#you so it’s like way more smoke in a more heavily concentrated area so when you lift the bowl up and push the smoke out to inhale it’s

[milo-is-rambling]

3 gravity bong hits back to back and now my brain is melting

[lovelybunchof-roses]

MORTAL for mr L

send MORTAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they had a brush with death, either themselves or someone close to them

They weren’t prepared enough. When they originally heard of this threat, looming over the kingdom, they treated it the same as… well, all of the threats they’ve all handled. After all, the only time someone came close and technically succeeded in destroying the world as they knew it, they fixed it. They always came out on top.

This wasn’t suppose to happen this way.

L found himself running through the halls, having to weave past large piles of rumble, fallen statues or pillars. The smoke still felt thick in the air despite the amount of open circulation of air flow from the holes in the towering castle walls. He tried to tune out the screams and cries of the Toad villagers, he needed to find them.

The Princess had to have been taken to a safe place by now, no one was stupid enough to let her still be around. He had to trust she was either in a heavily protected bunker area at the bottom of the castle, or someone took her out of the kingdom. But there was a nagging feeling, something that gnawed at him to look. The enemy was spending too much time in a concentrated area here at the castle. They were looking for something or someone specifically.

L had told Mario and Luigi to go back to the castle while he had handled securing a different area. They were closer to the Princess, but neither of them were responding. Neither of them confirmed they reached Peach. Neither of them confirmed they were still alive.

He checked his communicator one more time, praying to see anything from ANY of them. Nothing. He couldn’t locate them, and he was receiving any messages. With as much of a deep breath as he could take in these conditions, he ran ahead.

Another explosion hit near by, causing him to dive beneath another fallen pillar, shielding his head and neck from any debris that blasted past him. When it settled, he felt a sudden pain slash across his chest, causing him gasping and further drop down, gritting his teeth from the pain. Nothing had hit him. Which meant something had hit his other half. He forced himself to his feet, letting out a slow, heavy, breath. What he saw nearly froze him in place. If he was more of an idiot, he would have screamed, but he remained silent, his grey eyes wide.

There was Princess Peach, not in her usual princess gown, sitting on the ground. But there was Mario, sprawled out, head on her lap, eyes closed. And the villain, they stood tall, holding Luigi by the throat, laughing. L couldn’t see everything, but he could now see the source of his earlier pain, the slashes like claw marks across his chest. The villain threw aside Luigi like garbage they had found in the street and had their eyes on the Princess, who now looked up in fear.

L ran clear across the way, charging up his lightning as he forced himself between the Princess and the destroyer of the kingdom. With a yell, he threw his fist out, waiting for it to connect. Instead, he found himself face to face with no one, his green lightning missing. Before he could react, that clawed hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him backwards, away from the Princess, and he felt those dreaded claws press against his back, causing him to stiffen.

“You all were so sure of yourselves…. You especially~. And now… well, you aren’t so talkative now,” the villain’s voice teases, venom dripping from their words. L went to turn around, to yell back, to fight, but the hand on his neck tightened and the villain tsks. “No no. We’re done here. One more move, and I kill her.”

L looks to see the numerous blades made of darkness, shadow, whatever they were, now surrounding the Princess. One was aimed at her heart; many others surrounded her and the red plumber in a cage formation.

“Leave him alone! Leave all of them alone…. If you want the kingdom just take it! Just please stop hurting them…” Princess Peach begs, tears running down her face as she looked around…. Her whole world had fallen. Crumbled.

“Oh, Princess… it’s so cute seeing you cry,” the villain coos, then came another laugh, while the princess sobbed. “But you see… I only said I’d kill you if he moved.” In an instant, searing pain tore through L and he screamed out, only dropping to the floor when the villain let go of his neck and shoved him to the ground. He heard Princess Peach scream, he heard the laughter continue, the crackle of fire heard in the distance…. His attention dropped out, and came back in to focus a few times, and he could only make out Peach’s cries, far away footsteps… he rolls over on to his back, gasping harshly as he tried to move his hand into his pocket. When he found what he was looking for, he looked at it, his hand shaking. He opened up the device, and after a moment, pressed one of the buttons, initiating a count down. This was only meant for a last ditch effort. They all agreed to this if nothing else could be done, and if he was the last standing… he was the one to make the call. His arm drops to the ground and he coughs, a metallic taste flooding his mouth, and warm blood escaping past his lips.

“If this didn’t work… we agreed…” L mumbled to himself, his eyes drifting closed against his will, exhaustion settling into his body, into his bones even. This wasn’t a fight they could win. Not this time… many no time. But…. Maybe they could erase it…

————————————————————————

L woke in a cold sweat, gasping and looking around him. He looked around, his heart pounding hard against his chest. He strained to listen, to hear anything around him to give him a clue on where he was, anything that wasn’t just his heart pounding, or echoing, haunted screams in his head.

He heard different machines humming softly, notably his main computer that he had forgotten to fully shut down, along with soft rain pattering against the roof. Otherwise, silence. Nothing and no one was there. He lets out a slow breath, attempting to force his heart to return to a normal resting pace as he laid back against his mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

Where had this dream even come from?

[carsdreamtoo]

Admitting - Cal x f!Reader

You and Cal have been getting to know each other a little better across the race season, will this be the day that Cal finally admits those hidden feelings?

First xReader submission, I'm hoping to make more of these <3 However this is just some fluff to get started and stretch those writing muscles!

Tags/Genre: Fluff/Feelings / Soft

Pairing: Cal Weathers x f!Reader (female)

Words: 2,671

The air vibrated with the snarling and revving of engines, cars gunning their torque to the very max, moving and sliding around one another and their tires nothing but a blur as they sailed across the searing hot tarmac. The chorus and cheer of the crowd was loud and almost deafening, echoing across the stadium as the sun set, the orange hue settling upon the stadium like a warm blanket. The outside world didn't matter, it was almost as though all the elements had aligned only for this moment here, two cars struggling for leadership in the feat of speed and skill, a light blue faded stock car, and the blazing red of his opponent. It was the only things that the cameras trained on, the audience collectively seeming to hold it's breath as the cars moved at breakneck speed. The white flag flew, and the cheers and cries only became louder, the excitement raging through each and every car that was intended heavily for two contenders. The cars behind the leaders seemed to fall further and further behind, leaving to two racers in a world of their own, their concentrated frowns focusing on eating up the track in front of them.  Crew chief's were yelling to their racers through the mics, trying to put in one last effort to spur their charges on, desperate to at least get a few more points in the leadership, and set them up for the next set of races. Though it was mostly in vain, there were no real changes in position, and the racers all looked tired and mostly done. One such pit stop however wasn't exerting such effort to keep their racer going, the legendary Strip Weathers watching his nephew with pride as he slowly inched out in front of the famous Lightning McQueen, seeing the thrill on the young Dinoco sponsee's face, remembering when he too felt that rush. Beside him was a long time friend and inspiration, Doc Hudson, to watch and support Cal in his mid race season. On the other side of the 'Fabulous Hudson Hornet', was where you stood, a young avid car that could be arguably Cal's 'biggest fan'. You whistled and shouted along with the crowd as Cal soared closer and closer to the finishing line, leaping on the spot in triumph as the blue male practically ate the ground up, diving across the finishing line in a blaze of roars from the audience. You felt yourself leap up ecstatically, cheering out in victory and support, flashes of color and cheer echoing through the stadium with a deafening buzz. He instantly plunged himself into doing donuts upon the track, his tires squealing and engine revving, the friction causing white smoke to plume from the tarmac, his laughter being heard as he peeled away, taking a winning lap round the track at the cheer of his fans.  The feeling was indescribable, and he felt his mood soar higher than the stadium itself, the smile fixed permanently onto his face. Though despite this, he was all the more eager to get back to the pits... knowing full well who was there. He sped along to his stop, skidding to a halt as he glanced up to his uncle, who smiled down proudly to him.  "Real proud of ya' Cal" Strip beamed to his nephew, to which Cal only smiled wider.  "Thanks Uncle..." He started, hearing the congratulations come at him from all sides from his crew, Doc giving a small nod of congratulations, though ready to rib his own young racer for his loss. Cal graciously accepted the praise, though his eyes continued to search, one face on his mind, before he finally caught a glimpse of you, his mind instantly distracted. You moved under the barrier and approached him excitedly, your lights practically flickering in excitement as they did when you dealt with strong emotions.  "Cal! That was amazing! Congratulations!" You beamed, practically hopping on the spot. Despite his calm and friendly nature, you still felt the bubble of nervous emotion every time you uttered a word to the cerulean racer... there was something about him that made you feel lighter than air, and to say you were addicted to the feeling was an understatement. "Thank you... You know I really couldn't have-" He started, when

he saw the media spilling onto pit row, to which he shot you an apologetic smile. Although he wasn't sure what could truly come of it, he didn't want you in the media... he didn't know how that could effect you, and didn't want to put you in that position. You weren't a racer, and he was aware of that. "I'm sorry Miss (y/n)... I won't be long" He promised you, his voice gentle as you also spotted the cameras on their way, your face falling for just a millisecond, knowing he would be torn away yet again. "Oh! No, no take your time, you deserve it!" You said now, covering the slight disappointment you held, and getting hurriedly out the way, just in time for the cameras to focus on him, the interviewer Shannon Spokes beginning to congratulate him herself. It was always this way between you two... just snippets of time together, before his busy life would separate you again. You were pleased for him.. of course you were. And proud! But these small interactions didn't sate the longing that was in your heart.. You of course were too embarrassed to admit the crush you held for the racer, and getting to know him over the race season was always the highlight of your week. You had both hit it off almost immediately at a pre-warming party held by the Piston Cup organizers in order to let the racers mingle, and to bring everyone together before the big season. You had merely gone purely on a whim with a friend that knew one of the racers rather well, and you were now glad that you did. Very glad. The desire to have more than just tiny moments that you could lock in your memories was always there, and in the mean time, all you could do was just hope and wish. You moved over to where the pit box stood, carefully watching Cal with a gentle smile, your heart racing just a little. You couldn't quite hear what was being said, though you blinked as you saw his tires suddenly balloon, Guido racing out from behind the Dinoco racer, and his calls after the cackling racers. You giggled at the sight, feeling just a little sorry for him, before you heard another voice pry you from your thoughts.  "We'll meet him up by the victory podiums. You can tear your eyes away from the love of your life in order to do that, can't you?" Your friend parked at your side, and you raised a brow, scoffing. "Pff, you wish, you'd just looooove to be the matchmaker right now wouldn't you" you mused, before feeling a tire kick your side in play. "I'm better at it than you!" She teased, causing you to turn slightly. "Yeah?" You rebutted, playfully tackling your friend as you had when you were kids, leaping off and trying to evade the revenge attack that would no doubt come your way, move giggles erupting from the pair of you. Little to either of your knowledge, Cal watched with a soft smile on his face, his gaze following you as you left.  -- The confetti reigned free as it exploded high above the podiums, twirling down and settling upon the ground, flashes everywhere as photos were being taken, and more chants and cries could be heard as fans were desperate for their favorite racer to notice them. The audience seemed to settle as a microphone was hitched near Cal, and he began to give his winning speech to them all, smiling gently as his gaze moved through the crowd. "Thank you all! It's such an honor to race, as it always is, and I couldn't do it without the love and support of all you guys out there!" He started, hearing the cheers rising.  "I hope to only bring more wins to the season, and bag another one for Team Dinoco!" He added, waving his tire out to the fans, before his eyes rested upon a certain car in particular, and a tender smile came to his face.  "But lastly... I wanna dedicate this win to Miss (y/n)... she's been a real inspiration to me lately... I owe her" He said now, continuing to watch you as he spied the blush creep across your hood, you gaze falling as the embarrassed smile appeared. He.. he said that? He really said your name on stage.. in front of everyone! He laughed gently, not paying attention to the next speech from

Lightning, only persisting in gazing to you in the crowd. To him... there was no one else in the area, and he could only see you. Suddenly he didn't want to be on the podium, finally twisting his gaze away from you to look to the track, the last of the sunlight glinting against the tarmac, to which he smiled, an idea forming.  By the time the speeches and congratulations were done, the stadium was clearing out, and Cal made his way through the crowd to watch you make your way back to the pits, presumably to help clear up as you always did. You didn't like being swallowed by the crowd and being caught in the rush... besides, any extra time you got to maybe watch Cal wind down on the track or just have any moment with him, was worth the late nights. He revved his engine a little louder as he approached, in order to let you know he was there, seeing your brake lights shine and your gaze rest on your mirror. The blush was back instantly, but you tried to push it down and resume some soft of confidence... even if it left the moment he appeared, as always. "Well hello stranger..." You half teased, before you chuckled. "I see... now that you've grown bored of the screaming and adoring fans, all chanting and desperate for your attention, you've come to me" You mused, giving him a smirk.  "Well... only so much I can take being yelled at, ya'know?" He smiled in return, before he looked to the track again. You had paused, though had started to turn away, and he reached out with a tire to stop you, causing you to pause.  "You ok?" You asked in concern, and a smile flashed out on his face.  "Couldn't be better... but I want you to come with me" He said now, nodding toward the track. You glanced over, unsure, seeing the vast tarmac stretch before you two, your heart thumping a little harder. "You want me to...?" You started, waving your tire to get him to carry on the sentence.  "Just come with me" He smiled, leading the way toward the gate that led to the track. He weaved through, and finally his tires gradually touched the track, his gaze following the loop round, glancing back to see you hesitating.  "It's ok" He assured the you, holding out a tire for you. You gently moved out onto the track, your tires meeting with the smooth surface, keeping yourself low upon the ground. You could feel the heat radiating off it, and you fancied you could almost hear the many years of racing engines and cheering crowds, their chanting and excitement being sucked into the very foundations. You watched as the track shone in the sun, following the smooth lines as it slipped to the side.  "It's... bigger than I thought" You said quietly, moving up to him.  "They don't quite capture the size on tv, do they?" He asked with a smile, to which you shook your hood. He watched you for a moment, keeping you pinned to the spot with his eyes, before he smiled again. "You wanna go for a lap?" "Really?" You asked, your tone questioning, but your eyes danced with the excitement that he loved. With little warning, his engine growled, wheels spinning, before he shot off like an arrow, sailing once more around the track. A deeper blush seemed to fix itself permanently to your hood, his engine sounded tantalizing after all, but you couldn't help but let that smile slip over your features. "Oho, no you don't" You smirked, your own engine thrown into gear as you gunned it, dashing off after the racer. You felt the ground only pass by faster and faster as you started to push yourself onward, settling into a rhythm, despite how scary the track was up close, closing in on the blue car. He moved up a little, laughing out loud as you pulled up beside him, seeing the joy on your face as you raced on, raising your brow a couple times at him, your engine snarling as you pushed ahead, taking the lead. He laughed again, and began to pursue you, spurring the you on, though not overtaking you. Instead he watched you with a gentle gaze, seeing you thoroughly enjoying your experience was giving him a rather nice flutter to his heart.  You sailed across the finish

line, before you half spun, facing him as he crossed it too.  "Congratulations, now you've won too!" He said, before he chuckled lightly.  "Hm, maybe I should be the one to race for Dinoco" You teased, before you saw Cal's expression turn serious.  "I mean... I could go talk to Tex..." He started, before you laughed.  "No! No, no I don't... No!" You said between laughter, which was only echoing his own.  "Well... you're pretty fast... perhaps you would do better than me" He said now, snickering lightly, the sparkle in his eyes brighter than ever as he got to hear your laughter over and over. "Does someone want to retire early? That's the sense I'm getting right now" You giggled, to which he raised a brow.  "Honestly, if it meant I got to spend more time with you, I'd do it" He said without thinking, causing you both to look to each other in surprise. You felt your hood warm again, lowering your gaze as Cal seemed to grimace, before deciding that he was already down the rabbit hole, he may as well finish.  "Miss (y/n)..." He started, to which you gazed up softly.  "I've told you... I'm not Miss (y/n), just call me (y/n)" You breathed, to which he chuckled lightly.  "You know I need my manners" He responded, before you smiled gently to him. "Anyway... I... I wanted to ask something" He said now, looking to the track, his tire twisting in what appeared like nerves.  "I was hoping that you'd... maybe like to consider.... the thing is we've gotten to know each other and... I really... I wanted to..." He started, before he squeezed his eyes shut. "Dammit" He could only mutter, before he glanced up, seeing you having tilted your hood, but you felt like you knew what he was going to say. "Cal... it's ok...." You started, before he breathed in.  "Miss (y/n), I'd be honored if you... would consider perhaps allowing me to... Miss (y/n), do you wanna... go out to dinner... or something at some point...?" He seemed to deflate just a little, though your kind expression never left his.  "I'd love nothing more" You said tenderly, to which you saw the joy dance in his eyes. He gave you a grateful smile, gently moving forward to nuzzle your fender, though ready to leap back if you became alarmed. Though, as he half suspected, you embraced it, nuzzling him in return as he stay close, the contact feeling almost like electricity. Cal breathed out slowly as he nosed his hood to yours, only focusing on the feeling it gave you both, paying no heed to what happened around you. The affection was slow and deliberate, easing into it, before Cal bit his lip a little, pulling back, and kissing your cheek gently.  "We should head back" He said now, before you gazed over to where the trailers were.  "Ah yes... your adoring public awaits" You whispered quietly, before he nudged you. You chuckled weakly, and you began to slowly move across the track again, slowly getting closer to each other, before your sides rubbed, and your gazes flicked away from one another, with embarrassed smiles.

[ninjago-happens-here]

'Bandages come in many ways. There are gauze bandages, treating all kinds of wounds the Ninja may have. There are bandages used to prevent injury in Martial Arts. What P.I.X.A.L. is wondering, is that if mankind has a bandage for the heart.'

@ninjago-angst-week am I late or what? Sorry but I think spewing out 21k words over teh course of 3 days killed my motivation. It took 3 days just to write 6.1k words.

Summary:

P.I.X.A.L. notices that the store of bandages is running low. She thinks about all the times she had to use them on one of her teammates, and its purposes.

“Hey Pix! We’re running low on bandages. Can you help us order some before we go to Shintaro?” Nya’s voice came from the medical bay of the Destiny’s Bounty. The Ninja and Master Wu were going on a trip to Shintaro. Unfortunately, Pixal never got an invite, but she has long been used to being left behind. It’s not that it was a bad thing, per se. Pixal knew the importance of having a backup, and having someone watch over Ninjago whilst the Ninja were gone. Still, to distract herself after placing a digital order, she thought about anything that could distract her. That thing just happened to be about bandages.

Bandages. Neat, white little things that wrap around any land or sky creature. According to Wikipedia, a bandage is a piece of material used either to support a medical device such as a dressing or splint, or on its own to provide support to or to restrict the movement of a part of the body. When used with a dressing, the dressing is applied directly to a wound, and a bandage is used to hold the dressing in place. Other bandages are used without dressings, such as elastic bandages that are used to reduce swelling or provide support to a sprained ankle. Tight bandages can be used to slow blood flow to an extremity, such as when a leg or arm is bleeding heavily.

At first, that was all P.I.X.A.L. knew about bandages. Given that she was built with the main purpose of being Cyrus Borg’s assistant, her primary knowledge consisted mostly of the ins and outs of Borg Tower, emergency protocols, customer service skills, and basic first aid, given that her maker was frailer than your average Ninjago citizen.

Of course, the longer she worked under Cyrus Borg, the more she learnt about the medical field. Curious about Mr Borg’s special circumstances, she was permitted to look through the internet for more information. In no time at all, she learnt about surgery, prosthetics, all different kinds of medication, and how to diagnose illnesses. In her given free time, she studied all the information available on the internet about the medical field. Even though the information was useless to her, an android who had no physical weaknesses like the humans do, her system determined that whilst the knowledge was a bit excessive, it only helps to prepare her to care for Mr Borg.

She never really needed to apply all that knowledge about serious and fatal cuts, but when Borg gets even the slightest injury, P.I.X.A.L. was there to offer her assistance.

A year after she had been created, Cyrus Borg had offered her to take a test of the field in medicine. P.I.X.A.L. had immediately felt lighter and better somehow. When asking Borg why she was feeling this way and if robots could get sick, Borg had laughed in surprise and shock.

“That feeling is happiness, P.I.X.A.L.! It’s an emotion that all living creatures feel, you included.”

“But I am not living-“ Mr Borg cut her off.

“Technically, you are right, P.I.X.A.L., but you are intelligence, and intelligence is what defines life. You can adapt, change, and overcome as all living beings do. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise! Because that would be an insult to my intelligence!” Cyrus Borg said encouragingly. “And robots can technically get sick, from a digital virus. But I created you to be strong, stronger than I ever will be. You should not have to worry about them.”

P.I.X.A.L. nodded her head to show her understanding. “Then I will go to the exam.”

P.I.X.A.L. didn’t pass on her first try, but Mr Borg told her that it was alright, given that she still did very well considering that she only had the free internet to look for answers to a test she was unprepared for. It was human for her to have failed.

“So why did you send me there with no preparation?” P.I.X.A.L. asked with a shaking voice.

“To prepare you for failure, my dear!” Cyrus Borg said patronisingly. “Since I’ve built you, you’ve been perfect in many, many ways. And that isn’t a bad thing! But life isn’t that simple. You may fail in one way or another in the future because like humans, the circumstances may not be what you desired and plans can fall apart due to errors. What I want you to know is how failure feels like, and I will help you recover from it.”

P.I.X.A.L. nodded. It won’t be long before she faced her first, real big failure.

- Lloyd - The first time she had to really apply those skills that she learnt was when the team had seen Lloyd in the village. After he was pulled out of the ocean because he had to escape from an exploding plane that the Digilord had trapped him on. The locals had wanted to help, but Lloyd wasn’t feeling like having strangers cut him up, so they offered him some basic and outdated medical supplies.

P.I.X.A.L. could see him trying to treat himself and to stay awake, and she could see him hiss as the alcohol drizzled on his wounds.

“LLOYD!” Kai shouted in a tone that conveyed panic. This made the young ultimate spinjitzu master look up from his handiwork and immediately break into a smile. As the team had rushed forward to greet him, P.I.X.A.L. could see that his shoulders were sagging, probably from relief.

“I’m so sorry that I got caught guys,” Lloyd wheezed with an apologetic smile before keeling over, to which Cole caught him with shaking hands.

“Oh god, Zane, quick, do your thing!” Kai panicked even harder, hands jittery as if he was in an internal debate about whether he should do something or not.  “I’m trying Kai! I just- my hands keep shaking for some reason!” Zane gritted his teeth in frustration. “I’m gonna run some diagnostics on him” “Okay, Cole, lie him on a flat surface- medic! Medic!” Nya screamed out.

It was at this moment that P.I.X.A.L. knew that was her chance. To repay Zane for his heart. To prove to the team that she was useful. To finally implement her knowledge. Sometimes, she wonders if she’ll ever have what Zane has with the other humans, but for now, she is glad that she can separate her emotions from her work.

“Let me handle it,” P.I.X.A.L. said authoritatively. Running a scan with her own diagnostics, P.I.X.A.L. isolated the most dangerous injuries before telling the group out loud, staring at her apprehensively.

“Master Lloyd has suffered a concussion, lung damage due to smoke inhalation, and fractured bones in his tibia. He also has a sprained ankle and several bones on his upper chest area have several bruises. Luckily, there is no internal bleeding. He also has some first and second-degree burns, but those look like they have been treated by the ocean water. However, he is at risk of hypothermia should he not change out of those clothes. Other cuts and bruises should not be life-threatening as long as we keep the infection away, and-“

“WE GET IT! Can you just PLEASE start treating Lloyd NOW?” Jay shrieked in frustration. P.I.X.A.L. blinked. Oh right, the ninjas are still panicking.

“Apologies, can I have a look at the medical supplies?” Taking a scalpel out of the medical box, P.I.X.A.L. removed Lloyd Garmadon’s shirt and so multiple bruises as well as the look of someone who’s emancipated. It didn’t really make any sense to her, but she supposed that being drained of his elemental powers must have caused some damage.

“To treat his concussion, he needs peace and to rest. I would like if all of you can speak in whispers from now on,” P.I.X.A.L. began. The soup suddenly looked ashamed and guilty, with Jay whispering a soft ‘sorry’.

“To treat his hypothermia, we would need blankets-“

“Why can’t I just warm him up with fire?” Kai cut across. “Well, the extreme heat can damage the skin or, even worse, cause irregular heartbeats so severe that they can cause the heart to stop. However, starting a campfire some meters away could help a little. using this fire, we can make some warm beverages and some food.”

“Just say what we gotta do doc, we’ll listen!” Nya begged swiftly. P.I.X.A.L. thought for a moment, before choosing to sort people out based on their perceived abilities.

“Kai, Jay, Cole, Sensei Wu, and Sensei Garmadon- please look for blankets in the village and start a campfire over there,” Pointing at a spot a satisfactory distance from Lloyd, P.I.X.A.L. continued with giving instructions. “Start making some sort of soup- not too heavy. Zane, Nya- you’re with me.”

Garmadon, who was silent all this time, started to protest. “I cannot leave my son, Pixal.”

“Fine, you may stay and just keep tending to the campfire,” P.I.X.A.L. conceded, not wanting to waste time arguing. There was the matter of fact that the smoke inhaled by Lloyd Garmadon could be fatal, but there was not much that she could do in his location. All she could hope to do was to treat his minor injuries before ensuring that Lloyd is stable enough to go to a hospital in Ninjago. Which would have been impossible, given that the Digilord had control of the city already. What could she do? Maybe there’s an elemental master of the air who could treat Lloyd?

“Pix, do you not have any ideas on how to treat the smoke inhalation?” Zane looked at her with kind and understanding eyes. Pixal nodded, defeated, before preparing a cast. “We need concentrated oxygen and a nose tube or a tube down his throat. Unfortunately, there is nowhere in Ninjago where we can get to such technology.”

Hearing this, Nya immediately perked up. “But we can make them. Zane, do you have any wires that you can spare for a bit?”

“Redirecting power from the right hand,” Zane replied as he opened up his arm to take out a tube. He’s so self-sacrificing. For some strange reason, P.I.X.A.L. felt her heart beating faster. Maybe Zane was nervous? “Nya, if you could please clean this?”

“Of course. HEY KAI!”  “Yeah, sis?”  Nya was looking at P.I.X.A.L. expectantly. Oh yes. she was supposed to know this, wasn’t she? “Can you get us 10 cups of potable water and 1 cup of vinegar? Also, get some detergent or soap.”  “Okay Pix, not gonna question this at all!”

Meanwhile, Nya was using pure H2O to just start blasting the tubing As much as they wanted Lloyd to not die from smoke inhalation, they also didn’t want him to be infected. Speaking of infections…

“Ow!” Lloyd woke up sleepily as Zane used one hand to dab his cuts. Looking sheepish, Zane immediately offered an apology before Nya cuts in and admitting her mistake.

“Go back to Lloyd,” Nya said, petting his hair. Once Kai had returned with the necessary materials, Nya sanitised her hands before delicately cleaning the tube with 10 parts water and 1 part vinegar.

Tightening the wrappings around Lloyd’s ankle, Pixal studied her handiwork. The splint was holding up nicely against Lloyd’s leg, and all the infections on Lloyd’s legs were taken care of. Seeing as Zane is treating Lloyd well enough, P.I.X.A.L. immediately began to start diagnosing Lloyd’s burns before seeing blood flow from Lloyd’s back.

“Oh, dear.” In her hast, P.I.X.A.L. had forgotten to check Lloyd for injuries from behind. Maybe she wasn’t as professional as she thought. There was no other choice. Looking at Zane firmly, they pushed Lloyd onto his side as he gave a pained groan.

P.I.X.A.L.’s mechanical heart sank. Lloyd had a reason for sitting up without any support. There were several pieces of debris stuck to his back, and they were all pushed in due to them lying Lloyd on the desk. Nya looked up from her task in horror.

“I’m so sorry Lloyd, I didn’t know-“ “Nya, please focus on your task,” P.I.X.A.L. cut her off before she could begin crying. She felt bad, but what’s done was done. Blocking Lloyd from’s Nya’s view, P.I.X.A.L. picked up a pair of tweezers before picking up the small pieces. But the large piece of metal stuck in his shoulder blades- Pixal had to cut Lloyd’s skin to get that out. Eyes narrowing, hardening her resolve- P.I.X.A.L. lightly cut Lloyd’s skin using the scalpel before pulling up a long shard of bloodied glass. Picking up some of the unused water, P.I.X.A.L. quickly cleared Lloyd and the flat-surfaced of their blood. Applying pressure to those wounds would be hard from this angle, so after disinfecting the openings, P.I.X.A.L. took several rolls of bandages before tying them around Lloyd’s chest. Not too tightly, that would further bruise his ribs- but tight enough to ensure a sense of security and staunch the oozing bleeding.

“Zane, do you have an oxygen filter?” Nya asked, having been satisfied by the cleanliness of the tubing. Sanitising her metallic hands, P.I.X.AL. heard Zane sigh before declining.

“I do. Mr Borg wanted us to be at least a little environmentally friendly, given that the Nindroids would be using large amounts of energy every day. So I can filter out excess greenhouse gases in the air and store them in their solid form before giving the raw materials back to Borg Industries,” P.I.X.A.L. offered.

“You’re a lifesaver Pix,” Nya said in relief, handing P.I.X.A.L. the tubing. P.I.X.A.L. smiled. She supposed that she actually was. Opening Lloyd Garmadon’s mouth, P.I.X.A.L. inserted the tubing down his throat with NIndroid precision. Connecting the end to her oxygen filter, P.I.X.A.L. adjusted the settings so that she was inputting air composing of at least 60% oxygen into young Garmadon’s lungs.

As Zane finished applying some frost to Lloyd’s burns, the 3 of them stood there and watched as Lloyd breathed in and out.

“If you guys don’t mind, I’ll go find what the guys have been doing,” Nya informed their group. “I too will go into the village, but to ensure that we have permission to stay here for the night,” Zane stated, giving a nod to P.I.X.A.L., before walking away into the dusk, right hand locked and useless.

P.I.X.A.L., knowing that she can’t really move, sat next to Lloyd Garmadon as she watched the campfire grow as shrieks from the ninja team rose. At the end of today, all P.I.X.A.L. wanted to do was to just shut down and recharge. She knows she doesn’t need to know that she had half of Zane’s heart (which just skipped another beat for some unknown reason), but all she wants was a break.

Too bad that being a ninja means that you don’t really get to choose when to stop. P.I.X.A.L. thought to herself.

But at least today, I’ve proved my usefulness. I can repay Zane for his heart.

- Kai - Having been stuck alone, disassembled and scrapped, P.I.X.A.L. found that she really, really missed the Ninja team. She also missed Zane, though he was in a cell next to hers. He’s been offline for such a long time, P.I.X.A.L. had fears that he would never wake up.

But he did. And the ninja had rescued them from Chen. But along the way, they had lost Sensei Garmadon, and the year apart had caused some major issues.

Kai doesn’t know that they’re here. But he shouldn’t be here either after Zane had ordered that everyone go to rest after this long day. Still, the glint of red from his eyes even scared P.I.X.A.L., but she would never tell anyone that. She watched as Kai shredded the bandages he wrapped around his hands by destroying a metal training dummy, before turning around to wrap some more.

“Why is he doing that?” P.I.X.A.L. wondered from inside Zane’s head. Zane started whispering, “He… has some anger issues.”

“I get that Zane, I mean why’s he wrapping his hands in bandages?” P.I.X.A.L. corrected herself. Zane quirked an eyebrow but continued with answering P.I.X.A.L.’s questions. “Well, martial artists wear hand wraps and bandages because they can prevent injuries and improve the power of their punches. Wraps and bandages also protect the martial artist’s skin and soften the impact on hard surfaces.”

“I see,” P.I.X.A.L. stated whilst both of them cringed, as Kai delivered a particularly hard blow to the metallic dummy that Zane was supposed to fight with.

“KAI, PLEASE SHUT UP!” came Jay’s voice from down the corridor, moving closer towards them. Zane and P.I.X.A.L. watched in apprehension as Kai breathed heavily, staring down the metallic dummy before all the tension from his shoulders sagged.

The Nindroids watched as Kai cleaned up the training room and head out to use the bathroom to wash up.

“He’s being too hard on himself for the death of Lloyd’s father,” P.I.X.AL. commented blandly. Zane shifted from his position. “I’m afraid that that’s not the only reason. Do you remember Jay telling us that Kai had almost killed both Lloyd and Skylor using Chen’s staff?” P.I.X.A.L. stayed silent.

Bandages come in many ways. There are gauze bandages, treating all kinds of wounds the Ninja may have. There are bandages used to prevent injury in Martial Arts. What P.I.X.A.L. is wondering, is that if mankind has a bandage for the heart.

- Jay - It was only a few days after Master Wu had been lost in time. Whilst the Ninja team were recuperating and in shock, Pixal has been remotely using Samurai X to patrol the cities whilst maintaining in the current Ninja’s headquarters- the electronic system of Yang’s temple. P.I.X.AL. had really wanted to go full into Samurai X, but she knew that she could not just desert her teammates at this moment. But there wasn’t much she could do, other than counting reps for Lloyd. (You skipped a number, I know what you’re doing Pix, and I ain’t gonna stop training-) helping Jay prepare breakfast (Jay! The pancakes are burning!) or accompanying Zane as he retrieved bits and pieces from all the fighting. (Someone has to clean up Ninjago city, and I guess that that would be me and Samurai X.)

P.I.X.A.L. knew that she shouldn’t be keeping Samurai X a secret, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt a strange sense of duty, and the ability to finally be on the front lines, fighting the same enemies as Zane. And she wanted some secrets to herself.

Still, it surprised her when Jay had demanded her full attention during one of her free times.

“Hey, umm… Pix? Do you- do you think you could maybe check out my left eye?” Jay stammered whilst twiddling his fingers. Pixal was curious, but she’s already moved to Jay’s laptop. “Why do you ask so? Did your eye get hit sometime recently?”

Jay had flinched at the word ‘hit’, but shook his head at the word ‘recently’. Huh. Maybe it was phantom pains? Still, Pixal had run a diagnostic on it.

“I can’t seem to find any physical abnormalities, but if this is a case of phantom pain, over the counter pain relievers should work.”

Jay nodded whilst his eyes were blank seemingly off to another world or lost in his memories.

“Jay? Jay, can you hear me?” Pixal once again ran a diagnostic scan. It seems that Jay was slipping into dissociation. Dimming the lights in his room as well as all the screens the blue ninja had put into his room. Pixal started playing a calm Ninjago lofi mix from the speaker she was in. She gently called Jay’s name and he slipped back into reality.

“Jay, just take 2 doses of ibuprofen. They’re at the lowest shelf at the kitchen counter. If it hurts again, tell me and we’ll bring you to a professional.”

Jay who was nodding at the instructions froze at the thought of being taken to the hospital. Still, he slid off his bed and made his way downstairs. Pixal filtered through the electronic system of the temple, landing new the smart fridge and watched as Jay swallowed 2 pills dry.

It seemed to create some results because Jay stopped shivering and shaking. Pixal wondered if that was just a placebo or an actual effect. Still, watching Jay’s face relax in bliss, free from whatever pain that was bothering him, Pixal knew that she made the right call.

- Nya - S9, fight with SOG

It had been brutal. Pixal was just treating the training injuries Lloyd had when Skylor came into the noodle house, helping Nya to walk as her left arm dangled without any purpose. Immediately, Pixal stood up and took quick strides, scanning Nya for all her injuries.

“We were getting supplies when a bunch of Harumi’s goons jumped on us, we had to be quick so that none of them could call up for back up, when-“  “When- fuck, when this dude pulled out a fucking gun,” Nya said, pained and heaving as Skylor slowly helped her to sit on the training mat.

“So you were shot?” Lloyd’s voice came from behind Pixal as he took the medkit to the mat. Nya eyes looked everywhere but at him. Gesturing to her limp and bleeding arm, she gave up all her dignity. “Yeah, right here.”

“Okay, Nya, here, take these.” Lloyd handed her 2 tablets of ibuprofen and a cup of water. “W-what? No, I can’t take these!” Nya hissed in pain.

“Yes, you can!”  “What if we need them later? What if one of us loses an arm or something happens where we have a worse injury?” “That does not matter, Nya. Look, I’ve been shot in Ninjago city before, I know how it feels.”

Pixal immediately flashes back to the nights where she had to help Lloyd through a computer screen, and her metallic fingers curled up. It was horrible, watching him choking down painkillers before trying to pull the bullet out himself. Never again.

“Nya, it would be alright, just take these- we can always go out to get more,” Pixal tried coaxing Nya to just swallow the pills.

“Take them or I’ll force you to take them, Water Ninja.” Skylor admonished. With the combined strength of their motley crew of 3, Nya hesitantly reached for the medicine, almost choking as she had swallowed too much water at one go.

“Okay, good, now we just need to pull the bullet out,” Lloyd reached into the medkit, pulling out a pair of tweezers. Pixal watched as his hands, fatigued from all the trains, couldn’t stop shaking.

“Wait, Lloyd, let me see if the bullet should be removed at all.” Pixal interrupted, taking a more in-depth scan at Nya’s shoulder. In the meantime, Lloyd started to check through Skylor, who said that he was all clear except for a few knuckle bruises. Of course, Pixal would check on her later, but now she had to make sure that Nya would be alright.

“The bullet has missed your major arteries and it actually isn’t in too deep, possibly because of the protection offered by your suit-“ “Just tell me when you’re gonna remove it!” Nya snapped as her brow furrowed in anticipation.  “Well, let’s see… first, we need to remove the clothing around the area of the wound, which-“

“AHH!” Nya shrieked as Pixal twisted and pulled out the bullet without any warning. “Sorry Nya, sometimes fear of a thing could be greater than the actual danger that it poses,” Pixal explained as Nya stared at her with a look that could only scream betrayal.

Dropping the bullet to the ground, Pixal took up some disinfectant and sanitised the area around the entry wound. Nya hissed as Pixal gently presses a cotton gauze to stop the bleeding before finally applying some sort of disinfectant cream. She finished off the wound with a bandage around Nya’s arm, with extra padding using gauze at the point where the wound is at.

“Alright, so now you should not move this arm too much for the next few days, and in the next few weeks, you would not be able to raise it over your shoulder. But in a few months, you can use it again and in a year it would be pretty much healed up so that you may do your weight lifting sessions with- with Cole again…” Pixal said, starting brightly but dropping to a small whisper.

The mood suddenly went from cheery to depressive. “Remember to take lots of rest,” Pixal finished lamely. As Lloyd escorted Nya to the sleeping bags they had gathered, Skylor picked up the bullet Pixal had removed.

“Girl, you were quite mean back there,” Skylor began. “And I think that you’re cool. One problem- the pharmacies have not been able to continue business as normal. All the drugs have to be given to the Sons of Garmadon. In the meantime, all supply chains are disrupted. Over the counter medicine won’t be so easy to find. “

Pixal kept quiet. “Well, I’ll have to keep this bullet as a souvenir for Nya. FSM knows that she deserves this.”

Of course, the bullet would be lost later as they were hunted down throughout the city. But every time Nya changed into her swimsuit, Pixal could see the bullet wound. The scarring left wasn’t pretty, but Pixal thought that the courage Nya showed made her the most beautiful woman she’ll ever have the chance to meet.

- Cole-  Cole was alive. Cole was alive!

Pixal watched as the Ninja went into a momentary stop before cheering and becoming more alive. She saw Nya pass the Scythe of Earth to Cole, who promptly swung it into the oncoming Oni. Pixal was trying her best to fend off the Oni herself, but her mind, or rather, motherboard, was spinning really, really fast. How did Cole survive? It should have been impossible!

Pixal heard that Cole justify his survival, stating that the Oni clouds must have broken his fall. He didn’t know how he wasn’t attacked at first, but many tendrils then came to attack him.

Still, this was impossible for Pixal to figure out. Was it because Cole had been a ghost? Maybe it was his elemental power protecting him? Or perhaps it was divine intervention? Either way, Pixal was going o scan him later if there was even a later.

“Watch out!” Pixal saw a blast of green hit the Oni in front of her. I can’t afford to get lost in thought now! Come on Samurai X, focus! She chided to herself.

Yet, as the battle once again turned tides, and the elemental masters got together to do the Tornado of Creation, Pixal watched from her position behind the holding doors to see Lloyd Garmadon get thrown out of the tornado, hitting his head with an earth-shattering crack as he collapsed against the walls of the monastery before debris-covered him.

Frantically approaching him, Pixal saw out of the corner of her eye that the rest of the ninja were left dizzy, exhausted, and possibly some having passed out. That was alright. It was time for her to do her duty anyways.

However, whilst lifting slabs of concrete, Pixal felt her heart drop. The calculated survival rate of the impact sent shivers down Pixal’s circuits as the percentage just kept. Dropping. Lower.

Heaving the last piece of concrete off the young bearer of green power, Pixal heard her teammates rushing into the scene. She could have warned them, said something, said anything. But her joints were frozen in place with something much colder than what her sensors had detected when she went into the Oni cloud.

The motley crew, now only 5, took the last piece of debris off from their teammate.

“Lloyd. Buddy, wake up,” Kai pleaded, desperate.  “He-He's not moving!” Nya exclaimed, voice shaking as tears start to form. She looked at Pixal, asking for anything, anything at all.  “Someone find Wu. Where’s Wu?” Cole ordered.

In no time, Master Wu arrived and lifted Lloyd’s arm, checking his pulse. He would find nothing there.

“You can do something, right? Right?!” Jay panicked.  With a defeated look that Pixal knows is mirrored in her eyes, Wu shook his head and said, “There’s nothing to be done.”  Nya finally cries out, sobbing. “Oh, Lloyd!”

PIxal wanted to cry as well, but she never could. When rebuilding her body, she had used the same blueprints that Cyrus Borg had with some upgrades. One thing she didn’t consider adding was the ability to cry because there wasn’t any time. She had to save Lloyd from the vermillion. But what she can’t save Lloyd from, was from an early- early- d… fate.

There’s nothing Pixal could do. And she felt hopeless.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Garmadon backed away from their small group, and in a flash, she felt her wires burning. She couldn’t just let him leave. Not after what he’s done.

Yet, just as she was about to boost straight towards the Oni and tackle him off the mountain, Lloyd started to cough. Lloyd. Started to cough.

Whipping around to see a golden petal float away, she watched the team cheer as Lloyd started to breathe. How- this was impossible!  Pixal almost short-circuited from shock. There had been no way! No way! She didn’t even go through all 5 stages of grief yet.

And not too soon, Lloyd woke up from a sleep that she was sure that he never would.

Catching him mumbling something about the First Spinjitzu Master, Pixal smiled. Divine intervention had definitely happened at least once today. The first time being….

“Cole, please come with me to the med bay,” Pixal requested with a smile. Divine intervention or not, five-sixths of the Ninja team knows how to hide a serious injury, and she had to be certain. Cole, who looked shopped, resigned himself and walked with Pixal o the medical centre. For now, she trusted that Zane was doing all the scans that he could to make sure that Lloyd was right in the head, and sought out to take care of her own, albeit selfish, worries.

Scanning Cole on both sides, Pixal noticed a particular bad bruise on Cole’s spine. Yet falling from that height and the fact that Cole isn’t paralysed due to spinal injury made Pixal reaffirm her theories that the First Spinjitsu Master was alive, just in another realm.

“You know, Lloyd might have actually seen the First Spinjitsu Master,” Pixal began, which led Cole to choke on the water he was ordered to drink. “No way, he must have just hit his head hard…”

“I’m sorry Cole, but the injuries you have is comparable to sleeping on a rock hard bed for one night, not falling from a height of 500m, even if your fall was broken by the Oni cloud, you should still have been paralysed,” Pixal explained.

“So God is real and Lloyd’s sharing a fourth of his blood? Neat! Next time tell him to not scare us with a fake-out,” Cole brushed it off.

At this time Pixal was about the shutdown and delve deep into theorising. Lloyd technically had a fourth of his grandfather’s blood and possessed the same power, could he possible have powers that control life and death-

Yet, she watched as a steady stream of Ninja enter the medbay, and resolved her thoughts to her inner GPU. She can think later. For now, she had to make sure that everyone is okay, and everyone will be okay. Even if she threatens Loyd to shave his head so she can get a better look at his skull, to which a chase around the monastery ensued. Her family was alright for now, and the concerning mortality of humans was left deep in the recesses of her mind.

- Zane - Too soon, Pixal had to face her own mortality. Being a Nindroid, her lifespan would naturally be much longer than a Ninja’s. But she still could be erased, dismantled, destroyed, sent to another realm-

The days waiting for the group of 6, not 5, to come back were some of the hardest. Even though all Pixal wanted to do was to shut down, lie on her bed and stare into the picture they had taken on their first date, Pixal knew that the team was entrusting her to keep Ninjago safe. Even if it means recapturing escaped convicts. Even if it means fighting the… undead-dead Preeminent (Pixal still hasn’t figured out how she worked). And they had to find ways to reach the Never Realm, by going through different infusions of travellers tea.

Yet, all the waiting and longing was worth it. Pixal prefers a Zane stuck in another realm for 40 years as to no Zane. There was no other choice. Yet, as she sees her loved ones trudging out of the frosty realm, some of them had worst frost bites than others. Even though all Pixal wanted to do was to smother Zane in a hug, she can see the edges of Lloyd’s skin turning a deep, dark black. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Nya taking care of Cole whilst Jay and Kai attempt to remove the ice from everyone else, including lubricating Zane’s frosted joins. She had not a single moment to lose. This kind of frostbite was not exactly lethal immediately, but losing limbs could mean the end of Lloyd’s ninja career. So calling everyone to attention, she went all in to salvaging Lloyd’s limbs, doing everything she could.

Later that night, Pixal spotted Zane wandering around the outskirts of the monastery whilst the Ninja finish up dinner. She watched as Zane’s hands gripped the staff so tight that the wood would be snapping in 3…2…1.

A harsh crack and splinters flying out later, Pixal could see the shaking in Zane’s hands as he cursed, something that the Zane she knew never would.

For her, it had been a hellish week. But for Zane? It must have been a hellish 40 years.

“…Zane?” Pixal called out from the monastery doors. Zane immediately whipped around before pointing the tip of the staff towards her, to which Pixal reflectively grabbed. Zane, eyes widening in shock and horror, immediately released his grip on the now shorter staff, before turning around, trying to run away. Pixal won’t let that happen.

“Zane,” Pixal said once again, hand now gripping onto the collar of Zane’s Gi. “Please don’t run away from me.”

Zane, froze, hands twitching before dropping them to his side. Pixal released her grip before tapping Zane on the shoulder, asking him to turn around.

“Pixal, I’m- I’m sorry…I just can’t- I can’t trust myself right now,” Zane vented out hands fidgeting with each other. Pixal smiled sadly. She knew that not everything could go back to normal so fast, but still, she had hoped that it would have been easier than this. “If you don’t trust yourself right now, why not spend some time with me?”

“Pixal- I…I could hurt you-“  “Yes you can, but don’t think that I can’t protect myself,” Pixal snapped back whilst carefully reaching to hold Zane’s hands. Once she made contact, Zane flinched back, before slowly reciprocating the action. “C’mon Zane, let’s go back into the monastery-“

“No!” Zane protested, wrenching Pixal back. Pixal clasped her other hand on top of Zane’s. “Not to the dining room. I’m thinking med bay.”

Pixal could see Zane’s processing unit cycle through his thoughts, noticing that it had considerable frost damage. Before long, Zane nodded his head, allowing Pixal to pull him into the light.

Opening the cupboards, Pixal took out a few rolls of bandages before carefully wrapping them around Zane’s hands. The ice ninja watched with curiosity as Pixal carefully finished tying and tightening the strips of cloth.

“Why are you doing this? You and I both know that Nindroids don’t need bandages,” Zane asked. Pixal smiled, looking at Zane’s now steadier hands. “Maybe bandages can’t fix our metal skin, but it still makes us feel better.”

Zane paused, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know how you’re right PIx, but they do make me feel more sure that my powers won’t hurt anyone accidentally. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get back to dinner, we have some desserts to bring out.”

Bandages. As much as PIxal uses them and finds them efficient, she can’t help but hope that team doesn’t need to use as many. But this time, t’s just a trip to a legendary city full of peace and prosperity. Maybe this time, Pixal doesn’t need to bandage their wounds away.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #178

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re building the beach’s demon king of the sixth heaven, Oda Nobunaga (Berserker)! This extra spicy Nobu is a Swords Bard to make her axe a little more literal while still grabbing the freaking spaceship we need to build, a Four Elements Monk to grab that giant flaming skeleton, and just a bit of Fighter for high-speed guitar skills that would make Hellshake Yano weep with jealousy.

Check out her build breakdown here, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Team Tyrannical Shooting Star... again.

Race and Background

Nobu is still a Variant Human, giving her +1 Wisdom and Charisma. The Deception proficiency she gets is also super useful for your fool’s tactics, as is the Mobile feat, which gives you an extra 10′ of movement each move action, and you can escape from enemies you’ve attacked this turn without dealing with their attacks of opportunity.

She gets the Entertainer background this time though so she can rock out on the beach with proficiency in Acrobatics and Performance.

Ability Scores

Nobu’s Charisma is top notch, which isn’t surprising. She really knows how to make an entrance. After that is Dexterity, because playing a guitar is hard, but playing one with a chainsaw attached is even harder. The fact you still have both hands is tribute to your skills. Your Dexterity is next, your primary fuel for that fire is... you. A lesser servant would already be charcoal by now. Your Wisdom isn’t terrible, though that’s mostly for multiclassing. Your Strength’s a bit low, but your weapon’s damage comes from being a chainsaw more than you swinging it. Finally, dump Intelligence. You’re still Nobu, and you’re also a berserker this time around.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: We’re starting off as a fighter mostly for the weapon proficiencies, but the extra HP and concentration buff doesn’t hurt either. You get proficiency with Strength and Constitution saves, as well as two skills- Insight will help make you a lot smarter than you look, and Intimidation is just really easy when you have a giant flaming skeleton backup singer.

You also get a Fighting Style, so grab Superior Technique to throw out a Distracting Strike once per short rest. When you hit a target with a distracting strike, you’ll deal more damage, and the next non-you creature to target it gets advantage.

You also get a Second Wind you can use as a bonus action once per short rest for a bit of healing. This isn’t even the last healing thing you get- I don’t know why you’ve got Garden of Avalon attached to a skill, and honestly I don’t care. It’s awesome.

2. Monk 1: One thing fighter doesn’t have going for it is the ability to duke it out in a T-shirt. Monk fixes that handily with Unarmored Defense, giving you an AC based on your Dexterity and Wisdom. It’s... not a huge boost, but it’s something?

Even better, you get Martial Arts, so now you can use your dexterity instead of strength to attack with your monk weapons. A guitar/cd player/chainsaw isn’t a monk weapon yet, but at least your punches will land.

3. Monk 2: At second level, monks can use their Ki for all sorts of things on their bonus action- dash, disengage, dodge, or attack twice as a bonus action, by spending ki points! You get Monk Level ki points per short rest. You also get Unarmored Movement, making you even faster while not wearing any kind of armor.

Most importantly, you can turn your axe into a Dedicated Weapon over a long rest, turning any non-two handed or heavy weapon into a monk weapon. Battleaxes are versatile, not two-handed, so now you’ve got an axe-sized axe that you can really use. And it only took three levels!

4. Fighter 2: We’re popping back to fighter one last time for Action Surge, giving you a second action on a turn once per short rest. I don’t know what qualifies as a “sick guitar solo” in D&D, but I hope playing twice within the same six seconds counts.

5. Bard 1: Now that you’ve got your speed up, your music should be a bit more magical. First level  bards can use Bardic Inspiration as a bonus action, giving your allies a d6 to use on an attack, check, or save. You get Charisma Modifier inspiration dice to hand out per long rest. You also learn a couple Spells that will put your high Charisma to use.

Grab Vicious Mockery and Bane to throw people off their game, and Prestidigitation so you can do whatever you want to with minor magical effects. You also get Heroism and Cure Wounds for more party support, Faerie Fire for just a touch of flame right off the bat.

You also get one more skill proficiency, so grab History. You’re not an academic, but you are a historical figure.

6. Bard 2: Second level bards are Jacks of All Trades, adding half their proficiency to checks you’re not proficient with. You also get a Song of Rest, adding a d6 to healing done over short rests. We’re still a ways away from your giant flaming skeleton, but for now you can use Silent Image so it looks like you have one.

7. Bard 3: We debated a lot between making you a Swords bard or a Valor bard, but in the end the former won out so you can make your weapon your casting implement. Thanks to your new Dueling fighting style, you can play the axe one-handed just as well as you do with two hands, and you also get Blade Flourishes using your Inspiration. When you take the attack action, your movement increases by 10′, and you can spend an inspiration die to deal extra damage and get another effect. A Defensive Flourish adds the roll to your AC for a round, a Slashing Flourish deals the extra damage to nearby creatures as well, and the Mobile Flourish pushes the creature away, and you can use your reaction to follow them.

You get Expertise in Performance and Deception, doubling your proficiency bonus in those checks. You also learn the second level spell Heat Metal. Real fire? In a fire-themed character build? Wild!

8. Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Dexterity for higher AC and better attacks. You can also use Minor Illusion for those times you want a fire skeleton, but you can’t waste a spell slot. If you want another second level spell, use Pyrotechnics to make, well, pyrotechnics. You can put out a small area of existing fire, and/or you can create Fireworks or Smoke from that area. The former forces a constitution save (DC 8 + Proficiency + charisma mod) on nearby creatures or they’re blinded for a round, and the latter creates a smoke cloud that creates a heavily obscured area for up to a minute.

9. Monk 3: Now that we’ve got a good lineup of music set to go, let’s finally get the skeleton. As a Four Elements monk, you’re a Disciple of the Elements, giving you two Elemental Disciplines. Elemental Attunement is mandatory, and it gives you several small effects, including the ability to create small fires as an action. More importantly, you can spend a ki point to turn your arms into Fangs of the Fire Snake, making your unarmed attacks deal fire damage for the turn, and your reach increases by 10′ for the turn. On top of that, you can spend even more ki points to deal more damage with each hit. They don’t specify the attacks are coming from a giant skeleton, but I’m pretty sure that’s an oversight.

You can also use your reaction to Deflect Missiles and reduce incoming damage from arrows. If you reduce it to zero, you can throw it back. Yeah, it’s okay. I’m still thinking about the fire skeleton though.

10. Monk 4: The ASIs are coming hard and heavy right now, so bump up your Dexterity for better armor and attacks. You also get to Slow Fall as a reaction, so jumping out a building isn’t quite as stupid an idea for you.

11. Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack for more punches each action. That means you’ve got two in a normal turn, three with martial arts, four with flurry of blows, and six with an Action surge. You also get to turn those punches into Stunning Strikes, forcing a constitution save on the target to avoid getting stunned for a round. That save’s based on your wisdom though, so don’t expect miracles.

12. Bard 5: Bouncing back to bard real quick makes your Bardic Inspiration stronger, turning all those dice into d8s. That buffs your flourish power, and your party support. As a bonus, you become a Font of Inspiration, so those dice recharge on short rests too!

Really this is just a banner level for you, since with third level spells you can also grab Major Image to create a really big skeleton that actually feels hot!

13. Bard 6: Sixth level bards get pretty much nothing, ‘cause your extra attack doesn’t stack. You also get a Countercharm, I guess. Spend your action to give advantage to allies dealing with Fear and Charm effects.

If you want to do that and still be useful, spend a minute to give your allies a Motivational Speech -er, concert- to give them temporary HP and advantage on wisdom saves. If they’re hit by an attack, they also get advantage on their next attack too. The spell ends for everyone after an hour, or for a creature after their temporary HP is destroyed.

14. Bard 7: Seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like Hallucinatory Terrain. I know nobuserker won’t get the ability to set fields on fire for a while, but futureproofing is a good habit to get into.

15. Monk 6: Hopping back over to monk real quick for some Ki-Empowered Strikes, making your fists magical for overcoming resistance. You also get one more Elemental Discipline, and Sweeping Cinder Strike gives you Burning Hands for the low low cost of 2 ki points per cast. You can also spend an extra ki point to upcharge it, but honestly that’s more trouble than it’s worth.

16. Bard 8: Another ASI! Use this one to power up your Charisma for stronger heals, stronger spells, and more inspiration. You can also cast Phantasmal Killer so Skelly can go kill people on his own.

17. Bard 9: Your Song of Rest grows to a d8 as well, for sicker riffs while you’re jamming. You can also Animate Objects, so now you can really put the “chain” back in your chainsaw and go scooting around.

18. Bard 10: Your Bardic Inspiration grows one last time to a d10, and you get Magical Secrets, two spells from any class. (You also get a cantrip, so.. True Strike, why not.)

You also learn the spell Find Greater Steed so you can ride in style in your own customizable rocket. I’d recommend a Griffon, but anything with a flying speed is good. You also get Haste to make that griffon more rocket-y, doubling a target creature’s speed, giving it an extra action, advantage on dex saves and checks, and it’s AC goes up by 2. You’ll have to let the engines cool afterwards though, it’ll have to take a turn off once the spell ends. Also, make sure you keep that thing low to the ground, unless you want to get pancaked by Ishtar.

Also, more Expertise. Perfect your atsumori with Acrobatics and your cool poses with Intimidation.

19. Monk 7: It took a while to get here, but you finally get Evasion! Now your dexterity saves are super good, with failures only dealing half damage and successes avoiding all damage! You also get a Stillness of Mind that lets you end charming and frightening effects on yourself. Madness enhancement is one hell of a drug.

20. Monk 8: Your capstone level is one last ASI, and if you made it this far you deserve a pat on the back. And also the Tough feat for 40 extra HP.

Pros:

With support from your fighting techniques and bard spells plus damage from your monk stuff, you’ve got a lot of variety, so you can fill out any niche your party doesn’t have covered.

Being a mobile monk means you’re fast as hell and hard to retaliate against, making you perfect at hit and run tactics. Use that action surge for a burst of activity, then run off before anyone knows what happened.

Despite being a berserker you have a lot of support options and can fit a lot of roles, from preventing status effects with countercharm & motivational speech to healing with cure wounds to weakening enemies with vicious mockery, bane, and distracting strikes.

Cons:

A less generous person might say this build is too Cluttered. You’ve got inspiration and martial arts fighting for your bonus action, and while you can do many things, there are more dedicated builds that do them better.

This is in part due to limited resources for your best abilities, mostly tied to short rests. With limited action surges, distracting strikes, flourishes, and fire snake fangs, you’ve got a short fuse, and it’ll take work to make sure you don’t burn out before the fighting’s over.

Your ability scores are similarly spread out in all directions, with your wisdom being the big loser. This means that if you can’t outrun someone you’ll be an easy target with an AC of only 15, and your monk abilities like Sweeping Cinder Strike and Stunning Strike aren’t nearly as useful as they should be.

[oneoftheextras]

Caged | two

Alpha!Villain!All Might x Omega!Reader

masterlist | tip jar

A lovely and generous reader gave me a Tip to write a second part to my Alpha Villain All Might/Toshinori story so here we are. Thank you so much for helping me support myself while writing, it really means a lot!

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, smut and breeding kink

Part 1 | 

When you awoke you were alone, the sunlight peaking through the tatty blinds covering each window and highlighting the specs of dust that floated through the almost empty room. 

You were lying on your side on a very uncomfortable couch, a couch that you vaguely remembered falling asleep on in the first place. A light knitted blanket covered your naked body, but you were already sweating.

A twinge of pain in your lower abdomen triggered your memory of the night before, the realisation of where you were and who this house belonged to hit you like leaves on a train track - all of a sudden and had you flying into the air.

Once your feet were on the ground you used the blanket to shamefully cover yourself, just in case someone was lurking in one of the few rooms of the building and happened upon your nude self.

You needed a cold shower, you felt the disgusting hue of sweat coating your skin from your premature heat, normally you would have everything set out and planned ahead so you were ready for it - you weren’t expecting it so early.

Roaming the bottom floor, you opened every door you saw in an attempt to find the bathroom. You found what seemed to be a home gym and storage room, at least that’s what you’d say if you had to guess, there was a bunch of work out machines alongside multiple opened boxes filled with random stuff - there were trophies, clothes, a games console, there didn’t seem to be any form of organisation.

Feeling the dust tickle your nose you decided to close the door again and leave it be, if you were to disturb anything he would surely know.

There wasn’t much to the downstairs of Toshinori’s house, the living room took up most of the space, and the kitchen area being added to it eliminated another room.

Cautiously you moved to the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the steep steps, you collected as much of the blanket as you could into your hands and started walking up them, you didn’t want to trip so you took your time.

Upstairs wasn’t as open as downstairs, there were multiple doors leading to various rooms, you didn’t know where to start. It was now occurring to you that you were being very rude and nosy, but you didn’t care you wanted a shower.

This was the house of a notorious villain, known for destroying buildings and murdering innocent people, you realised you needed to stop delaying and get out of this place as quickly as you could.

You thanked your lucky stars that he hadn’t killed you when he found you in his house the night before, he could have done so easily but had spared you for some reason. You weren’t about to start questioning the motives behind his motives and just be thankful that you’re alive.

Opening each door to peak inside you eventually found the bathroom, it was very simple: clean white tiles, glass shower, a toilet and a sink. You couldn’t help but feel like this man lived a very basic life - the house was not a home but definitely had potential.

Hopping into the shower you allowed the water to run over your aching body, only now could you feel how much it hurt. There were tiny purple bruises littered around your hip bones and waist, yet another reminder of the night before.

The water helped you to feel cleaner but there wasn’t much you could do about the aching in your bones and stomach, your skin craved the warm feeling of a gentle touch.

Normally you would use your heated blanket in your own bedroom, but you were far from home and the damp towel wrapped around your body was nothing in comparison to it.

Then it hit you, the only clothes you had were your work clothes and they were drenched in sweat. You wandered out of the bathroom in search for some clothes, Toshinori had forced your heat to come early, the least he could do was make you feel comfortable. You were sure he wouldn’t notice some clothes missing.

Earlier when you were snooping around you’d found, what you would assume to be, the master bedroom. The bed was huge with dark grey sheets, the size was probably to accommodate his large form, you remembered how he towered over you, he was easily twice your own size.

The thought made goosebumps crawl across your skin, now was not the time to indulge in such thoughts, you needed to get dressed and leave as quickly as possible.

You made your way over to a huge mirrored closet and slid the door to the side, there were a few pieces of clothing hanging up but they all looked the same.

Some were ginormous and some were average size, there was a black hoodie that seemed tailored to his muscular body that you had to resist the temptation to snuggle into.

Instead you found a plain white top and a pair of green combat trousers, they were a bit baggy on you but it was enough to get you home.

As soon as you pulled the fabric over your head you realised your mistake, even though it was clean the remaining smell of his cologne entered your nostrils and consumed you.

That familiar smell of caramel and oak wood filled your entire being, and you felt a cold sweat start to break out on your forehead as you started to shake. Determined to get threw this and out of the house, you pulled it down over your chest and stomach.

You reached a hand out to grab the pants you’d seen hanging up but your attention was drawn to the hoodie, you tried your best to concentrate but your body deceived you. Before you knew it you were slipping the hoodie off of it’s hanger and bringing it up to your face.

The fabric was soft to the touch and the smell was beyond amazing, he must have worn this recently and then put it back in the closet. You wondered what other things he had worn recently that had his Alpha scent on it.

Ten minutes went by and you’d pulled out half a dozen items of clothing that were now laying on the bed, you’d somehow managed to find a big metal basket at the end of the bed that had a variety of blankets in it, all of which you had confiscated.

You organised them into a messy circle on top of the plush mattress and wrapped a particularly fluffy blanket around you, strangely it was helping your sweat. You were fully aware that you were nesting in a villain’s home, but you couldn’t stop.

Never before had you had an Alpha around during your heat, normally you would go through it alone in your apartment, you’d dabbled in the idea of going out to quench the urges you had but you knew better than to go to a bar smelling like a desperate Omega. That was how you would get yourself killed.

Now that you’d had the taste of an Alpha you were thirsty, like you hadn’t drank water in three weeks, your lips were chapped and your throat yearned for him.

Cuddling up to the black hoodie you had found, you were starting to whine, you were both uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time - the nest gave you physical comfort but you wanted more, you wanted him back.

All plans to leave had gone out of the window, you needed to be satisfied in ways that suppressants couldn’t control and toys wouldn’t come close to.

Almost as if on call, the bedroom door swung open and Toshinori stared at your small body curled up in a pile of his clothes and blankets. You hadn’t heard the front door open or any footsteps coming up the stairs, you were so wrapped up in controlling your inner urges.

As soon as you caught scent of him your eyes shot open and towards where he was standing, he looked nervous, scared - concerned? You weren’t sure, your eyes wouldn’t focus properly, but you needed him.

“I came as quickly as I could” he said breathing heavily, he too was sweating, “How did-” you started but couldn’t finish, you wanted to ask him what he meant but couldn’t form the words.

“I don’t know, I just had a feeling that you needed me” he explained, he too was confused, “Let me take care of you” he commanded, puffing his chest out and transforming into the figure you knew as All Smite.

“N-No!” you whined reaching a hand out for him, he was half way across the room to you when he stopped, the look of hurt on his face said it all - me must have thought you didn’t want him at all.

That couldn’t be further from the truth, you wanted him, very very badly. But this wasn’t him, this was All Smite, a villain. You wanted to Toshinori you knew, the thin blonde man that never failed to put a smile on your face while your work day was dragging you down.

“Not like that” you clarified, your eyes were starting to water, it felt like if he didn’t hold you within the next couple of seconds then your body would crumble into a pile of dust.

He was stumped, he opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it again, “This isn’t you, I want you” you begged him. You started to emerge from your clothing fort you’d made to get closer to him, you were afraid that if you tried to stand your legs would fail you so you shimmied your way to the end of the bed.

“This is me” he said glancing down at his muscular body bewildered. You shook your head furiously and muttered out a “Please”, finally you were able to meet his blue eyes and you noticed the twinkle of realisation hit him and a small pink blush paint over his nose.

White steam seeped from every part of his body until you weren’t able to see him through the cloud of fog, desperately you wanted to see him again, you reached your hand out into the smoke to find him when you felt his hand clasp around yours.

At the feeling of physical contact your skin felt as though it was set on fire and spread quickly from your hand all the way through your body and down to your toes.

Gently he pulled you up towards him so you were up against his chest, you allowed yourself to snuggle into his warmth more and it made you feel complete. 

Softly he put his hand under your jaw and lifted your face to look up at him, he seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable. Pushing yourself up on your knees, you brought yourself up to the crevice of his neck so you could brush your nose against his scent gland.

A quiet growl came from him when you made contact making you stop for a second to check that it was okay to continue, twisting your head to glance up at him he hastily took the opportunity to kiss you, sealing your lips with his passionately.

One kiss turned into two and two turned into two dozen, all the while he pushed you back up the bed and towards the nest you’d made. You pushed clothes aside to make room for your guest without breaking contact with him, every kiss stoked the fire that was burning in you.

Finally he released your lips so he could pull his top up over his head and you made sure to grab it and add it to the pile before it even touched the ground. He chuckled at your actions with blown out lust-filled eyes and started to undo his jeans.

That’s when you realised that you never got around to putting on any pants of your own, you were wearing only his white top. 

You allowed your body to slowly recline until you felt the soft mattress touch your back, at this point Toshinori had finished undressing himself so you could admire his fully naked form.

It wasn’t as muscular as his bigger figure but his muscles were still defined, he was leaner but still very strong. He didn’t give you much time to inspect him before he crawled on top of you and continued his assault on your lips.

Hooking your hands around his neck, you pulled his head towards you so you could deepen the kiss - you were so full of his embrace that it made you jump when you felt one of his fingers brush against your entrance.

His hand retracted at you flinching and he stopped kissing you so he could reassure you “I’ll be gently today, I promise” he smiled, looking deep into your eyes, regardless of how he treated you the night before you whole-heartedly believed him.

“Are you sore?” he asked, moving his head so he could place gentle kisses on your neck, “Mhmmm” you nodded as you felt his fingers glide through your folds, you were impatient.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough” he kissed, pushing one finger slowly into you as though you were made of glass and any quick movements would shatter you. Moaning softly, you gripped onto the back of his head and moved your legs further apart to give him room.

He slid his finger in and out of you at a painfully steady pace, you whined in between moans and thrust your hips towards him to let him know you wanted more.

You felt him chuckle against your neck as he pulled his finger out of you, the warm breath against your skin made your whole body tingle, “Okay, okay” he said as though he was scorning you for not being patient enough.

That’s when you felt the smooth head of his cock push your lips aside, as he promised, he pushed himself into you; forcing your walls to clench wildly around him for something to grip onto.

You relished in the deep groan that came out of his mouth and splashed against your ear, it was so quiet that you probably wouldn’t have heard it if all your senses weren’t giving him your complete undivided attention. 

“Please” you begged again, hardly able to control yourself, you wanted every part of him and you wanted it now. Slowly at first, he pulled himself nearly all the way out of you and then almost as carefully, he pushed all the way back in. You could feel every bump and vein of his cock brushing against your insides and it felt wonderful.

Once he had found his pace, you wrapped your legs around his waist and hooked your feet together to deepen the angle, you weren’t proud of the noises that were coming from you.

He tried to continue kissing your neck and jaw line but his own need took over, making his thrusts faster and more erratic and his kisses were just the same. He sloppily let his bottom lip rest against your skin in an attempt to keep the contact, but all you could feel was the exhales from his pants and that was just as blissful.

Using the heel of your foot, you matched his pace, pulling him harder so he could fully sheath himself inside of you, it didn’t take long for his gentle pace to fade into hard and melodically thrusts.

You didn’t even attempt to conceal your screams, you wanted him to hear what he was doing to you - his right hand roamed in search for yours as he kept up the relentless pace that he had set.

The headboard of his bed was thumping against the wall in rhythm with him, eventually he found your hand and entwined his fingers with yours and let them rest on the pillow above your head.

Attempting to do the same with the other, you started to feel his knot forming, something that you’d been thinking about all day. It pushed against your entrance hard as though each thrust was making it knock and ask for your permission.

You felt Toshinori’s teeth against your neck as he grit them, in one particularly strong thrust, his knot pushed itself inside of you and stretched you even more.

Sure, he wasn’t in his muscle form, but he was definitely still hung.

Almost instinctively, he gripped your throat in between his teeth and bit down sharply, you yelped as you felt the pain rocket through your neck and jaw. He didn’t let go immediately, he continued to hold your flesh in his mouth as he thrust into you. He was like a wild animal that had finally caught it’s prey after hours of stalking and chasing.

Eventually, he released your skin and continued to kiss where he had marked you, you were unsure why he had mated with you - why would the number one feared villain in the whole of Japan want to mate with you, a barista.

That was until he started to speak “I’ve wanted to make you mine for so long Omega” he grunted while he pumped himself into you even faster, your head spinning as he called you by your title “I’m going to fill you up completely, do you want that?” he huffed, lifting himself up so he could look upon your face.

With every sentence he said, you felt your orgasm creeping up as though his words were coaxing it out of hiding, your clit tingled with delight, you were so close.

You sloppily nodded your head as he pinned your other hand above your head, “I’m going to fill your belly with my seed until your body has no choice but to carry my pups” he told you, everything he was saying made you moan even more, you wanted everything he said and more.

His thrusts became off beat, the rhythm was gone, just a few more thrusts until you felt him spill himself inside you, triggering your own orgasm. You both rode out your blissful high together as he rested his forehead against you own and the last couple of drops entered you.

Panting, you laid there unmoving, not because you didn’t want to but because his knot wouldn’t allow you. He let go of your hands and held you against his chest, he rolled onto his back and in turn pulled you on top of him, cock still fully inside you and very very hard.

“Did you mean it? What you said?” you asked breathlessly, he looked down at your tired and sweat covered body, “About wanting you for a long time?” he clarified and you nodded.

Pushing a strand of your hair out of your face, he smiled “Yeah, you didn’t think I really liked that crappy coffee, did you?” he laughed, making your head bounce along with his chest. You lifted you head so you could give him an offended look.

“I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my Omega, I just never knew how to approach you, and then you practically fell into my lap” he explained, it was a weird and unconventional way for someone to find their soulmate but you were just happy you’d found him.

There was still something nagging in the back of your mind, he was a villain, how did you know he wouldn’t abandon you. Almost as though he had read your mind he kissed you on the forehead, “I’m here now, and I wont let anyone or anything hurt you - especially not me” his eyes were full of adoration for you.

“I prefer you like this” you stated, poking a finger into his ribs making him flinch, “Like this huh?” he smirked, putting his arms around your torso and slowly moving his still hard cock out of you and then back in again.

It was clear he was a man of his word and truly wasn’t done with you, “I’m glad” he smiled, it was a genuine smile, one full of love and pure happiness. Something told you he would indeed keep you safe, and you would be the one to show him how loved he truly was.

Tag List:

@mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law @hereticpriest @enagmaticether @anxiousgoddest

[sasorikigai]

👄 + ♥ Yang looking playful. (( Verse of your choice! ))

send  👄  +  a  url  and  my  muse  will  kiss  them.  alternatively  send  👄  +   ♥  and  my  muse  will  kiss  your  muse. || @yetremains || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Despite being the Shirai Ryu Grandmaster entailing diplomatic socializations, sometimes interrealm affairs involved his vehement presence in certain areas of his life, Hanzo Hasashi actively seeks out solitude whenever he can. As an introvert who always have preferred to withdraw from the onslaught of maelstrom sensations, it had been an inevitable circumstance to treasure certain sense of rare isolation that came with the quietude of settled tenebrosity of night. Sometimes, it is like acid spilling out of a bottle, unconsciously eating away at his already heavily blemished and imperfect heart and dissolve it. Grandmaster Hasashi could feel and see it, too, as a kind of double-edged sword; protecting him, but at the same time steadily cutting away at him from the inside. 

The thing is that to love life, to love it even when Hanzo Hasashi once had no stomach nor will to carry it forth, for everything he has held dear crumbled like burnt paper in his hands, his throat filled with the slit of it. When grief sits with him, its fevered tropical heat thickening the air around him and beyond his corporeality, heavy as water as the obesity of grief would become such a burdening weight upon his weakened bones. However oblivious Grandmaster Hasashi looks with an ensorcelled stare that would transport him away from this reality, Yang’s silent approach is made known as an imperceptive tilt of his head concentrates as the obfuscating smoke of his grief gives its way to the reality once again. The imprint of her lips upon his shoulder blade is loving and relaxing, subconsciously reassuring in both physical ann metaphorical presence. 

How his steady, vehement heartbeat echoing through the confines of his ribcage cantillates his beloved’s name until she manifests fully before him as Hanzo Hasashi gracefully turns towards her in his characteristic poignant intensity, riddled with anticipation. It’s as if he needed to hear another human’s heartbeat, because his own were getting too loud with magniloquent solitude. “It used to be that I would exist to enact a desire for isolation; wanting to be left alone to my thoughts and with my words, but I find myself never be able to quench the thirst as I would only write myself into exhaustion, but without tranquil repose of sleep,” it was as if peace refused to settle into the depth of his heart. 

How his plaintive gaze reacquaints with Yang’s gentle features, with scintillating seductiveness etched upon her façade as his long, calloused fingers entangle through her hair, dragging down her arms as if painting his hearth warmth. “But now I know my forever home and heart lays here, in this rebuilt Shirai Ryu, along with you. My silent grace will fall and lay, and all the stars will come undone from the night sky as if there is nothing left to day. All I wish to bestow upon you is to gently wrap you in the warm blanket of my everlasting love, tuck you in, despite all the silent tears of my past continue to weave through my kintsugi heart.” 

And Hanzo would start off gentle; lips capturing lips, swiping his tongue along her bottom lip, so they are on the same page. Reacquainting at first, despite having shared imprints of their essence multitudes of times already. Soon, he is pulling her to him, as he arches down to meet her smaller form; so there isn’t a single centimeter of space between them. And he is just openly and wantonly kissing her, with tongues all over, hands running wild, bodies moving, but somehow totally in synchronization. Hanzo Hasashi is made of waves and mellifluous hearth fire, and vigorous passion if necessary. For that is the duality of his fire; burning them whole, as tendrils of embers open like reverberating ocean waves, but more rapidly. For he wants her, and he wants his kiss to sink into the depths of her soul, and stimulate her towards exquisite euphoria.  ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[gracegriller949]

Shining Devotion

Chapter 1

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1588

Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker

A/N: This is the first chapter of my first Din/Luke fanfic. Find it on ao3 here

Luke is tired of meditating.

Him and Grogu have been doing so for hours now, and Luke feels as though the Force has showed him everything that there is to know for today.

The jungle bustles around the pair as they sit in comfortable, focused silence. Usually during his meditation sessions, Luke is adamant about keeping his mind clear and focusing on his connection with the Force. But now, Luke takes a deep breath and lets his mind drift to wherever it wants.

He catches himself seeing flashes of silver metal and a set of watery brown eyes that he can’t seem to forget.

Luke’s eyes snap open and he glances around at his surroundings. He takes a shaky inhale as his eyes land on the vines and trees that surround him and his companion. Luke looks over at the child now, perched carefully on top of his smaller, yet identical boulder. His little green forehead is furrowed in concentration, his small body swimming in his brown robes as he stretches his small hands out on either side of him.

Grogu senses Luke’s eyes on him and turns his tiny form towards the other Jedi and opens his shining eyes to gaze curiously at Luke.

“You tired of meditating too?”

Grogu cocks his ears to the side and coos at Luke softly in reply.

Luke sighs and slides off his meditation spot. He turns to Grogu and scoops him up from his rock to tuck him into the crook of his arm. Grogu babbles enthusiastically as Luke starts on the long path back to their camp.

Much like when they were meditating, Luke finds his thoughts drifting onto other matters. This time, however, he thinks of his sister.

Leia lives on Coruscant and is currently trying to clean up the mess that is the New Republic. Her expertise in politics has never ceased to amaze Luke. He has never been one for diplomacy and watching her navigate all the politicians makes Luke’s head hurt. He makes a mental note send Leia a Holo sometime soon.

Luke looks down at the green and brown bundle in his hands as he steps over a large root. He is met with big eyes and another curious gaze.

“Are you ready for some dinner? I think we have some Runyip back home”

Grogu’s ears perk up at the sound of food and he coos happily at the notion. Luke smiles back fondly and moves some vines with the Force to step through the opening.

Soon, they arrive upon a small hut that the two Jedi call home. The humble structure is a welcome sight after a tiring day of training.

Luke walks them both inside and sets Grogu down on his favorite chair next to a small metal table they use for eating. Grogu gurgles happily and reaches for the tiny wooden ball that Luke made for him when they first came to Yavin-4.

Luke looks around their tiny kitchen area and sighs at the mess that he finds there. A rickety old table is pushed haphazardly next to a half-sized conservator that Luke found in some old wreckage. The table is littered with utensils and empty nutrient packs that Luke forgot to clean up from earlier that day.

Luke walks up to the conservator and opens the door to the dismal contents within. He grabs the pack of the last pieces of fresh Runyip meat and shuts the door to the conservator.

Grogu instantly turns his intense focus from his ball to look excitedly at the pack of meat in Luke’s hand.

“It looks like this is the last of it.”

Luke gives Grogu the rest of the meat and turns to work on the mess he left for himself.

Feeling more self-indulgent than usual, Luke starts to think about the things that have been eating at him as he sweeps the crumbs off of his makeshift counter. Luke loves being a master to Grogu, but Grogu isn’t really one for conversation. He can’t help but wish that there was someone around that he can talk to about…. well, anything. Luke has always known that the life of a Jedi would be lonely, but he never expected it to feel like this.

His sister enters his thoughts for the second time that day. Luke imagines Leia and Han, living together on Coruscant. Last time Luke spoke to them, they’d seemed the happiest they’ve ever been. Well, in their own way. Luke has never fully understood their relationship, but he does know that they are each other’s person. Luke misses them so much and again makes a note to talk to them soon.

Done with his task, Luke grabs a protein packet from its storage container and takes a seat in his own chair across from Grogu. Luke watches as Grogu finishes his last slice of Runyip and his big black eyes droop heavily with sleep.

Luke scoops Grogu up and sets him gently in his hammock. The little green womp rat falls asleep as soon as his little head hits the bed.

Luke’s gaze lingers on his tiny student before he turns away and grabs his nutrient packet off the table and walks out of the hut. Leaning against the side of it, Luke takes a bite from his nutrient bar. He tilts his head up towards the night sky to gaze up at the looming planet of Yavin and finally lets his mind go where it has been wanting to all day.

Brown eyes.

Luke remembers the first time he met the Mandalorian like it happened yesterday. He was wearing the shiniest Beskar armor that Luke had ever seen. They spoke only a few words to each other that day, but it’s a conversation that Luke can never seem to shake.

“Are you a Jedi?”

The first words that the Mandalorian said to Luke make him chuckle now.

The thing that Luke remembers the most vividly is the way the Mandalorian carried himself. There was something about it that makes Luke’s heart flutter.

Even before he took his helmet off to say goodbye to his child, Luke could already sense the amount of love that the Mandalorian had for Grogu. A pang of guilt strikes Luke’s heart at the thought of the kid being taken away from the only father he ever knew, but his own words from that day come back to him.

“The child will not be safe until he learns to master his powers.”

Luke looks down at the last piece of his nutrient bar, his mouth suddenly feeling sandy at its dryness. He exhales and tosses the nutrient bar into the jungle and wanders over to his latest project.

When Luke decided to move to Yavin 4, the original plan was to have a whole new temple of Jedi younglings to train. However, finding Force sensitives has been a harder task than he first anticipated. Luke is only one person, and he doesn’t even know where to begin to find other Jedi.

If there are any to find.

The only way that he was able to find Grogu is because the child reached out to him. Most Force sensitives don’t know how to do that and that is where Luke’s problems lie. How does he find kids who have powers who don’t know that they have powers?

However, Luke was nothing if not hopeful, and has begun building another hut that is similar to his own in anticipation for the students that he will eventually find. The circular wooden walls of the structure have mostly been formed, but the roof still needs some work. This hut is a little bit bigger than the one he made for Grogu and himself, and since Luke has learned the ways he went wrong with his first hut, building the new one has been going a lot smoother than the first time around.

A sudden, high whistling beep comes from inside the walls of the hut. R2D2 zips out to meet Luke as he approaches the hut.

“Hey Artoo. How have you been holding up?”

Luke receives a few beeps in reply as he pats Artoo’s head affectionately and moves to analyze the hut to see what else needs to be done.

The sides seem to be sturdy enough, but the ground below is a bit uneven in some places. Luke decides that the ground can wait to be filled in, and instead focuses his attention on the top of the structure. He looks up across the top of the walls he has already built and uses the Force to start moving vines and sticks to construct the roof of the hut.

As he is doing this, there is a flash of light and some movement in the distance that catches Luke’s eye. He looks up at the horizon to see something moving rapidly through the air, flying towards Luke’s location. Flying is probably too generous of a word, falling would be more accurate. Luke’s eyes widen and his heart starts racing as he can now see that it is a ship hurtling towards the moon’s surface.

Luke knows that ship.

He watches as it passes overhead and crashes into the tops of the trees and disappears a few kilometers away. Smoke rises in the distance. The sight makes Luke’s heart skip as he takes a split second to take in what he just witnessed.

A second later, Luke’s feet are pounding the ground as he sprints towards the crash site.

[gillytweed]

Murder and Smoothies

Summary: Gods, she was so stupid. So very, very stupid. Gideon was going to laugh at her so much when she got out of this… if she got out of this.

“Taken down by a fucking smoothie, amazing,” She’d say as she dragged Harrow back to their apartment, the vampire slung over her shoulder like a sack of soft wet potatoes. It would probably look a lot like what was happening currently.

Or, Vampire Harrow gets kidnapped by a Hunter and our favourite werewolf Gideon needs to come and save her ass. 

Gods, she was so stupid. So very, very stupid. Gideon was going to laugh at her so much when she got out of this… if she got out of this.

“Taken down by a fucking smoothie, amazing,” She’d say as she dragged Harrow back to their apartment, the vampire slung over her shoulder like a sack of soft wet potatoes. It would probably look a lot like what was happening currently.

She let out a soft grunt as the Hunter readjusted her on his shoulder, the joint between the scapula and humerus digging uncomfortably into her stomach.

In her defense, the Allium's scent and flavour had been well hidden among the blend of fruit, and had probably been distilled into a concentrated oil to have such a strong effect. Plus, the Hunter had been working at the smoothie stand for weeks. She’d just assumed he was some old man working a late shift, as he’d given her a smoothie almost every night for the last month.

On the other hand, she should have never become what could be called a regular in the first place.

“Almost home, girlie,” The Hunter said cheerfully, patting her leg like he was a grandfather carrying a sleeping grandchild home. If she could move, she would have tried to rip out his spine and beat him with it.

The area remained deserted as the Hunter took a winding path through back alleys and side streets, having long since planned his route. From what little she could see with her face smushed up against his back, it looked like they were headed towards the docks. How typical, stolen away to some warehouse to be tortured.

Against her assumptions, they turn off just as they’re about to head into the industrial area, instead going in the back door of some apartment complex and up several flights of stairs. Still, no one is around to watch as an old man carries what looks like an unconscious teenage girl into his apartment.

The apartment is sparse, clearly a temporary place to stay as the furniture consists of plastic lawn chairs and table, and a rolled up futon. There’s a few odd pieces of equipment laying around, but really the only sturdy piece of furniture is a metal chair set atop several large sheets of plastic, which the Hunter deposits her into.

He hums a little tune as he adjusts her limp limbs, pulling her arms up to rest on the uncomfortable chair arms, and strapping them down with thick leather bindings. He does the same to her legs, pulling them up next to the chair legs and firmly securing them. Clearly, this Hunter knew what he was doing.

Once she was bound to his satisfaction, he grabbed one of the plastic lawn chairs, set it in front of her and sat down. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees like he was about to have a nice chat with an old friend.

“Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” He starts, voice still as disgustingly pleasant as before. “I want you to call your Coven.”

Ah, while he’d done his research on her movement patterns, clearly he hadn’t tracked her all the way back to their apartment. If he had, he would know she didn’t have a coven, or at least not a typical one.

“Fuck you,” She breathed out the words. Her face was still a bit numb, but the Allium was beginning to wear off just enough to curse at the man.

“Now that isn’t very nice.” He says, smiling like a toddler had unknowingly said something rude. “I’m giving you the chance to avoid a lot of pain, you see.”

He leans back and pulls out something from inside his jacket. She half expected him to pull out a cigarette or cigar to keep in line with the whole ‘kindly grandpa’ schtick, but instead he holds up a pen light and flicks it on. Instantly she knows what it is.

What muscles she has control over start to shake as the small beam of artificial sunlight comes closer. While the artificial light won’t kill her outright, it will certainly hurt like a bitch.

The Hunter continues to hum as he flicks the light around the room, pointing it close to Harrow then pulling it away to loop back around again, teasing her. Eventually, he stops, the beam hovering near her hand.

“Last chance, call your Coven.” She just hisses at him, lips pulling back to reveal needle like fangs. He simply shrugs and moves the light over her fingers.

YUP, that definitely hurt like a bitch. Her hiss turns into one of pain, the noise stuttering as the skin on her knuckles darkens and smokes, flaking away to reveal ligaments and cartilage that also begin to darken. The smell is horrible, like burning meat. At full strength, the light probably would have barely affected her, but with the Allium and having waited to feed for several weeks, she was far from her strongest.

When her fingers are almost nothing more than bone, he stops. She’s breathing hard, despite not technically needing to breathe, but some instincts are hard to forget.

“Hmm, can’t have you healing now can we,” The Hunter says as he watches the edges of her burnt flesh flicker and boil. New strands of muscle curling out from under the charred pieces and stretching down along her phalanges.

He moves out of her vision for a moment. She hears a drawer open and the sound of metal clinking together. She just manages to turn her head a little when he comes back.

While the Allium was taking a while to wear off, it was still wearing off. If she could stall long enough, she could possibly wait it out. She’d only call Gideon as a last resort.

The Hunter sat back down heavily in his chair, the plastic legs scraping the floor unpleasantly. Once settled, he holds up his prize: several, hollow metal rods.

“I’m gonna let you in on a secret,” He says, still smiling. “It doesn’t really matter if you call your Coven or not. I’m still gonna get them all.”

He lays the metal rods over his lap and grabs Harrow’s chair, pulling her closer until she can smell the Allium on his breath. Of course he’d drink Allium before a hunt. It would make his blood undrinkable, so even if she did manage to get free he wasn’t a viable meal. Just perfect.

“You see,” He picks up one of the rods and flicks it, a small ting ringing from the impact. She can see one end is cut in a slant, creating a sharp point. “You leeches, while abominations on God's green earth, still have a wee bit of human in you. Your kind are pack animals, you protect each other.”

For a moment, he pauses and sets the rod aside, instead pulling a knife from his pocket. He grabs her left leg, pulling the fabric of her jeans taught and slicing away at the seam on the inner thigh, exposing pale skin.

“You don’t abandon each other so easily, especially when one of your own is in danger,” He picks up the rod again. “So, even if you don’t call them, I’m not gonna kill you just yet.”

The urge to snap his neck is overpowering when he starts feeling along her inner thigh, searching for something. Of course, with the Allium still in her system, all she can do is shake and twitch, fighting against the numbness as best as she can.

“Ah, here we go,” Without any preamble, the Hunter takes the rod and stabs hard with the sharp end, piercing the femoral artery in one quick thrust.

Her hiss of pain is guttural and involuntary as blood begins draining through the rod. Her leg twitches, the Allium wearing off at the wrong moment which results in a wave of burning pain down her leg. Instantly she can feel her power diminishing.

“If you don’t call your Coven for me,” The hunter continues, completely ignoring the trickle of blood splashing to the plastic sheets on the floor. “I’m going to drain you to torpor, then,” He pauses, wiping his bloody hands off on his jeans. “Once you’re a shriveled little husk, I’m going to string you up in a warehouse and lay in wait.”

He picks up another rod, this time angling it at her chest. The sharp tip rests just below her clavicle. He teasingly holds it there with one finger.

“When they realize you’re missing, they’ll come looking. They’ll follow the trail of your blood scent, and when they arrive they'll fall right into my trap.” He begins to push the rod in, ever so slowly. She feels the skin and muscle part painfully as it slides between her clavicle and top rib. There’s a pause, and then an uncomfortable pressure as her lung is pierced.

“You’ll be in torpor of course, so you won’t get to watch as I kill the rest of you leeches, but you don’t need to worry about that. You just need to decide how much pain you want to experience beforehand.” He stops pushing in the rod, but gives it a little wiggle, making her choke out a groan, before grabbing the next one.

This one he doesn’t leave any preamble. He just shoves it in on the other side of her chest between the second and third ribs. She can feel the weakness setting in, her blood draining.

She hates to admit it, but she needs help.

“G-GIDEON,” She chokes out, the air stuttering in her throat as it leaks away around the rods pushed into her chest.

“Yes, that’s it. Call your Coven!” The Hunter hisses with glee, his eyes bulging wide and horrible. “I have a present just for them.” He holds up a jury-rigged spray canister, a large one that would normally be used to apply insecticides. The acrid scent of Allium wafting off it makes her gag. Just the smell of it makes her sinuses burn and her eyes water, precious blood welling up in place of tears and dripping down her face.  

As the minutes tick by, she can feel her blood slowly drain away, seeping from the puncture wounds in her torso, and her leg. The edges of her vision begin to grow fuzzy with darkness as she’s slowly, painfully pulled towards torpor.

“Gi-deon,” She stutters again, the word coming out as more of a wheezed groan as her lungs continue to collapse in on themselves.

She didn’t want to call Gideon, but she could imagine her face. Her face if she found out what was happening and Harrow hadn't even tried to ask for help. She wouldn’t be mad, she would look hurt and disappointed, like a kicked puppy.

There’s a crash somewhere in the rest of the complex, the sound of wood breaking and metal bending.

“Oh ho, that was faster than expected!” The Hunter crows with glee. He lifts up the spray can, and releases a test spray of Allium. It burns as the substance sprinkles over her skin, the area quickly going numb soon after.

There’s another crash, closer this time. Then a low braying snarl that vibrates in Harrow’s ears. To anyone else, they might mistake it for a dog barking into the night, but to her it meant one thing: Gideon was coming.

The Hunter hauls himself up from his chair and begins grabbing weapons. A large combat knife is tucked into his belt, then a carved wooden stake, made from holly wood, based on the smell. He takes a moment to duct tape the penlight to the top of the spray canister and flicks it on.

There’s a thud outside the apartment door, then some shuffling. Harrow can hear Gideon’s breathing, deep level huffs as she takes in the scents around her. She can imagine Gideon’s nostrils flaring, eyes blazing an unnatural gold as she smells Harrow’s blood then-

An arm erupts through the flimsy wooden door. Black claws gleam in the lowlight as the arm reaches for the doorknob, metal crunching and screeching as it folds under the sheer strength as it’s wrenched open.

The Hunter, without a vampire's supernatural vision, doesn’t realize anything’s amiss until the door is swinging open to reveal Gideon in all her glory.

She was partially transformed, ginger hair thicker and spreading to create a ruff of fur along her neck and shoulders. Her face is slightly elongated, just enough that any human would recognize a predator when they saw her. Her eyes gleamed with an intensity that would terrify any mortal, but only brought Harrow a feeling of relief.

The Hunter lunges, spraying Allium as he goes then brings his knife up to slice at Gideon’s throat. The blade meets air, as Gideon recoils, the numbing spray ineffective against a werewolf. It was more an irritant than anything.

Gideon snarled, lips pulled back to reveal long sharp canines. She shoves the Hunter back, sending him tumbling, and sneezes in a way that would be adorable in any other circumstances.

The Hunter, with agility unhindered by his age, falls, rolls backwards and pops up onto his feet. He lunges again, but staggers as he finally sees what he’s fighting.

“Oh, Fu-“ He doesn’t say anymore as Gideon’s hand pierces his stomach much like she’d pierced the door. From her position, Harrow can’t see much, but she can hear his choked gurgle as Gideons arm flexes and there's a sickening crunch as something within the Hunter is crushed and he goes limp. He slumps to the floor with a thud, sliding off Gideon’s forearm like so much meat.

There’s silence for a moment, the only noise being Gideon’s heavy breathing. Based on the sheen of sweat, she probably started sprinting as soon as she’d heard Harrow call.

Gideon huffed, clearing the last of the Allium from her nose, then beelines for Harrow. She kneels, ignoring the blood pooling around her, and without even asking yanked the rod from Harrow’s thigh.

Harrow let out a soft groan at the sensation of the metal sliding out of her skin, but was glad it was gone. Without anything obstructing the wound, it closes quickly, the hole narrowing until the smallest trickle of blood drips from it.

Next Gideon yanks out the rods in her chest, the feeling just as unpleasant, if not more so. With her lungs essentially collapsed in on themselves, and still very much punctured, all she could do was make a soft wheezing noise.

“Shut up,” Gideon snapped as she moved to release her arms. “Don’t try to talk yet, idiot.” Her words held a small lisp, the sounds interrupted by the fangs in her mouth. While she did roll her eyes, Harrow obeyed, waiting until she was released from her bonds.

As soon as she was free from the chair, Gideon bundled Harrow up into her arms and held her close. It took a little shifting, because Gideon was a gods damned giant, but eventually Harrow was able to reach a good feeding spot.

Her fangs sunk into the flesh just above Gideon’s clavicle, letting blood flow into her mouth. To most vampires, werewolf blood tasted like ass mixed with sewage, to Harrow, when it was Gideon, it tasted like home. It also made her realize how absolutely ravenous she was.

She felt Gideon’s arms tense around her, but it was only so she could stand up. Harrow, too hungry to care, just continued to feed, gulping down mouthfuls of thick wonderful, rejuvenating blood.

She’s passively aware of Gideon giving the Hunters body a solid kick before she’s heading for the door. They’re on the rooftops and several blocks away before Harrow pulls away from her meal.

She could feel her puncture wounds closing, and with every breath her lungs began to expand. She could also feel the deep seated ache that always happened after Allium exposure.

She lets her forehead fall against Gideon’s chest with a light thump and closes her eyes. She let herself enjoy the feeling of the evening breeze as Gideon ran at a loping pace.

Eventually, Gideon stopped to rest on a rooftop a short way from their apartment, plopping down to sit while still holding Harrow. She was breathing hard, having run to get to Harrow, and then ran to get away. To be honest, the feeling of Gideon’s chest heaving under her head was comforting. It was something to focus on other than her own stupidity.

“Soooo, how’d you get caught?” Gods, never mind, apparently she wasn’t allowed to forget being an idiot for even a moment.

“Stupidly.” Was her reply, not lifting her head from Gideon’s chest. “He fed me Allium.”

Harrow could practically feel Gideon wince. While it didn’t affect werewolves like it did vampires, Gideon had seen the effects enough times to know the stuff was capital N nasty. Her arms tightened around Harrow a fraction, hugging her a bit closer.

“Well, that must’ve sucked balls.”

Ah, eloquent as ever.

“Yes, Gideon, it did and continues to ‘suck balls’.” Harrow replied, voice filled with exhaustion. “Paired with being drained of blood, I’m going to need to sleep for a while.” ‘Which means I need you to protect me’ was added silently.

“Aye aye, Capt’n. One coffin, coming right up!” Gideon said with forced cheer as she shuffled her way to standing again. She wobbled a little, the lactic acid having gathered in her legs, but she leapt to the next roof with little difficulty.

Their apartment was a basement suite, chosen specifically to have as few windows as possible. The door was also around the side of the building, giving them a little cover from prying eyes as they went inside. A good thing too, because both of them looked like they’d committed murder.

Which they kind of did, now that she thought about it.

“Okay, Coffin or bath first?” Gideon’s voice was completely serious with none of it’s usual joviality. Harrow thought for the moment it took Gideon to take off her shoes. She was tired, incredibly so, but waking up covered in blood would, as Gideon had said, “suck balls.”

“A change of clothes at least, please,” She sighed, not lifting her head from Gideon’s shoulder. She feels Gideon bob her head, then they’re headed down the hall towards the bedrooms.

Gideon shoves her way into Harrow’s room without preamble, and deposits her gently on the bed. Harrow doesn’t move, letting her body sink into the mattress as Gideon putters around, pulling open drawers.

She hears a thump as her coffin is pulled out of the closet, Gideon grunting as she shoves the heavy box up against the side of the bed. While Harrow could technically sleep in the bed, being inside the coffin was better, mostly for safety. Should anyone drop by unexpectedly, like their landlord for example, Gideon could just put the coffin, and Harrow, deep inside the closet, instead of having what would appear to be a dead body laying in bed.

It also would make emergency transport easier, should it be necessary while she was asleep. She’s fallen asleep before, and then awoken a week later halfway across the country, an exhausted Gideon having to explain their unexpected flight from their old home. And, regardless of the reasoning, Harrow had always felt more comfortable, safer, ensconced inside the coffins thick wood, even if logically it was a dead give away to her vampiric nature.

“Alright, my duchess of darkness,” Harrow opened her eyes to find Gideon standing over her, arms clean of blood, holding a pile of clean clothes. “Let’s get you ready for your nap.”

Harrow sighed, but sat up with a grunt. With fresh blood, the Allium had begun wearing off faster, but she was still sore as hell. Her arms shook as she propped herself up, not even complaining when Gideon wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Switching clothes wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, the only snag being the zipper on her jeans being crusted closed with blood and both of them deciding ‘fuck it’ and just cutting them off. They were ruined anyway.

Once dressed in comfortable sweatpants, and having wiped the blood from her face at Gideon’s insistence, she shuffles her way into the coffin, curling up on her side with a deep shuddering sigh. Gods she was so tired.

As she slips into a healing sleep, she’s vaguely aware of a hand brushing some of her hair back behind her ear, and a gently murmured, “G’night, Harrow” before the lid of the coffin is closed with a soft thud and she’s left in blissful darkness.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

White female werewolf x female human?

You remember Rhys Pearson? Well, this is set in the same town, the same universe, etc. His older brother, Nicholas shows up, as a sort of counsellor to help rogue werewolves rehabilitate after being kicked out of their pack.

Some people are born with tornadoes in their lives, but constellations in their eyes. Other people are born with stars at their feet, but their souls are lost at sea. – Nikita Gill

Warning: some mild language and past assault.

The She-Wolf of Water Creak

They spoke of wolves and ghouls, of monsters that lived in men and hide with smiles during the days, revealing themselves to be the beast within when the moon was out and the air was cold. Water Creak thrived with its animals and beasts, and the creatures that lived here bloomed with the existence beneath twilight.

You should’ve known that living in this town was weird, but you had known that there was always something hiding beneath the roses, and secrets laid.

You sighed heavily, sorting Toby the large Great Dane out after his check-up and scan, before putting him into the shelter for the night. You were tired from a full day’s job working at the veterinary practice, your other colleagues had gone home for the day, leaving you to sort out everything and finalize any of the animals that were still staying overnight.

It didn’t take long before you got a text from your closest friend, Nicholas Pearson, the ding from your phone bringing you to look down at your phone for a brief second:

Hey, hope work wasn’t too rough for you. Nick.

You smiled down at your phone, sending off a quick reply back to him; ‘Couldn’t be as difficult for you I doubt?’ 

Aside from growing up as the oldest and living with four younger brothers, Nicholas had the toughest job of working as a rehabilitator and counsellor for people who were kicked out of rough homes and families. You could imagine working with delinquent teenagers could be quite a trouble.

Your phone buzzed beside you again, smiling as you shoved it in your pockets, gathering your things as you locked the doors and headed out into the empty parking lot.

You got into your dinky little rust-bucket, the same one you had been driving and had gotten you through Hell and back; Dahlia was quite the charmer and your love.

The engine roared to life and spluttered once and twice, before stilling to a steady rumble, and you headed out through the darkness with the little guidance of the streetlights to help you and the silver flickerings of the moon.

Driving home alone at night was quite troublesome and on the isolated roads were rather unnerving, but you managed to do it every night to get home; where you wretchedly lived quite far out of the small town and closer into the next one.

Your phone buzzed fleetingly once more, and you looked briefly for two seconds down to see that it was ringing. Damn it, if mama could see me now looking to answer my phone, she would kill me.

You briefly looked back up to meet the road, the clear roads seemed normal at first and normal, and you concentrated hard enough to look on both sides of the roads and forest areas, you hadn’t been able to predict that something would come out so soon. 

Sure, deer were unlucky to get hit sometimes, but this thing was faster and larger, and your eyes had just about adjusted into registering whatever it was dart across onto your side of the road, your foot hitting the brake at the last moment, but you weren’t fast enough in avoiding it, and the large thump and creak your head that came from your car was enough to make you spring forward.

Good thing you were wearing a seatbelt, but still. You came to realise that you had hit something, and judging from the knock against your car, it was quite big.

“Oh shit, oh shit, fuuuuck.” You swung your seatbelt off you, phone in hand as you stopped the car where you were, car door pushing open you stepped out, taking in what you had just accidentally hit. You were able to distinguish the large fluffy white pelt of it, the large body was hiding its head, but your mind was spinning.

Had you hit someone’s lovely dog? You would hate to imagine it, but you stepped around to the back of it, trying to look at it carefully. It was way too big to be a common dog, and you were sure of it-

-Your hands were shaking as you took the phone and could only dial the only person you could assume that could help you in this situation.

With the desired phone number in place and ringing, it didn’t take long for the phone to finally be picked up, the person’s deep rich voice bringing you back to reality.

“Yes, hello?”

“Nick, it’s me, erm, ah shit-- where do I begin?” Your voice gave off a shaky and nervous laugh, trying to stop your fingers from accidentally dropping it. “Whoa, what happened - are you okay?” His voice was immediate to show concern and shock for you. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, not sure if this dog I hit is.” 

There was a brief pause from the other end of the line, and you could hear Nicholas heavily breathing down the mic. “You hit a dog?”

“Yes, well no, but it can’t be a dog, it’s too big—it looks like—like a wolf –”

Nicholas slowly and carefully said your name down the phone, his deep voice grave. “Whatever you do, turn back around and take it back with you to the practice, I’ll meet you there.”

“Wait, Nick, I-“ You heard the end of the line cut out, the buzzing of the phone bring your attention to how lonely and daunting it was being out here. Looking back down at the large creature, you could feel the prang in your heart, the desperation in wanting to know it was okay.

“Okay, big guy, I’m gonna get you back, and you’ll be in good shape.” You murmured in reassurance to yourself, putting your phone in your pocket as you bent down to gently try and touch the fur. Its fur was matted and worn as if it had years of neglect and mishandle; the coat knotted and a faded white from mud and grime.

Poor thing has seen the wars. You dreaded, carefully putting your arms around its large torso, your hands quivered when you could feel through the coat and feel the bones; realising that it was malnourished.

The creature gave no noise when you attempting picking them up: having had the experience of having to pick up much bigger dogs onto the table for check-ups, this one must’ve been the same weight as any other normal dog - which put worry into how badly they needed help.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay,” You comforted once they were in the back seat of your car, making sure to get them warm as they rested their large head on the seat; the muzzle bloodied and soaked, their eyes remained closed as if in a heavy sleep, “I hope though.”

You made your way back to the practice in record time: using the back entrance and double-checking that you were still alone. No sign of Nicholas anywhere which got you pondering. You heaved the injured wolf onto the gurney, laying them flat as you rushed to get everything you needed.

One IV drip, a box of first aid and water later and you had gotten it set up, watching with your fingers twiddling, chewing them in silent contemplation, watching over the poor creature. “Where was Nick when you need him?” He thought aloud, your hand coming to get your phone from the table.

Speak of the devil, and he will appear: you hand stopped when you heard the back door trembling and squeak, someone trying to come in when you clearly remember shutting and locking it when you were inside. You would have to apologise for it, but you wanted to work with no disruptions.

You hurried to the door, opening it to see the large man in front of you, towering in the doorframe. Nick had grown to be the tallest still of his brothers and just as muscular as them, from a little boy who was as scrawny as a chicken. His deep amber eyes staring you down as you hesitated with your words. 

“I can explain.” You began.

“You can explain later, right now you’re lucky I’m not calling an ambulance for you.” His voice was a deep timbre, his large arms coming to circle your shoulders, squeezing them, his tall figure lowering so he was more to your height. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Nicky,” Your face breaking out into a smile, puffing out your chest, “Nothing can take me down.” 

“That’s good, you’re hard as nails, stronger than Rhys that’s for a fact.” Nicholas cracked a broad smile, seeming to recollect, before he head rose, eyes alert as if he had sensed something sour in the air. “Is she here?”

“How do you know it’s a female?” You questioned, moving aside as he powered in, seeming to know on instinct where to find her, you trailing behind him when you had entered the small room; the light flickering as you had looked around to familiarise yourself. 

It seemed... odd for Nicholas to know something like that when you hadn’t told him.

“Where is she?” Nick asked, your eyes trailing to where the large wolf had once been lying on the gurney, now nothing was left as if the wolf had disappeared in a puff of smoke; only remaining the IV drip that had been discarded to the floor.

“She was here, I swear.” Your heart dropped at the thought, a wild animal wandering and prowling in the practice, or maybe had even escaped back into the outside world, but you would’ve been certain you would’ve heard something like a window crash open.

“She didn’t get too far, she’s still here,” Again, another odd comment for someone who wasn't there, but Nick scanned the room with the expertise of a detective, his eyes suddenly widening as he called your name, abruptly grabbing you and pulling you to him with inhumane speed. “Get back!”

You knew without Nick there pulling you out the way you would’ve been possibly hurt, but you had expected something to scamper out from the darkness of the small room. Your eyes thought that you had seen bare flesh, muddied and caked, a figure rushing past you on its hind legs.

“Nick!” You hesitated, feeling the larger man pull you away to the wall as he blocked the entrance with his strong frame, your eyes finally landing on what was scampering in the room. 

You took in their bare flesh, a young woman as naked as the day she had been born standing in the room in a defensive stance, back hunched, as panicked and feral as a stray.

The woman snapped and snarled towards him, her dark hair the same colour as the dirt splattered on her pale skin, hazel enlarged eyes taking in any route of another exit.

“Easy,” Nicholas brought her back to look at him, her head snapping back to the man in the entranceway, a hand coming up to hold her attention, his voice relaxed and calm, “Antonia.”

“Fuck off,” the woman hissed, her voice riddled with paranoia. You had seen this behaviour in nervous dogs; dogs that didn’t want to be in an unknown place when they were afraid. It was even more confusing about how Nick knew her. “I don’t need your help.” 

“You do, you’re confused.” Nicholas consoled her gently, slowly removing his jacket from him, his eyes never leaving her. “You’re injured, please don’t do anything that will worsen your health.”

The woman known as ‘Antonia’ seemed to visibly calm down in her spot, her hunched shoulders relaxing, watching with nervous eyes as Nick handed her his jacket. With no hesitation, she snatched it off him, before quickly putting it on to cover herself.

“Good, good, sit down, you’re safe here.” Nicholas motioned, his eyes landing to you in the back corner of the room, your eyes wide like dinner plates. In his amber eyes, you read the one thing that must’ve been on your mind since this entire hassle.

‘I’ll explain everything, I promise.’

-

You handed the barely dressed female a glass of water, gently putting it on the table she sat on, watching her short legs swinging as stared the two of you down. “So, she’s a wolf?” Your voice gradually came back to you when you could finally speak.

“A werewolf, yeah-- our kind has lived in these areas for a few hundred years,” Nicholas explained sparingly, and when you turned to him, you gave him a quizzical look. “Our? Which means-”

“I’m a werewolf.” He confessed, looking over your reactions as you looked back over Antonia. “My job is to rehabilitate rogue wolves who have been rejected by their pack.”

Nicholas looked to you, gauging your reaction through your facial expressions. “Say something at least.”

“What is there to say, really? You turn into a big wolf every full moon when I thought all of that was just scary fairy tales that I read when I was a kid.” You sighed. “Nicky, why did you never tell me?”

“I didn’t want to scare you or you think I was mad.” His voice resounded in his throat, moving his eyes dejected. “You’re my friend, and I didn’t want that to go away.”

“Hey, you’re my friend, and you will always be my friend, no matter if you’re a werewolf or human,” you cracked a smile, chortling to yourself, “maybe the big bad wolf should be your new nickname.”

“Oh please.” Nick was next to laugh over the silence. When you finally looked back over to him, your mind wandered back to the rejected wolf. “What do we do with her?”

“She’ll need somewhere to stay for a while, whilst I find her a new pack or somewhere to live momentarily.” Nick sighed to himself as if already knowing something you didn’t. “Which comes the next thing that you will hate.”

You crossed your eyes over your chest, dreading the question that would be asked for you. “You want me to look after her?”

“Look, it won’t be for long, just until I find her a good place to live, somewhere that will keep her safe and she will be wanted.” He pleaded, “It won’t be for long, I promise, and I’ll make it up to you after.”

Your bottom lip came out in thought, sighing in defeat as you knew you couldn’t say no to him. “You owe me ice cream. Ben and Jerry’s Cookie Dough, got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” Nicholas grinned, welcoming you into a tight hug. “Thank you--- you make this easier for me.”

-

The door to your small house swung open, your new roommate came bounding in with excited curiosity, sniffing around the new place she would be staying in. You, on the other hand, had heaps of shopping and new clothes you had just bought for Antonia, your arms failing to hold everything up.

“Okay, the bathroom is on the right, you can have the couch, it becomes a sofa bed, Nick said-- hey, don’t touch that!” You threw the bags to the kitchen counter, glaring over at the brunette, “Toni, are you listening?”

Antonia seemed to drop what seemed to be your Alexa with a clunk to the floor, luckily it had been carpet down to lessen the blow, as she trained her eyes on you once more, “What did you call me?” Her hazel eyes were wide with keenness.  

“Ah crap, no I didn’t realise, I’m sorry, it’s only because I don’t know many Antonia’s—and I thought Toni was a cute nickname –”

“– No, don’t worry about it,” The she-wolf gave a small smile to herself, and you could’ve sworn her cheeks had deepened into a flush pink, “I like it.”

Antonia had spent a couple more weeks with you, feeding her seemed to be a nightmare (for a girl her size, she ate twice as much as you, thrice more if a wolf, especially when raiding the bins) and bringing her back to her normal weight – which fortunately didn’t take too long.

Her skin was flush with colour, her deep brown hair became full of life, her eyes did too when you got to open her up little by little, each day being a step to progress and learning more about her. There was little to know about her previous life in a pack, but you were sure that you would accidentally do something to provoke her.

You laid out a blanket in the abyss of your garden, the sparkling golden fairy lights brought the area to feel whimsical and full of wonder; the flush plaid blanket kept your bare legs warm in the cool air, waiting.

The silver moon was once again out, full and brighter as a silver coin; a full moon, and you were waiting patiently.

“I knew I could find you here.” The voice of Toni brought your attention on her as she appeared through the small trail of brushes and flowers slowly, treading barefoot to come to you bare as the day she had been when you first saw her. You had been courteous to not look at her body; the shape she had built although she was still quite lithe.

“Thought I could spare you some time out here.” You threw over your own t-shirt long enough that you slept in it to her, hearing the crumpling of it go over her head as she came to sit down beside you. From this light, her skin glowed beneath the moon, her eyes hauntingly beautiful.

“It’s nice out here.” You breathed in the fresh smell of moss and yellow wood. “Not the same as running barefoot across it, now that’s the best feeling in the world.” Toni stretched out before you like a cat beneath the sun rays, and it made you ponder what it would be like owning the small animal, living together.

“Toni—there is something I wanted to ask you.” Your mouth was dry from the apple cider you had laid out before the two of you; it must’ve gone to my head.

“What is it?” She asked peacefully, turning to look back on you. From her eyes alone, you thought you could’ve melted. “Nick called me today, he told me… he said that he found you a place, a place of your own for a community to live among.” You forced a smile onto your lips, wanting to believe she would be better off without you. “How amazing is that?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so.” Her voice lingered, and you looked back on her puzzled. “What’s wrong? Is it not what you want?”

“I lived all my life in a pack relying on people when they didn’t want me. A bitch from the Seventh Hell, Rogue She-Wolf-- I was an outsider, never truly belonging with anyone. I’m done living with a pack, done with never feeling wanted when all I wanted was to live alone.” Her words were calm with how she responded, but you knew deep down, they hurt.

“What happened in your old pack, Toni? What did they do?”

Toni gave a chortle, nonchalantly looking to the ground as she picked at the weeds. “My parents thought they could marry me off to the Alpha- a big brute of one who was more of a monster than man. I declined the offer, but it must’ve pissed him off to of been the one rejected, so, he got some of his friends to come to find me, and well...” her hand came to restlessly play with her hair, her words drying, “They weren’t good with me, nor did they stop when I begged for them-- pleaded with them.”

Your immediate response was to circle an arm around her, bringing her close to you as you hugged her close. “You will never be treated like that again, I promise.”

“That’s the thing, wherever I go, to this place or if I go back, they’ll always be someone like them waiting to latch themselves onto me.” A wrack of a sob went through her, and you coddled her how a mother would calm their child.

“I don’t want to go.” Her voice was a mere whisper.

You were quick to ask, too quick to think about it. “What about here? Why not stay here? Unless you have grown bored of me.”

Toni gave a sad laugh, coming close as she raised her head, landing her soft lips against your cheek. You stared down at her, astonished, your cheeks blushing. “You’ve always been so kind to me and I don’t understand why. So many times I have believed you were annoyed with and never once did you send me off.” She said your name in a soft murmur. “Thank you.”

The two of you looked at one another, and never did you realise how close she was to you, her faint breath a gentle kiss against your face, and when you looked down to her lips with a sheepish look, she leant closer into you.

She looked nervously back to you briefly, as if hesitant. “You and Nick aren’t-”

You cottoned on to her words. “Oh God no.” You laughed brightly. “And besides, there’s this half-elf who he sees around that he doesn’t have the balls to ask out. But I always try to get him to - Mmph!”

Antonia had leant close to you with her hand cradling the side of your face, pulling you to her as she pressed her lips to ours, reassured and growing confidence. You brought your hands to go around her waist, feeling her soft skin as you squeezed at her hips.

You pulled away with a gasp, and the knowing smirk from Toni, her bright grin was enough to bring the two of you to start giggling, enclosed by the peaceful nightfall.

You didn’t need to be reminded that she would leave, not in a very long time anyway. And besides, she had you now.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slashers x Reader(Mostly Chucky and Michael) || Oneshot

Title: Sometimes Its Best Not To Decide //or// She Will Always Unlock The Door

Notes: 

Chucky is in human form here. 

This is a strange ass AU where all the Slashers live in the same time(Including billy and Stu) that caters to my needs to write this shot. 

Plot: 

You want a normal life, but you will always let the dark in. Even if you don't want it. 

Warnings: Swearing, mention of blood? mention of Sawyers?

~~~

It’s been months since I last saw them, so I figured I was okay. I could do this; I could take that last step into a normal life. My final, best chapter.

So, I took the plunge, the risk. I said yes to a nice boy, with glasses who wears a tie at the coffee shop and paid for my drink for me in the morning, and we went out earlier this evening. Everything went great, it was like a fairytale, compared to how the rest of my life has been.

When we nearly kissed is when things went downhill.

As soon as his nose brushed on mine, feather light and not heated at all - nice, -, that’s when the loud, barking knocks on my front door started. 

And I knew immediately who it had to be of course, but I still hoped it was just a really, really enthusiastic salesperson.

At 11 at night.

Of course, I was right initially, and the minute I opened that door all hell broke loose. Michael’s brought in from the rain, getting puddles of blood and water all over my damn floor and Chucky drops him on my perfect cream coloured couch. “What the hell happened to him??” I’m asking, hyper aware that he’s injured but Danial is still standing right there by the kitchen doorway, adorably confused. I round on Chucky, who doesn’t seem as concerned as he should be, seeing the situation. “What do you want??”

“Well, I tried to put him down when I found him but then he threw a fucking handful of mud in my face,” He wipes some of what’s left of the mud, off his face. “And kept trying to come here so I came along.”

“Why??” I wouldn’t have stopped the rude lilt to my tone just then if I could have. He just looks amused, at my anguish though and turns back to the bleeding murderer on my couch, which is turning red. I glance at Danial, fearing his reaction, then turn back pleadingly to Chucky. As if him and Michael leaving now will make things easier at all for my poor, now self-destructing ‘normal life’. “Can’t you just leave? Michael will be fine- Michael you’ll be fine. You always are. Take off the mask and go to Hospital- Chucky. I’m on a date.” I clasp my hands together and try to ignore the pinging guilt in my gut for trying to get rid of them, when I know Michaels in pain. But I told them, I can’t be a part of this anymore! I don’t want it; I don’t want his life!

“Aww, doll, you’re gonna abandon him in a time of need? Here I thought you were the good one.”

“Fuck you!” I am the good one, which is why I don’t want anything to do with this. First it’s Michael and Chucky, then I start getting dreams again, and Jason thinks its okay to come over when he’s lonely, I’ll get phone calls from Billy, and then I’ll have the whole fucking Sawyer clan in my home. As much as it hurts, and has downsides like leaving my friends, I cannot be connected to this anymore. I can’t say it enough! I want a normal life! And they know that! “Get out, get out of my house. And make sure to tell Drayton on your travels that this is not a stowaway home and to stop sending me letters with money, I don’t care how much he can pay me.” I put a hand on Chucky’s back and attempt to push him out of the house. I nearly succeed because he’s letting me by some miracle until he turns out of my clutches and back into the living room. Damnit!

I watch, hopelessly as he plops himself down in an armchair. And turns… to… Danial. “So, you’re the new toy?”

“U-Um, sorry? I-s that Michael Myers? Are you- “

“Charles Lee Ray, nice to meet you. Y/N tell you we’re old buddies?” A devious smirk reaches his lips, and he really is a concerning picture right then. With wild hair and a muddy coat. Oh crap, he’s getting mud on my armchair.  “No, I guess she wouldn’t. Too much of a priss to be connected to me.” A second passes and Chucky raises his eyebrows like he just remembered something. “Oh! Have you heard of Fredrick Krueger? He was on the news some years back, she’s pals with him to-“To stop him from talking, I grab a pillow and viciously hit him in the face with it.

Then I kneel down and put it under Michaels head, carefully. I guess there’s no getting rid of them now, the damage is done.

Danial looks to me, looking horrified myself even compared to his pale face. Quickly, I go towards him and try to explain. “I knew him as a kid, I don’t hurt people Danial- “What else can I say? Its best to be straight to the point and focused then to jabber on. I’ve done this all before.

Slowly, he nods. As if he understands. But he doesn’t look at my face, just the floor and occasionally he glances at either Michael or Chucky. “I think I need to go home, Y/N. I, I’m sorry.”

“No, I am.” I sigh, with a severely heavy heart as he walks past me knelt on the floor by the infamous Michael Myers, and leaves. As soon as the door shuts and the sound of rain is muffled, I turn furiously to Chucky. “You should be sorry, too.”

He levels with me, eyes going dark and smirk twisting into a dangerous grimace. “Look, Y/N, you let us in- “

“You pushed your way in! -“

“Irrelevant. You knew who would be at the door, more or less. You knew it would be one of us at least. You can try to pretend to be Plain Jane all you like, but when the wolf comes knocking on your door, you will always open it for him. Your soul is slate grey, get the fuck over it.”

I can’t agree with that because that life, is not what I want. But I can’t disagree either because the simple fact that Michaels hair between my fingers, as I comfort him mask-less makes me feel warm inside. Comfortable, in the right place.

While I get up and grab the medical kit, Chucky pulls out a cigarette and a lighter and lights up, and Michael shifts on the couch tiredly. “I didn’t come up with the Plain Jane thing, by the way. That was Ghostface boy.”

“So, this has been a topic of conversation??” I ask, sternly, half a decibel from vicious really. He chuckles, and nods, causing me to sigh heavily and start looking for Michael’s wound. Really, it could be anywhere. His outfits ripped up in places and there’s blood everywhere. Probably not all his, but it’s still very confusing.

He blows tobacco smoke into my living room. “Hehe, yep.” I find the wound and clear the area, to start cleaning it. Its on Michaels side, as if someone took a machete Jason style and wacked him right in the side with it. Not too deep, though. He’s just lost a lot of blood. I get a roll of toilet paper and get to work cleaning the area. It smells terrible. I don’t think people talk about the smell, enough. It really is rank. At least for me. So metallic, and totally unbreathable.

Quietly, I excuse my actions to them both. “I just don’t think, that because I love you,” And, by that, I mean all of them. Someone had to in this life and I guess that’s me, despite everything they’ve done. That’s what I tell myself. “That I should be taken away from my life, because of it.”

“But, there’s a part of you that loves it. The chaos and danger. Every good girl does, and yours grows every time one of us contacts you.”

“How dare you be so deep.” I half joke, carefully cleaning closer to the gash so Michael won’t move. When I’m done with that, I throw the tissues indifferently to the floor, where Chucky already tread mud. Its not like it can get any worse. Not wanting to talk about this anymore, I start sewing up Michael, feigning the fact that I need to concentrate. I know Chucky knows that, at this point, I don’t need to concentrate when doing this -I’ve stitched him and the rest up enough times to do it with my eyes closed,- but he grants me a few minutes of silence, thank goodness.

When I finish, I wipe the area quickly, but carefully to get every possibly infected spot with a medical wipe and get up. “Michael, you should be okay in the morning. I mean, I would recommend to anyone but you that you should rest for a few more days, but I know you wont. So, I’m just putting that idea out there at this point.” Wiping blood off my hands and onto my jeans -date jeans!!- I turn tiredly to Chucky who’s just quietly chain smoking away on the chair. “Are you gonna stay tonight? Cuz if you are, you’re taking a shower. You already owe me 15 bucks to get the mud out of that chair.”

“A gracious offer, but I got a hiding place for tonight.” He aims a dirty smirk at me then, hinting at something about his new hiding place that I really don’t want to think too hard about, and then pushes off the chair. He walks on by me, but before he can pass, he stops and turns to me one last time. “Think about what I said, Y/N. You’re lucky you get to live both worlds- even with us crashing into this one too often. If it were up to just Michael or Jason, or even Freddy, and definitely those crazy hick Sawyers, you wouldn’t see normal life again. You’d be kept in a basement, or a coma. Be happy with what you have, because we love you too. But not enough to respect your freedom if you go too far.” He looks down at me carefully through his hair. “Got it?”

Same old threats… “Yeah, I got it.” … But they’re getting closer to being real, I know that. Not all the love and care in the world could change their inability to handle loss without a fight. And if it came to a fight, I would most definitely lose.

A few minutes after he leaves, I check on Michael again and find he’s sleeping peacefully on the couch. If I was honest with myself, I like him there. I like having him around- I like having them all around. A musty old forest zombie isn’t so scary when you come to feel safe with him around, and nightmares aren’t so bad when they include mostly bad puns and dad jokes. Just like a crazy, possibly incestuous, definitely cannibalistic and slightly off the hanger family isn’t unbearable when they leave aside a plate of veggies just for you because they know you won’t eat human.

I love them, and I want them around. And if I was honest with Chucky, I would agree that I couldn’t survive without the splash of danger and extraordinary in my life. But I won’t, because if I do then I’m locked in, but then again if I say it isn’t true then I’m lying to myself. And he might leave and take the rest with him. So, sometimes it’s best not to decide.

Finally, I turn off the light and whisper goodnight to Michael and go to bed.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #40: Hassan of the Cursed Arm

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re building one of the old men of the mountain and king of “he’s a really nice guy despite every aspect of his appearance”, Hassan of the Cursed Arm. Surprisingly, Hassan is not a rogue, but a monk/warlock mix thanks to the titular arm. 

Originally, this build gave you a weapon with reach to act as your cursed arm, but that puts a lot of strain on a character that already needs multiple stats to work properly. I still think slapping someone from across the room is funny though, so I’m including both the original and variant build in the spreadsheet. I’ll also bring up the differences in the level-by-level breakdown below the cut when they come up.

(EDIT: This one required a bit of fixing up, but I’m too lazy to completely rewrite everything. This has less to do with Tasha’s and more to do with me suddenly remembering whips exist and don’t have the Special tag. Just focus on dexterity, and you’re good.)

Race and Background

Despite his looks, Hassan is a Human, giving him +1 to all abilities. He’s also an Acolyte, a much nicer and less accurate title than his real one “Cult Leader”. This gives him proficiency with Insight and Religion. He also gets the Shelter of the Faithful feature, meaning he can perform religious rites and receive free healing and care at temples related to his god. This makes sense, considering you’re the second highest rank in the cult, and the first highest only shows up to kill you.

Stats

Your Dexterity is your best stat, you’re nimble and really good with throwing daggers. Everyone you’ve met generally agrees you’re a pretty nice guy, probably because of your high Charisma. You’re a major religious figure, so your Wisdom is pretty high. You also lead a bunch of assassins, and if you couldn’t tell when they show up to meet with you that would be pretty embarrassing. We’re not dumping Constitution, because we’re not masochists, which means our last stat is Intelligence. You learned enough to summon and forcibly amputate a demon, and that’s all the schooling you needed. Finally, dump Strength. You’re pretty wiry, but we just don’t need it for this build.

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: As a monk, you get proficiency in Acrobatics, Stealth, and Strength and Dexterity Saves. For a religious figure, you lead a pretty active lifestyle.

First level monks get Unarmored Defense, meaning your AC is equal to 10 plus your dex mod plus your wis mod. You also learn Martial Arts, letting you use your martial arts die in place of your normal damage for unarmed attacks and attacks with monk weapons, as well as use dexterity for those attacks. You can also use your bonus action to make an unarmed attack if you use your action to attack with a monk weapon.

Also important to note, your monk weapons can scale their damage with your Martial Arts, which will improve your throwing knives and cursed arm a bit.

2. Monk 2: At second level, you get a number of Ki points equal to your monk level. You regain spent ki points on short rests, and can use them to add options to your bonus action. Flurry of Blows lets you attack twice, Patient Defense lets you dodge, and Step of the Wind doubles your jump distance and lets you disengage or dash. You also get Unarmored Movement, adding 10′ to your movement when you aren’t wearing armor.

You can also make a Dedicated Weapon at the end of a short rest, turning any one weapon you choose into a monk weapon pretty much indefinitely. Spend a little quality time with your arm, get to know it.

3. Monk 3: At this level you can Deflect Missiles, reacting to reduce ranged attack damage. If the damage is reduce to 0, you can also spend 1 ki point to throw it back at an enemy. 

At this level, you also become a Way of the Shadow monk. At this level you can spend 2 ki points to cast Darkness, Darkvision, Pass without Trace, or Silence without material components. You also gain Minor Illusion as a cantrip. Smashing out the lights with some throwing daggers also works, but a lot of creatures have darkvision naturally, so you’ll need something to fall back on.

4. Warlock 1: We’ve got the Hassan, but no Cursed Arm. It’s time we fixed that. We’re not sure why the demon you tore an arm from rewarded you with supernatural powers, but we’re not complaining. At first level, fiend warlocks get the Dark One’s Blessing, meaning you gain temporary hit points equal to your charisma modifier plus your warlock level when a hostile creature is reduced to 0 HP. You also learn some Pact Magic, limited spell slots you regain on short rests. You use charisma to cast spells. At this level that includes Mage Hand because you couldn’t reach far enough as is, Eldritch Blast as a magical stand-in for all those throwing knives, Hex to curse your enemies, and Expeditious Retreat to bolster your already impressive movement skills.

5: Warlock 2: Second level warlocks learn Eldritch Invocations, little ways your patron shows you they care. You get Devil’s Sight and Agonizing Blast, which grants you darkvision even in magical darkness and extra damage for your “throwing knives”. You can also cast Sense Emotion; assassination requires manipulation as much as murder.

6. Warlock 3: At third level you get your pact boon, specifically your Pact Weapon, any melee weapon that you want, though since this is supposed to be your arm you should keep it consistent. Whips are good, use that. You can unwrap your arm as an action, and counts as magical for resistance and immunity’s sake. You can also turn other magical weapons into your pact weapon if you really want, but again, this is supposed to be your arm. I know you’re already playing fast and loose with limb ownership, but there needs to be limits.

You also learn how to make a Shadow Blade, a finesse weapon that gives you advantage in the shade.

7. Warlock 4: Use your first ASI to become a Martial Adept, giving you one d6 to use two maneuvers from the battle master list. You regain the die on short rests. Your maneuvers are Evasive Footwork, which adds 1d6 to your AC while you’re moving, and Lunging Attack, which adds 1d6 and 5′ of reach to a single attack. Congrats, you can now slap someone from fifteen feet away.

At this level you learn the spell Cloud of Daggers, letting you set up very painful traps. You also learn how to cast the cantrip Poison Spray. Poison isn’t your gimmick, but it’s important to be flexible. Being flexible also isn’t your gimmick, but... you know what I mean.

8. Warlock 5: Fifth level warlocks don’t get any more features, but they do get another invocation: Improved Pact Weapon. When attacking with your pact weapon, add 1 to the attack and damage rolls. You can also use the weapon as a spellcasting focus. Honestly this invocation is so useful you may want to swap out an invocation for it at third level.

You can also cast the spell Gaseous Form, turning a willing creature into a cloud of smoke for up to an hour. The spell’s great for infiltration and is the closest thing you’ll have to a spirit form. You aren’t truly incorporeal, though: you only resist nonmagical damage.

9. Warlock 6: You have the Dark One’s Own Luck, and can add 1d10 to an ability check or save you make once per short rest. You can also cast Spider Climb at this level so you can sneak into a building without having to become a cloud.

10. Warlock 7: You get another invocation, Ghostly Gaze. This allows you to concentrate like you would a spell and see through objects up to 30′ away. This is especially powerful given a number of spells require line of sight to be used.

Shadow of Moil is not one of those spells, though. With this spell, you don a cloak of shadows, heavily obscuring yourself and dimming the light around you. You also retaliate to being attacked with tendrils of darkness.

11. Warlock 8: Use your next ASI to round out your Wisdom and Charisma for better spell saves and AC. If you’re using the variant build, round out your Constitution and Charisma instead.

Regardless, you also learn how to Summon Greater Demon. They’re still a bit miffed about the whole “ripping off their arm” thing, so you’ll have to convince it to work for you, otherwise it will turn on your party. You’ll need someone’s blood to do it, but that’s still much better than ripping off your own arm.

12. Monk 4: There’s still a couple things we want from the monk class, so lets take a break from demon summoning for a bit. At this level, you can Slow Fall, reducing falling damage by five times your monk level. Given the amount of climbing and flying you’ve been doing, you’ll definitely want this.

You also get another ASI. Bump up your Dexterity to improve the damage you can do with your pact weapon.

13. Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack, letting you make two attacks in a single attack action. You also have the ability to perform a Stunning Strike, spending 1 ki point to ruin your DM’s attempts at balancing encounters. Your martial arts die also become a d6, slightly increasing your power when you’re caught without a weapon. Which is never, so it’s not that useful.

14. Monk 6: Sixth level monks get Ki-empowered Strikes, making your unarmed strikes magical, just like your arm already is. You can also move an extra 5′ per round, and learn how to Shadow Step, spending an action to teleport from one area of dim or darker light to another, so long as it’s within 60′ and you can see it. (This is one of those things that’s a lot better with Ghostly Gaze.) After teleporting, you have advantage on your next melee attack, meaning you can pop into your target’s inner sanctum, snap their neck, and then pop out with any guards none the wiser.

15. Warlock 9: Your next invocation, Otherworldly Leap, lets you cast Jump at will for free. This is another good mobility option, as well as being a vital component to Posing Dramatically In The Moonlight, a mandatory part of being an assassin.

You can also cast Infernal Calling, which is kind of like Summon Greater Demon, but you don’t have to worry about the demon betraying you if you have its talisman. I’m pretty sure its arm counts for this purpose, but that’s up to your DM.

16. Warlock 10: Tenth level fiendlocks get Fiendish Resilience, giving you resistance to damage of one type from weapons that aren’t silvered or magical. You can swap your resistance types at the end of short rests. I’d recommend bludgeoning for a proper Protection from Wind.

17. Warlock 11: At eleventh level, warlocks get their first Mystic Arcanum. Your spell slots stay at fifth level, but you get a sixth level spell you can cast once per long rest.

This level, pick up Psychic Crush from Unearthed Arcana. There isn’t a spell that lets us grab a person’s heart, so we’ll have to settle for grabbing their brain.

18. Warlock 12: At this level you get your last ASI and last invocation. Bump up your Strength (or Charisma if you’re doing the variant build) and pick up the Eldritch Spear invocation to have a lot more range on your throwing knives.

19. Warlock 13: For your seventh level Mystic Arcanum, grab Finger of Death. You should have five of these already, but this lets you deal a lot of guaranteed damage to a creature. Just try not to get the final blow with this-explaining the zombie it makes would be a headache.

20. Warlock 14: Your final level gives you the ability to Hurl (creatures) Through Hell. After hitting a creature with an attack, you can send them on a guided tour through the lower planes until the end of your next turn. When they come back, they take 10d10 psychic damage if they’re not a native of those planes. You can only use this feature once per long rest. This and Psychic Crush are about as close to your Delusional Heartbeat as we can get. Neither can cause instant death, but let’s be honest it’s not like your NP does it that often either.

Pros: You’re very good at infiltration missions. You’re very fast, and have a bevy of mobility options available to you, from flight to climbing walls to straight up teleportation. You’re also tough to hit, with multiple ways of obscuring yourself from ranged fighters. You’re also able to perform hit and run tactics without using your bonus action thanks to your arm’s range, saving your disengaging actions for something else.

Cons: You have a low constitution, meaning that the rest of your build being melee focused isn’t the best idea. This also means you have bad concentration saves, which is bad if you’ve got a buff spell on you to escape, and worse if your concentration is keeping a demon in check. Like all warlocks, you also have the issue of limited spell slots, so most of the time you’ll be relying on just your throwing knives and invocations, without much of a safety net if things go wrong. 

Your best abilities don’t have saves though, so if you stick to the shadows and avoid that guy whose arm you stole you should be fine.

Next up: MGS 3: Snake Eater

[sunonyoreface]

Forest Nymph | Geralt of Rivia Pt.4

Hello! Thank you for taking the time to read my story! This is part four of my first series.  I love hearing your feedback and criticism so feel free to reach out!

Warnings: swearing, gore, forest fire, physical violence

Word count 3053

Thank you to @henrycavilledits​ for letting me use their gif!

You wake up to the overwhelming smell of smoke.  When you breathe in it fills your lungs and dries your throat, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.  Your eyes water and burn when you open them.  It is thick, filling the room with ease, obscuring your vision of even the closes objects.  You slowly raise a hand in front of your face and watch the smoke gracefully swirl around it. The world is deathly silent.  Is this a dream?  

“No!” A voice in the back of your head yells at you.  “Get up.  Get the fuck up and get out!”

You sit up in your bed, your vision turns to static at the quick movement. Your cottage is filled with smoke. What the hell is going on? Is something in the kitchen burning?  But you weren’t cooking anything.  You haven’t started a fire in months.  Something is very wrong. 

You stumble once or twice over your feet as you try and make your way towards the kitchen.  Your mind is groggy, disoriented from already excessive smoke inhalation.  You search around for your shoes but they seem to have disappeared.  Your movements are slow and sluggish.  Bound to get you killed at this point.

“Get out of there!” The voice says again.  But first you need your shoes. “No!” It protests. “Just get out!”

You at least need your pack.  It has everything you own that is worth anything of value.  It sits in the corner near the door where you left it before your nap. When you put the pack on it weighs ten stones heavier than when you set it down, but that doesn’t matter.  

Your door pushes open with ease and the sight in front of you is straight out of a nightmare.  Everything is on fire.  Trees, shrubs, fallen debris, even your cottage has started to burn.  A wave of unbearable heat washes over you.  The bitter smoke, while not as prevalent is the only thing you can smell.  The scene is completely overwhelming.  

As far as you can tell the wind is blowing west, towards the deeper part of the forest that spans out for thousands of miles.  East, lies the village which sits at the edge of the treeline. Beyond the village is the rocky terrain which eventually falls into rough seas.  Fire is being blown towards you and the only way to escape it to go through it.  

Only a single patch of green remains east, you take off sprinting towards it. Your heart pounds in your ears, but the only thing you can hear is the roaring fire.  Trees snap and tumble to the ground around you in a blaze of popping embers.  The sound of destruction is deafening.  

It doesn’t take long before you feel a sharp pain on the underside of your bare foot.  Shoes God damnit.  Why didn’t you grab your shoes?  Doesn’t matter you need to keep running.  You continue on with a limp and only seconds later you feel another sharp pain.  After a while you don’t even feel your feet anymore. Maybe all of your flesh burned off and only bones remain.  Even if it has, you don’t have the time to stop and check.

What you had thought to be a patch of green paradise only turns out to be a few trees that got lucky.  You have to continue on into death and destruction.  You choke and gasp for air but never stop once.  If you stop, you’re dead.  At this point you have no clue if you are even running in the right direction. The once distinguishable landmarks that you previously used to guide you into town have turned to coal and ash. But finally, you spot a chance of hope. A clearing in the woods. At last!

The clearing morphs into the village of Asenguard and you have never been more relieved to see such buildings.  Closer, it looks as though there has just been a fresh snowfall. But no such thing happens here in the middle of summer.  No, the thick white layer resting upon every rock, roof, and stable top is ash from the fire. It covers everything.  Villagers rush around carrying lanterns in one hand and buckets of water in the other to put out odd fires that started around town from drifting embers of the much larger one now behind you.  If the wind switches direction, they will all burn to death.  You now stand at the edge of town, but no one even notices.  There are much bigger problems at hand.

You need to find Thea.  Right now, she is the only person who can help you. If she will even let you through her doors.  At this point she’d be better off to turn you into the King’s army.  But you can’t think about that now.

Thankfully she lives on the edge of town.  It is easy to skirt past groups of people, by using buildings and other broad objects to hide behind.  Her cottage sits peacefully under a layer of ash and behind a thicket of shrubs that remain untouched by the fire.  You knock on her door quietly, yet urgently.  

“Oh Briar!” Thea gasps at your appearance.  “Dear God, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I really need your help Thea.” She quickly checks our surroundings for any witnesses but finds none.

“Of course, dear child.”  She says warmly.  In the back of your mind the thought crosses how you are decades older than her, but you don’t say anything.  “Come sit down, I’l- Oh dear! Your poor feet!” She gasps in shock.

You look down for the first time and cringe at the sight.  The thicker protective layer of skin that normally covers them is gone.  Instead fresh raw skin, which is red and blistering, seemingly still cooking like a piece of meat you take off the fire and let sit for ten more minutes, remains in its place. The pain has been pushed out of your mind until now, and the overbearing feeling rushes back into your body.

“Oh my I-I’m going to throw up.” You manage before emptying your already barren stomach on her wooden floor.  The taste of acid fills your mouth, but at least it isn’t smoke.  Everything still smells like bitter, greenwood smoke.

“It’s alright dear, just let me get you a chair.”  She sits you down gently, quickly making sure you’re alright before disappearing for several minutes.  Thea comes back with a cloth and a bucket of water.  Several containers of home brewed salves lay in her arms.  She washes you gently, delicately dabbing the patches of your burnt, blistering skin.

“I can’t believe they did this.” She whispers, her voice cracking. “That goddamn king and his fragile ego.”

“The king did this?”

“The king, his army, or the farmers.  There isn’t a difference really.” She sighs heavily. “It’s you they’re after.  This place isn’t safe for you anymore.”

The salve stings at first, but it soothes away the physical pain in your feet and other burnt areas.  Her words make tears well up in your eyes.  Do they really hate you that much?  They will risk burning down their own homes as long as it means you won’t have one either.

“I only tried to do the right thing.” You murmur.

 Geralt’s senses are on high alert.  The forest is on fire and he can almost guarantee it was those drunks who started it.  He’ll kill them.  Rip their heads right from their shoulders and stake them up for the world to see.

“Jaskier go to the next town, I’ll meet you there after.”

“What do you mean? What are you going to run straight into the fire?” He yells at him.  “Are you perhaps short of a marble?”

“There’s someone I need to help.”

“Geralt if that’s how you plan on dying, I can surely think of more pleasant ways to go!”

Geralt doesn’t respond.  In fact, he likely didn’t even hear Jaskier’s last call.  He and roach are already off towards Asenguard.  Roach’s hooves thunder against the dry road, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.  They had been walking at a leisurely pace for about two hours, maybe longer.  Even at Roach’s full gallop it will take him an at least half an hour.  That’s still way too long for him.  He needs to get to you before the fire does.

 “Briar!” Thea cleanly slaps you across the face. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.  If you do that now the smoke will stop you from ever waking up again!

“What the hell!”

“Sweetheart I’m sorry, but I’ll do it again the next time I sense you drowsing off.”

Your mind feels foggy and fatigued.  Thea says it’s from smoke inhalation, but you just feel all around exhausted.  The blisters on your arms and legs are already almost healed.  That is one of the perks of being a dryad, you heal quickly and can help others heal too.  Your feet, while sore, will be fine to walk on in a few hours.  But you can’t wait a few hours.  You need to leave as soon as possible and get as far away as imaginable from Asenguard as you can.

“Thea?”

“Yes darlin’.”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Why yes you can, I was just about to make a room for you.”

“No, I can’t.”  Your eyes meet hers and then she understands.  You can’t stay.  If you do, and they find you here, they kill the both of you.  She stays silent for a moment, eyes concentrated on a pot of herbs in her windowsill.  

“Look, I have a friend who lives northwest of here, near Norwich.  Another healer, her name’s Daegon.  She owes me a favour and I’m sure she’d love to have you for a few weeks until you figure things out.”

“No, I can’t ask you to do something like that for me.”

“I insist, it’s too dangerous for you here and I want to know you’re safe. I’ll even send a signed letter with you.”

“Thank you.” You smile at her sadly. “You have done so much for me.”

“Don’t even think about paying me back.  Just come visit me once things have cooled down a little bit, eh?” A warm, genuine smile spreads across her face.

You don’t stay for much longer.  Thea gives you a pair of leather shoes and what she claims is “just an old cloak” that was collecting dust, along with a signed letter, and pemmican which will stay good for weeks.  You will never be able to pay back her kind soul.  With that, you disappear into the night.

 When Geralt reaches the village the worst of the fire has already spread westward with the wind.  He already knows there is no stopping such a beast.  It will continue to decimate the land for hundreds of miles or until an unruly downpour puts it all out.  The last place he saw you was out west.  She could be dead already, a whisper in the back of his head tells him, but that only angers him more.  

The villagers pay him no mind as he rides Roach through the streets.  They’re too busy trying to prevent their own homes from burning to the ground.  Those drunks are still around here somewhere, he just needs to find out where.  There is no doubt in his mind that they are the cause of this destruction.  He takes a small glass bottle from a pocket and pops the cork off before drinking a black, greasy liquid.  They will pay for this.  That he is sure of.

Sure enough, he finds them on one of the side streets near the alehouse, still shitfaced.  They barely notice him approach.

“Alright,” Geralt snarls at the group, his eyes are already pitch black from the elixir.  The men look terrified.  “Which one of you fuckers started that fire?”

“What the fuck!” Yells one of the men when he sees Geralt’s face.  He has the face of a predator.

“You heard me! Now which one of you was it?”

“N-none of us! We swear!”  He unsheathes his sword and stabs the man who was just speaking all in one fluid move. The rest of them stand there, speechless and terrified.  Geralt can smell shit in at least one of their trousers.

“Someone better start talking, or else.”  The or else is silent, but they hear it clearly.

 On the other side of town, you quietly slip in and around old sheds and stables.  You only have a few hundred meters before you reach the main entrance to the village, then it’s a homerun.  You slyly step around any debris on the ground and stay out of sight.  People are still around putting out small fires, but most have gone back home.  

A cold metal hand snakes around your arm and yanks you out from the shadows.

“Over here!” One of the king’s guards yells for backup.  His grip is strong and the metal joints pinch your skin. You frantically try to writhe from his tight grasp, but there is no getting out of this one.

“It’s the witch!” Another guard yells as a group of them approach you.

“She’s come to get revenge on the king!”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not- “

“Shut up witch!” Why do they keep calling you a witch?  Did the Witcher not tell them?

“Cut her throat.” One of them orders and you let out an audible gasp.

“No.” You relax for a moment before he says “The king has to do it.”

You start thrashing and screaming in their grasp as they take you towards the castle.  You fight with every ounce of might you can manage.  Your almost inhuman screams pierce the air and carry for miles.  They will not take you easily.  Not after they burned your forest.

 Geralt almost doesn’t hear your scream in his fit of rage.  Two more of the men are dead and he wasn’t planning on quitting anytime soon, but that sound, it makes his heart stop for a moment.  That sound isn’t human.  It has to be her, he thinks, there’s no one else it can be.

He drops one of the drunken men bloody and bruised, but still alive.  For now.

Roach races to the scene faster than ever before.  The knights stand just outside the castle gate, visibly surprised to see a Witcher here.  A Witcher whose face has morphed deathly pale, and whose eyes are soulless pits with no remorse.

Your heart skips a beat when you see him.  You still can’t be sure whether he is here to kill you or save you, but right now, the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.

“What is your business here?”

“I’m here for the witch.”

“You’re too late, we have her already and if I remember correctly the king banned you from Asenguard.”

“He didn’t ban me.” Geralt speaks clearly, had his eyes been their normal colour, his words would not have been taken so threateningly by the guards.  “He said he wanted me to bring her back. That’s why I lit the fire, to smoke her out.”

Your eyes snap to his in horror.  He did that? A new kind of anger and hatred starts to brew under your skin.  He destroyed your forest. Your only home.

“Oh, so you started the fire? Funny cause I remember Freud over here setting it.”  Geralt’s throat tightens when he realizes he has been caught in a lie, but the only thing you feel is relief.  At least it wasn’t him.  

Geralt reaches for his sword.  He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but there is only one ultimatum.  

“Let her go.”

In this very moment, King Cassius himself steps forth from the castle’s thick walls.  He is adorned in purple velvet and his shoes slowly click on the brick leading outward from the castle.

“I thought I told you to get the hell out of my kingdom, Mr. Witcher” He drawls lowly.

“Just give me the girl.”

“No.” Cassius simply states and that seems to be enough.  Geralt lurches forward towards the group of knights, sword help high in the air, ready for battle.

Their grip around you tightens impossibly stronger.  Off in the background you see the more of the king’s troops marching towards you quickly.  Your heartrate shoots through the roof.  You were so close to escaping, but now.  Now they’re going to kill both of us, you think.

The harsh clanging of swords fills the air.  Metal on metal.  The sound of battle echoes deeply in your ears.  Geralt moves swiftly, expertly, like a ruthless murdering machine.  Then you realise he is as close to such a thing as can be.  Witchers are made to kill, designed to hunt and destroy their prey.  So, when a guard’s head roles off his very own shoulders, you shouldn’t really be surprised.  

They outnumbered him eight to one, but four are already dead.  A spark of hope ignites itself in your chest when you realize you might actually make it out of here alive.  Another guard drops like a fly and the other two back off to guard the King.  At last, there is only the one with his constricting, snake like grip around your throat and torso.

“Step any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“Then I’ll kill you anyway.”

He shoves you to the ground and attempts at sprinting back to safer territory, but Geralt throws one of the other guard’s sword at him with great power. It pierces his armour and impales him with ease.  He never stood a chance.

Your eyes finally meet his own.  Despite his hollow look, you can easily make out the feeling of relief in his eyes. Or maybe you are simply projecting your own feelings of relief, either way, you can’t be happier.

“Thank you.” You whisper through the ghost of a smile.

“We need to leave.”  

As Roach carries the two of you out of the Kingdom of Asenguard the last thing you hear is the raging voice of King Cassius.

“This is a declaration of war!” He roars.  “Of war!”

---

Pt.1

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613040114715820032/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt-1-hi-this-is-my

Pt.2

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613171373679034368/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt2

Pt.3

https://sunonyoreface.tumblr.com/post/613415372067143680/forest-nymph-geralt-of-rivia-pt3

 Tag List: @nadia-rosea @ nerdstuff1994 @whatawildone

[chrysalispen]

xxix. whose bounty these have spurned

AO3 Link HERE

Chapter under cut.

====

As quickly as it had all started, it was over. 

Aurelia sat in the tilled soil of the Wolndara homestead, heart only now beginning to slow its hectic beat and her hands caked with dirt, and blinked furiously, eyes watering from the blinding flash of light from the Garlean’s grenade. 

Once the spots in her vision had cleared - for the most part - she took silent stock of what she could see, attempting to assess the damage. Smoke still belched out of the front door, and the eye-watering ammonia stench from her own makeshift grenade seared her senses even with the kerchief tied about her nose and mouth.

Most of it had been done to the house. Aside from small scrapes on her palms where she’d caught herself after losing her footing, she was unharmed. 

Rhaya, however-- 

Rhaya sat in the grass cursing. 

“Those buggering--!” 

“Don’t move,” Aurelia called. She regained her feet, coughing heavily. “Hells, but we’ve got a mess to clear out. Are you all right?”

“One of them shot me,” Rhaya answered, and now Aurelia could see the dark outline of blood soaking into the Miqo’te woman’s sleeve, just above the clutching grip about her upper arm. “If the bastards value their skins they had best stay gone!”

“Rhaya,” she coughed. “Sit still and stop thrashing about-- let me look at your wound.”

Still growling, ears flat and every hair on her tail standing on end, Rhaya’s hand fell away from her arm. Aurelia gently tugged at the torn threads of her hempen shirt, careful not to apply too much pressure. Restless tension thrummed through the smaller woman’s body, a stray current looking for an outlet. 

“Just a graze. Let me take care of it and we’ll go inside and clear out the smoke bombs and check on Vahne.”

A stiff nod. 

Aurelia gently placed her open palm over the injury, concentrated, and a steady stream of water-tinged aether flowed from her fingers. The bleeding stopped and the flesh began to knit beneath the cool glow. It wouldn’t require a bandage, she thought, although the shirt was like to be a total-

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

Aurelia froze at the flat, matter-of-fact question; her chin snapped up to look into the woman’s eyes, and it was clear by the hostility in them that she would not be able to make any excuse which would satisfy. 

Rhaya knew. Somehow, she knew. 

Silence hung between them like an invisible curtain until finally the huntress let out a sound that was something between a sigh and a bitter laugh.

“I knew it,” she said. “I bloody knew it. You were playing us both for fools.”

“Rhaya-”

“You aren’t half as clever at hiding yourself as you think. I saw that bag of yours in the cellar- the one with the symbol on it that you tried to cover.” Her tail thumped angrily against the ground. “Tried to tell myself there must surely be some good reason why a conjurer from Gridania would be carrying around something like that. But it seems to me like the simplest explanation is like to be the most obvious. ‘Specially when you and him started speaking in tongues.”

She sat still, bewilderment creeping up her spine and dread twisting her stomach. 

When had she lapsed into Ilsabardian? 

“You didn’t think a couple of stupid savages would figure it out, did you?” Rhaya bared her teeth, and she saw in that moment that she’d lost all of the trust she’d gained in aiding Vahne. “When were you planning to tell us? Before or after those men nearly killed us?”

“Rhaya, please. I can explain if you would just--”

Clawed hands planted themselves in the center of her chest and shoved. Aurelia fell back, sprawling into the dirt. “Keep your filthy hands off me.”

Unable to think of anything to say in her defense, or to bear the censure and fury in the other woman’s eyes any longer, her head bowed and her gaze fell to the ground. The Miqo’te wasted no time in standing up, brushing the soil off her legs as she did so, tail still lashing from side to side. Her utter contempt settled like an invisible weight on Aurelia’s shoulders.

“When he’s able to leave that cellar,” she said, her words tight and clipped, “I want your bags packed and I want you gone. And I had best never see you anywhere near my lands or my niece ever again. Or you’ll see exactly where my mercy for your kind begins and ends. Garlean.”

Rhaya spat the word out of her mouth as if it were something that tasted foul. 

The huntress stomped back towards her cabin. Aurelia didn’t watch her go. She listened to the receding footsteps and slamming door, swallowed back the sudden tide of frustrated tears that threatened, and stared up at the stars’ cold fire until the urge to shed them had passed.

==

The stew had gone cold. Vahne passed it silently to her while she dried her cleaned hands on a piece of spare hempen weave and the pair listened to the dull grinding roll of the spent smoke bomb as it went over the threshold and out the front door. The girl looked unhappy and quite subdued, her eyes averted from Aurelia’s - clearly Rhaya had spoken to her when she’d told her it was safe to come out.

“How does he fare?” 

As ever, it was easier to simply concentrate on matters of work for the time being. She’d deal with her own emotions later.

“He’s awake,” Vahne whispered. “What happened? Auntie says I’m not to talk to you.”

“I thought as much.” Aurelia patted the girl’s shoulder with her free hand. “Go help her clean up the glass. She doesn’t… that is, I need some words with our friend either way.”

“Is there aught I can do? I can talk to her if-”

“Don’t place yourself in the middle of this, Vahne, love. Please. Your aunt and I had an argument, that’s all you need to know for now.”

Vahne worried at her lower lip with her teeth but stepped beyond the partition into the common room, and in a few more moments Aurelia heard the sounds of a broom sweeping up glass. The stew was hearty but she barely tasted any of it. Her emotions felt like the bottom of an old jar, scraped out for its contents and left to molder.

Except for her anger, of course. That was still in fine working order.

She stared at the closed trapdoor and shook her head and reached for the ladle and a spare bowl. Tea would have to wait. 

Aurelia had half-thought she might have to rouse her patient but she did not. Sewell was awake, watching her descend the ladder with a bowl in one hand. He still looked weak - his cheeks bore a faint flush and the rest of him was pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat - but his eyes were clear and alert and tracked over her face as she sat down on the stool at what accounted for his bedside. He was well out of danger, she thought, and there was little doubt now that he would make a full recovery.

The spoon and bowl rattled on the crate as she set them down without ceremony.

“I’ve brought your dinner,” she said, unable to keep the tight, clipped coldness out of her voice. “Tea will have to wait until I’ve changed your dressings. Eat.”

He said nothing, but picked up the bowl with his good hand; Aurelia could hear the slow-paced clink of the spoon as she reached for her bag. 

She dragged her burden from the foot of the pallet to the close side of the crate she'd been using as a makeshift side table and started to remove tools, one by one. The piece of cloth she had wrapped hastily about the strap back in Gridania had fallen away - the knots must have loosened over time with use and exposure to the elements, she thought. Not that it mattered now. Rhaya knew what she was, and presumably so now did Vahne.

The scarlet-and-ivory tripartite links winked in the dim light, mocking her. 

No matter how far you travel, no matter how much you might try to deny us, they said, you will carry us with you to the ends of the star, and beyond it.

Every time she thought she’d passed that obstacle, the black anxiety of being set adrift and rudderless in a foreign land, every time she thought she’d found friends and a place to set her feet- it came back to haunt her again. Always.

And it was always, always, down to this.

After all, you cannot outrun your own blood.

Her jaw set. She neither needed nor wanted the reminder.

She set out the bowl and ran fresh water into it, and by the time she had found the antiseptic salve she’d sought, she heard him set his bowl of stew aside. It was only half finished.

“My arm pains me still,” Sewell admitted at the questioning tilt of her chin. “It will be some time, I think, before I am able to eat at the same pace.”

“Once I’m done I’ll help you.” Aurelia reached for her shears and leaned forward to examine the bandaging. She held aloft the shears, adjusting by eye until the old linens lay betwixt the blades, and slowly and carefully began to cut. “You’ll need to finish your meals to regain your strength. The sooner you do, the sooner you can leave.”

“...You seem vexed with me.”

She didn’t bother to look at him. “I am.”

“Why? What have I-”

“Don’t you dare finish that question,” she stripped away the soiled fabric as swiftly as she dared and dipped one of her instruments into the jar to spread over the exposed area, still in the process of healing, “You know precisely what you did.”

“If you’re talking about that commotion outside tonight, I warned them not to take me in. They were under no obligation-”

Aurelia tossed the depressor to the top of the crate where it rattled against the bowl alongside her shears. Sewell started at the sound, then let out a strangled yelp when she grabbed a handful of his undershirt and hauled him into an upright sitting position. She did not stop until his face was mere ilms from her own, her cheeks flushed not with fever but with righteous fury.

“Look at me,” she snarled. “Look me in the eyes, you craven, and tell me you bear no responsibility for what has happened this night.”

“I warned them not to do it!”

She shook him hard enough that it jostled his hurts, and he choked out an alarmed groan. “Upstairs are two people who did you a kindness and they nearly lost their lives for it. You could at least have the bare decency to appreciate the risk that they’ve taken for your sake!”

“I do appreciate it! What sort of opportunist do you take me for?”

“Your cowardice does not affect only you!”

“What do you-”

Aurelia shoved him angrily back against the pallet, ran the fingers of her left hand beneath the borders of her blonde fringe, and raked the handful of golden strands back to her hairline. The man’s eyes went huge and his jaw slack at the sight of her third eye, laid bare.

“Oh hells,” he said weakly. “Oh hells.”

Her throat felt tight again and her eyes burned, but she managed this time to keep her voice steady, fueled entirely by her rage given an immediate outlet. “I’ve seen retrieval squads before, Master Sewell. I served in the VIIth Imperial Legion under Nael van Darnus, and if you know aught of the White Raven’s reputation then you know we had our share of deserters and defectors. All of whom were dealt with severely.”

“Then you know the penalty for desertion is death,” he muttered.

“Yes. I do. I helped Mistress Wolndara to drive them off, but it was a temporary measure. If we remain here she and her niece will be placed in unacceptable danger. Those soldiers will return in short order, with wheat-counters to reinforce their numbers.” Aurelia dropped her hand and let her mussed hair fall back into place. Her anger had faded to something manageable, though her gaze upon him remained icy. “And I suspect they will not only have come for you.”

Sewell stared at her, still deathly pale, still frightened and astonished--- but shame had begun to creep into his eyes as well. She sighed.

“You have naught to fear from me,” she said. “But the very least you owe your hostess is an honest explanation as to why she has risked her home and her life. Tell me everything that happened up until you came here.”

His eyes fell shut and his expression twisted in something very like pain.

“You asked me before,” he began, “who Imanie was.”

“Yes.”

“I suppose I had best start from the beginning.” He plucked listlessly at a stray thread on his coverlet. “Imanie was my best friend from the village where we grew up - Ala Ghasti. You’ll not have heard of it - and when we were of a goodly age, or good enough for the Empire to see us as grown, we were drafted along with a number of our mates. Most of them were sent off to other lands. Imanie and me were the only two who ended up in the viceroy’s legion. We all had linkpearls and the like, of course, and we had each other’s shells, but we fell out of touch. 

“Well, about a moon ago, I got a message from Imanie. Couldn’t make nothing out of it - bad connection, I thought. Static bursts and the lot, but I didn’t think much about it. Communications have been more difficult through anything that isn’t official army channels ever since the moon fell. But she said she was going to be in Ala Mhigo in a fortnight’s time and she wanted to meet me. I thought she was allowed leave and wanted to catch up, so of course I agreed to it.”

“I take it things did not go as planned.”

“Not so much, no.” Sewell allowed himself a quick, humorless smile, one that ended in a grimace as Aurelia pulled the bandage taut and began to roll it in place. “She looked bloody awful when I saw her. Haunted. Like she’d seen things no one ought to see. Told me she had something important she’d come across. She wasn’t making much sense, though- kept repeating the same thing over and over. Something about a flower.“

“A flower?”

“Aye. I couldn’t make heads nor tails of it.” His brow knitted in a deep frown. “...She kept calling whatever it was--- aye, I recall now. She kept saying ‘black rose.’ But there ain’t no such thing as a black rose, is there?”

“Not that I’m aware. One would have to engineer a flower of that color, and I doubt very much the Empire is interested in horticulture.” Aurelia's fingertips tapped against the edge of the crate in thought. “...Perhaps she was speaking in some kind of code. A phrase to denote some classified project or other? You said yourself she worked in research and development.”

“Maybe. Don't suppose it matters now. She wanted me to come out to the lab with her and…” Sewell hesitated. “This bit’s where everything went tits up.”

“I’m listening.”

“It wasn’t far away, the place where she was stationed.  I recall thinking it strange that there wasn’t hardly anyone about when we arrived. Couldn’t be they’d all gone on leave, but Imanie didn’t want me to wait outside. Said it’d be too suspicious. So she uses her pass card to get me inside the gate and through the facility doors, and then we get to the lab. 

“Imanie says ‘wait here’ and comes back out with what looked like a wee tomestone on a chain about her neck. She hides it under her shirt gives me that look again- the one like she’d peered into a hole and seen all the seven hells stare back- and says ‘Let’s go.’ We got as far as the gate, and there were-” 

Aurelia paused as he took a long, shaking breath. 

“There were armed men, in full battle armor, blocking the way out. They says, ‘Hand it over.’ She says ‘Hand what over?’ and they says ‘The information you stole.’ They knew she was going to take whatever it was she took-- they’d laid a trap for her. There’s no tomestone any longer, because it was destroyed when they opened fire on her. Shot her down in the road like a godsdamned rabid animal. I guess as long as there wasn’t anything to take back to anyone like she wanted, her secret dyin’ with her was just fine by them too.” 

He stared into space. Grief and pain etched deep lines into his face, and though he was only a scant handful of years her senior, he appeared in that moment old and haggard. 

“Whatever it was they were doing in that place, it must have been bad. Bad.”

She could hardly belabor that, speculation or not. After all that she’d seen for herself at Castrum Novum, Aurelia had no doubt that he was right.  

“How did you escape?”

“I bolted for the gate while they were... occupied. They weren’t off their guard long; I felt a couple of shots whip right past me before I was able to get on the chocobo and get out of range.” Sewell swiped at the tears trickling down his beard-scruffed cheeks with his good hand. “I didn’t know where else to go so I made for the Twelveswood. I knew they’d kill me if they caught me, and they’d certainly kill me if I went back to Ala Mhigo.”

“They would have,” she said simply. “You were fortunate.”

“Aye… I traded the chocobo to one of the bandits smuggling folk across in exchange for passage. Most of ‘em were headed for Gridania but that road passes too close to the Oriens garrison, so I went with the caravan long enough to make it through before heading south. I guess I hoped maybe it would take them longer to find me than it did.”

She set down the last of her gear, dipped her soiled hands in the water to clean them, and gave him a long and steady look. “You didn’t, by any chance,” she said, “venture near a village on your way out here, did you?”

“Don’t rightly know, my lady. I might have. Truth be told, I wasn’t paying much attention to where I was going. I was just running. I kept seeing my best friend, the girl I’d known since we were children, cut down by gunblade fire. Blood everywhere. Her head--” 

The hands that lay on the bedding began to tremble. 

“...I knew I’d deserted my post and I knew the penalty, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Imanie. How she’d wanted me to live. So I ran. I knew they’d find me eventually. And on the third day out, about a sennight ago, they did.

“There’s a man in Castrum Oriens they call ‘the Crow,’ and a more ruthless scoundrel isn’t to be found in the entirety of the XIVth Legion, they say-- save, mayhap, the man to whom he answers. But he’s the one who sends out the retrieval squads. And they might fetch you back to the castrum to face a courts-martial - if you’re one of the lucky ones. They ain’t above killing their targets, as you’ve seen.”

“No. No, they’re not.”

“And they’ve more reason to see me hang than most. When they caught up with me on the other side of that creek-- I still had my lance. One of them was blocking my way out, and when he wouldn’t move, I put the business end through his chest and ran.”

“You killed a frumentarius?” 

“Not on purpose. I wager I only managed to escape because they thought I’d surrender rather than run from them. They started shooting at me once the shock passed. I thought for sure I was a dead man. One struck true, the other three went wild. It hurt like anything, but I was worried if they had even the slightest notion where I was and a good clean shot to take, that would’ve been the end of me. I managed to get across the creek and spent the rest of the night wandering through the forest. Finally stopped under a tree to catch back a second wind, and next thing I knew I was lying on a pallet inside this good lady’s root cellar. She tried her best to patch up what she could, but then the wound started going bad…”

“And so that’s where I came in.”

“Aye. ‘Tis obvious they were able to track me here.” He reached for the bowl again, fixing her with a pleading stare. “I know you’re angry, my lady, and you’ve every right to be. But you have my thanks, anyroad, for keeping me alive long enough to tell me what a coward I am.”

She stared at him for a long moment and picked up the spoon she’d slammed onto the crate. 

“Pray accept my apology for calling you a craven,” she said. “I was angry, but that was unkind of me.”

“Think nothing of it, my lady.”

“I’m not anyone’s lady. My name is Aurelia - just ‘Aurelia,’ if it please you. I’ve little reason to use my family name these days and even less use for a rank or a title.”

He opened his mouth and she spooned stew into it. After a moment of chewing, he asked, “And what’s a lass like you doing in the middle of the woods patching up deserters?”

“I was but one of many who were taken prisoner at Carteneau, in the aftermath of the eikon attack.”

His eyes flared with astonishment. “You saw the moon fall?”

“I don’t recall much of it,” Aurelia lied, “but after everything that Legatus van Darnus had wrought upon this realm, the Eorzeans were out for blood. They were like to make an example of me by letting me swing from some gibbet or other, did I not acquiesce to their demands to formally defect. As part of that bargain, I relinquished my rank, and...”

“And?”

“Suffice to say my presence here is not what one would call welcome, but I certainly can no longer return to Garlemald even if I wished it. It’s not important, I suppose.” The naked sympathy in his eyes made her feel uncomfortable so she quickly changed the subject. “...What is of paramount importance is getting you back on your feet so we can get you up that ladder and out of this house before the retrieval squadron comes back. I judge you’ll be fit to travel again in a day or two, as fast as you’re mending.”

“But there’s nowhere for me to go either.”

“I know where we can start. I’ve a very clever partner, and I promise you that between the three of us we’ll come up with some sort of plan.” She patted him on the hand and lifted another spoonful of venison and gravy. “Now open up.”

~*~

Their departure from the Wolndara homestead three days later was without preamble. Rhaya’s reception remained chilly, though she was somewhat warmer towards Sewell, and she would not pass a moment in the root cellar while Aurelia was there - which was just as well, for Aurelia’s unease never once lessened each time she set foot on the ladder. She passed the time helping with makeshift repairs of the windows, and tried to let nothing of her regret show each time Vahne shot her a sad and questioning stare. 

Thus it was with surprise when, on a cool and foggy morning, Vahne led them out to the small chocobo paddock at the edge of the property. Two modestly sized sacks of goods sat at the gate, alongside a large and placid-looking bird.

“Aunt Rhaya’s payment,” she said simply, “for your aid. I’ll come with you as far as the ruins and take him back with me, but she says Master Sewell is in no condition to go so far on foot.”

“Thank you,” Aurelia said. Vahne’s eyes didn’t lose their mournful cast, but now was not the time to discuss it. She adjusted the strap on her bag, and the new linen covering she’d placed over the imperial seal. “Master Sewell, you go first. I’ll ride behind.”

With some effort they were able to get him astride the bird, and Aurelia clambered up behind him with her arms about his waist. Vahne patted a handful of fluffy yellow feathers, then took the reins in hand, and the three were off.

The journey was slow and careful and tedious even on chocoback. It was late afternoon by the time they reached the ruins where Aurelia and Vahne had first met. They lay still and silent now, save for the wind rustling in ivy creepers and tall stands of belladonna, and she thought to herself how strange it was that so much seemed to have happened in such a very, very short amount of time. It had been all of a sennight since she had met Vahne Wolndara, and it felt as though it had been months. 

She sighed aloud as Vahne clicked her tongue at their mount and pulled him to a stop. The girl continued to watch with that sadness in her eyes as the pair dismounted and began to collect their things before she finally mustered the wherewithal to speak.

“Miss Aurelia?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about… what happened.” 

“So am I.”

She could tell by the uneasy way the girl kept shifting her weight from foot to foot that something else was bothering her, and it was only moments before the truth came pouring forth, like a flood gate that had been released.

“I keep asking why she’s so cross with you,” Vahne blurted out. “She won’t talk about it. She just says you’re not welcome back and that’s the end, and I shouldn’t keep asking her so many questions when there’s work to be done.” 

Aurelia said nothing. Vahne chewed on her lip, staring down at the ground before lifting her chin so that her gaze met the Garlean’s. “You aren’t going to tell me either, are you?”

“I’m afraid not, darling.”

“Why?”

“Your aunt’s disagreement with me is not something you would be able to set to rights. And-” Aurelia put her hands on those small shoulders and squeezed. “...Vahne, you are going to be grown one day. You will have to learn how to make judgments about people independent of your aunt’s opinions. This is a very large star, and there are many, many people on it. And you will meet good and bad in the course of your life.”

“I won’t meet that many. Unless I leave the forest. And… and I don’t know if that’s what I want. Not yet.”

“Of course you don’t have to leave the forest if you don’t want to do that. But I think you will be a great woman no matter what you decide to do, or where you go in life.”

Wiry little arms wrapped about her waist. She gently combed back the wild hair between the girl’s flickering ears with her fingers. 

“I don’t want you to go back,” Vahne sniffled. “I never had so much fun washing clothes.”

Aurelia laughed. “You were a very good teacher,” she said. “And I am quite certain I shall be in need of further instruction.”

“...Can I still come visit you sometimes? If that’s all right?”

“Of course, Vahne. I would be happy to have you.”

“And the villagers won’t mind?”

“Goody Miller certainly won’t. Some few might, but I think given time and familiarity they’ll come around just fine.” 

Vahne stepped back, swiping furtively at her eyes. They were still red-rimmed, but no longer wet. She took the chocobo’s reins, set one small foot in the stirrup, and leveraged her weight onto the beast’s wide back. Aurelia’s brows arched into the fabric of her head covering.

“You’re going to ride him back?”

“Why not? Old Fred knows the way back. We’ve had him forever- Master Buscarron gave him to her as thanks for being one of his road scouts a long time ago.” Vahne grinned. “Besides, I’ve been riding him about the fields since I was eight summers.”

“Fair enough. Be careful going home.”

“Be careful going back to the village. Those awful men might be out here.”

Aurelia only nodded. Vahne gathered the reins and hesitated, looking as if she meant to say something else but thought better of it. Instead she clicked her tongue twice against the roof of her mouth and dug her heels into the chocobo’s sides, and with a soft kweh the aging bird began to saunter back towards the direction of the road. She watched the pair go until they had disappeared into the trees once again, then looked at Sewell.

“Guess it’s you and me now,” he said.

“So it is. We’d best get going if we want to make it back before nightfall,” she said. “Follow me.”

~*~

“We must report, my lord. When you-”

Argas rem Canina barely heard his second’s suggestion, as all his concentration was fixed upon the sharp and sudden pains lancing from his side in hot spikes into his shoulder and hip with any sudden movement. It felt as though he’d been stabbed with a handful of darning needles.

“Shite and hellsfire!” the pilus prior swore, sputtering out the mouthful of merlot he’d just taken. It spilled down his chin and the front of his undershirt, staining the linen a deep violet-red. “Damn it, Salvitto, can’t you be a bit blimmin’ careful?” 

“Broken from the look of things, my lord,” Lavinia jen Savitto interrupted blandly, enduring her superior’s ire with the patient air of a mother bringing a stubborn toddler to heel. He groaned again when her fingers brushed over his bared side, winding a linen field bandage about his torso. 

“Salvitto--”

“I am taking as much care as I can, my lord.”

“Well, take more care. I’m not a godsdamned rack of lamb in some farmer’s market.” Her expression remained carefully neutral. Argas gave in with an exasperated sigh. “And I can’t very well lie here like a gormless lump when there’s work to be done. Can they not be set?”

“By the look of the injury there is little to be done save wrap them and otherwise leave them to heal, my lord. I’ve alchemics that will speed the process, of course, but I must strongly advise you against strenuous activity for a sennight.” At his derisive scoff, she added: “The bones will need that much time to knit.”

He waved an impatient hand. 

“Get on with it, then.” Argas watched the medicus excuse herself before he turned his scowl upon his second. “And what has Lord Fabian to say?”

“He asks that you contact him with your report.”

“What report? There’s nothing yet to report.”

"Nothing at all," Phoebus said drily, “save the entire operation was undone by two women and a jar of antelope piss, you're injured, Caelius quo Merula's got an arrow in his gut, and Blackthorne was most likely able to escape with-”

“I am doing my bloody best,” Argas snarled, “to capture a criminal while deep in enemy territory with minimal resources. If you or his lordship believe you can do better, then I invite you to try.” 

Something ugly flashed through Phoebus pyr Cinna’s eyes - the belly of a trout surfacing for just the barest second - before it was submerged once again beneath a layer of ice.

“Be that as it may, the tribunus militum is still expecting a report, and we must needs have one ready for his review.” Phoebus’ voice dropped in volume so that only his superior could hear. “You know how the Crow is when he receives bad news.”

Argas set the cup on the side table with a clumsy clatter and dragged himself upright despite the pain it caused him. Wheezing, he spat out, “The transceiver is in my belt pouch.”

“My lord?”

“Bring it here. I might as well get this done and over with.”

“Of course.”

Despite his air of annoyed impatience, he knew the queasy and unsettled sensation in the pit of his stomach was due to anxiety, not pain or irritation. He stared down at the module Phoebus had deposited in his hand, then snapped, “Go and close the door behind you. Let Salvitto know I am meeting with Lord Fabian first.”

His second snapped a perfunctory salute and quit the small room. 

Argas watched him go, eyes narrowed. There were words he needed to have with Cinna- but that could come later. Girding himself with what courage he could find, he thumbed the switch that would patch him through directly to Fabian rem Corbinus’ personal line.

Five minutes, a burst of static, and an indeterminable number of dial tones later, a gruff voice crackled across the transceiver. “Who is this?”

“Argas rem Canina, my lord.”

“Mm.” A pause. “I see you’ve received my message.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Cinna tells me your team discovered the whereabouts of the traitor Sewell oen Blackthorne. By chance were you able to capture him alive?”

He hesitated.

“Well?”

“No, my lord. There were... unforeseen complications and oen Blackthorne is still at large.” At the lack of response, he continued, “We tracked him to the location of a safe house not far from the town of Quarrymill, but we were met with resistance and myself and one of my men were injured. As we realized that we faced an unknown number of enemies and had no reinforcements with which to subdue them, it was my opinion that we stood to lose additional personnel-”

“Then you retreated.”

“I… yes, my lord.”

“You had all the resources that you requested, including two tracking experts at your disposal, and you could not capture one criminal. One unarmed savage.”

He swallowed and wiped his sweating palms on the coverlet. "With all due respect, my lord, you don't understand. This circumstance is extraordinary; we did not expect to fi-"

"Methinks it is you who lacks understanding. I have no interest in excuses." The tribunus militum’s barked words, as biting as they were precise, halted Argas mid-sentence. "You have been tasked with retrieving the blackguard by any means necessary. Pray tend to those orders with due diligence, lest I am given further cause to reconsider the calibre of those under my command."

"Requesting permission to speak, my lord," he began.

"Permission granted."

"We have good reason to believe the local population within this region of the Black Shroud has granted succor to at least one other defector. A Garlean woman." Once again there was no response forthcoming, although he knew the man was listening behind the small bursts of static that marked aetheric interference. "My lord, the Empire cannot be thought to fear a handful of unarmed savages living amongst the trees. There are consequences for harboring imperial fugitives in defiance of the law, but without tangible support we cannot-"

"Yes, yes, I’m aware. You needn't quote the officers' handbook at me, pilus.”

“Yes, my lord. I apologize.” 

“On the other hand, I suppose it would be rather unseemly of us to leave this woman you mention to run about the area unchecked.” Fabian rem Corbinus sighed. “Very well. You have authorization to request what additional resources and personnel you may need, and further to take whatever measures you deem necessary for her arrest. I will draft the paperwork so that the praefectus at Oriens knows all is in order-"

"Thank you, my lord."

"-but do not forget that the primary objective is to neutralize Blackthorne. If you find the woman, take her into custody by all means... but I want his head.”

“Yes, my lord. I won't forget-” 

"It will be your head if you fail,” the tribunus militum interrupted, the words flat and matter-of-fact. “Do I make myself clear?"

Argas rem Canina swallowed with a soft but audible click in his throat. "As glass, my lord," he said.

"Excellent. I’m so glad we understand each other. Feel free to return to the castrum for your reinforcements.”

“You have my thanks, my lord,” Argas said, relieved--but that relief was short-lived: 

“As you are injured, Phoebus pyr Cinna as your second has my express authorization to obtain information upon the deserters’ whereabouts in your stead until your recovery is deemed complete."

His stomach clenched unpleasantly. “My lord, I don’t think that--”

“Are you questioning my orders, Canina?”

“...Not at all, my lord, of course not-”

“Good. I expect a timely postmortem report.”

Before Argas could protest further, the connection had lapsed into hollow static.

[kom-wanheda]

Escaping the Burn

Evan Buckley Week

March 25th - Day 3: “Please don’t close your eyes!” + hurt

Buck can feel the fire getting worse around him right before his radio crackles, Bobby’s voice coming through. “Buck, where are you? This building is going down any minute, and you need to be clear when that happens.”

Read on ao3 or under the cut.

Buck can feel the fire getting worse around him right before his radio crackles, Bobby’s voice coming through. “Buck, where are you? This building is going down any minute, and you need to be clear when that happens.”

Buck grunts, breathing heavily in his mask. He shifts the weight of the man on his back, gripping him securely with one hand so he can grab at his radio with the other. “I have one vic with me, he’s not doing so good, Cap. I’m doing a final sweep.”

“Report said the man’s alone. Head home, Buck,” Bobby’s voice cuts back.

Buck doesn’t have to be told twice. He heads towards the exit, keeping an eye on the flames climbing the walls around him. Once on scene, the 118 realized that this fire was burning hot and Buck suspected that most of the house wouldn’t be standing by the end of the night.

In less than a minute, he’s clear of the home. Walking out into the open air is an immediate relief, even through all his gear he’s wearing. The adrenaline that comes from walking into disasters always helps Buck focus, but it certainly doesn’t help him stay cool.

He stumbles a bit down the rickety stairs, the man groaning and starting to move on his shoulders. Hen and Chimney aren’t quite ready for him, but the man is certainly ready to get down, so Buck kneels and gently rolls him off his shoulders onto his back.

Buck rips off his mask, gulping in the smoke-filled night air, and starts doing a preliminary once-over, checking for serious burns and injuries that he can identify. The man’s burned pretty bad. His clothes are singed into his skin in some places, and unmercifully, the man is still awake. He must have one hell of a pain tolerance.

“Sir, you’re going to be okay. I need you to stay still. We’re taking you to the hospital,” Buck says as the man tries to sit up. Buck bars him with as gentle a hand as he can manage, but still, the man cries out in pain. His face is soot-dirty, but his eyes are startling white, and when his gaze focuses on Buck, he feels like he’s being pierced.

“My dog,” he rasps, now gripping at Buck. “Where is my dog? Did you guys get her out?”

Buck’s brow crinkles. A bad feeling settles in his stomach. “Dog? There’s a dog in the house?”

“Yes! Oh my god, she’s still in there! Petunia!” the man starts screaming, fighting against Buck even more.

Buck eyes the house critically, looking for any evidence of movement besides flame. His team is still pumping water at the house, and that combined with the smoke makes it hard to see anything specific.

“Sir, you’ve got to stay still! You’re going to hurt yourself worse!” Hen yells, sliding to the ground across from Buck. Chimney taps on Buck’s shoulder, and he moves instantly, watching the pair try to simultaneously restrain and treat the vic. Suddenly, he stops moving and stiffens, falling back violently against the ground, eyes rolling up into his head.

Buck can’t help it. He reaches for the man’s leg, leaning forward. “Hey, man, come on! Please don’t close your eyes! Where exactly is your dog?” It’s no use, though, the man is still out of it, coughing violently. Buck stands to shuffle further out of the way and closer to the house burning down behind him.

Buck knows it’s stupid. Cap already called it, the house isn’t stable any more, but—

He has to. Buck doesn’t think he can live with himself if he doesn’t at least try. If he has to suffer through reprimands from Bobby and a probably livid Eddie, well, he can live with that, at least.

Buck sprints back up the stairs, yanks his mask back over his face, and ignores his name being yelled behind him. The heat engulfs him yet again, and he starts scanning the ground, looking for any sign of the overlooked dog. He doesn’t even know what kind of dog he’s looking for, but he sweeps the rooms as quickly and thoroughly as he can.

“Buck! I told you this building is done for. Get out of there!” Bobby’s voice is authoritative and if Buck was really listening, maybe a teensy bit scared. But Buck’s never been afraid to ignore an order before, so he keeps sweeping as he fumbles the radio on.

“I can’t, Cap! Not everyone made it out. There’s a dog in here.”

“You won’t make it out if you’re in there when that building goes!” Fuck. That’s Eddie, and he sounds not happy, to say the least.

He feels Eddie’s distress tug at him, trying to pull him back out the front door, back into the safety of the LA night. It’s the same tug that happens any time Eddie so much as looks at him, that desire to always be by his side.

Usually, Buck has no reason to deny the urge, but tonight, Buck ignores it.

Another insufferably slow minute passes as he carefully navigates the rooms before he finally sees a small black blob curled up in the single area of the kitchen not currently on fire. Buck runs over, reaches down, and scoops the tiny thing into his arms. Her head flops a little, and Buck can’t tell if she’s breathing. Buck cradles the dachshund to his chest, covering its tiny body with as much of his turnout jacket as he can.

Buck hurries back towards the front door, and of course he watches as the broken door falls across the entrance, catching the entire frame on fire. He can see his team through the door, blurry dark shapes moving everywhere. Hen and Chimney are still crouched over the vic. Buck also can’t tell if he’s breathing.

Buck tightens his hold on the dog. “Cap, who’s on the hose? Get them to spray the door. I need an exit,” Buck says over the radio, counting down the seconds, paying attention to each creak and groan that the house lets out, almost as if to warn him: it’s not going to stay standing much longer.

“Got it. Stand clear,” Cap says, yelling out commands off radio. Buck swings away from the entrance, stepping back just as water shoots through the flame-licked doorframe. The rushing sound of the water mixes with the thundering flames around him, and it’s a cacophony of chaos, but Buck is laser focused. This kind of chaos only sharpens Buck’s senses, drowns out the extraneous noise, and it’s this single moment of intense concentration that he feels the dog struggle to life in his arms. Buck’s heart unclenches just a bit knowing that at least one of tonight’s victims is still alive.

Suddenly, the jets of water vanish, and Cap’s voice screams to him, so loud Buck can hear him both through the radio and outside the burning house. “Clear, Buck! Move it!”

With a burst of hope and no desire to disobey his Captain’s orders now, Buck leaps over the still-smoking front door, but he lands on the porch hard, one of his boots slamming through the flame- and water-weakened wood. Buck curses, pulling his leg free and he tilts a bit too far, and he knows he’s going to fall, can only think of rolling onto his back to avoid crushing this tiny body in his arms, but then someone is grabbing his shoulders, yanking him down the porch stairs and straight into a familiar chest.

“That was so fucking dumb, Buck, fuck,” Eddie bites out, his grip on Buck’s arms tightening in combined anger and fear, but his eyes are only shining with relief. He lifts Buck’s mask off his face and lets it clatter to the ground, Eddie’s hands returning to Buck’s body, grounding them both.

Buck pants as he leans into Eddie’s, feeling the last wave of adrenaline loosening its hold. That unmistakable tug back to safety, to Eddie, quiets within Buck as the seconds pass and his brain catches up, recognizing that he’s out of danger. “No man left behind, right? Even if it’s a dog. And a girl,” Buck says breathlessly.

Eddie pulls him further away from the burning house, which is now crumbling in on itself. Just a bit longer in that building and that could’ve been it for Buck. But tonight he made it out, so dwelling on the maybes won’t do anything for him except keep him up at night.

Buck approaches the man, now secured on a stretcher, white gauze wrapped everywhere around his body, and an IV strung up and held by Hen. Eddie follows after him, hand hooked in the crook of Buck’s elbow, clearly not ready to let go. They’re wheeling him towards the ambulance. The man’s critical, but stable, and so Buck feels no remorse for holding them up another minute.

“Wait!” Buck calls, hurrying closer. “Hey, look who I found.” Buck stands by the man’s head, uncurling his arms a little to show the trembling, but very much alive, dog.

“Petunia,” the man breathes and immediately starts crying. It could be the morphine, but he looks up at Buck with unabashed, whole-hearted relief shining in his eyes. It’s the same exact expression that Eddie gave him, and to feel that kind of appreciation twice in quick succession is a little overwhelming. “Oh fuck, thank you, oh my god… I don’t know what I would have done if she—” he cuts off, crying even harder.

Buck says nothing (what is there to say, you’re welcome?) and only lowers the dog closer. The man manages to lift his hand up, and she gives him a good sniff and a tiny lick. Besides some smoke-inhalation and a desperate need for a bath, the dog is fine. Buck lets out a huge breath, shoulders slumping, and if there are some tears in his eyes, he’ll blame the smoke.

Bobby comes up beside him and suddenly, they’re all there, surrounding this man reuniting with his dog, and Buck knows that he’s not the only one blaming the smoke for some extra waterworks going on. Bobby slaps a hand on Buck’s shoulder, grip tight, and he knows he’ll be chewed out tomorrow. But for now, Bobby is letting them have this moment, and Buck is again reminded why he loves him, admires him, and most importantly, wants nothing more than to make him proud. Buck thinks, even if Bobby won’t say it, he did tonight.

Tonight, Buck will sleep easy, but tomorrow, Buck will want a dog.

[andossp]

Cooking tips! Category, pasta!

Homemade pasta is super easy to make! You don't need a pasta machine and unless you have physical restrictions you don't need a mixer either. Go for around 80 grams of flour per egg and mix until combined. Then knead for ten minutes. Roll it out to your desired thickness and then cut it! It's easier to flour your rolled out dough and fold it up, then cut the folded dough into strips and then unfold them so they don't stick.

Fresh pasta takes less than 2 minutes to boil.

Now, pasta sauce!

Pasta sauce is one of the most diverse culinary tools out there. Anything can be a pasta sauce. Got some leftover pork, a can of beans, and a can of tomatoes? That's sauce. Got some butter and garlic? Also a sauce. Some wine and chicken stock?? Guess what? Sauce.

Anything can be a pasta sauce. Today I made fresh pasta and a sauce with leftover smoked pork belly. I sliced the pork belly thin (bacon works just as well, or any meat you have available. If you don't eat meat use a butter or butter substitute.) Then I added minced garlic. I let it cook on low-med heat until the garlic started to get some color. Then I added about a half of a cup of port wine, and made sure to scrape the fond (the brown gunk- as long as it's not burnt, it's essentially concentrated flavor) off the bottom of the pan and mix it into the sauce. Then, once the alcohol cooked off, I added a can of diced tomatoes. After that I added the spices. Spices cna be used a bunch of different ways but what's most important is knowing what's gonna taste good together. People categorize spices in a lot of different ways. For pasta sauces I use basil and parsley heavily. As background notes I add oregano, rosemary, and a bay leaf. Dried herbs are more powerful than fresh herbs. Fresh herbs add a fresher flavor and a good source of greens, but are less flavorful. After the herbs I let the sauce cook on low heat for a good 20 minutes or so, then added about half a can of beans. The rest can be used for your breakfast the next day, or lunch, or if you really like beans then throw the whole damn can in.

After adding your more delicate ingredients you can mix in your pasta (which should be slightly undercooked! Al dente!). When you do this, make sure you add a quarter cup - half a cup of the water you used to cook your pasta. It will help the sauce bind to the pasta, and add some moisture which nine times out of ten, you'll need. Let the pasta get to know the sauce for a few minutes. Use this time to grate some cheese or grab a drink.

If you want your sauce to be thick!

Add cornstarch to your sauce while it's simmering and don't boil it anymore!

Or

Add a roux! (Equal parts butter and flour cooked into a wet sand consistency. Should be added while boiling)

Or

Puree it! If you puree the ingredients it will be slightly thicker.

Or

There area lot of different ways to make your sauces thick. The last three are the big three, if you ask me. They're used the most.

This got ramble-y. Anyways, enjoy your pasta! Don't be afraid of making mistakes in the kitchen, because that's how you learn.