wearing the dress that you wore when he super awesomely confessed to you (he stuttered all the way through) , the necklace that HE gifted you, touching nanami's arm so sensually like a fucking succubus. At that moment, satoru's thoughts were going towards all the wrong and vulgar ways... murder.. slaughter... assassination... genocide..

So before he could lose control and become a threat to humanity, he reached out to you as soon as he saw your figure leaving the room which more or less seemed like a satoru restricted zone now. As soon as he reached you, he bent down to meet your eye level , eye to eye, and with a pleading look on his face he did what he could do best at such moments of desperation

"Babyyyyyy, please talk to mee pleasepleasepleaseeee." He begged, tugging at your shirt like a child.

And as expected you didn't say anything, didn't even blink.

Slapping his wrist as if he was a disdained mosquito, you looked away.

And maybe that was the last straw for satoru. Just maybe it was the last drop that broke the dam because when you turned away to get your keys, you heard a sob and the grip he had on your shirt loosened. Fuck..

"Baby.. I'm so sorry.. please forgive me, scold me, kick me, kill me if you must but please don't ignore me. You can't expect me to live without you like this, i love you so much honey.. too much. Baby I can't take this... please..." he sobbed quietly.

His mind started numbing to stupid thoughts

Stop crying you Dipshit. You look so fucking pathetic.

Stupid. stupid. stupid. stupid.

Fuck my eyes hurt.

"Please don't leave me.. I won't be able to-"

Before he could speak any further, he was met with a small peck on his lips and he swears to god he felt as if he got reincarnated.

The way his eyes jarred open and his face became so red he felt like a virgin teenager again.

"Pfft"

You chuckled.

And he was certain that he fell in love all over again.

"Stop crying you big baby." You said with a smile, fixing his hair and wiping his tears.

Unable to speak, he pressed his forehead on top of yours and sighed.

"God..." he murmured, eye brows knitted in frustration.

"You deserved it." You giggled at his silly expression.

"You're gonna be the death of me woman.." he smiled, kidding your forehead.

"Don't worry honey I'll plan out the best date you've ever been to in your WHOLE life once I clear my schedule for the next week." He said with a chirpy voice, hugging you tight.

"And I'll ditch you to go to an animal cafe with shoko."

"BABYY!!" He pouted while staring at you with his dangerously lovely blue eyes.

You laughed and he followed through,

And then you got one shotted by toji. Bye.

Next time satoru will suffer, trust (not this fic though, some other trope so give suggestions cause i love me some angst)

I never really planned on making a pt 2 so I didn't know what to write. All I knew was I had to add nansmi to the mix and the ending is for the people asking me to kill reader 😋👍

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #anime #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jjk season 2 #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x reader fluff #laukern writes

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pigcowboys · 1 year ago

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hcs for percy x child of athena!reader that’s like, badass and super good at fighting/using knives/swords/other weaponry/ in a fight but is like super emotionally closed off?

-bitey anon (if that’s not taken)

pairing: percy jackson x artemis!reader

summary: headcanons for percy with a reader who's a child of artemis.

warning(s): slight mentions of blood, cursing, weapons (even if that even counts lol!), established relationship and sickeningly sweet fluff.

a/n: OMG HELLO BITEY ANON!! its not taken yet!! this is such a cool request i hope you enjoy what i did, sorry it took a moment!! and im so so sorry to anyone who's sent in a request!! i swear i'm trying to finish them all :( life is just..lifeing rn.

requests are currently closed!

okay so first of all i HAVE to talk about the beef percy and artemis must have.

like yo who is this guy? and why is he interested in her child? her only child too.

she's like that one person who's secretly praying on your downfall and really doesn't care if you two know it.

she most likely warmed up to the idea of you two dating over time because, to be honest - she likes percy.

would never say it to his face though, he has a big enough head.

BUT ON TO THE DATING!

hmm percy with a more closed off s/o is kind of hard to imagine.

hes so expressive and open i feel like he'd try his hardest to get his s/o to open up.

would NEVER push you to do anything though - he'd never wanna make you feel uncomfortable, after all.

"good morning my beautiful demi-god, how'd you sleep?" "like a rock., those bed are so fucking hard" "i may have a solution to your problem.."

"percy you've been caught like 6 times trying to sneak into my cabin.." "7th times a charm."

bro he probably fell in love with you the first time he saw you fighting.

you two were probably on some random quest and you had gotten ambushed by a couple of monsters.

he wanted to the boyfriend-y thing and help fend off the monsters so he could impress you.

he was doing great for little till you joined in and started helping him fight as well.

literally could NOT keep his eyes off you, you were so cool!!

he was going to make some really cool and suave quip while you were fighting to see a smile or something when he was hit in the face by a particularly angry monster.

attack sent him flying back a bit - totally made him scuff his shoes.

was happy you were able to finish off the monster that hit him but was slightly embarrassed that he got hit.

though, he did enjoy you feeding him some nectar per his own request.

i think he'd be like obsessed with the way you fight.

i mean, how couldn't he? you look so cool when you're doing all that swinging and slicing..he's so proud of you.

may or may not have been victim of a slice to his cheek from getting to close to you while you were training but seriously doesn't count it as you being reckless - he needed to be more careful.

"holy shit — are you okay?" "uhh..probably..? why is there something on my face?" "i think i..nipped you." "nipped me?" "you're..bleeding." "oh."

percy's a great guy but i feel like he'd also worry like 10x more about you because of you being slightly closed off.

checks in with you like every few minutes even if you've already told him you're okay.

you'd be woken up at like 12 pm from his texts alone.

always calling to make sure you're okay while he's away from camp half-blood on a quest or just hanging out somewhere on his college campus.

you do love that he's so caring!

you just..hate getting that stupid notification sound every few hours.

he'd be crushed if you ever told him that though so, you just deal with it.

honestly i don't think he'd care too much if you were closed off - it's all the same to him!

your aversion to speaking up while not stop him from going out of his way to surprise you with different gifts or with random hugs.

may or may not sniff your clothes slightly when he does hug you.

don't tell him you notice it, he'd die.

"what's that?" "a plushie, for you." "..why?" "didn't you say this was your favorite animal?" "oh..perce.. "

though, i feel like the only time you being closed off would be a problem would be when you two have an argument.

he's very open to hearing your side but hates when you don't let him know you have a problem

how else is he supposed to find a way to help?

overall though, you two would get along just great!!!

invites you out with him after you're done training whenever he can just so he can spend time with you.

doesn't even matter where you two are going.

yeah no, he thinks you're so awesome.

#percy jackson #percy jackson fluff #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #x reader #x reader fluff #pjo fluff #artemis!reader

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melanieph321 · 1 year ago

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PLEASE!!!!!!!!! Ruben being a girl dad! She has him completely wrapped around her finger

I would die!!!! X

Ok 😊

Ruben Dias x Reader - Bad Braces

Enjoy!

Ruben was used to stepping through his front door and be ambushed by a cloud of pink. Your daughter was gifted a ballet tutu for christmas which resluted in her wearing it every where she went. There was a discussion with you about the problem with this, Ruben however did not see it. He loved coming home to a cloud full of pink and the day that this didn't happen was close to a nightmare for him.

"Where is Lina?" He asked, when you peered your head out of the kitchen into the hallway where he stood.

"What?" His eyebrows furrowed, seeing the concerned expression on your face. You stepped up to him, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Where is Lina?" He asked again.

You sighed. "She's in her room, saying that she won't come out ever."

Ruben frowned. "Her room? Did somthing happen at school?"

"Apparently somone made a comment about her new braces."

"What!"

"Along with her dress. So please Ruben remember what we talked about."

He was already charging towards your daughter's room, suprised to find that the door was locked.

"Lina? Lina meu amor, por favor, abra a porta."

He yanked the handle a couple of times, to no use however.

"Whatever is going on we can fix it, please let me fix it." If he could he would never let your daughter go back to school again. Ruben felt so hopless surrendering your only child to the cruel cruel world. He wanted to be there by her side everyday, protecting her.

"Pãi?"

He heard a low cry behind the door, your daughter's cry.

"Yes Lina I'm here, please open the door."

Small footsteps dragged across the floor and soon a key twisted in the lock.

"Pãi." Your daughter wiped her nose with the arm of her sleeve, her eyes bloodshot with tears.

"What happened, tell me." An instinctive thought appeared in Ruben's head. He would kill whoever made her feel this way. He entered her room only to find her ballet tutu tossed in a corner. They sat down on the bed.

"Did somone say something about your new braces?" He asked.

She nodded "And my dress."

Ruben balled up a fist, his knuckles white. His voice was calm however. "What did this person say?"

Lina bowed her head in shame. "He said that with my new braces on I looked like I stole children's teeth and ate them, like the opposite of the tooth fairy."

"He who?" Ruben said, balling up his fist again.

"This boy in my class, Alejandro said it."

"Alejandro." Ruben mumbled. "Well do you know where this Alejandro lives?"

Lina's eyes lit up, her head nodding excitingly. But then Y/N entered the room having overhead the whole conversation between them.

"The best thing would be to call his parents, don't think?" You said, giving Ruben a stern look.

"He shook his head. "Nah, I want to pay him a visit."

"Ruben he's eight, your not knocking on a eight year old's door, threatening to beat him up."

Ruben sighed, so did your daughter, they were each others soulmates.

"But mommy he was mean to me."

"I know that honey, but that is not how we deal with mean people in life. Ain't that right Ruben?"

He grunted.

You rolled your eyes.

"The next time Alejandro is mean to you do you know what you should do?"

"Stomp him in the nuts." Ruben muttured.

You shoved his shoulder.

"No, what you should do is give him a big smile and walk away, because violence is never the way."

"That's terrible advice. What you should do is sort of trip his legs and when you have him on the ground you should..."

"Ruben."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." He said, making your daughter laugh. At least he made her laugh again.

"No, your mother is right. We'll talk to your teachers at school, hopefully they'll make sure that this doesn't happen again."

"Promise?"

You watched your daughter jump off the bed and retrieve her tutu from the corner in her room. She put it on to Rubens satisfaction.

"I promise." He smiled and picked her up in his arms. "Or else I'll pay him a visit."

"Ruben." You sighed.

"Kidding, just kidding."

#fanfiction #man city #manchester city #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias #football imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #footballer imagine

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cassiebones · 1 month ago

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I wonder how often Agatha said "I can be good" to her mother

Did Agatha start showing her powers early on? Were there sparks already flying between toddler Agatha's fingers. Did she excitedly show her mother what she could do? Was Evanora shocked that such a young child could have such power? Did she take it as an omen that her child wasn't "right"? Did she worry that Agatha's powers would grow into something untamable? Did she start mistreating her then or before then? Evanora was also a witch, but what did that mean? Especially for somebody convinced that her child was pure evil.

Did she immediately punish her daughter, calling her bad an evil, locking her away for using her powers? Did she drill into Agatha's head that she was an evil child? Did baby Agatha cry and scream and pound on the door, promising that she would be good?

Did she grow older, watching her mother take part in this coven of witches? Did she watch the younger children? Did she make sure they were fed and safe as their mothers gathered for coven meetings? Did she grow an affection for them? Did she show them some tricks that she learned sneaking a peek in her mother's books? Did she get caught by a coven member? Was that member horrified by her? Or impressed? Did she bring it to Evanora, asking when this gifted young witch was going to be inducted into their coven? Did Evanora then tell her coven mate that Agatha was not to be in any coven, that she was evil, that her powers should not be developed because she would use them for only bad things?

Did Agatha get locked up again, bound by her mother so that she couldn't use her power to escape? Did she cry and scream again, begging for release? Or was she used to this now? Was this just her life? Did she resolve to not stop using magic, but to stop showing others her magic?

Was she quiet, respectful, and obedient to her mother, trying desperately to be good? Did her mother care?

I bet Evanora took every chance she could get to tell Agatha how evil she was, how bad she was, how she would only ever cause destruction. And resentment built from that. She still loved her mother, but she also wanted to prove herself. That she could be good.

That's what she told her mother every time she was called evil.

"I can be good!"

I bet Evanora snarled at her. "I doubt it." And it made Agatha feel so small.

I wonder if Agatha got so tired of being hated by her mother so much, for no good reason. Her powers grew and she kept them a secret, but she didn't want a mother from whom she had to hide her magic. She wanted one who celebrated her power, encouraged her gifts, praised her and told her how much she loved her.

Forced Love spells are, without a single doubt in my mind, dark magic. You cannot and should not force somebody to love you. But Agatha is desperate for even an ounce of love. Especially since she's stopped being allowed to care for the children, who are all now fearful of her, thinking her evil.

So she tries to find some love spells, spells that can give her the loving mother/daughter relationship she has always craved, the relationship the other coven members have with their daughters.

But she's caught looking for them, poring over a book of dark magic. She's reported quietly to Evanora, who suddenly starts to be affectionate toward her daughter, inviting her to the coven for an initiation, trying to entice her daughter with kind words and gentle support, but secretly planning her demise.

Agatha of course thinks that her spell worked and trusts that he mother is changed, that she loves her now as a mother should, so she accepts the invitation.

And she is ambushed. She is tied to a stake while her mother's coven stands around her, as her mother spells out her doom, telling her that she is evil and must now die.

Agatha cries and begs and pleads, telling her that she can be good, please, Mother!

But Evanora doesn't listen. She and the rest of her coven attempt to kill her daughter...and fail spectacularly.

Instead, a new, dormant power is revealed: Agatha can absorb the powers of those that try to harm her, like a sponge.

She doesn't mean to do it. She doesn't truly want her mother to die. She doesn't know what has even happened until she's on her hands and knees in front of the stake, purple magic that isn't her own, buzzing through her body.

It feels exhilarating, but that feeling doesn't last when she sees the empty husk of her mother a few feet ahead. Then the other coven witches, all mothers in their own right, all with small children whom they love, who love them.

Agatha killed them all. But she didn't mean to! She didn't want anybody to die! She just wanted to be loved by her mother.

She begins to sob at her mother's corpse. Her entire body heaving with it, her hands grasping the dirt around her.

"Wow," a voice says from above her. Agatha jumps and stares up at the figure of a cloaked woman, with black hair spilling from a bright green cloak. "You have caused quite some damage, huh?"

Agatha's eyes widen and she shakes her head, pushing herself away from this woman, crying and denying.

"N-no! I di-didn't mean to! I can be good! I swear!"

The hood of the cloak falls, revealing a pale face with dark eyes full of empathy, a frown on her face. She puts her hands up in surrender.

"Okay," she says, her voice smooth and soft, "I know. I know this wasn't..." she looks around at all the bodies, "your fault. Still, it is pretty impressive." She gives Agatha a genuine grin. "You must be a pretty powerful witch."

Agatha's face immediately burns at the praise. Nobody has ever praised her like this before. It's kind of...nice.

She clears her throat and wipes away the tears from her cheeks. "Not if you ask my mother," she says, bitterly. "To her, I am pure evil."

"Not much of a mother then, huh?" Rio huffs, slightly kicking the shell that is Evanora Harkness. "But what do I know? I've never really had one of those. I mean, unless you count..." She motions around them, to the trees, the Earth, the sky, then shrugs.

Agatha is confused, but doesn't ask questions. She just stares, in silence, at this mysterious woman who seems to have sprung up out of nowhere. She thought she knew all the women in the village - especially the pleasant-looking ones. She had kept that fact from her mother, of course. But she wasn't blind.

And this woman....oh, she was the most pleasant-looking of them all. Beautiful, even. Agatha's face felt as though it had been set on fire at the thought and she coughed.

"Oh, how rude of me," the green-cloaked woman says, "I've failed to introduce myself." In a second, she is kneeling in front of Agatha, suddenly in front of her when she'd been several feet away. "Rio Vidal." She reaches for Agatha's hand, which had been scratched in her fall. "Oof, that's a nasty one," she says. "Allow me."

To Agatha's shock, she licks the back of her hand. Agatha squeaks, pulling her hand away.

"Are you mad?" she huffs, wiping her bloody hand on the skirt of her dress. "You're going to give me the Plague..." Her eyes widen when she looks back at her hand, finding no scratches, just saliva and a bit of blood and dirt. When she looks up at Rio, her eyes are narrowed.

"Who are you?" she asks.

"Rio Vid--"

"What are you?" Agatha clarifies. "I've never met anybody who can...do that. Not without a chant and some moonlight. Are you..." she lowers her voice, "a dark witch?"

Rio lets out a bit of a cackles as she straightens, lifting herself above Agatha, then offering her a hand to stand as well.

"Not exactly," she says. "But I don't typically feel the need to explain myself to strangers." She tilts her head, pointedly, and Agatha flushes, again.

"Harkness," she says. "Agatha Harkness."

"Harkness?" Rio's eyes flash with familiarity. "I've known many in the Harkness line. But I've never known an Agatha." She bows to Agatha, taking one of her hands in both of hers. "My lady," she says. Agatha is blushing again, cursing at herself to cut that out already.

"My mother didn't really like to talk about me," she said, ashamed.

Rio's eyes widen at that, then she looks around them at the deceased coven witches. "You sure about that?" she asked. "This seems like a pre-planned, discussed-at-length, kind of event. I think she spoke of you plenty."

Tears prick at the corners of Agatha's eyes. "Not because she was proud of me," she said. "But because she thought that I was evil."

Without preamble, Rio reaches forward, placing her hand on Agatha's chest, right between her breasts. Agatha flushes again and stutters a bit. "You really have no respect for boundaries, do you?" she huffs, but she doesn't push Rio away.

Rio laughs and pulls back a second later. "Apologies," she says. "I was just checking on something."

"My heart rate?" Agatha huffs.

"Now that you mention it," Rio teases, and Agatha hides a smile behind the curtain of her hair, looking down. Rio softens at the display of shyness. "You're not evil," she says. "You've just been poorly treated by one who is meant to love you, unconditionally. If anybody is evil, it is--was your mother." Then she groans. "Your mother who is screaming in my ear right now, so give me just a moment. I'll return."

Agatha furrows her brow as she watches Rio walk around the circle of bodies, touching each one with a glowing green hand, then placing her hand into the pocket of her cloak. When she's finished with the last body, she gives Agatha another bow and then disappears into nothingness, leaving Agatha flabberghasted.

While she waits, she looks at her healed hand, which still tingles at the memory of Rio's tongue swiping across it. The bodies are still there, but they feel...quieter, somehow. Her chest aches when she looks at her mother. But there's no guilt or sadness there, only rage.

When Rio reappears two feet in front of her, she has a frown etched on her face.

"How you lived with that woman without strangling her, I will never understand. You are much stronger than me."

Agatha warms at the compliment, enjoying the way it makes her flush this time.

"Anyway," Rio continues, "I have good news and bad news."

"What's the bad news?"

"Your mother refuses to cross over to the other side. She'd prefer to stay a ghost here rather than go on her merry way to Hell, where she belongs!" She glares to her right, as if there's an entity standing right beside her where Agatha sees only open air.

"Um," Agatha says, feeling as though she just received the confirmation that Rio is a madwoman. "And what's the good news?"

"You can't hear her," Rio says, with a grin, "and she is powerless to do anything about that." She turns back to the open air. "Scream all you want, bitch; she can't hear you." She turns back to Agatha. "Congratulations. Now, you just have one more task."

"What's that?" Agatha asks, frowning. "Hiding the bodies?"

"Oh," Rio says, looking around. "Yeah, you should probably do that. Here, I'll help." She twists her fingers in the air and suddenly all the bodies around them start to sink into the Earth, leaving behind flowers and patches of green gas. "Rest in peace," Rio says, somberly, before turning her bright smile back to Agatha. "No, I was talking about the children."

"The children?" Agatha asks. "You mean...the coven children?"

"Yep," Rio says.

"What about them?"

"They're going to become a problem. You have to kill them."

Agatha's eyes widen at that. "What? No! I can't!"

"It's tradition!" Rio huffs. "After you slay a witch, you have to kill her offspring, so that her line dies with her and you don't create little revenge gremlins out for your blood."

"I killed my own mother," Agatha pointed out. "Does that mean I'd kill myself, as well?"

Rio shrugs. "You could," she says. "Then we could probably spend more time together."

"How so?"

"Have you not figured it out yet, sweetheart?" Rio asks, grinning madly again. "What my job is?"

Agatha's eyes widen at that. "You're Death." It's not a question. Rio still answers it with a wide, beautiful grin. "So you were just...around?"

"I heard whispers of an attack," Rio says, walking around Agatha in a slow circle while Agatha turns to look at her. "Figured I'd get a jump on collecting the body. Doesn't hurt that you're not hard on the eyes."

Agatha blushes at that and clears her throat.

"Guess you got more than you bargained for, huh?"

"Eight bodies and a beautiful, powerful witch?" Rio asks, stopping where she'd originally stood. "Feels more like I've been blessed. But what would I know? I've never been blessed."

"Neither have I," Agatha says, growing a bit bolder at the praise. "But I guess there's a first time for everything."

Rio grins, stepping into her space, their noses practically brushing as energy sparks between them, green and purple, complimentary.

"Seriously, though," Rio whispers in the space between their breaths, "you have to kill them. The children. It's the only way."

Agatha steps back. "I can't," she says. "They're...they're so young. Innocent. I will not fault them for the actions of their mothers."

"It's your choice," Rio says, shrugging, "but it's also your funeral." She grins. "I'm fine with it either way."

"You are mad," Agatha says, with a snort.

"Join me, then," Rio whispers between their lips. "It's fun."

Agatha feels herself leaning forward, as if drawn in by some kind of magnetism, her lips attaching themselves to Rio's, which are cold and hot at the same time, dizzying.

When she opens her eyes, however, Rio is gone.

And she is alone again.

#this started as an angsty post about Mommy Issues #and it turned into fanfiction #vidarkness #fanfiction #sorry not sorry #agatha all along

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prinnamon · 10 months ago

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alright fuck it, top 5 freeman's mind quotes/bits since i accidentally started keeping track of my favorite moments by virtue of the fact that i was basically live texting a friend exact quotes while i watched

"Is that..? Oh my God, it's a rocket launcher. The perfect gift for the man who has everything. Ohh. You and I are gonna go places. My mind is spinning with new possibilities. You are the first good news I've had all day." (picking up rockets) "Yes, I'll bring your friends…." (helicopter whirring) "Hark! Dost thou hear with thine ears what I hear with mine?" (equipping rocket launcher) "Interloper!…Have at thee!"

"So, worst case scenario, we're only talking brain cancer. I can live with that."

"You know, everyone's always told me that I'm paranoid and I need to calm down. But guess what? I'm alive. And everyone who said that is dead. That's the ultimate proof that someone doesn't know what they're talking about. 'Follow my advice and you'll die just like me! Huh-heh!' I have the US military spray-painting my name on a wall, setting laser traps, and firing a fucking rocket launcher at me, and people have the gall to call me paranoid. Fuck them! Fuck everybody! Anyone who doesn't listen to me deserves the fate they get! I should kill everyone just on principle!…See, this is what I'm talking about. 'Aliens aren't invading, Freeman. You're just being paranoid.' 'The mailman's not spying on you, Freeman. You're just being paranoid.' What else!? 'There's no society of anthropomorphic frog people living in the sewer, Freeman. You're just being paranoid.' 'Owls can't read your thoughts, Freeman. You're just being paranoid.' Bet you wouldn't call me paranoid now if you were still alive."

"You know, when they invented the atomic bomb, they were afraid it was going to catch the atmosphere on fire and burn up the whole earth, but they did it anyway. That took balls. Not us, though. The only people taking the risks were the ones that didn't understand them in the first place. We're not brave. We're just stupid."

and finally:

I can fire at a target and hit it at least half the time Or graph out an electron path while using only numbers prime! I calculate the fall rate of a bullet shot a thousand yards And perforate the thick heads of a hundred military guards! I can make a simulation of an atom bomb and build one, too, Or flank a dozen men and ambush ten of them out of the blue! From SMGs to RPGs, I carry quite an arsenal… And skip around a warzone like a subatomic particle! Still no chorus! Okay, come on, sing and I won't kill you! ...Those of you that are left, I mean. Ah. Okay, there we go. Ahem. Every solider out here wants to kill me for my curiosity! I wage war on the whole damn world because of my tenacity! In matters combat tactical and physics theoretical, I am the very model of a modern Major-General! Alright, no one else is even trying to sing along. I quit.

my fuckin jaw dropped when he started singing and im pretty sure i clapped my hand over my mouth like a victorian woman when the new verses started. out of all pieces of media, i think freeman's mind was the one i least expected to have a musical episode. just for that it's the best one by far

#prinna's posts #prinna's machinima notes #freeman's mind #mind machinima

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pentacass · 1 year ago

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Was Eva separated from her sister as a child or did Eva discover she had a sister later in life? Does Ves have a plan for if things go wrong when knowingly knocks back a poison drink or is Ves just a dumbass? Does Roziq and Elara's reunion happen more or less like a romanced Elara in game or does it go differently?

*head rattling sounds continue in the distance* <3

Was Eva separated from her sister as a child or did Eva discover she had a sister later in life?

Eva was close to her older sister, Elarin - who is Force-sensitive. When it manifested, their family kept it tightly under wraps for years, until Elarin couldn't control it anymore. She was 'gifted' to the Sith to build relations with the Empire.

Eva was heartbroken when Elarin left, and devastated when they received news of Elarin's demise a year later. The family probed, but all they got was a vague 'Jedi ambushed our Sith acolytes' story. They recognised the smokescreen, but only Eva decided to pursue it further. She wanted to believe her sister is alive; if not, then she would give Elarin proper last rites.

To get closer to the truth, she needed get into the Empire. She spoke to the family's Imperial contact, who knew of her espionage training, and got her into Imperial Intelligence...where she eventually became Cipher Nine.

She'd only found scant info about her sister's acolyte group being 'ambushed' by Jedi, before her life was fucking ruined turned upside in the class story. Even after she set herself free with the Black Codex, Eva was too busy dealing with trauma and galactic affairs to resume the search for her sister proper.

Fast forward to when Task Force Nova is formed, Eva offers her services in the search for Jedi, thinking to scrape info from them after getting nothing in the Empire. Then - she catches Elarin's name falling from a Jedi's tongue, pursues that lead with dogged fervour, until she has her Jedi sister held tightly in her arms.

Does Ves have a plan for if things go wrong when she knowingly knocks back a poison drink or is Ves just a dumbass?

You look at this fucker's face and tell me if anything goes on in her head before she puts anything in her mouth.

To be (a little) fair, she'd already tested the drink discreetly and taken a sip before Eva told her it was poisoned. At that point, there were two possibilities - either Ves' detection had failed, or Eva was lying. But she had already ingested the poison, and if Eva's warning was true, she'd die anyway. So in a Supreme Dumbass moment, she went 'fuck it. can she really kill me if even I can't kill me??' and downed the rest of the drink.

Honestly, Ves was betting that Eva's lying; if Eva wanted to get into the Alliance, and Ves was her best hook, then why would Eva kill her? Eva never tells, and Ves never knows. Eva did slide her a pill at the end of their chat, but for all Ves knows, it's just a sugar pill to keep up the illusion.

Also something something Force techniques, Ves has some ways to slow poison in her body until she can get an antidote from her stash. Darth Avriss has probably seen multiple poisoning attempts by now. No biggie. Just don't tell Lana she fuckin. slammed back a poison drink like she was doing shots.

Does Roziq and Elara's reunion happen more or less like a romanced Elara in game or does it go differently?

Gonna be honest, I haven't thought much about Roziq and Elara! Since Roziq wasn't with Aelirra on Iokath, they'd reunite on Odessen, when Elara returns with the Commander.

They would be happy to see each other safe and sound, Roziq lifting Elara from the ground in a bear hug, while Elara tries to hide the blush on her face. They'd have a rowdy time in the cantina with the rest of Havoc Squad, before sitting down in private to hash out what's happened between them.

I mean, they did part ways when their goals weren't aligned, despite wearing on their fingers the vow to always be there for each other. It'll be okay though, don't worry!!!!!

#*sweats at my growing inky backlog*#swtor #zhaste'varu'mir #vestra lenshe #roziq #elara dorne #ask #intheinkpot

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detonizing · 2 years ago

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@roguesenses: from here!

[ ☘ ] non-verbal prompts

Fact: Izuku Midoriya’s head was not harder than a rock.

During their collision, which was the last thing he could remember, the rock claimed perfect victory by rendering its opponent unconscious. As to how Izuku managed to get in that situation with the usual peaceful rock...well. Lesson number one, do not ambush a dragon-raised human boy with magic. Lesson number two, if dragon boy said fuck off and want to fly away because he was still mad at you, perhaps let the guy do so. Do not attempt to hold onto the guy with your non-magical arms and get dragged off of the ground, then lose your grip and bonk your noggin on a rock.

Actually, some people in the villages may believe this order of lessons was wrong, and the real first lesson should be do not attempt to befriend dragon-raised human boys with magic in the first place.

“You are still here!” The one with a bump on his head was beaming, as if along with the concussion, the rock had gifted him something greater. Which in a way, it did. He tried to get up again, even though Katsuki was specifically trying to prevent that very thing just a second ago. “On that day, I was just going to meet you as always, and the reason for my delay was because there was this elderly grandmother by the side of the road, who was kicked by her ill-tempered donkey and needed help.” He blurted, speaking at incredible speed in case their time together would be cut short again. “I didn’t think anyone was following me. I don’t know how they did.” Izuku frowned, trying to think of more details, but his head was really pounding. “I would never try to hurt you or your family. Ever.”

He wanted to tell Deku to shut up. That he doesn’t want to hear any excuses. But the poet was already speaking too fast, his words spilling over each other in what was an obvious rush to get them all out before interrupted. The words painted a pretty picture. They threatened to soothe against something deep in Katsuki’s chest that has been aching for the past four years — but he couldn’t allow it to. He couldn’t trust the words this poet was speaking. He couldn’t, because if there was one thing he new about humans ( that he had learned before being taken in by dragons, back when he was still in his human village. this fact, that had stuck with him when almost all other knowledge had faded in time ) was that humans were not to be trusted. ( he had thought deku was an exception. this boy who ventured clumsily into the forest everyday, despite having no magic to protect him. that this boy who looked at dragons with brightness in his eyes, instead of fear. or anger. or greed. he thought maybe deku could be given trust. thought maybe deku could be accepted as safe )

But he was proven wrong, and his family had almost paid the price. It wasn’t a mistake he could afford ever again, but that doesn’t mean he had to keep staying away from Deku completely. It was obvious from their many days of chase that the human wasn’t going to give up in his pursuit, and with the idiot injured Katsiki didn’t exactly want to leave him lying here to die, either. “ Take me to the village. ” he settles on. After all, Katsuki was also human. There was nothing that said he couldn’t step foot in a human village. Surely navigating among humans couldn’t be too difficult. “ The human village has those doctors you mentioned, right? ” The concept of doctors were a peculiar thing. It made sense for there to be someone specialized in healing, he supposes. But he was used to the whole community coming together to heal their injured.

He stood, clearly not allowing room for any other course of action. He also chose not to respond to Deku’s seemingly apologetic words, not willing to accept ( nor deny ) the apology yet. He can’t believe ( yet ) in the promise Deku was so obviously wanting to make. About protecting. About loyalty. About keeping his family safe. They were pretty words. But he refuses to believe them when there was even a slight chance his family could end up in danger again. So for now he’ll keep an eye on Deku. If this turns into another trap, he’ll deal with the poet then. But at least this way his family wouldn’t be caught up in it.

“ Let’s go. ” He demands impatiently, before looking down at the human still on the ground. “ Or are you unable to move? ” He doesn’t bother to wait for a response before he’s picking the other up and over his shoulder, perhaps a bit more abruptly than someone with a head injury should be moved. But Katsuki wanted to get to the village now that he decided to, and the human was still babbling on the ground like an idiot. “ Point in the right direction. I’ll take you to the human doctor since you are too slow. ”

#aweoinawe this is also cross dimensional payback for wish izuku just casually wrapping himself around katsuki and saying go #roguesenses #fantasy au tbt #roguesenses || 02 #·∴∵✷ [ QUEUE ]

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fict1onallyobsessed · 3 years ago

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How'd they react to you getting bitten by an infected.

Includes Ellie, Dina, Abby.

ELLIE WILLIAMS - She was on patrol with you, looking through a library neither of you hadn't come across in a long time. Tommy had found a new trail and you were picked to scout it, but Ellie volunteered to come along after hearing there were many possible supplies on the way. (Plus she wasn't happy with you going alone). Unluckily, you were both ambushed by stalkers.

Fucking stalkers. The crawling corpse took you by surprise when you were running from a couple of clickers chasing you. With a quick grab of your ankle, your face made contact with the floor. The clickers were distracted with Ellie when you fell. Thick, red blood poured from your nose, but all you could feel is the sharp pain of crooked and broken teeth on your shin. Quickly kicking it off, you snatched your gun and shot it three times just to make sure it was dead. The gun's noise rattled through the building and Ellie had no other choice but to shoot them down before the clickers got to you.

Running back to where you fell, she stared in horror at your face before kneeling next to you. Both of you were out of breath, but when you looked up from the bite mark to her eyes, she instantly clicked on.

"No. No, no, no, no, no."

"Ellie-"

"No. Shut up. You'll be okay."

Obviously you weren't, and you can bet your ass she was blaming herself. I mean, after all she did volunteer because she didn't want you going alone. But she went with you, she was supposed to protect you, and she failed. Not to mention the additional guilt of her being immune herself. Regardless if she told you about her immunity, she was still hit with guilt that she would of been able to survive if it was here instead of you. Maybe if she ended up dying on that medical table, you wouldn't of had to be here in the first place.

She let her mind spiral as she looked at your wound. She didn't want you to die. Since Joel, she had finally found the one person that could make her genuinely smile, not just a half-ass smirk now and then. Genuinely smile.

"I'm not leaving you here."

And she didn't. She finally decided to get herself together, to breathe before she sat down next to you let you lay your head on her chest. You sat between her legs, tears streaming down your cheeks as her arms kept you close. She cried too, but she didn’t let you notice. Silent tears flowing down into your coat.

You gripped the bite mark until it started to sting, get redder and worsen with unpleasant looking boils starting to form. The actual transformation into the fungus happened over a period of two days, so you had a few hours to hold each other before you’d started showing signs of distress.

“El- Ellie.”

You stuttered as the bite mark started to hurt even more. She kissed the top of your forehead, humming gently since her throat was too dry to answer.

“You pr- promised. Don’t leave me to turn into those things.”

She closed her eyes, hugging you tighter as the first audible sob left her mouth. She was expecting that from you. You’ve always told her that you never wanted to turn into the fungus if you did get bitten. It always either turned into an argument up until she agreed, finally seeing your side of the whole argument.

To be honest, she only agreed because she didn’t think you’d ever get bitten. Naive, I know. But she promised herself to protect you, no matter what. Regardless if it was her sacrificing herself to cannibals or letting herself get bitten again, she’d do anything.

“I can’t.”

Her voice was uncharacteristically high from the sobs she tried to suppress. It wasn’t easy on her as she watched you weakly reach to the holder on your thigh, pulling out the gun she’d gifted you on your latest birthday. With a quick move, you were already too weak to lift your arms, so you let the gun drop to her side.

“You’ll move on. You’ve got Dina, Tommy, Jessie. They’ll take care of you. Yo- you have to promise me not to shut them out. For me.”

She sniffed a little, giving you a little squeeze to your side before nodding.

“Just let me hold you, please.”

You did, up until you had to weakly beg her to shoot you through yours and her sobs.

DINA - She’s the kind of person to joke until she notices you’re not joking.

“That chase was insane! Have you seen how fast those fuckers ran?”

You listened to her rant as she threw her body onto the couch in Eugenes secret weed bunker. It had been your ‘place’ ever since she and you found it a few months back.

“Dina.”

You gripped your arm, sniffing as you gripped it tighter. For a second, you listened to her talk, enjoying the serenity of the situation, ignoring the pain shooting through your skin. The agony was much worse than you’d imagined, and as much as you wanted to ignore it, it kept coming back.

“…and then the fucking ladder broke- Babe are you okay?”

You opened your eyes, lifting your head from the wall it leaned against and looked at her. Your hand was still holding your arm, blood slowly seeping through the cracks of your fingers.

She slowly looked down at your bloody hand, before sitting up with a blunt on her hand that was now dropping to the floor. She couldn’t believe it. You? Got bitten?

“Jesus.”

She shot up, walking towards you and grabbing your arm to see the bite mark clearer. Her eyes didn’t show any emotion as she breathed in. Without a word, she turned around and grabbed a rag, stopping for a moment to breathe in again, compose herself before she turned around towards you.

“Dina.”

“Please, let me take care of you.”

You nodded, clutching your jaw as she delicately rubbed your small cuts and wounds before getting to the big one. She knew cleaning it wouldn’t so anything, but it gave her a peace of mind that’s she’s taking care of you, even if it was for the last time.

“I’m sorry, love. Just a little more.”

“Dina. Look at me.”

She did, slowly caressing your wrist as she held your arm. With a little hesitation, she looked into your eyes, revealing nothing but sadness covered under the tears that threatened to fall.

“I love you so much. I always have.”

She nodded, sniffing slightly before trying to smile.

“I do too.”

Much like Ellie, she’d hold you as your crying in pain, soothing your skin until you can’t take her looking at you anymore, asking her to do the inevitable.

ABBY ANDERSON - oh boy.

We all know she’s all for revenge, and she’ll have plenty of that once she finds out you were bitten. Not towards you, or herself even, but towards the world.

Why did such a shitty world take out someone so amazing as you. She had prepared herself for this moment many times, whether it was involuntarily, through her dreams, or after the fact where she thought about how to protect you in case her dreams came true. But now she didn’t really know what to do, or what to feel.

You had just found an abandoned building to bunk in until the next day, the sky falling a darker shade every hour as the moon rose brighter ever other.

You fell into a chair with a groan, letting the bag you’d been carrying around fall into the dusty floor boards. Her head snapped to you, what initially was nothing but concentration turned into worry as she watched you unzip your jumped after your bag had fallen.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay.”

“Show me.”

“It’s nothin-”

“Show me.”

You were pretty much fucked now. You’d gotten bitten less than 10 minutes ago after having a 1v1 against a runner, and you were going to tell her after she’d calmed down from the fight. But she noticed faster.

Your eyes remained on hers, watching as she tried to find your wound by herself. You signed, trying to avoid her worried gaze. With a wobbly stand, you kept yourself up using the back of the chair.

You heard her gasp when you turned around, revealing not one, but two small bites on the back of your thigh. They got you when you were climbing the ladder to escape, and it started to sting more and more as you moved.

Regardless of how many times she’d been through what to do in this situation, she froze. Nothing running through her mind. Fingers going numb. Not only does this mean she’s alone again. She’d lose the most important person to her.

“Please, say something.”

You hadn’t noticed the tears rolling down your cheeks until you spoke and heard your broken up voice. Hers wasn’t much better. She didn’t want to watch as the fungus took over your body. She wanted to leave, selfishly. But she couldn’t leave you alone.

“I- um.”

You exhaled shakily, sniffing as you turned back around and sat on the edge of the chair as not to disturb the wounds more. Leaning your elbows on your knees, you sobbed and watched as your tears fell onto the ground.

You hadn’t heard her walk closer to you. But you looked up when you felt a strong hand on each of your knees. Abby, teary eyed looked up at you and gave it the best attempt to smile up at you. It was a rare sight to see. Abby crying.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay, look at me.

“I’m so sorry, Abby-”

“No. No, look at me, baby.”

You did, weakly hissing and grabbing your leg as it sent a wave of pain through your muscles. Before she said anything else, she grabbed a tourniquet and wrapped it around your leg, stop it from causing you so much pain as you slowly bled.

“You’re okay. Okay? Just keep looking at me.”

Her fingers rubbed your leg comfortingly as she watched your groan in pain now and then. Eventually she sat on the floor, letting you lay on top of her so that whatever you sat on didn’t hurt your wounds more.

She stroked your hair, placing kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your hear. She doesn’t cry until you’re gone, simply because she needed a long time to get over the fact she’d never actually see you again.

THE END

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grumpygreenwitch · 2 years ago

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The Fairy and the Prince #9 + #10

Part 1 - Part 2 - Parts 3 & 4 - Part 5 - Part 6, 7 & 8 - Part 9 & 10 - Part 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 & 16 - Part 17, 18, & 19 - Part 20, 21 & 22 - Part 23, 24, 25 & 26 - Part 27, 28, 29 & 30 - Part 31, 32, 33 & 34 - Part 35, 36 & 37 - Part 38, 39, 40 & 41 - Part 42 & 43 - Part 44 & 45 - Part 46 & 47 - Part 48, 49, 50 & 51 - Part, 52, 53 & 54 - Part 55 & 56 - Part 57, 58, 59 & 60 - Part 61, 62, 63, 64 & 65 - Part 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71 & 72

Hm. I considered, very much, posting these chapters separately. But 9 ends in a cliffhanger and that seemed incredibly mean, and so I didn’t. I’m a grumpy goat, not a mean one.

On a rainy day of early spring, Prince Rickard accused Prince Ulster of stealing a favorite book. The book, of course, was found in Ulster's room; he claimed it had been loaned to him, a gift between friends. The argument came down to the only solution available where every wronged party had only words, not witnesses.

Rickard ran Ulster through, and all the Queen's physicians could do was stabilize him long enough to make the trip home and die with his family. Prince Alexander formally abandoned his claim to the throne and rode away on that day. Adam watched the train leave, perched on his windowsill. They wouldn't be the last, he was sure; Rickard had opened a door the older princes would be too eager to troop through.

Meanwhile Adam found himself having to sneak away again. Aware that the youngest prince had, for some reason, caught the Dowager's eye, master Leminy stuffed Adam's schedule full without so much as the prince's by-your-leave. Adam retaliated by beginning his disappearing act once again. No amount of shouting at Beli or Dane would make them chase after the young prince when he took to the rooftops, and when the Master of Scions tried his temper against Arditty, he discovered himself at the receiving end of someone who could, and did, out-shout, out-shriek, out-talk and out-curse him. He beat a hasty retreat, not wishing attention brought to his faults, gritted his teeth, and tried every other trick in the book to figure out where the foul little urchin was going off to.

It couldn't be a girl. The disappearing had started long before Adam's interest in the fair sex had been roused, and he seemed about as interested in the lovely Arditty and her occasional companions as he was in his jousting lessons.

It couldn't be extra classes. Every teacher in the palace accounted for their time down to the last minute, the last tick and turn of a toothed wheel, and Leminy's careful investigations had revealed no other source of education, noble or plebeian.

No, the boy was larking off, and gods only knew where. In all honesty, if he'd known Adam kept going into the woods to wait for Linden, master Leminy would have likely backed off and waited gleefully for him to disappear. He would have taken away the prince's friends, his horse, his hawk, his books, everything, but the Queen Dowager thought it utterly adorable that the youngest of her potential heirs was organizing a tidsy-bitsy court around himself. If they were to suddenly vanish, she would want to know why.

So Leminy raged impotently and Adam waited impatiently. Wary of the woods, where the fog might creep up on him from ambush, he waited at the very edge, on the roof of a water mill in the newly finished Royal Gardens, or climbing up the trees that had been moved into them. It was there that he saw Boul, creeping out of the woods by small measures, squinting at the bring afternoon sunlight, shading his face with an upraised hand and looking at least twice as big as he'd been when Adam had last seen him.

"Boul!" he cried out gladly, forgot he was nearly twenty feet off the ground, and stepped on a too-thin branch that snapped right out from under his boot.

A strong, nut-brown hand caught his, and the wild and merry laugh he knew so well made his heart soar. "You're never getting good at this, are you?"

"Why should I?" He grinned up at Linden, his grip around their wrist as strong as his friend's around his. "You're always there to catch me."

Linden laughed again, pulling him up, and they slid together down the tree and into a hug as soon as they hit the ground. The young troll had indeed grown, and he rumbled in flustered surprise when Adam hugged him as well, long arms coming around the prince and very carefully patting him in welcome. They exchanged leaving-and-returning and staying-and-waiting presents, and Adam watched in fascination as Boul pressed the stone arrow-head to his arm, where it sank seamlessly into the pebbled gray skin, only to reappear a moment later, point up, between the young troll's knuckle. Boul looked incredibly pleased. Linden wove the striped, long feather of a hawk into their hair, and then helped secure around Adam's neck a grass necklace with a shell that had long ago turned to shimmering stone.

They ran wild through the woods and crept along the raw new edges of the Royal Gardens. They spied on the late afternoon classes in the inner and outer yards. Adam tried to teach Boul to fight and gave up when he realized he was only bruising his knuckles against the pebbly gray skin of the troll. He tried his luck against Linden, but his friend with their shattered eyes and the wild mop of their fine white hair was as fast as the swift-traveling clouds. The young prince tried to practice his wrestling on Boul, too, but even their weight combined was still not enough to even budge the young troll, who took to racing wild and gleeful through the woods with both his friends dangling off his neck like the twin ends of a scarf, all of them laughing.

They met the kelpie right in the middle of summer's highest heat, when the air was still and full of motes, the leaves at their darkest green, the light golden. Boul could only come by once a week at that point, and they both missed him terribly. Linden was flopped on one immense, exposed root from the linden tree, half-drowsed and whistling back to the birds in the canopy, who found the conversation both invigorating and maddening, if their enthusiastic replies were anything to go by. Adam, having shed everything but his pants and shirt, was lying with his back on the sweet green grass and his feet propped up on the tree of the trunk, the bark a pleasant scratchy feeling against his heels. He was bouncing a piece of Linden's sunlight, bright and warm, from one hand to another, and he was nearly asleep.

The scream that cut through the woods sent every bird on the wing in perfect, panicked silence, as if a hawk had swooped at them from the empty blue sky. Adam rolled and scrabbled to his feet and nearly got trampled by a deer that had been grazing startlingly close to the children. Linden fell right off the root with a squawk, coming back up on their knees behind it, eyes wide on a face so pale their green freckles were starkly visible.

"What was -" The scream repeated, louder, full of madness and fury and agony, and Adam felt the nearly uncontrollable urge to join the deer in its heedless flight. "Linden."

"Oh, no," his friend whispered.

"Linden, what is that."

"Adam, we should -"

"Linden."

"We should go -"

The scream came again, rising to a shrieking note that rang against Adam's bones and rattled in his teeth, making every inch of him clench in pain. All he could think at the moment was that, if that was how the sound of it made him feel, what sort of torture was the creature screaming feeling? A moment later he was running, barefoot, panting, through the woods.

"Adam!" Linden was just a breath behind him. All around them the trees whispered, and for all that he could never fully hear them, the prince felt their concern, their worry and their fear. He raced on. They passed the great fallen giant that had once been their fortress, their ship, their dragon, until decay had sent it back to join the rich ground from whence it had once sprung. They passed a low, ruined wall of tumbled stones and roses gone to briars. They ran until the ground under their feet went muddy and soft and Adam nearly fell and was forced to check his speed, breathing hard, shoving cattails and wild irises out of his way.

"Adam, we can't be here!" Linden whispered, trying to catch his breath.

A new scream deafened them, and they both dropped to a crouch on the soggy ground, curled up, trying to escape what couldn't be fled, driven by instinct to make themselves small. Adam recovered first, inching forward, but he could feel the sun-warm presence of Linden at his back after a moment, and then the clinging hands of his friend clutching the back of his shirt.

The ground opened up to a pond. There were rotten stumps of wood off to one side that said once it had been a tame place, but that had been a long time ago, long enough that the stumps were soft and rounded, covered in moss and barely peeking out of the water. It was a beautiful place. There were two willows and several cherry trees growing by the water, gnarled with age and the passage of the wind. The shores were screened here and there with cattails and wild irises, with wort and mint, but for the most part there was a vast ribbon of clear, soft and short green grass all around the water, as if inviting anyone who passed by to sit, to rest and enjoy the cool breeze and the pretty sights.

It was a very well crafted trap.

The water, normally clean and with a delicate embroidery of wild water lilies, had been churned to a muddy frot, thrashed to chaos by the heavy links of a chain. One end of it disappeared into the depths of the water, and Adam knew instantly what it was: a storm chain. At some point the pond had been part of a river's sluice system, likely the same river that had been partially diverted to cavort and twist in artificially wild whorls and cascades through the Royal Gardens. The gate and its mechanism had likely gone to ruin eventually; when they'd done so, the chain that controlled both had grown loose.

And the pond's master had, somehow, got caught in it.

The kelpie was running in narrow, maddened arcs at the other end of the chain. It wasn't disguised; this was no beautiful white horse, no magnificent stallion, no sweet mare. Adam could count every bone under the sagging, mold-splotched white hide. Its eyes were a poisonous green and most of its face was bare bone, a few scarce strands of rotting flesh holding together its jaws, jaws full of teeth even a dragon would have envied. Froth and spittle flew from those jaws as it bucked and twisted and writhed, but the chain, the iron chain, had tangled up around a foreleg and, in trying to get free, the fairy horse had somehow ended up with both leg and neck caught in a loop. The broken end of the chain ended in a hook that no longer attached to anything, and that hook kept slamming into the side of the kelpie's neck, which was slowly oozing a black, sickly slime from a dozen wounds.

It would have fled into the water, Adam was certain, if it weren't because the chain was coming from the water, and likely the kelpie thought there was an enemy, a predator, on the other end, instead of whatever hundredweight counterweight stone had been placed there an unknown age ago.

The kelpie paused in its frantic struggles, sniffing the breeze. Adam felt Linden gasp tinily.

The monster lunged at them, its scream fury and hunger. Linden yanked at Adam's shirt.

"Wait," Adam caught Linden's hand. His math was nowhere near Beli's level, but his archery was excellent.

He wasn't wrong. The chain yanked taut and the kelpie crashed down a good four body lengths or more from them, shrieking impotent fury. It fought itself to its feet with tremendous effort, the chain's hook now embedded into a shoulder, faced them, and hissed.

"Adam," Linded whispered urgently, "we should go."

"But it's hurt. It's caught."

"It's caught in iron, Adam, we can't help it, and even if we could, it's a kelpie!"

"And?" Adam turned to face those beautiful many-colored eyes. "That's his nature, not his fault. That's like blaming me for being a prince when I never wanted to be."

"Adam, I can't make you not a prince," Linden declared impatiently, "but I hope I can keep you from getting chewed up to bits!"

Adam looked away. Linden was right, of course. The kelpie didn't care. It wouldn't care if they tried to help it, it wouldn't care if they had good intentions. It was a kelpie. It hunted, it drowned, it ate. As fairies went, it was one of the simplest, for all that it also was one of the most dangerous.

"It's just wrong, to leave anything to die like that," Adam said quietly.

"Yes, it is," Linden agreed after a moment. And then, because they had been friends for so long, they added, "I would help you, but I won't risk you. You're my friend, the kelpie's not."

Adam couldn't help but grin. "I don't think he's anyone's friend, Linden."

"Do you really think we can help it?"

"I don't know. Let me think." Adam chewed restlessly on his lips. In the distance he heard horns from the castle, saw the kelpie's head come up, ears pricked. "Oh, butter and burrs," he muttered, Culli's favorite non-swear.

"What is it, what's happened?"

"They heard him screaming at the palace. They're calling for everyone to go indoors." Adam blew a low breath. "I'm going to be in so much trouble."

Linden made no comment, but from their expression Adam had a sudden, unexpected insight into his friend's life. "Are you going to be in trouble for helping it, Linden?"

"Not for helping it," his friend replied. It would have probably worked on any other twelve-year-old.

"For helping me?"

"No!" Linden blew out a sharp sigh. "For getting this close to it at all." When Adam looked faintly frustrated, they pointed both hands dramatically at the monstrous creature. "It's a kelpie, Adam," they pointed out tartly.

"Ugh!" Adam tugged impatiently at his hair, as if by doing so he could tug out some miraculous fix to the problem at hand. "Can you get us some rope?"

"You can't trap a kelpie with rope."

"It's not for him, it's for me."

***

Adam had meant to use himself as bait but Linden wouldn't have it, and they were, the prince had to admit, the quicker and more agile of the two. He waited and watched, chewing restlessly on his nails and nursing a near-painful pit in his stomach, as Linden slipped out of the cover the wild irises had given them both. The kelpie turned immediately, one side lathered in its black, oozing blood.

Linden bowed, graceful and polite, never taking their eyes off the creature. With an awkward hobble, the kelpie bowed back, and lunged.

Linden ran, fleet as a stray breeze, and the kelpie's teeth closed on nothing. The fairy predator twisted around with preternatural grace, but Linden was better and the false horse nearly went down trying to keep up. They ran for the willow trees and the kelpie surged forward on the straight sprint.

Linden twisted away and slid on the mud, and from his spot among the irises Adam winced as he heard the kelpie's fangs snap shut. Like thistle down, a few white hairs flew away in the breeze and the monstrous horse howled fury, leaping to re-orient itself, stumbling. Linden was halfway to the gnarled cherry trees when the kelpie surged finally after them.

Adam, watching with his heart in his mouth and drowning in preemptive regrets, saw it at last, saw it as clearly as he'd never seen it before: a branch swung low, covered in glossy green leaves, like a gnarled hand. With the kelpie's hungry breath washing over the back of their fragile neck, Linden caught that hand and twisted around the cherry tree, turning right back the way they'd come. The false horse slid, crashed down, scrabbled to its feet and launched after its prey, blind with hunger, all its cunning drowned in rage. Linden whipped around another cherry tree, the ground under their feet impossibly free of gnarled, jutting roots, and the kelpie followed, neck stretched out after the promise of warm flesh and hot blood to sate its hunger -

The chain it was trailing abruptly drew up short; the kelpie went flying ass over teakettle in a crash that would have absolutely killed a normal horse. It righted itself, legs flailing at angles nothing alive should have been able to exhibit without immense pain, and simply rested there, on the ground, looking absolutely perplexed. It looked behind itself, as if to confirm the obvious, and snorted in absolute disbelief: the chain was a knot of twists and loops and turns.

Adam rushed over to where Linden had stopped, hands on their knees, breathing hard. "You did it!"

"Uh-huh," was all Linden could wheeze. "Your turn."

"Right." Adam looked at the kelpie; it had fixed its venomous, alien gaze on the two of them, ears as flat to its bare skull as any real horse's, and likely for the same reason. It took every ounce of courage the prince had never known he had to take the first step forward toward the monster.

The kelpie awkwardly surged to its hooves and growled, a low and burbling sound. Adam faltered, and then stepped forward slowly again. "Wait until I call, Linden," he cried out over his shoulder, never taking his eyes from the fairy.

"I don't want to, but I will!" his friend replied, already climbing up one of the ancient willows.

Adam drew a deep, shaking breath. He had a stick in one hand, a good long one that had many times served as both spear and flagpole, and every now again as an impromptu fishing rod. It was sturdy oak, polished by his years of favoring it. Around his shoulders and waist were the knots of a slender, golden rope, as thin around as his littlest finger. He knew better than to look at it too closely; like Linden's many-colored, shattered eyes, he might see the truth of it if he did, and it'd be useless as a rope then.

He grew as close to the kelpie as he dared, and bowed as he'd seen Linden do, though nowhere near as gracefully. The kelpie's ears came up in surprise and, after a moment, it bowed back.

Adam blew out a long breath, steeled himself, and reached out with the stick, blowing sweat and sticky hair out of his eyes as he worked to keep it steady. Carefully, so carefully, he slid the tip of the stick under the hook where it had shallowly buried itself into the predator's shoulder. The white, mottled and sickly skin gave way as he pushed with a sickening squelching sound, but when Adam pulled the stick away to try again, it came free without issue. The kelpie watched him with feral intensity, and its growl never abated.

He slipped the pole under the hook on the third try, and realized gentleness would not avail him. He yanked, hard and sudden with a grunt, and the iron hook slipped free, black slimy droplets flying through the heated air. He staggered back and the kelpie lunged forward with a shrill cry, only to nearly go down face-first, checked by the chain still wrapped around its foreleg.

"Adam!"

"It's fine, it's fine!" It was so many things far beyond fine that it had come right back around to it, Adam thought as he picked himself up. He paced back and forth a bit, squinting at the sight of the chain and trying to figure out how to untangle it, the water horse's predatory gaze never wavering from him.

The easy part was dragging the chain off the kelpie's neck. It left a ragged, oozing path of rotting gray and murky black as it went, and the horse shook itself from nose to tail as it did, just as the real animal would have. Adam had to get far too close to catch the first loop tangled around the predator's leg, and when he looked up from his work it was to find that the kelpie had stretched its neck as far as it could, a long tongue like a mud eel writhing between its fangs trying to latch onto any part of the young prince it could reach. It was barely three inches away, but they were three inches it couldn't ford.

Adam swallowed the stone in his throat and sent it to join the one sitting heavily in his stomach. "Linden, get ready!"

"Ready!"

He caught the hook and lifted it with the tip of his stick, unwinding the chain by slow measures. He struck the kelpie's chest once and the horse hissed at him like a goose, but it didn't otherwise react. The leg was a blackened, sorry mess.

Moving as quick as he could, Adam swung the hook aside. Almost before he knew if he'd done it right he was scrabbling back and away, yanking the pole up like a shield. "Linden!"

The kelpie leapt forward, free, and its head struck like a viper's, aimed for Adam's throat. Instead its jaws found that faithful length of weathered oak. Its fangs closed like a cleaver striking a carcass, and the pole splintered with a terrible crack.

Adam went down on his butt, but he was already flying back, back and away, sliding over the mud and grass as if he were a leaf and a strong wind had caught him, Linden pulling on the rope as fast as their hands could move. The kelpie, bad leg or not, screamed a challenge and lunged after prey that kept denying him. It tripped, the leg unwilling to fully hold it upright, and it tried to snap instead at one of the prince's bare feet. Adam threw one of the stick halves at it and it reared in shock, its whinny almost a horse's if not for the note of utter disbelief in it. As if it couldn't fathom having a stick thrown at its face as a defense mechanism.

And then Adam was at the willow, and he scrabbled for branches that were simply there, where his hands would find them. He climbed, in panic and desperation, trying to catch a breath terror would not let him have. Strong hands found his and yanked him up even as he kicked himself away from the ground. The kelpie's teeth snapped shut one last time, just below him. Under the willow, the fairy horse dropped from its rear and spun, squealing in fury, cow-kicking at the willow's trunk. It paced and trotted underneath, head cocked so it could stare at the two children, first with one eye, then the other, snarling openly.

Adam and Linden climbed a little higher.

The kelpie chewed on the willow's bark, likely out of spite more than any thought that it could actually take the venerable tree down. It yanked on the trailing boughs, brought several down and grew incensed all over again when they draped over the wounds on its back. It crow-hopped and kicked and circled the tree like a prowling wolf. And finally, after pawing at the ground restlessly with its bad leg and bending down to sniff at it, it hobbled away, proud and slow, tail held up like a banner. By the time it disappeared beyond the cherry trees, it was a magnificent white stallion with bright blue eyes and a leg bathed in crimson blood.

The children fought to catch their breath, harried and ragged, Adam's head nearly at the top of the willow, Linden halfway out of the canopy.

The willow creaked in the breeze.

The cherry trees sighed.

"It's gone," Linden whispered. "Adam..."

Slowly, unexpected, laughter bubbled up from them both. They looked at each other and for some reason that made them laugh even harder, the sight of them, the knowledge of what they had achieved, with a weathered oak pole and a rope made of woven dandelions and the two of them and nothing else.

Linden tumbled off the willow, laughing like the ringing of crystal bells, and landed sprawled on the soft grass beneath the willow. Adam scrambled down and dropped on his stomach, and they could do little but laugh until they couldn't breathe, next to the beautiful pond and in the shade of the whispering willow boughs. In the end, Adam rose to his feet and offered Linden a hand. "Come on!"

They raced through the woods, laughing still, whooping gladly into the golden, still air. Occasionally in the distance they would hear the palace knights shouting, calling out to one another as they tried to find the source of the screaming, bereft of guidance now that it had stopped. None of the searchers found the two friends as they sprinted beneath the trees, none of them saw them pass, or heard their merry sounds, or the whisper of their footsteps. They ran out of the woods and through the primly manicured lawns of the palace, across empty courtyards and over low hedges. Linden took the lead, leaping gracefully as a hart atop a low wall, Adam following, fearless in the wake of his best and first friend. They raced over the ledges and roofs and narrow heights of the palace as wildly as they had run through the woods, unafraid and unfaltering, calling out greetings to the water spouts and the nesting swallows.

Culli-maid was sitting next to the cold heart in Adam's rooms when she heard the rapid tapping on one of the windows. At first she'd thought it was herself; she had a terribly unladylike habit of tapping her foot rapidly when she came under stress. But a quick look down reminded her that she was wearing soft leather slippers and, anyway, they would have made no sound on the thick pile of the rug before the empty hearth.

She thought it might be the boys, but the last time she'd checked on them Beli had had his nose buried in one of Adam's homework journals, checking against it his own work, and Dane had been asleep, snoring faintly, on a couch. Neither had reason to draw attention to themselves, least of all at that moment.

Eventually, she realized where the sound came from, and gasped hugely. The mending she'd hardly been tending to tumbled from her lap to the ground and she rushed to the window; there, on the other side, Adam pointed at the locks.

"Oh, tree-father and night-mother!" the maid whispered, flapping a hand at the prince. "Alright, well, step away so I don't shove you off whatever it is you're standing on!" she hissed at him before throwing the window open. "Your Highness, where've you been!"

Adam grinned at her and leaned back some, and Culli's breath caught very sharply. The prince was clinging by his fingertips to the graven stone windowsill, filthy and unafraid, the bright blue of his royal-blood eyes alive in a way she had never seen. There were green smears on his shirt, flecks of mud and dirt everywhere on him, and his hair would have made rats a proud nest. He was standing, as far as she could tell, on the slippery clay of a rain sluice pipe, unconcerned at the fact that only his toes had room to perch on it, or that he was four stories above a rose garden.

"Having fun," Adam replied, releasing one hand to rub it against his shirt. As his weight shifted, Culli lost her ability to breathe altogether.

Linden, inhuman and beautiful, graceful and wild, blinked at the maid with their shattered, many-colored eyes, and the maid blinked back.

"Culli, this is Linden. Linden, this is Culli-maid; she's good."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," Culli wheezed out, manners kicking in where everything else she'd ever learned in life was failing her. She even offered a little curtsy, though it came out stiff and trembling. The motion forced her to let go of the window, and Adam scrabbled in like a squirrel.

"Pleasure to make yours, Culli-maid," Linden replied, their voice lilting and their eyes the most astonishing shade of green Culli had ever seen in a face as sharp and brown as finely carved and polished wood. She would never remember what she'd glimpsed before, buried in that green.

"Are you..." Culli swallowed to try and get her voice to work anywhere near properly. "Are you coming in?"

"Me? No! What good would it do me, what good would I do?" Linden laughed. "Adam?"

"Have they been by to check on me, Culli?"

"No, highness. But they'll be here soon, I heard them pass on the way to the other wing."

"I'll be fine, then, Linden. Will you?"

"I don't know," Linden admitted, shifting restlessly on the sluice until they noticed the Culli-maid was beginning to be more terrified of them falling than of their presence. "I'll send Boul if I get in trouble!" And with that warning Adam had to be satisfied as Linden bolted down the clay pipe, swift and light and out of sight a moment later, a leap up taking them to the roofs and beyond anyone's reach.

#the fairy and the prince #linden and adam #linden the fairy #adam the prince #original writing #fantasy #fantasy writing #boul #boul the troll #boulders-for-brains

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emmaelix · 2 years ago

Text

So yeah, I play Time Princess. Sue me. I'm writing fanfic for a video game. Won't be the first, certainly not the last. This is a re-write of chapter two stages 6-8 of The Sacred Beast. Most definitely on the Yazdan route, if you haven't read TSB or finished the second chapter I do not recommend this as it is spoilers. Enjoy!

Full Title: The Sacred Beast Chapter Two Re-write: Yazdan x Asha

Y/n: Your Name. Y/H/C: Your Hair Color. Y/E/C: Your Eye Color. Y/S/C: Your Skin Color

Flames surround me, and the heat feels like it's scalding my flesh. Someone rushes into the flames to carry me out. His clothes catch fire, but even as the flames engulf him he refuses to let go.

"Yazdan! Let go, or you'll die too..." I say as I feel Yazdan's arms wrap tighter around me. "Don't you recognize me anymore, Corey?"

"Asha! Asha, wake up!" Yasmin's brash tones interrupt my dream. Or possible nightmare.

I open my eyes and see a slightly blurry version of Yasmin. "Yasmin?"

"Finally! You were having a nightmare. You almost scared me half to death! Now, change your clothes. You're covered in sweat, you'll get sick."

I huff out a laugh and walk towards the small changing room near my bed. Changing into an armored outfit, I hum and try to shake off the dread from my nightmare.

After changing, I realize I'm in an unfamiliar room. I don't know what's happened. "Weren't we in the king's residence?"

Yasmin shakes her head scornfully. "That turncoat Reza wanted to murder us. We had to retreat for a while."

I have flashbacks to Yazdan shielding me from Corey's fire. I almost don't want to ask. "W-" My voice breaks, so I stop and try again. "Where's Yazdan? Is he okay?"

Yasmin smiles at me. "Prince Yazdan protected you when Reza ordered C-... the Manticore to attack." I notice she almost says Corey but changes it at the last moment. A small gesture, perhaps, but appreciated.

"He held it off so we could get out. Asha, I-"

"Yazdan is alone, but maybe not dead. Is he...?" I interrupt, not wanting to hear Yasmin's possible announcement.

"Prince Yazdan will use his gift to his advantage. He'll be one step ahead. Don't worry, Asha. He might not win, but I'm sure he'll escape and join us later."

Yasmin looks unusually uncomfortable. Maybe she doesn't like pep talks. I smile and heave a sigh of relief. "I'm glad he'll be okay."

Yasmin returns the smile. But it quickly turns to disgruntled disbelief. "The lazy prince... I never thought he would be this reliable."

"He always has been."

Yasmin sighs, and starts fiddling with the rope attached to her waist. "Still, I can't shake this feeling he's hiding something. Like he isn't telling the whole story, keeping just enough tucked away. Wouldn't he have foreseen Reza's ambush and true identity at some point?"

I don't want to believe it, but maybe Yasmin is right. Maybe he is hiding something. But what?

"It feels like he already knew what was going to happen, but deliberately let things run their course. Asha, it just feels wrong somehow."

"You don't mean you think he knew all along? If Yazdan knew Reza was a traitor, why not just stop him?"

Before either of us can say more, King Darius mumbles from behind me. "Where am I! You kidnapped the king! I'll have your heads on a pike for this!"

"Well, I didn't want to save you. Your son - for some reason - wanted to keep you alive. He's the only reason you aren't burning in hell right now," Yasmin snaps, pointing a small dagger at the king.

Darius' face has become increasingly red. "If not for you I would've had that beast's heart long before tonight! My foolish son is stupid, lazy, and good for nothing but perhaps a sacrifice to the Manticore."

I can't stand hearing Darius talk about Corey or Yazdan this way. "You're selfish, immature, and lazy! You aren't worthy of being a fly on Yazdan's wall, let alone his father! Yazdan risked his life to save you, but you only think of yourself! You don't deserve to be a father, but what shocks me the most is how you ever convinced a woman to lie next to you long enough to have three sons!"

The king's face is now as pink as his robes. "Why would I worry about him when he has his gift?"

If I wasn't shocked before, I certainly am now. "You aren't worried for him at all?"

The King laughs at my question. "For him to die would be a great benefit! That boy foretells the worst of the worst, and it always comes true. He saw his brother's deaths-"

"You don't understand anything!" Tears are pouring down my cheeks, and my finger is pointed accusingly at Darius. "Yazdan sees the future. He can't change it! Do you ever wonder how powerless that makes him feel? The stress he has quietly endured would probably topple you over within a day. Yet Yazdan doesn't give up trying to change the future!"

This time the King just rolls his eyes. "Aha, he's bribed you, hasn't he? He bribes everyone for everything, like a future usurper."

I'm so sick to my stomach at what Darius is saying I can't even talk to him anymore. I'm so angry words won't come out. But even if they could, they wouldn't express the pure, blinding rage I feel towards this powerless man standing within strangling reach.

Yasmin puts her hand on my shoulder. "Asha, stop. Don't waste your breath, he'll never under-"

The ground trembles as though elephants are running over the land. I hear crashes and screams. I quickly deduce it's an earthquake. And a powerful one, at that.

I look out the window and my breath catches in my throat. Saruwa Volcano is spewing black smoke in the distance, dying the sky an apocalyptic black.

"It's an eruption," Yasmin says, breaking the silence that had fallen over us.

"Well if it's an eruption get me out of here! Save me!" The king cries as I start to gather my things.

I roll my eyes. "Yazdan told us to get you out of the palace. He never said anything about keeping you safe after that. Bye-bye!"

I've gathered everything I think I'll need, and I grab Yasmin by the hand. "Come on, we've got to find Yazdan. And Corey."

-----------

By the time we've reached the courtyard night has fallen, giving the castle an eerie look. Yazdan walks up to us.

"Hello, ladies," He says, smiling at Yasmin and me. I can tell this isn't my Yazdan. I put my sword up to his abdomen.

"Don't move," I command, putting on a brave face despite the worry swirling in my brain.

This version of Yazdan simply laughs, before walking forward. The edge of my sword pierces through Yazdan's clothes, and blood begins to pool at his fresh injury. I jump back instinctively.

"I thought so. You can't kill your precious prince, can you?" This is definitely not my Yazdan.

Even though I'm terrified Yazdan will run himself through with my sword again, I - probably stupidly - put it up to his neck. "I don't want to hurt Yazdan. But you- you aren't my Yazdan. And my Yazdan would rather die for his people than watch them suffer, so if that's what it takes I'll do it for him."

This Yazdan smiles. "Loyal to the bitter end, he was. Wouldn't stop screaming you'd avenge him until I slit his throat and took over his body," He says, pulling down his collar slightly to show a large gash on his neck.

"Yasmin? Go deal with Reza. I'll stay here with the imposter."

"Ah, but you underestimate me," Yazdan says, and within a moment he has knocked out Yasmin and grabbed my wrists. "Don't you, princess? Now, come with me, to Lord Reza's ceremony."

-----------

Noxious gases from the heart of the volcano spread throughout, and it was hard to breathe with all the smoke around me. I look around to see Reza and Corey in a corner of the underground caves, with Reza laughing maniacally.

"Yazdan, please. Didn't you say your visions were getting hazy? Maybe that means we can change them!"

Yazdan scoffs. "Ha, I've decided to make peace with the fact that these visions depict reality. Now, get a move on."

As I look around me, I realize it's entirely possible I'll be dead by tonight. I meet Reza's eyes, and instead of the calm I'm used to I'm met with a roller coaster of emotions. Most strong of all of them? Revenge.

"Good. Welcome, Asha, to the revenge of our king."

I struggle against my bonds as I speak. "Reza, why are you doing this? What good is there in speaking to someone who's already dead?"

Yazdan's hands tighten on my wrists, and as I look at his blue sleeves I'm reminded of the mushroom I have in my pocket. If I could just move to-

"Ah, what did I say? You can't-" Yazdan began, seizing my wrist with one hand, but consequentially letting go of the other hand. I take advantage, pulling him in for a kiss as I shove the blue mushroom into his mouth, keeping the kiss long enough that the mushroom has to be at least partly dissolved.

"Asha? Oh... my head. Asha, what happened?"

Even though I felt like I could yell and scream with joy, I held back. There was a possibility this hadn't worked. "Reza was controlling you, making you do things you wouldn't have, normally."

Yazdan smirked. "Like this?" Then he spat out the unchewed piece of blue mushroom. My heart sank to my stomach.

Reza laughed and shook his head. He paused, as though enjoying his victory. "There is no poison for you to cure. I have given Yazdan my gift, and we shall rule the world."

Reza walked towards me, a knife outstretched towards my hand. He started to slice a small cut up my arm. Before Reza could finish, an ornately carved dagger was shoved into his back. Yazdan stood triumphantly behind him, grinning at his ex-advisor.

Yazdan smiled at Reza's shocked expression. "But- but how?" He spluttered, his eyes wide with fear.

"Some things override gifts. Love, for instance. Of course, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Yazdan said, wrapping an arm around my waist.

I heard a rumbling ahead of us in the caves. "Caves are collapsing. We have to move, now!" Yazdan yelled.

I thought I heard yells from behind us. I ran in the direction of the sound, with Yazdan following close behind. "Asha, wait! Stop!"

Turning back to face Yazdan, I yell, "Get Corey and leave! I'll be fine, I think I hear people!"

Yazdan's face changes immediately. "I'll grab the big cat, then come back for you and whoever you can find."

I nodded, and begin searching the rubble. I hear yells again, and start running towards them. As I start to move the rocks, I see about five people underneath. "Hang on!" I yell as I hear Corey's roar once again.

Yazdan and Corey are behind me. "Thank you, kind people," The elderly man in the group says, nodding to Yazdan, Corey, and me as he is pulled out of the rubble.

He faces Yazdan, probably to thank him again. As the old man looks Yazdan in the eyes, his demeanor changes almost instantly. "You're Prince Yazdan!" He exclaims, and the rest of his companions perk up.

"Bastard! Your father trapped us here!" A young woman yelled as she began throwing medium-sized rocks at Yazdan. His face is bleeding as they continue to throw rocks at him. Corey is alternating between whimpering and growling behind me.

"Stop! He might be the prince, but he's trying to help you!"

Yazdan looks graciously at me, but what he says doesn't match the look he sends me. "Please, let me get you out. Then you can punish me, stone me all you like."

I'm waiting for him to laugh and say something stupid, like "Surprise! I have a pain kink!" But he doesn't. He just looks them all in the eyes.

They nod, seeming to understand that Yazdan is their only chance of survival.

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

We had managed to get out of the cave alive, but Corey had run towards the volcano to stop it. Yazdan placed his arms around me, hugging me in front of all these people. "Asha, I'm so sorry," He said into my hair.

Tears fell from my eyes, falling into Yazdan's clothes. The group of people muttered to each other at our closeness. Yazdan and I jumped back, suddenly aware of the other people.

The youngest girl, about seventeen, approached me. "Miss? I'm sorry for how my family has been treating you and the prince. You don't deserve that."

I smiled at her. "Thank you. Yazdan is a special person."

-----------

Alright, so this is my little re-write. I like it, and I'll probably do part two, as well.

#time princess #the sacred beast #asha x yazdan

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apriorisea · 4 years ago

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"That's What These Mean" Yoongi x You

"You both look so beautiful!" Your aunt still has your hand gripped firmly between both of hers, and she punctuates every word with a tight squeeze. "So happy, so perfect, so wonderful!"

"Thanks so much," you say for the millionth time, managing to keep your smile intact. "We're so glad you're here." You try to extract your hand, but it's no use.

"When I married your uncle---" she begins, and you feel something inside you start to wither away.

You loved your aunt, you really did, but it had been such a long day, and there were so many people. So much small talk and smiling and pictures and the words "thank you so much" were starting to lose all meaning. You felt your social battery nearing its limit. A few more seconds here and you might implode entirely. It---

"Oh!" Your hand is suddenly released as your aunt's attention is drawn to someone who has appeared behind you; someone who placed one hand on the small of your back and reached out his other to claim your own recently-liberated hand. Your aunt is beaming. "Here's the gentleman himself!"

Yoongi's hand slips around your waist, pulling you back against him slightly as he joins the conversation. "Hello," he says politely and warmly, gently squeezing your fingers. "Sorry to interrupt, but may I steal my lovely wife for a bit?"

Your aunt is still beaming, absolutely thrilled at the sight of him and the two of you together. "Of course!" she gushes, and you could swear she's got tears in her eyes. "I wouldn't keep a man from his beautiful, blushing bride, not for one second!"

Yoongi smiles, still polite, still warm. "Thank you. We're so glad you're here!" And with that, he pulls you away, guiding you across the room with ease.

You allow yourself to be towed away, feeling some of your own warmth return at the feel of his hand wrapped protectively around yours. When you both are stopped for a moment by a passing conga-line, you lean forward and press a kiss to his shoulder. "Thanks, baby," you murmur, straightening just in time to roll your eyes playfully at Hoseok and Taehyung, who were clearly the instigators of the ridiculous dance line.

He responds by squeezing your fingers, but doesn't stop to speak just yet.

A moment later, you realize why: pushing open a door, he leads you into a small room just off the main hall. It's decorated simply, flowers and all, but the main focus is the small, velvet-cushioned couch up against the far wall.

Yoongi closes the door behind you and when you turn to look at him, he gives you a soft smile. "I thought you could use a little break."

Heart exploding with gratitude, you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding on tight. "You were right," you mumble against his shoulder.

"I needed it, too," he admits, kissing the side of your head. Pulling back a little, he guides you to the small couch and helps you settle comfortably, arranging your dress in the best way possible. When you're all set, he stays standing for a moment, looking down at you with a strange expression on his face.

"...What?"

He smiles. "You're beautiful."

You feel your entire face flush. "Yoongi..."

Leaning down, he brushes a strand of your hair away from your face. "I love you so much, my sweetheart," he says softly. "I'm happiest when I'm with you."

You close the small gap, kissing him until he's forced to settle on the couch next to you. When you finally break apart, you snuggle into his side, his arms wrapped around you, holding each other tight.

"I love you, too," you say, absently fiddling with a button on his shirt. "I'm so grateful for you and how well you know me."

He kisses your forehead. "Everyone out there is great," he sighs, leaning back against the couch's soft cushions. "But, like always, sometimes I just need to be alone...with you. My beautiful girl." A grin creeps over his face. "My beautiful wife."

"Oh, that's right..." you pretend. "I did marry you today, didn't I?"

Yoongi rolls with it. "Yes, you did. What were you thinking?"

Twisting towards him, you reach up and kiss the tip of his nose. "That I love you more than anything in this whole universe and if I had to spend even a second without you, I'd probably die."

He laughs. "Oh, is that all?"

You nod.

Leaning in to kiss you again, he murmurs against your lips: "I feel the same."

Grinning, you settle into him again, resting your head on his shoulder as he absently played with your fingers. "...How long do you think we can hide out here?"

"As long as we want," he says confidently.

You sigh. "Probably not, considering that it's our wedding reception after all."

"That," he says, squeezing you a little tighter. "is exactly why we can do what we want. It's our party. Plus I'm pretty sure they'll stay distracted by that infernal dance line for a while now..."

This makes you laugh. "Best gift they could ever give us!"

He grins at the sound of your laughter, unable to stop himself from leaning in to kiss your cheek. "Why don't we stay just a little longer? Just until we're both able to face all that again?"

"I like the sound of that," you agree. "But when we do go back, we do it together, okay? No more getting ambushed alone!"

Tapping the ring on his finger, then the one on yours, he says seriously, "No more doing anything scary alone, sweetheart."

You follow his gaze to the rings. "Ah, so that's what these mean." You smile. "That sounds perfect to me."

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts clean imagines #BTS #non-smut #requests #apriori sea requests #apriori sea imagines #wedding night series #bts imagine yoongi #yoongi #suga #that's what these mean

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spacewizardtrek · 4 years ago

Photo

WARNING: This post will ruin you. Like Medusa; look at your peril.

But here is is. It’s the one you’ve all been waiting for.

Kirk bod appreciation #7: The RIDICULOUSLY BEAUTIFUL FACE. A highly technical and academic review.

This is a rather nebulous one. And not, on the face of it (pardon the pun) very philosophical, as it’s essentially about Kirk being stupidly pretty. This post probably will (it will) descend into just screaming and sobbing, but there will be, I promise, *some* meaningful insight into the meaning of ‘beauty’ and textual analysis of its role herein.

Beauty is subjective. But look at him. It’s not just being aesthetic, but it’s the *way* he’s aesthetic. Here I might repeat myself a bit, but stay with me. I may have mentioned before once hearing him described as ‘beautiful in the way women are often described as beautiful’. He is PRETTY. He is indeed often conveyed in the way the women stereotypically (not necessarily rightly) are on screen: perfect, smooth skin; soft, big eyes; luscious lips (his body is sensually curvaceous and furthermore it’s emphasised). He’s not androgynous though. He’s masculine. And yet I still sense what was meant in describing him as ‘beautiful in the way women are often described as beautiful’. He is a rather uncommon form of gender fuckery. He is a form of stereotype-subversion not commonly acknowledged. He seems to be everything at once, ALL THE GENDER; combines whichever traits he desires from those categories, and yet is undeniably a man and masculine whatever the ingredients. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE, one might wonder. The fact of the matter is, that it IS. And it teaches us something.

The FUCK. nO. You are not allowed to be that pretty, and you are NOT allowed to look at her like that. We’re trying to have a SENSIBLE DISCUSSION here.

Sorry, that was a non-sequitur / nothing to do with what we learn by Kirk’s embodiment; I was just ambushed by my own gif. Only the control of a Vulcan. ONLY that could possibly withstand this onslaught. And even that won’t hold up forever AS WE WELL KNOW

God.

This is going well, as you can tell.

OK. So, it’s claimed he has Eyes and Stupidly Long Weakness-Inducing Eyelashes. You know, from all that fanfic that goes on about ‘big, sparkling eyes’ and him fanning his ‘long, copper eyelashes’. I mean, yeah right, tropey mc tropeface -

IT’S TRUE. HE IS LITERALLY AN ANIME PRINCESS.

There are some moments where he just BLINKS and, how to describe it...how does a BLINK have that effect. It’s NOT ALLOWED.

...I’m sorry. It IS allowed. All of it. I am not shaming you your beauty. Never change, Jim. Never.

OK. I’m ok. 3 pics down, we can get through this -

Oh you are joking. Stop.

I don’t understand how anyone can be so beautiful. Life is a lie. Reality is fake -

- you did NOT just turn your big anime eyes on Spock. You do know this is why he ran away to PURGE ALL HIS EMOTIONS?

And for that matter, you know when Kirk looks his most beautiful? Literally WHEN HE’S LOOKING AT SPOCK. Spock talks some bollocks and Kirk just sparkles like a fucking angel:

Unbelievable. But utterly undeniable.

Sigh. Moving on.

Oh - someone once suggested I talk about The Lips. Lips are so wonderful aren’t they. So many wonderful things they can do.

And Kirk’s. They’re there in every picture: perfect, rosy, soft and madness-inducing. My advice is just...don’t think about them. But since I’ve been asked to draw attention to them, well, you’ve just sealed your fate. Scroll down at your peril.

I WARNED YOU.

I am pulling NO punches.

I’ve seen this great meme going around:

Excuse me though....CUTE?

That’s the understatement of the 23rd century.

Try impossibly beautiful, mind and body: heart of solid gold, soul deep in love with you. Those eyes and all their passion burned into your memories a thousand times over, along with - maybe, suggestibly, idk I’m extrapolating from all the goddamn tension - even the one unforgettable time he laid between lily-white sheets and gave himself to you; every gift of the mind, body and soul - and your ostensibly-forced Vulcan conditioning, that completely ignored how incompatible one part of you was with it, caused so much dissonance that you thought the only possible course of action for you both to survive was to BREAK UP, tear yourself from this beauty and love and sweetness to PURGE ALL EMOTIONS because nothing, nothing equipped you for this; you were set up specifically to fail, and fail hard in the face of transcendental love and beauty by those who rejected such things and didn’t understand you and could never imagine this for you and who instead of helping your beautiful neurodivergent brain flourish taught you to repress and caused you pain and shame and Gol was so hard and Kirk was so sad, so very sad and depressed and hurt and yet he couldn’t stop loving you with a bond so strong he called to you across the stars and Gol was all for naught yet you still didn’t know how to live like this, it was torture, torture until the mind meld with the living machine flashed your BIOS and you knew, love.exe was suddenly running with no errors and he came after you and held you and you held hands and, and -

*sobbing*

just...give me a moment

YOU WONDER WHAT THE SUBTEXT (FRIKKIN’ MAIN TEXT) OF STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE WAS ALL ABOUT???

The pain?? The angst?? The two logical entities seeking contact, love, THIS SIMPLE FEELING? That fucking moment when spock walks on the bridge and the only way he can control himself is to be SUPER Vulcan, while his love gazes at him with those EYES, fucking huge and glittering and hurt and loving?? Is it so much a mystery what memories these two are carrying, what’s behind the searing tension???????

Love him. Love him Spock. Take him in your arms and love him. He’s for you. All for you. Fucking hell guys. The fuck. This movie.

ok.

ok I can do this

CAN U NOT

those damn eyes I swear

It’s obviously not all just superficial physical beauty. What IS beauty? Narratively we do sometimes find this ‘prettiness’ enhanced and emphasized like the old vaseline lens to set the tone of a scene (he’s vulnerable and delicate, or someone’s indeed in love with him so we see their ‘lens’ on him); but it is somewhat intangible and nebulous and changeable. I don’t think aesthetic beauty, if one deems it so, on its own, would be enough for the likes of Spock (indeed, no woman could charm him thusly); it's about something deeper. It’s about who he is. Who he is inside: the beautiful AND the imperfect. How his good and bad - how his ‘all’ - chimes with Spock’s 'all’. The Enemy Within deals with this, and shows how Spock loves all of Kirk, wants him complete, with both his light and shadow. The beauty of all of us is this totality and variance, not one intangible quality.

I’ll bet Spock’s parents knew immediately. Can you imagine Sarek trying to be a total bitch over Kirk, having heard the rumours and just wanting to have one more thing to reject Spock over, immediately projecting onto Kirk as some blow-up pretty-boy and how Incredibly More Disappointing My Son Is for being Obviously In Love With Stupid Illogical Human Doll Face Bubble Butt Bimbo Captain, and Amanda’s like, stfu, let me remind you Kirk is actually a Fucking Amazing Highly Decorated Starship Captain who Saves Your Life and don’t you DARE resent him just because he’s got tits/ass/tum/lips that won’t quit and is obviously the freakin’ sun Spock orbits. Mr ‘I married a human but that was special because it was logical’ or some bullshit. How is Kirk an illogical choice? I mean literally, Spock is a Science Genius™ on the federation’s FLAGSHIP whose well-matched Genius Captain™ understands him, accepts him, brings the best out of him, helps him fulfil his whole potential and is in love with him in the deepest and purest way and will be his bonded soulmate for ALL OF TIME and that fucking sour-faced bih at the start of that ep, ffs.

Of course Amanda stays in touch with Kirk, adores the fuck out of him, sends him old Vulcan lit on t’hy’la bonds (yes sarek, a T’HY’LA bond, so revered freakin’ poets write about it) etc because frankly her son could do FAR FUCKING WORSE.

FAR. FUCKING. WORSE.

Don’t...just don’t slip the bod into the equation, the face is enough for one post. We’re all in therapy for this already, let’s not relapse.

Oh, what’s the use. I’m gonna die. This is it. This is like the Monty Python joke that is so funny it kills you. This man is lethal. I need to stop this thread and purge all my emotions

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

That’s it. I’m dead. You’re dead. We’re all dead.

I hope, however, seeing this post was worth it. See you at Gol everyone.

The Forbidden Texts, DO NOT READ:

Kirk bod appreciation #6: The Curves. The Front. The...chest. AND THE AMAZING GREEN WRAP

Kirk bod appreciation #5: The Paws

Kirk bod appreciation #4: The Curves. The Back. Poetry in motion.

Kirk bod appreciation #3: Season 3 (Part 1)

Kirk bod appreciation #2b: The Gluteus Maximus

Kirk bod appreciation #2a: The Gluteus Maximus

Kirk bod appreciation #1: The Tum

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wyn-n-tonic · 4 years ago

Text

Tomorrow

Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: It's about the yearning. Author's Note: Hiiiii. So, I was sitting here drinking my Respect Oscar Isaac juice and thinking about how I feel like I'm really shit at the whole second person/reader insert perspective and why not experiment with the both of them? I decided this is a gift to my beautiful friend @soyelfuegoquearde because she has reignited this flame for Oscar in my soul and she just deserves it. Also, woo woo, two fics in the span of five hours? Maybe I'll write a second part to this, who knows. No editing, we die like men here.

MASTERLIST | Tomorrow | Today | Yesterday

“Fuck off, Santi.”

He’s leaning into the doorframe, face half buried in the arm that supports his weight against the wood but that doesn’t stop you from putting your weight and anger behind the swing to slam it shut.

It doesn’t work, of course it doesn’t. His hand flies out to catch it before it knocks him on his ass and you’d be disappointed if it weren't just a little impressive.

“Nice reflexes, old man, now fuck off.”

There’s a gin-no-tonic hanging from the tips of your right hand as you point his ass back to the street and your eyes are red but you still don’t know if the tears they shed come from sadness or anger. You look at him now, the peachy undertone of his skin glowing through the gold, and it hits you. You are enraged. A vibrant frequency of pain and hurt and fury rippling under your skin since he had the audacity to ambush you at work.

“Darli—“

“No,” you cut him off, “you don’t get to call me that, you left.”

You turn from him, resolving to have the conversation since he won’t take your advice, and walk through back to the kitchen. The thought of another drink is heavy on your mind, a little too appetizing as you down the rest of what’s left and send up a silent prayer that at least he had the courtesy to do this on a Friday. Your days of wrangling pre-teens into math class as the ghost of tequila past rattles your skull are long gone.

But so was Santiago Garcia until about five hours ago.

You turn to face him, his presence heavy on your heels through the house, “speak.”

That shit eating grin he always used to sport tugs at his lips now, a yes ma’am falling easily from his lips like you’re his commanding officer and he’s nothing but a good soldier.

Which is true, the only thing Santiago was ever good at was being a soldier.

“Don't be fucking cute,” you pour yourself another drink, neglecting to offer him one, “why are you here?”

“I missed you.”

It’s a snap reflex, the hefty glass hauled in the general direction of his head. Your favorite shatters against the wall and now it's not just his goddamn bootprints you’ll have to clean from the floors this weekend but it’s shards and the good gin that you only bring out on special occasions.

Or really fucking shitty ones.

You move for the broom through blurred eyes and you can’t tell if you’re drunk or if you’re crying but walking is so difficult now because he said that. Why would he say that?

“You don’t get to say that,” and you grab for the dustpan hanging behind the pantry door, moving forward to clean up another mess that Santiago Garcia caused.

He grabs your wrist as you shuffle forward past him, coaxing the cleaning supplies from your hands, “you're not wearing shoes, I’ve got it.”

Looking up into his normally calculating eyes you see what looks like sorrow in them but you shake that thought, certain it’s only your own reflected back at you.

He shuffles a pile of fragmented crystal together and squats—a noticeable wince contorting his features—to collect it for the trash when you ask,

"Why did you leave?”

It’s small, walls falling a little to your own vulnerability because you want to know. You want to understand what you did to deserve being left like that.

He takes a deep breath and sits up straight, hand resting on his thigh and you wonder how he’s holding that position if he's in so much pain but then he’s speaking and the anger is seeping back through you, bleeding into the sorrow with a rush of blood between your ears.

“You said you needed space.”

“Yes,” your eyes bore into his from above, “space, Santiago. In normal people speak, that means a couple of days so people can get their shit together—“

You can see his breathing quicken, you know from memory like it was yesterday just how fast his heart ticks forward when his chest heaves like that.

“—and figure stuff out with a clear head but, apparently, in Santiago’s world, that means fucking off to South America for three years.”

“I wanted you to go with me.”

It's his turn to sound small now. As you reach for the bottom still on the counter, he almost flinches. Like he’s expecting you to throw this one too.

And you should, it would serve him right, but it’s a seventy dollar bottle of gin and it’s still full up so you decide against it.

“I asked you to go with me.”

“And I asked for space, Santi,” the tears break then, frustration coming to a head, “to figure out the logistics of what that would mean for me and my career and you just chose for me without even a goodbye.”

“Baby,” he's reaching out but still so far away as he lifts himself to his full height, that grimace returning to his features.

"You didn't even call, Santiago!”

"I know.”

"So why are you here? Now? You don’t get to say you miss me, you are the one who chose to leave.”

He licks his lips, "I made a mistake.”

You meet that with a scoff, you know you're the best thing Santiago Garcia has ever had.

“Mistake is such a goddamn understatement.”

He places the dustpan on the table, crossing the distance between your bodies. The alcohol has dulled your reactions, you hardly register his hands wrapped around your arms until they’re there. Warm and burning through the fabric of your sleeves. And he's here. A breath away after thousands of miles and all you can think about is his lips and that last kiss before it all went to shit.

“When you asked for space, my fight of flight kicked in,” and you realize the sorrow in his eyes isn’t your reflection, “I thought you were trying to figure out how to leave me.” It's just him. “So I left before you could.”

You search his face for more answers but you know that’s all he has, the most vulnerable and bare truth of him laid out before you.

“Santi, I—“

“No,” he brings his hands up to cup your face, a thumb running along your bottom lip, “it's late, you’re drunk, let's get you to bed and we can talk about this tomorrow.”

You nod as much as you can, his rough palm stunting your movements, “yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He kisses your forehead and wraps himself around you in a hug, “tomorrow.”

#oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago 'pope' garcia #santiago pope garcia

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years ago

Note

Haii so i have a promot for you, it’s stuckony and it’s based around a carrie Underwood song called “ Renegade Runaway “

So basically Steve and Bucky are outlaw, who rob trains, banks, and gamble

Tony is a sharffes and teacher kid, who is also one hell of a gunslinger (like Doc holiday,bat masterson, and Wyatt earp), he’s also a blacksmith

Also happy early birthday! 💙

Thank you for the birthday wishes! This ended up being a lot sadder than I originally intended and I wasn't able to include everything, but I hope it still lives up to expectations!

As always, this fic is also on ao3

Tony has his pistol out almost before the door closes behind him. He peers into the darkness of the yard behind the smithy, silently complaining about his eyes taking too long to adjust from the bright fires to the gathering twilight. It puts him at a disadvantage for whoever is waiting out there for him.

“Aw darlin’, is that any way to greet your two favorite outlaws?” someone drawls.

Tony snorts and holsters the pistol again. “Two outlaws, you might be, but my favorites? Far from it,” he snarks.

Bucky Barnes steps into the light spilling out from the window, hand dramatically placed over his heart. “Tony, that cuts me to the quick. Really, the cruelty of your words, they break my heart.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, unimpressed. He turns his back on Bucky and locks the smithy door. Peter will leave through the front when he’s finished sweeping and extinguished the lights. Everything else is already stored in the backroom for the night, so there’s no reason he needs to worry about leaving the door unlocked, though he certainly could. Timely isn’t the sort of town that invites trouble, not like some of the lawless towns further west.

When he turns back around, Bucky has moved closer, nearly looming over him. Tony leans back against the door, letting Bucky press against him. Bucky will do it anyway, it’s easier to just give in to him now instead of putting up a fight they both know he doesn’t want.

“You gonna apologize for bein’ so mean?” Bucky breathes into his ear.

“No,” Tony says flatly, crossing his arms. “It’s the honest truth.”

It’s not. Nearly everyone in Timely knows Tony’s sweet on Bucky and his partner, who must be around here somewhere since Bucky mentioned both of them. But it wouldn’t do to be too easy for them. He’s not one of Natasha’s girls after all, giggly and flirtatious and willing to turn their skirts up for a little bit of coin. He likes to make his boys work to get him soft and smiling.

“Now that’s just an outright lie,” someone else says. Tony turns his head to see Steve’s bright blue eyes much closer than he’d expected given that he’d only sensed one of them in the yard earlier. “You love us.”

“Don’t,” Tony denies, turning his head in the other direction so he doesn’t have to see either of them. Steve may be right, Tony isn’t nearly as annoyed by them as he pretends, but loving the two of them makes his life so very hard that it’s easier to pretend he doesn’t have any feelings for them.

“Tony,” Steve murmurs.

Tony stubbornly refuses to look at them. These two outlaws waltz into town all too rarely, typically on the heels of some mess that’ll raise the rewards on their heads yet again, and turn Tony’s life upside down for the brief time they’re in Timely, only to break his heart when they inevitably leave. Sometimes, he wishes he’d never met them.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers eventually, keeping his eyes fixed on the side of the saloon down the street. “The sheriff’s in town tonight. If he catches wind of you—you know Howard wants to be the one to bring you in.”

“Your father’s on a wild goose chase, honey,” Bucky says. “He got word we were hiding out in Howling Canyon.”

“Are you?”

“Do we look like we’re in Howling Canyon?” Steve asks amusedly.

“No. I meant when you’re not—” He stops, biting back the last few words. When they’re not in his bed, he means, but he can’t bring himself to say that. After an awkward pause, he finishes, “When you’re not in town.”

“No,” Steve assures him. “We’re staying—”

“Don’t tell me where,” Tony interrupts, finally turning back to look at them. They both look worried, and he wonders if they know how tired he is of this game they’ve been playing for five years. “You know I’ll have to tell Howard if he asks.”

Not that Howard would. The sheriff is one of the few people who doesn’t know that his son houses the two outlaws when they’re in Timely. He couldn’t even imagine that his son would dare defy him under his nose like that. But both Steve and Bucky know what happens when Tony doesn’t jump to Howard’s every order. They were the ones who took him to Dr. Banner’s after all, after Howard broke his arm for taking too long to finish the horseshoes for Jericho.

Steve’s eyes are stormy at the reminder of Howard’s wrath. Bucky’s mouth is set in a tight line. Neither of them approve of Howard. They’ve told Tony once before that they would take him away from here if only he would let them. But he won’t. There’s too much keeping him in Timely: his mother and Rhodey, even young Peter, who’s only been apprenticed to him for a few months. He can’t just go gallivanting off into the sunset, no matter how badly he wants to. And besides, he knows that the only reason they ask is so that he can get away from Howard. He doesn’t delude himself there. They’d let him go with them just out of range of Howard’s reach and then they’d cut him loose. It’s pity that makes them ask, not—not anything else.

“Just—” He sighs and ducks out from under Bucky’s arm. “Come on. Howard isn’t stupid. He’ll figure out you’re not in Howling Canyon eventually, and I’d like both your cocks at least once before he does.”

Tony once had aspirations of being one of the best gunslingers in the west. He had the best aim this side of the Mississippi and he was quick. He’d been planning on making a name for himself, same as his father had.

Bucky’s bullet through his left thigh had put an end to that dream real quick.

He’d been young—hardly even an adult—foolhardy, and unwilling to listen to Jarvis’ warnings that he wasn’t ready to take on Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, who’d been terrorizing the towns in their small territory for the last three years. He’d been so convinced that he would be the one to bring them in and collect on the bounty. He’d studied their movements, known how they thought, and when Timely had gotten word that the two outlaws had robbed a bank in Faircreek, he’d ridden off on his own toward Harshaw instead of Tombstone like all the evidence pointed to.

He’d been right; the trail to Tombstone had been a false one. But he hadn’t had long to rest on his laurels because he’d been noticed. Steve and Bucky hadn’t been as lax in their vigilance as he’d assumed and they’d lain in wait for him, ambushed him, and ultimately shot him.

To this day, he doesn’t know what drove the two outlaws to take him in instead of leaving him out there to die in the desert, but they had. They’d carefully nursed him back to health, taken care of him when his injury had led to fever, and eventually, after nearly two months together, brought him to their bed with sweet words and sweeter kisses. He’d thought he would have done anything for them after that night, but the next morning, they’d sent him back on his way to Timely with nothing more than a promise that they’d be dropping in to check on him. It had been kind, though the damage had already been done. Tony’s injury ensured he’d never be the gunslinger he’d once dreamt of and his heart had been shattered. He’d apprenticed with Happy, taken up blacksmithing as a trade, and moved out of his parents’ home and into a small house not far from the smithy as his bad leg kept him from walking any great distances.

And when Bucky and Steve had kept their promise and stopped by his house to see him, well, his resolve to send them packing had withered. He’d made sure no one had noticed them and welcomed them inside, his poor heart still beating against his ribs in the pattern of their names.

They love him, he thinks, or at least they love him as best as they can, which is to say they don’t love him as much as he loves them. They certainly don’t love him enough to take him with them. And he understands—he does, despite what Rhodey thinks. His bad leg is a hindrance to outlaws such as themselves, particularly when it isn’t like they have a home base they could leave him out while they go out to commit whatever crime has struck their fancy. No, they’ve been nomads for as long as Tony has known them, never tied down to any one place, and he’s grateful that they at least love him enough to stay in this area instead of moving on to greener pastures.

He checks that the street is clear and then hurries them into his home. It’s changed slightly since the last time Steve and Bucky were in Timely. Pepper gifted him with a rug to go in front of the fireplace six months ago and Peter’s aunt made him a series of sketches of the view from the top of Howling Canyon that he hung in the kitchen. But other than that, the house is much the same as it’s always been, and he isn’t surprised when neither Steve nor Bucky pay any attention to the changes in favor of following him to the bedroom.

They strip him in silence, hands so gentle he’d call them reverent if he didn’t know any better. But he does know better. They don’t love him enough to be reverent. Reverence is saved for each other, for how Steve looks at Bucky in the early dawn when he thinks they’re both still sleeping, for Bucky saving Steve an extra cup of coffee, for the way they know how to tack each other’s horses just as well as they know their own. Reverence isn’t saved for him.

But he treats themreverently. He’s always treated them that way, since the night they took him to their bed. He’s never known any other way to love. They had been his first, the ones to ruin him for all others, and a small part of him hates them for that even as he kisses them hungrily, savoring these few moments he gets to spend with them.

He goes to his knees for them, worships Bucky’s cock with his mouth while Steve undresses, then lays down for Steve to open him up. He lets them fuck him, moans their names while they whisper praises in his ear, and pretends that this is enough, that he doesn’t want more. He imagines it though, imagines Steve lifting him onto Nomad and following Bucky out of town, never to return.

Bucky falls asleep when they’re done—he always does—so Steve is the one who stands and finds a washcloth from somewhere in the house. He wipes the three of them off and then lays down on his side, facing Tony.

“You’re sad tonight,” he says quietly.

“No,” Tony denies. He doesn’t want them to know that he wants more, that he’d do just about anything to get it. They’ll only feel bad that they can’t give him what he wants, like it’s any fault of theirs.

“You are,” Steve insists. “You try to hide it, but you are.”

“Steve…”

“I won’t ask you.” Steve’s own eyes are sad as he reaches out to run delicate fingers over Tony’s face. “I know you wouldn’t tell me anyway. That’s okay; you’re entitled to your secrets, sweetheart.”

There’s something terribly earnest in Steve’s expression, something that Tony doesn’t think he’s seen before. And he’s so close to blurting it out, begging Steve for something he can’t have. He swallows the words back with difficulty and asks instead, “What did you two do this time?”

Steve shrugs as best as he can. “A train.”

“A—” Tony stills. “You didn’t. Steve, you couldn’t. You’ll bring the Marshals down on your heads.”

“Had to,” Steve says casually. “Was the only way to get enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Gold,” Bucky says from behind him, startling him.

It takes a moment for the word to sink in, but his breath comes faster as he realizes just what they’ve done. “You didn’t,” he repeats, sitting up. He scrambles to the end of the bed, as far away from Steve and Bucky as he can get. The outlaws sit up as well, leaning against the headboard as they watch him warily. “What were the two of you thinking? No, don’t answer that. I know exactly what you were thinking: you weren’t. Because if you were, you would have known better. Forget the Marshals, you’ll bring the whole damn army down on your heads. How could you have been so stupid?”

“We were thinking we’d like to get a house,” Steve says, cutting him off.

“A—a house?”

“Mmhmm,” Bucky agrees. “We found ourselves a little patch of land in California we’d like to settle down in. Needed one last robbery to get us enough money to buy it.”

Tony’s heart stops beating, he swears it does. “California,” he repeats faintly.

“Sure, they’ll never think to look for us in California.”

Bucky sounds so calm, as though he can’t see that Tony’s heart is breaking in front of them. How can he be so cruel? How can he just causally mention that they’re leaving him forever, as though the last five years mean nothing to them?

“When are you leaving?” he manages, and it shocks him how calm he sounds when he feels as though his grief is visible from the stars.

“Tomorrow,” Steve says. There’s something careful in the way he looks at Tony, like he at least might have some idea of what’s going through Tony’s head.

Tony repeats, “Tomorrow.” He nods, blinking furiously to try to clear his eyes of the treacherous tears he can feel welling up. He can’t let them know. They’re leaving tomorrow and he doesn’t want them to go. He knows it would have happened eventually. The lawless west is shrinking more and more each day. It’s only a matter of time before the law catches up to them. Their only option is to leave and go somewhere no one knows them. But does it have to be so soon? He’d thought they would have more time.

“So this is goodbye, then,” he says, twisting the bedcovers in his hands. He can’t look at them, too afraid they’ll know what’s racing through his head if he does.

“…Goodbye?” Steve asks. He sounds puzzled. Tony hates that. What right does he have to be confused? That’s for Tony, seeing as how he’s the one who’s been left out of the loop during all this. God above, how long have they been planning this? It must have been at least a year in the making.

“Yes, goodbye,” he says. “One last fuck to see you off, right?”

“One last… Tony,” Bucky says sharply, “do you think we’re plannin’ on leavin’ you here?”

Tony’s heart stops for the second time in as many minutes. “You’re not?” he asks, daring to peek at them. Steve looks horrified, Bucky thunderous as he leans forward to tug Tony into his arms. Tony doesn’t resist, too tired of pretending, too confused by the twists this conversation has taken to argue. Steve curls up against Bucky’s side, carding gentle fingers through Tony’s hair.

“Sweetheart, did you think we weren’t gone on you?” Steve asks, kissing his forehead. “We’ve been fallin’ for you since you figured out where we were goin’ and chased us down.”

“But you never asked me to come with you.”

“S’pose that’s my fault,” Bucky says gruffly. He gingerly touches the scar on Tony’s leg where Bucky’s bullet had ripped through him. “We saw how much pain you were in an’ we couldn’t bear to make it any worse. An’ that’s just what would have happened if you’d spent every night out there with us. We wanted to keep you safe, thought you’d be happier if you weren’t always in pain.”

“I wanted you,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to the underside of Bucky’s jaw. “I didn’t want to be left behind.”

“Yeah, we, uh, we get that now,” Steve mutters sheepishly. “Tony, say you’ll come with us this time. Don’t make us go off on our own this time. We want you to come, can’t imagine a future that doesn’t have you in it.”

He should argue. He should remind them that in the five years they’ve been riding off and leaving him at home, he’s built a life. He has a business and an apprentice and a little house that he likes. He’s not the wide-eyed child he once was, dreaming of adventure. But then, neither are Steve and Bucky, if they really do mean that they’re going to get to California and settle down.

“Darlin’?”

The next morning, Peter arrives at the smithy to find the backdoor locked and the fire cold. He frowns; it’s not like Tony to still be home at this hour. He turns on his heel and heads to Tony’s house. It’s as dark as the smithy is though it doesn’t look like anything is out of place.

Tony is nowhere to be seen. He wonders for an instant if Tony spent the night at Rhodey’s, as he sometimes does when it’s been too long between Steve and Bucky’s visits (though Peter isn’t supposed to know anything about the outlaws). He turns to leave, planning on heading over to Rhodey’s to ask if he’s seen Tony this morning, only to catch a glimpse of something on the kitchen table, glinting in the early morning sunlight pouring in from the door.

Curious, he wanders over to find a single gold coin—and a letter addressed to him. Peter immediately pockets the coin and then opens the letter. It’s written in Tony’s messy scrawl and he reads it eagerly, hoping it’ll tell him where Tony’s gone.

Peter,

I hope you’ve spotted this. The coin is for you. Under the bed, there’s a pouch full of more coins, but those are for Happy. They should be enough to drag Happy out of the quiet life to finish your apprenticeship. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but it was time to move on.

If anyone asks where I’ve gone, tell them I’ve run away to California.

Tony

#alle writes #alle answers #stuckony #if you like please reblog #nsfk #ish

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