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the-broken-truth · 3 years

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Broken-Style Remix: Yandere Mother Talia Al Ghul

Broken: When it comes to Yandere Mothers, Talia Al Ghul is one of my favorites; considering how obsessed she is with her baby daddy. Recently, I came into a Yandere Talia Al Ghul Image made by @anxiousnerdwritings & with their permission, I have been allowed to make this Broken-Style Remix! Now, let the words weave together!!!

@anxiousnerdwritings's version: LINK

SUBTITLE: THE ONE YOU THREW AWAY

Talia Al Ghul wanted things thing and would do anything to obtain those things - Complete Control & Undeniable Power. She was the daughter of Ra's Al Ghul - The Head Demon of the League of Assassin & Immortal Mad-Man, well...not anymore; now Talia was on the Throne as Head of the League of Assassins, but there was a time before everything went to hell. Talia always wanted to have power but she also wanted someone to share it with - that came in the form of the Protector of Gotham - The Masked Savior, Batman. Talia was entranced by his power and skill, he would have been a perfect partner to rule with if he wasn't so hesitant to kill but she could sculpt him to fit her mold one way or another but first she needed to get him on her side. Her father thought of him as the perfect heir but there was no way the protector would join him, so Talia planned and that plan was to give herself and Bruce an heir - the perfect combination of the two of them. However, a wrench was thrown into that plan when inside of one - there were two.

A Son & A Daughter.

A Son that mirrored his father in young as he would in adulthood, with the exception of the emerald eyes that Talia possessed - the eyes of an Al Ghul. He was given the name Damian.

Her daughter was another story: she grew to look just as Talia did in her youth but she had her father's calm blue eyes - the eyes of a protector. The eyes of a Wayne. The eyes of a savior, not a killer - she was flawed with those eyes. She was named Bellatrix - just as her father, she would be expected to be a great warrior.

When it was time to hone their skills, it was clear that they were the perfect combination of the Al Ghul and Wayne Genes - Damian more. He was the perfect killer, merciless and quick; he wouldn't give his enemies time to speak. No, enemies were too kind of a word to describe them - they were his prey while he was the hunter. He didn't care how many he had to cut down; he would never tire until all of them were dead at his feet.

Bellatrix - on the other hand - was a different story. It was clear she had the skills, it was obvious that she had the power, but the main issue was that she wouldn't finish the job; she lacked the most important trait of the Al Ghul Bloodline - she refused to kill. Talia feared this - she was just like her father and she didn't want weakness into the pain; especially since she was the eldest of the two. She either had to fix the problem or completely remove it.

And she would much prefer the latter.

Ra's loved his grandchildren all the same - he didn't care of Bellatrix didn't kill, he was pleased enough that she was able to complete impossible tasks alone and come back unscabbed. He would praise her and he would train with her in his free time - the two of them were fond of meditation to keep themselves centered.

"Remember Granddaughter: If you are completely centered then there is nothing you can't overcome. Knowing your center is knowing your true power." - That is what Ra's would tell her during those times.

As time passed on, Talia noticed that Bellatrix gained in power and knowledge every day while her son showed just how much of an Al Ghul he was every time he went on a mission, but that didn't matter to Talia - that girl...that mistake...was a single dot in the way of her son's rightful place as Head of The League & she had to something about it.

And she did.

One night - Talia told Bellatrix to accompany her to the desert for recon and the girl agreed, thinking it was going to be a mother-daughter experience. The two of them sourced their bounds but found nothing, Bellatrix looked around the dunes to see if there was something hiding in the desert's darkness until her body made her move and she dodged just in the next of time as a blade came in close contact with her throat. She reached for her sword, only for her hand to be grabbed, and turned it to her back. She was then grabbed from other directions before being kicked in the back of her knees and came to her knees in the sand. She struggled and looked at the cloaked figures that held her until she looked at her mother.

"Mother! Help!" She begged for her mother.

"Why would I do that," Talia walked over to her bound daughter as one of the assassins handed her a sword, "When it took me so long to get you here?" Talia looked into her daughter's eyes with emptiness.

"You...You planned this? Mother, why would you do this?" Bellatrix asked.

"This is something I should have done from the start, after all - My Beloved needs an heir, not a burden. You are a stain on the Al Ghul Name, an Al Ghul that refuses to kill is not an Al Ghul; hell, you aren't even an assassin. You're a defect, a flaw, a wrench in my plan to have my beloved rule behind me as King and Queen of the League of Assassins."

Bellatrix's eyes widened at the sight of her mother raising her sword.

"And all defects must be eliminated." Talia growled as her arm thrust forward - Bellatrix's eyes widened and her jaw locked to keep herself from screaming as the blade ripped through her chest and came out on the other side.

Talia lifted her foot - the other assassins released the girl - and kicked her to the dirt and watched her groan in pain before going limp in the cold desert night.

"Dispose of the body. I have to deliver the news that the heir has been killed and watch my one true child take his rightful place." Talia didn't give her daughter's body a second glance as she turned and walked away to her jet that was waiting for her.

She should have checked her vitals.

[Timeskip - Years Later]

Years had gone by but Talia still thinks back to the night she stuck her sword through her daughter's body and left her for dead; she was so certain that was what she wanted by there was something missing and for once in her life, it had nothing to do with her Beloved Bat. She tried to put those thoughts aside for she was on a mission.

After the death of her father, she found some research on a mind-control agent that she could use to have the one she wanted most but the League was too thin and most were doing other tasks while some were rebuilding the complex, thus the Head of the Demon Clan had to deal with it on her own, which she was fine with.

However, something felt different - she wasn't sure what it was...but she knew something was going to happen tonight.

Talia did what she had to do and secured to the agent before making her way back to the roof - only to have two people walking for her.

One was a tall man with a red helmet, a brown leather jacket, a gray Bat-Armor with a Red Bat Insignia on the chest; Talia could see the pistols and ammo belts around his waist.

The second was a feminine figure: She was around the same height as Damian, wearing Bat-Armor that looked a lot like a Ninja's outfit with a sword on her back and a dark blue Bat Insignia on her chest. Her hair was long and black but tied in a ponytail, except some hair that freely fell in her face and covered some of the ribbon eye mask around her eyes.

"I guess my beloved couldn't make it to see me?" Talia asked as she placed the agent in her pocket.

"We were the closest in the area so he sent us to what it was about - didn't think we'd find his batshit crazy baby-momma here." The Red Hood said as he folded his arms.

"Too bad, he might have convinced me to surrender but I don't have an issue with breaking children who stand in my way." Talia said.

"You never had an issue with killing them, why would you have an issue with breaking them?" The female said.

"What did you say?" Talia said as she looked at the female figure.

"You don't remember the child you killed? The blood of the Al Ghul you spilled? The child you detested because she wouldn't kill so you decided to kill her instead?" The female stepped forward and reached for her eye mask, "You don't remember my voice...Mother?" She pulled it off and Talia's eyes widened when they locked with the blue eyes of her late daughter - the one that was supposed to die. The stain in her plan.

"You lived? After all of these years, you dare come to face me again?" Talia narrowed her eyes.

"Rather cold to say to your kid who came back from the dead, Lady." He looked at Bellatrix, "Bat-Fang, you wanna deal with her while I wait on the old man?" He asked.

"You read my mind." Bellatrix stepped forward and pulled her sword out, "Arm yourself."

"I guess some stains are harder to wash out." Talia said as she pulled her sword out, "I'll make sure you don't come back."

Emerald and Sapphire locked with each other before the thunderclap of the coming storm sent them both into attack mode. Their blades clashed against each other as the two women danced in a deadly dance, Talia was focused but at the same time confused - how was Bellatrix this focused when the anger in her eyes was so strong? Talia tried harder and used more power but that was the opening Bellatrix needed.

Talia watched as the girl grabbed the sword with her left hand before delivering a swift but devastating kick to her gut, sending her skipping like a stone against the roof as she released the grip of her sword. Talia picked herself off the ground and glared at her eldest as the girl place her own sword back in its sheath and shatter Talia's into two halves, letting the shards and sword halves fall to her feet before she charged at her mother. Talia's guard went up as the two of them locked in a brawl.

'What is going on here? She was never this fast or ruthless! What is...'

Her thoughts were cut off as Bellatrix grabbed her foot and began to swing her until Bellatrix let her go and got stuck in a window. Talia opened her eyes from the impact just in time to see the glare on her daughter's face as she came soaring and her fist connected with Talia's face, sending them both into the abandoned building. Talia groaned from the pain but more pain was added when she felt her daughter grab her by her hair and pull her to her feet.

"What do you have to say now, Talia? Am I still defective?" Bellatrix asked before she punched the Assassin Leader in the face, making her crash into a crumbling wall.

"Am I still a flaw?" Bellatrix asked as she spartan-kicked Talia through the wall and into the living room, making the woman fall on her back.

"Am I still the wrench in your perfect plan? Am I?!" Bellatrix barked as she grabbed her mother by the next and punched her in the face, making her back hit a window. Talia's version was blurry from the pain but when it came together - her eyes widened at the murderous gaze in her eyes.

"Am I still not an Al Ghul?" Bellatrix punched her in the face again - sending the woman crashing through the window again but this time, she felt on a lower roof of a building just as another thunderclap echoed through the sky and the rain began to fall. Talia grunted at the pain but opened her eyes to watch her daughter jump out the window and walk over to her; glaring down at her with blue eyes.

"How... How did you survive?" She asked.

"You should have checked my vitals before you left me to die; once you were gone, I took care of the assassins that you had hold me. I'm not proud I shed their blood but I knew if I didn't, they were going to make sure I was dead." Bellatrix answered.

"You survived... You killed... And now, you have me helpless." Talia smiled at her, "I'm so proud of you, My Baby Girl." She cooed.

"What?" Bellatrix glared with confusion.

"You are everything I want in a perfect heir: You survived my trap, you killed those who held you captive, and you reduced me - the Leader of the League of Assassins - to this pitiful state. My darling, you are perfect." Talia smiled at her daughter.

"I don't know what you are thinking but I'm nothing like you want me to be and I never will be." Bellatrix reached down and took the mind-control agent from Talia before turning and walking away.

"You can walk away now, My Sweet Child, but know that I am coming for you. I will bring you home and you will be what you were born to me - The Perfect Al Ghul Heir. Run while you can, my dear, Mother is coming for you." Talia laughed at Bellatrix as the girl jumped off the small roof, leaving the woman alone.

Talia looked up at the rain in the sky and smiled before picking herself off the ground, touching the side of her lip, and looked at the blood - her blood - that her daughter spilled.

'It was a mistake to let you go but now that you are back, I shall have you once more and we shall be a family. You can't escape your blood, Bellatrix; you're an Al Ghul...and you belong to me.'

#Yandere Talia Al Ghul #Yandere Mother #Broken-Style Remix

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ask-the-crimson-king · 3 years

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More Stuff from Betrayer

[While on the topic, I want to show the various humans out there a very interesting scene out of Betrayer.

Two, technically, but one that's a bit longer than the other. Image IDs will be provided at the end of the post, cause there's going to be a LOT.

Some interesting insights into how Lorgar views Chaos and a bit about the Emperor as well. I always find this scene to be fascinating, especially since he's borrowed the astropathic choir of the Conquerer to listen to worlds dying across Ultramar while he muses on this.

And then there's when Angron walks up.

Some interesting, albeit a bit morbid, banter between brothers. I do like how Angron even greets Lorgar on the way in, and Lorgar is just standing there stunned. The insights into how Angron views the Devourers is also neat, and it is to be expected at this point. Lorgar trying to argue for them and trying to get Angron to stop ignoring them outright is another neat touch.

The two begin talking of Ultramar, and Lorgar reveals that Nuceria is going to be the capstone for his ritual. Angron asks why, and the following is said:

I like this passage for a few reasons. Firstly, how Angron "dreams" has always been something of interest to me. Because I doubt he ever really gets much rest and respite. Here we get some insight into this, although this also was already expressed a bit earlier. This passage also leads into Angron's recollection of the Night of the Wolf, but I wanted to focus on this.

Lorgar and Angron's "bond" is something that's always intrigued me. It definitely feels more one-sided, with Lorgar seeking for brotherhood that isn't really there, but there are a few moments to make it feel a bit more genuine. However, there is still something missing from these interactions. I can't really describe it other than a barrier between two primarchs who will never see eye-to-eye. Lorgar does, to his credit, try to be understanding and patient throughout, but I can also definitely feel his annoyance coming through at certain places.

In a way, I can almost feel a similar sort of vibe to how Magnus interacts with some of his brothers. Namely with Perturabo in one of the opening chapters of his primarch novel. However, the bond between those two is still very different from the one Angron has with Lorgar; those two actually do have a deep connection, while these two don't. There's a misunderstanding and underestimation coming from both sides in certain aspects; Lorgar in almost sounding condescending to Angron, and Angron still thinking Lorgar a weakling.

TL;DR, Betrayer good.

Image IDs below the cut:

Image ID 1 & 2: A scene from Betrayer where Lorgar is standing and listening to worlds burn. It reads:

Serving as conductor for an astrological orchestra was more taxing than he’d dreamed, though his blunter, more militant brothers would struggle to grasp the finer points of his efforts. Exhaustion left him wondering, even if only briefly, whether absolute peace would create a stellar song as divinely inspired as absolute war. Fate had played its hand and Chaos was destined to swallow all creation whether or not Horus and Lorgar raged against the Imperial war machine, but if what if they’d stayed loyal to the Emperor? What then? Would the Great Crusade have shaped a serene funeral dirge, to play behind the veil as humanity died in a defenceless harrowing?

Therein lay the fatal flaw. The Emperor’s way was compliance, not peace. The two were as repellent to one another as opposing lodestones. It didn’t matter what enlightenment the Imperium stamped out in its conquering crusade when obedience was all its lords desired. It didn’t matter what wars were fought from now into eternity. The Legiones Astartes would always march, for they were born to do so. There would always be war; even if the Great Crusade had been allowed to reach the galaxy’s every edge, there would never be peace. Discontent would seethe. Populations would rebel. Worlds would rise up. Human nature eventually sent men and women questing for the truth, and tyrants always fell to the truth.

No peace. Only war.

Lorgar felt his blood run cold. Only war. Those were words to echo into eternity.

He didn’t trust the Ten Thousand Futures the way Erebus claimed to. Too many possibilities forked from every decision made by every living thing. What use was prophecy when all it offered was what might happen? Lorgar was not so devoid of imagination that he needed the warp’s twisting guesswork to show him that. Anyone with an iota of vision could imagine what might happen. Genius lay in engineering events according to one’s own goals, not in blindly heeding the laughter of mad gods.

More than that, Lorgar sought to keep one thing in mind above all else. The gods were powerful, without doubt, but they were fickle beings. Each worked against its own kin more often than not, spilling conflicting prophecies into their prophets’ minds. Perhaps they weren’t even sentient in the way a mortal mind could encompass. They seemed as much the manifestations of primal emotion as they did individual essences.

But no, there was a wide gulf between hearing them and heeding them. Gods lied, just like men. Gods deceived and clashed and sought to advance their own dominions over their rivals’. Lorgar trusted none of their prophecies.

Image ID 3-5: A series of screenshots from Betrayer. Angron comes into the scene. It reads:

Angron entered the basilica, armoured in his usual stylised bronze and ceramite and with two oversized chainswords strapped to his back. He even wasted time with a greeting, raising his hand in the first time Lorgar could ever remember such a gesture from his broken brother. The Word Bearer tried not to let his amazement show at his brother’s new consideration.

‘Lotara says you stole her astropathic choir.’ Angron’s lipless smile was a ghastly thing indeed. ‘I see that she may have been correct.’

‘Stole is a strong word. “Appropriated” seems much less ignoble.’ Lorgar spared a glance for the skies above the cathedral, as the Lex ripped onwards towards Nuceria.

‘What do you need them for?’ Angron asked. His wounds from being buried alive had already faded to scrunched scar tissue pebbling his flesh, just another host of scarring to overlay the last.

The Devourers lurked behind him, stomping into the cathedral without the primarch sparing them a glance. To be one of Angron’s bodyguards was no honour, despite how fiercely the World Eaters’ champions had fought for it in the first, optimistic years. Angron ignored them no matter where they went, never once fighting alongside them in battle. In their Terminator plate, they’d never managed to keep up with their liege lord, and they were as prone to losing control as any other World Eater, meaning any hope of them fighting as an organised pack was a forlorn one at best.

Lorgar watched the Devourers – those warriors who’d spent a century learning to swallow their pride and pretend they weren’t ignored – speaking amongst themselves at the basilica’s entrance.

‘Hail,’ he greeted them. They seemed uneasy at being addressed, offering hesitant and wordless bows.

Angron snorted at his brother acknowledging them. ‘Bodyguards,’ he said. ‘Even their name annoys me. “Devourers”, as if I’d named them myself – as if they were the Legion’s finest.’

‘Their intentions are pure,’ Lorgar pointed out. ‘They seek to honour you. It’s not their fault you leave them behind in every battle.’

‘They’re not even the Legion’s fiercest fighters, any more. That rogue Delvarus refuses to challenge for a place in their ranks. Khârn laughed when I asked him if he’d ever considered it. And do you know Bloodspitter?’

‘I know Bloodspitter,’ Lorgar replied. Everyone knew Bloodspitter.

‘He beat one of them in the pits, and carved his name into the poor bastard’s armour with a combat knife.’

Lorgar forced a smile. ‘Yes. Delightful.’

Angron’s face wrenched again, at the mercy of misfiring muscles. ‘What primarch ever needed guarding by lesser men?’

‘Ferrus,’ Lorgar said softly. ‘Vulkan.’

Angron laughed, the sound rich and true, yet harsh as a bitter wind. ‘It’s good to hear you joke about those weaklings. I was getting bored of you mourning them.’

It was no joke, but Lorgar had no desire to shatter his brother’s fragile good humour. ‘I only mourn the dead,’ Lorgar conceded. ‘I don’t mourn Vulkan.’

‘He’s as good as dead.’ The World Eater smiled again. ‘I’m sure he wishes he were. Now, what are you doing with Lotara’s choir?’

‘Listening to them sing of other worlds and other wars.’

Angron stared, unimpressed. ‘Specifics,’ he said, ‘while I have the patience to hear such details.’

‘Just listen,’ Lorgar replied.

Angron did as he was bid. After a minute or more had passed, he nodded once. ‘You’re listening to the Five Hundred Worlds burning.’

‘Something like that. These are the voices of the freshly dead, and those soon to join them. The mortis-moments of random souls, elsewhere in Ultramar, as our fleets ravage their worlds.’

‘Morbid, priest. Even for you.’

‘We’re inflicting this destruction on them. We mustn’t consider ourselves distant from it. It may not be our hands holding the bolters and blades, but we are still the architects of this annihilation. It’s our place to listen to it, to remember the martyred dead, and to meditate on all we’ve wrought.’

‘I wish you well with it,’ said Angron. ‘But why steal Lotara’s choir? What happened to yours?’

‘They died.’

It was Angron’s turn to be surprised. ‘How did they die?’

‘Screaming.’ Lorgar showed no emotion at all. ‘What brings you here, brother?’

Image ID 6 & 7: Two screenshots from later in the previous scene, when Angron asks 'Why Nuceria?'. It reads:

‘The metaphysics are complicated,’ said Lorgar.

That had Angron growling. ‘I may not have wasted days in debate with you and Magnus inside our father’s Palace, but the Nails haven’t left me an absolute fool. I asked the question, Lorgar. You answer it. And do so without lying, if you can manage such a feat.’

The Word Bearer met his brother’s eyes, and the rarely-seen palette of emotions within their depths. Pain was there in abundance, but so was the frustration of living with a misfiring mind, and the savagery that transcended anger itself. Angron was a creature that had come to make his hatred a blade to be used in battle. He’d weaponised his own emotions, where most living beings were slaves to theirs. Lorgar couldn’t help but admire the strength in that.

‘We’re going to Nuceria,’ he said, ‘because of you. Because of the Nails.’

Angron stared, and his silence beckoned for his brother to continue.

‘They’re killing you,’ Lorgar admitted. ‘Faster than I thought. Faster than anyone realised. The rate of degeneration has accelerated even in the last few months. Your implants were never designed for a primarch’s brain matter. Your physiology is trying to heal the damage as the Nails bite deeper, but it’s a game of pushing and pulling, with both sides evenly matched.’

Angron took this with an impassive shrug. ‘Guesswork.’

‘I can see souls and hear the music of creation,’ Lorgar smiled. ‘In comparison, this is nothing. The Twelfth Legion’s archives are comprehensive enough, you know. Your behaviour tells the rest of the tale, along with the pain I sense radiating from you each and every time we meet. Your entire brain is remapped and rewired, slaved to the implants’ impulses. Tell me, when was the last time you dreamed?’

‘I don’t dream.’ The answer was immediate, almost fiercely fast. ‘I’ve never dreamed.’

Lorgar’s gentle eyes caught the warp’s kaleidoscopic light as he tilted his head. ‘Now you’re lying, brother.’

‘It’s no lie.’ Angron’s thick fingers twitched and curled, closing around the ghosts of weapons. ‘The Nails scarcely let me sleep. How would I dream?’

Lorgar didn’t miss the rising tension in his brother’s body language – the veins in his temples rising from scarred skin, the feral hunch of the shoulders, no different from a hunting cat drawing into a crouch before it struck.

‘You once told me the Nails stole your slumber,’ Lorgar conceded, ‘but you also said they let you dream.’

Angron took a step closer. He started to say ‘I meant…’ but Lorgar’s earthy glare stopped him cold.

‘They give you a serenity and peace you can find nowhere else. Humans, legionaries, primarchs… everything alive must sleep, must rest, must allow its brain a period of respite. The remapping of your mind denies you this. You don’t dream with your eyes closed. You dream with your eyes open, chasing the rush of whatever peace the Nails can give you.’ Lorgar met Angron’s eyes again. ‘Don’t insult us both by denying it. You slaver and murmur when you kill, mumbling about chasing serenity and how close it feels. I’ve heard you. I’ve looked into your heart and soul when you’re lost to the Nails. Your sons, with their crude copies of your implants, have their minds rewritten to feel joy only in adrenaline’s kiss. Those lesser implants cause pain because they scrape the nerves raw, thus your World Eaters kill because it gladdens their reforged hearts, and ceases the pain knifing into their muscles. Your Butcher’s Nails are a more sinister and predatory design, ruining all cognition, stealing any peace. They are killing you, gladiator. And you ask why I’m taking you back to Nuceria? Is it not obvious?’

End Image ID.]

#warhammer 30k #word bearers #world eaters #lorgar #angron #enjoy some betrayer folks #long post

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phis-corner · 4 years

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demon’s daughter

I didn’t expect people to like this? Here’s chapter two!

Masterlist Chapter 1 [Chapter 2] Chapter 3

“Again.” Shiva’s commanding voice rang through the training room. “Straighten your hind leg to maintain your balance.”

Three year old Marinette obeyed, launching her small body into another series of attacks on the training dummy with her fists.

“Again. Your form was sloppy.”

“Again.”

The pattern continued until she was too exhausted to hold herself up and collapsed. Shiva tutted. “Still weak. I suppose we will have to end there for today. Dismissed.”

Marinette painstakingly picked herself off the ground and made her way back to her tiny living quarters.

.o0o.

Marinette parried another strike from her trainer, unflinching as the blades clashed millimeters away from her face. Her five year old arms shook with the effort to hold the blade there, and she ducked and rolled when the strain became too much.

She turned just in time to meet another strike before knocking her trainer’s blade to the side and slashing with her own katana. They trade blows back and forth until she sees another woman with auburn hair enter the courtyard, followed by a boy that has her hair and facial features.

The moment of hesitation is enough. Her trainer’s katana slashes across her chest, tearing through her skin and flesh and definitely scraping a lung. The pain is something she has never felt before, and she had already gone through the first round of torture resistance.

It burned, and she couldn’t breathe. The last thing she sees before everything goes black is Lady Shiva’s frown, the boy’s look of mild curiosity, and the concern that flashed through the auburn-haired woman’s eyes before she stuffed it down.

.o0o.

Marinette woke in the sickly green waters of the Lazarus Pit with a new bloodthirsty voice in her head. The first healer that came to check on her was murdered with her bare hands. As was the second, and the third.

It took months to learn to control the voice, the urges to kill. When she realized she had taken another three lives, she cried, but only when she was alone. Crying is a weakness that she could not show.

She returns to her room after another day of training to find the auburn-haired woman from a few months ago sitting on her bed.

The woman introduces herself as Talia al Ghul, and tells Marinette that she is her mother.

Her grandfather is the Demon’s Head, and the boy she saw, her twin brother, Damian, is his heir.

Marinette asks why she is ranked so low if her brother is the Prince. Talia’s eyes harden.

“Ra’s is a fool. He believes that women are not worthy of power, and can do nothing to maintain it. But you will prove him wrong, daughter. I refuse to raise an unworthy child.”

Marinette trains harder after that.

.o0o.

But harder isn’t always enough.

The second time she died, it wasn’t because she was not a capable fighter.

The second round of torture resistance took place a year and a half after her first death. She withstood the pain, only letting out the tiniest whimper in the beginning, which earned her another ten lashes, but in the end, her body gave up from the injuries.

She bled out, still bound in chains, and woke up in the Pit again, the murderous voice back with a new vengeance.

Marinette accidentally took another life, but she promised herself it wouldn’t happen again. She would gain control of this madness. She would.

She refused to think of what would happen if she didn’t.

.o0o.

When she turns nine, Lady Shiva deems her worthy enough to claim her spot as the Princess of the League, and so she moved into the larger quarters, meant for the family of the Demon’s Head.

Talia was proud, but she did not outwardly express it. Marinette read it in her body, the way she was trained to.

Her twin brother was… distant. He refused to accept a sibling, refused to accept that she can be the Princess while he is the Heir. He acted just like Ra’s, the man he will grow up to replace.

Marinette supposed they saw her as unworthy not only because of her gender, but because of her deaths. She thought that Damian might have died too, had the trainers not been too afraid to kill the Demon’s Heir. She doesn’t point it out. It wouldn’t do her any good.

One month after she moved in, Ra’s demanded that she spar Damian. Talia and Ra’s bore witness to the spar.

Damian drew his katana, scowling at her all the while. Marinette remained unfazed and took her own battle stance opposite him, feeling the comforting weight of her steel war fans in her hands.

They launched at each other at the same time, slashing and parrying and slicing and dodging. Damian gives her a shallow cut on her right cheekbone. Marinette retaliates with a slice on the forehead. The spar goes on for three hours before Ra’s ends it, having seen that there will be no winner.

Ra’s was hard to please. Marinette did pass his judgement for being worthy in battle, but he would never fully accept her the way he did his grandson. That was alright by her. Ra’s was not the kind of person she wished to have the opinion of anyway.

Damian was also a lot more willing to talk to her after that spar, and Marinette finally learned what it was like to have a companion her own age, even if he was a bit arrogant and rude at times.

.o0o.

Marinette flies awake with a start, and for a moment, she forgets where she is. Wayne Manor. Father. Safe.

“Good morning, ukhti.” Damian greets, rubbing the last bits of sleep from his eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

Marinette snorts derisively, sliding easily off the top bunk and landing lightly on the floor. “Do I ever, akhi?”

Damian’s face softens. “It is still early. Would you like to spar to get your mind off things?”

“Of course.” Marinette gives her twin a rare smile. “We must change into more suitable clothes first though.”

Ten minutes later, the twins silently creep out of their room and start the hunt for the training room, exploring the Manor as they go. It takes half an hour to find the correct location. Marinette and Damian occupy opposite sides of the sparring mat as they start warming up.

Marinette relishes the pull of her muscles as she stretches, the feeling grounding her into reality. Once they finish, they settle into their fighting positions, each eyeing the other apprehensively.

Damian makes the first move, as the more aggressive of the two. Marinette swiftly dodges his fist and sends a quick kick to his chest. He catches her foot and uses her own momentum to throw her over his shoulder. Marinette twists as she falls, and hits the ground in a perfect three-point landing. She lunges again, and Damian charges forward to meet her in a whirl of fists and kicks, blocks and blows.

At some point, they notice Alfred enter the room, but he merely stands off to the side and watches, so they continue sparring. Not long after, he is followed by a lithe young woman with short black hair, a pale teen who has massive eye bags, and a familiar man with a white streak in his dark hair.

Cassandra Cain. Timothy Drake. Jason Todd. Batgirl, Robin, and Red Hood. Alfred clears his throat, and both of them part, barely even sweating.

“Is something the matter, Pennyworth?” Damian asks in a snobby tone that makes Marinette want to smack him over the head (didn’t his training ever cover socialization? Hers definitely did, but maybe that’s because she was a female.) so she does so.

Being treated as a prince from birth certainly inflated his ego. Damian glares, but does not retaliate. Good. He knows he is being rude.

“I wished to inform you that breakfast is ready and the rest of the family wanted to come and meet the two of you.” Alfred says neutrally.

Cassandra then gives them a friendly smile and a wave, while the boys stay where they are, calculating eyes roving over them. Marinette can’t really judge them for that- she has already scanned all of them for weaknesses too, though there weren’t many.

Damian sniffs. “I do not see why Father chooses to keep these imbeciles around now that he has a blood son and blood daughter.” Marinette smacks him on the head again, because his attitude is getting a little irritating.

“They are not here for you to demean, brother.” She hisses in Icelandic. “Father has deemed them family because they have proved themselves worthy. You well treat them with respect, or I will treat you the way you treat them.” Damian grumbles, but thankfully quiets.

Marinette quickly gives the others a small curtsy. “My apologies for my brother. He can be quite abrasive, but he is learning. It is an honor to meet those whom our father considers family.”

Cassandra responds first, patting each of them lightly on the shoulder, making sure to keep her posture relaxed and non-threatening. “Sister. Brother.”

Jason and Damian stare each other down, and Marinette internally sighs. Men and their need to have… what was that phrase I read online? The biggest penis energy? Jason breaks the silence.

“Damian al Ghul. Ibn al Xu’ffasch. Grandson of Ra’s al Ghul, Heir to the Demon’s Head. Never knew you had a sister.”

Damian shifts protective towards Marinette. “I learned of her existence last year.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Timothy frowns. “Grandson of Ra’s al Ghul? As in the grandchildren of the man who is not only obsessed with Bruce, but also the head of the League of Assassins? These are assassin children?”

Cassandra frowns, hurt. She points to herself. “Assassin child.”

“I’ve been in the League too, Replacement.” Jason shrugs.

“No, you don’t understand.” Timothy shakes his head. “These are Ra’s grandchildren, kids that Talia gave birth to after some questionable activities with Bruce. Who’s to say that Ra’s didn’t plant them here as moles? Why should we trust them?”

Marinette feels a pang of hurt against her will. “Ra’s al Ghul may have been my grandfather by blood, but he was never more than any other assassin in the League to me. He was the one who took me away from my brother at birth. He is the reason why I have been died twice and been revived both times by the Lazarus Pit. He is the reason why I only got to meet my twin last year, and you think I would work for him, act as a spy for him, when I finally escape the League to live with my father?”

“Whatever.” Timothy spits. “I still don’t trust you.” He pivots and walks out of the room.

Marinette reads a fear in his body language, but it isn’t fear of their skills, or fear that they might kill him. It’s a fear of being replaced, and suddenly, she understands.

“...You don’t plan on betraying us, right?” Jason asks suddenly.

Damian huffs. “Tt. Of course not, Todd. I wish to become Batman one day, and betraying Father’s cause would be extremely counterproductive to my efforts.”

Sometime during their encounter, Alfred had disappeared. Cassandra heads to the exit, and gestures for them to follow. “Come. Breakfast now.”

Timothy does not show while they eat, and neither does Father. Alfred nearly has an aneurysm when he learns that Marinette has never had chocolate (a side effect of being a low-ranked assassin) and immediately starts stuffing chocolate-covered pastries into her hands.

“I insist that you try one.” Alfred says. “You will find it quite delicious.” Marinette obediently takes a bite, and a delightfully rich flavor fills her mouth.

She has never known that food could taste so good, and says as much. Alfred’s pleased face, Damian’s small smile, and Cassandra’s grin make her feel warm inside. Evidently, there is a lot she doesn’t know about the world, but she is excited and willing to learn.

.o0o.

Marinette and Damian carry out their plan after the rest leave for patrol (sans Jason, who was still benched because of his ribs) and believe they are asleep.

They change into the darkest, most flexible clothing they can find in their room and silently slip out of the window after disabling all the alarms. Wayne Manor’s security measures are evaded with some effort, and they are out in the midst of Gotham City in almost no time at all.

Ubu has not tried to hide at all. He is entertaining two women when they burst in, already having disabled the cameras around the area just in case.

“Leave, harlots.” Damian spits at the women, as Marinette charges the much larger man. Her steel fans glint in the light as she slashes.

Ubu does manage to escape the apartment, but the twins easily catch up to him even though he runs through the traffic. The drivers don’t seem very disturbed. It must be a normal occurrence in Gotham, to see a hulking man running from two children with swords and fans.

Damian tackles Ubu, but after a half-hearted attempt at interrogation, in which the man purposefully riles him up, he raises his sword, the angle indicating he intended to kill him.

“Akhi, no!” Marinette cries, and she sees a blur of blue and black as her brother is tackled, sword flying out of his grip. She snarls, flicking open her fans and ready to hurt whoever attacked her brother, but stops when she realizes who the man is. “Nightwing.”

Richard Grayson sighs. “The psychos keep getting younger.”

Damian growls, launching himself at the larger man with a battle cry. The fight lasts about six minutes before Nightwing manages to tie her brother up, hanging from a streetlamp with a gag in his mouth. Marinette was trying to get them to stop all the while, to no avail, and she didn’t want to step in for fear of hurting either brother.

Nightwing turns to her. “Do I need to tie you up the hard way too?”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Thank you for finally acknowledging my existence. If you had actually listened, Nightwing, you would know that your offer is not necessary. My name is Marinette. My twin is Damian, and we are Bruce Wayne’s biological children. Hello, older brother.”

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Taglist: @moonlightstar64 @dast218 @our-preciousss @novicevoice @pawsitivelymiraculous @trippingovermyfeet @miyla-lokidottir @consumeconstantly @mochegato @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @azuremayscarlet @iloveitwhen @bran-thecreeper-stark @no-username2544

Permanent Taglist (always open): @wannajointhecrabcult

some of them didn’t work for some reason. I’m sorry!

note: if you asked to be tagged in either taglist, you have been added even though the fic’s taglist is closed because I am a total pushover. I probably won’t respond to your comment, but I will add you when I see it, and I’m almost always active.

#maribat #demon's daughter au #i still can't tag #my writing

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alittlewhump · 3 years

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Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 3

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: None

"Can't you keep up, ghoul boy?"

Morgan leaned heavily against the trunk of a tree, trying to catch his breath. Blaise was over a foot taller than him and much sturdier, clearly accustomed to regular physical activity. Her brisk walking pace was impossible for him to match. Traveling alone, he'd been able to set his own speed. It was considerably slower.

"No. Your legs... are longer," he panted. She grumbled something under her breath and turned away. Of course she wanted to move quickly. People generally wanted to spend as little time as possible around him. "If we slow down," he suggested, "I won't have to keep stopping." She didn't respond. "Or you could just... not go with me."

"Listen," she said sharply, turning to point a finger at his chest, "I earned my place in the Sisterhood, and I take it very seriously. I have to trust in Kashya's decisions, even if I don't agree with them. I'm going to see this through."

"Very well." He wasn't about to waste his breath arguing, not when it was still so elusive. Blaise peered around suspiciously now that she'd turned back the way they came.

"Hey, what happened to that... thing? Your monster."

He'd had to abandon it some time ago in favour of trying to keep up with the rogue. It made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable even though the enemies had been few so far, and she'd picked them off easily from a distance. She was a skilled archer. "Clay golem. It was too slow."

"I thought your kind raised the dead, anyway."

"Skeletons are faster," he said, watching for her reaction, "but most... don't like them."

She looked away, scanning the treeline. "Don't like you either, so does it matter?"

Morgan didn't know how to answer that. He decided to take it as permission. These fields were ripe with choice, layered thick with dead that had never been laid to rest. He selected two nearby specimens and filled their bones with magic, like pouring a little of himself out of a larger cup into a thimble. Blaise jumped back, nocking an arrow, but seemed to realize quickly what was going on. She scrutinized the skeletons, circling them to inspect all sides. They shuffled, restless - between the freshly renewed energy and whatever remained of their original spirits, they wanted to move. They flexed their bony fingers around the hilts of their swords, which were glowing faintly blue. It cost a little extra effort to manifest a weapon, but it was much more convenient than carrying or seeking out extra gear.

"Looks like these guys are battle ready." She gave Morgan a brief taste of the same assessing gaze. "More ready than you, anyway."

"That's the idea." He was not built for fighting. Or speed. Or much of anything physical, when it came down to it. His delicate frame and poor stamina put a damper on that sort of thing. His magical aptitude, such as it was, was his only strength.

"I mean, your sword is on the wrong side."

"What?" Morgan looked down at the scabbard on his hip, not seeing anything amiss. "I'm right-handed."

Blaise sighed, pointing. "Yeah, I figured that's why you've got your shield on the left. Your sword belongs on the left too. It's easier to draw from your opposite hip." She pantomimed drawing a blade from across her body. It did look easier than the way he'd been doing it, with less wasted movement.

"Ah. I see." He set about fixing his gear's arrangement as she watched, unimpressed.

"Do you even know how to use that thing?"

"Sharp end goes in the target," he answered. That approach had been working so far. Most creatures kept their internal organs in more or less the same arrangement, and damaging those was a quick way to win a skirmish. His constructs took care of most of the threats, anyway - he rarely had to engage in combat himself.

"Very funny." Morgan looked at Blaise questioningly. What was funny? "Wait, please tell me you're joking. Oh, for the love of-" Blaise clasped a hand to her forehead, turning away. "Perfect. I'm out here with a greenhorned... kid, and some dead guys. I hope finding this Deckard character is worth it."

"I'm probably older than you, I'm just small." Morgan always had trouble telling how old people were, but it seemed like a fair guess based on her voice and the way she carried herself. "And the skeletons... remember. How to fight. From when they were alive." Watching them was the way he'd learned to handle the sword, over the course of the month or so it had been in his possession.

"They what?"

He held in a sigh. People often didn't like this part either. "Some echo of the spirit remains in the bones after a person dies. It's stronger if they died suddenly, or weren't laid to rest. When I tell them to fight, they... fight. However they used to. Look." He commanded the skeletons to spar with each other and they sprang into action, blades clashing. Blaise watched them thoughtfully.

"Well," she decided after a few moments, "that's not as bad as I expected. Now let's get going, you've had a minute to catch your breath." She didn't wait for a response before setting off with a long, loping stride. Morgan trotted to keep up, maintaining a respectful distance. He felt cautiously optimistic. Grudging acceptance was among the best possible outcomes he'd dared to consider.

They'd had to stop for the night. Tristram was simply too far to reach in a single day, no matter how fast they walked. Few words had passed between them during that day, which suited Morgan quite well. Conversation so often felt like a maze to navigate, and he could rarely figure out the right solution. His golems responded quickly and easily to mental suggestions, not requiring any specific words to perform actions or be dismissed. It was so much simpler with them. The skeletons from earlier waited obediently for their next orders, standing guard at the edge of the camp.

Silence was easy. He'd nodded silently when Blaise declared she was stopping to hunt dinner, observed silently as she dressed and roasted the small rabbit she'd shot. Now he was eating silently from his own supply of dried meat, watching the archer oil and restring her bow. It was captivating, in a small way, watching people do things expertly. The fluidity of her actions, the balanced push and pull of her muscles as she conditioned the wood, the way the firelight cast shifting patches of brighter orange on the coppery tone of her skin.

"What the hell are you smiling at, ghoul boy?" Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. He hadn't realized he'd been smiling. He stopped. The question felt like a trap.

"I was just... admiring you," Morgan ventured. If there had been a correct answer, that wasn't it. Blaise crossed the distance between them with a few long strides and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him onto his feet.

"Listen close, you disgusting little man, because I'm only going to say this once," she snarled. "I'm here with you right now because I respect my commander. I'm not here for your enjoyment. If you want your cock to stay attached, you'd better keep it in your fucking pants."

"What? No, that's not - I didn't mean-" Morgan stammered, horrified. Had there been a sexual connotation to his phrasing? He definitely hadn't intended one. He'd have to remember not to say that again.

She gave him a shake. "Tell me you understand what I'm saying to you."

"I understand," he croaked. She released him roughly, sending him sprawling in the dirt. He picked himself up gingerly. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it." Morgan closed his mouth and averted his eyes, shrinking back. An apology would have to wait until Blaise was... less furious.

She eventually turned away. "I'll take first watch," she announced with her back to him. "Can't sleep like this."

He wasn't going to sleep either, not after that outburst. It would be prudent to rest, though. He returned to his seat by the fire and settled in to meditate. The skeletons folded down into themselves, collapsing in an orderly manner so they would be easy to raise again later. Blaise whirled around at the noise.

"What are you doing?" She squinted suspiciously at the neat piles of bones.

"Putting them away. They don't stay together very long when I'm resting."

"Resting." Morgan wished immediately that he'd chosen a different way to phrase it. Maybe an explanation would help.

"Golems need magic to hold them together. Once they run out, if they don't get more, they just fall apart."

"Uh huh, sure. 'Resting' is a weird way to say 'sleeping' if that's what you mean, though. So what exactly do you plan to do behind my back all night if it isn't sleeping?"

"Just meditation."

"Why not sleep like a normal person?"

Morgan made the mistake of hesitating, unable to decide how to answer on the spot. Blaise jabbed her bow towards him.

"I said, why not?"

"It's nearly the same thing," he explained, "just with more awareness. I don't usually sleep in unfamiliar surroundings. None of my Order do."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"I don't lie, but if you don't believe me, I can't make you." He did not look away from her gaze, though he wanted to. It was uncomfortable. But people seemed to equate eye contact with honesty, so he made the effort.

Blaise didn't look satisfied with his answer, but she lowered her bow and turned her back on him again, muttering under her breath. It would do, then. He sat in silence for a minute or so before starting to meditate. Being rested was always preferable to the alternative.

#my writing #story: unbidden

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politicalmamaduck · 4 years

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Reylo Fic Recs: Canonverse

Across the Stars by @rapturousaurora

Hugging Rey close, desperate to feel something of her, her skin against his, a lingering tendril of their once vibrant Force bond—anything—Ben only felt cold silence. Her vacant gaze stared up at the ceiling of the Sith’s Exegol stronghold.And still he felt no anger. No hate. His emotions were dominated by the almost childlike desire to fix what his lifetime of mistakes had broken—Ben wanted to fix her.

With You by @politicalpadme

Ben Solo finds the will to rise.

the shadows are whispering (again) by @thewayofthetrashcompactor

The Force has always had it out for the Skywalkers. Ben feels like he knows that better than most. Why else would it have saddled him with another curse to add to his legacy? (From birth to death and back again.)

Phantasm by @forcebondedreylo

Rey thought that she was finished with Ben Solo after Crait. She was proven otherwise when she crash-landed on a strange and dangerous planet with no way to contact the Resistance. Now Ben Solo might be her only hope of survival, if the deadly inhabitants don't get her first.

The Weight of a Soul by @ceallaigheirinn

“If he is condemned, then his soul shall be cast into oblivion,” the Mother answered. “It will cease to be. Oblivion is beyond the veil that the Force encompasses. His soul would be consumed by nothingness, and Ben Solo would exist on neither the mortal plane or the World Beyond.”

linger in the doorway (of my field of paper flowers) by @mnemehoshiko

She can't tell if she got the better deal or not. Foolish. Did you truly want to waste away in this sand-ridden hell? a voice whispers, low and soft. No, she thinks, but it would be a familiar hell, at least.

destruction makes the world burn brighter by @cosmicforces

When he was nearly within reach, he extended the blade—or was it his hand?—but everything faded to black before she was certain. Panting, she bolted upright in her bed and wiped away the sweat clinging to her forehead. She’d dreamt of Jakku again.

A New Generation by @aionimica

Ben glances at Rey and quietly asks, “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with a twice-fallen former warlord who doesn’t know what place he has in this galaxy except as a porg-mother?”

In Our Silence, Volumes by @roamingbadger

When Rey senses through their Force Bond that Ben is in trouble, she'll stop at nothing to get to him. But what if he's not ready to be rescued - from himself?

I Choose You by @shelikespretties

In the throne room, Rey proposes a counter offer.

Breakout by @leofgyth

In which Rey, Finn, and Ben break Ransolm Casterfo out of prison... for reasons.

Oh the Glory of Tenderness by @ann3onymous

Leia Organa taught her little boy how to weave stories with hair. Years later, Ben Solo weaves Rey's hair with promises.

Slipping Off Course by @fingertipstrembling

Between the birth and death of every star stretches a wide expanse of space, a thirsty maw that drinks up all the light it sees and spits back darkness. In the bowels of a star destroyer deep in that darkness, they find each other—the Supreme Leader’s apprentice and a fledgling pilot recruit who outflies and outwits him at every opportunity. Though he fights the pull of the Force, Kylo Ren finds himself reaching for Rey with nothing to stop his fall.

Like This by @kylo-wouldnt-like-those-chips

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... Peace reigns in the galaxy. Seriously. The Imperial Remnant fizzled out. There is no First Order. There is no Snoke. The worst thing Ben Solo's ever done was some light brawling. The kids are, as they say, more or less alright.Still, the Force has plans for Ben and Rey, which is how they find themselves working for the same civil rights firm, thrown together in a stakeout van.

temptations of grey by @lasthopesolo

Nightmares filled with the ghostly voice of a woman haunt Supreme Leader Kylo Ren; a constant reminder of the discord within. Terrifying dreams plague Rey, casting doubt on choices she’s made. Both find themselves stranded on a humid jungle planet in unknown territory, captured and forced to participate in a strange mystical ceremony. Rey and Kylo must work together in their journey through the jungle, facing themselves and each other in the pursuit of balance.

Wish Upon a Star by @shelikespretties

When Ben Solo exiles himself on a random planet in order to atone, he finds his mother packed him a calligraphy set. He keeps a diary of his existence, while Rey, cut off from him in the Force, tracks him down the only way she can.

Only If for a Night by @reylotrashcompactor and @southsidestory

The night the war ends is a time for victories and change. Maybe, if Rey is lucky, she can win where Ben Solo is concerned. There’s something between them, more than friendship or battle-forged camaraderie, a need that she’s felt threaded along their bond, and she’s tired of ignoring it.

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations. by @shmisolo

Ben woke, but Luke’s saber wasn’t ignited. Instead, he saw a master who had shattered his trust, who thought he was a monster, and—worse—he was probably right.So he fled Yavin IV, to Skywalker’s dismay, and no one heard from him since.Years later, on a wasteland planet, a girl and a fugitive stormtrooper board a Corellian YT-1300 light freighter in desperation to find they are not the only ones trying to steal it.

In the Footsteps of Giants by @aionimica

Post-Sequel Trilogy; Ben Solo is off in exile, accompanied by Rey. In desperate need of fuel, they stop on Naboo, but their pit stop doesn’t quite go as planned.

build a ladder to the stars by @redbelles

Kylo Ren's heart is a desert.

these violent delights (have violent ends) by @luminoustico

The news runs like a wildfire through the galaxy.Kylo Ren found something, someone, else to believe in. He gutted his master for her life. In return, vestiges of Snoke's power delivered a punishment greater than anything either the fallen Knight or the last Jedi could imagine. Together forever, eternally apart.

Luminous Beings by @hauscrashburn

In order to become a Jedi, Rey must do one thing: Kill Kylo Ren. But how can she when her heart belongs--and has belonged to him--for years now?

Midsummer Night's Shared Dream by @shelikespretties

“We’re not on an approved airfield, but look,” she held out her datapad with the map of the crash location. “Xa-Tla City is on the other side of this forest. We can make it there on foot, and, if we start now, we’ll get there before the solstice celebration begins.” Kylo lifted a mocking eyebrow. “You’d risk the spirits of the forest?”Rey scoffed. “I don’t believe in ghosts. Let’s start walking.”

Spillikin by @ceallaigheirinn

“Forgiving yourself doesn’t mean you have to forget what happened, Ben,” his mother said. “It just means you can finally let go and move forward.”

The Way to Tomorrow by @the-reylo-void

Kylo Ren faces his sentence at the hands of the Resistance: a year of off-world solitary confinement, no communication with the outside world. But it's never that easy to leave old wounds behind. Or such deeply-forged bonds.

Porgs by @tehanufromearthsea

Porgs think of Luke Skywalker as the eccentric but harmless giant who lives on their island. Life on Ahch-To can be pretty dull, so at least Luke gives the Porgs something to watch. Then another of his kind arrives, with her friends, and life on Ahch-To gets a lot more entertaining for the porgs.Then comes the invader...

The Jedi Path by @southsidestory

She’s Ben's world: the only thing he cares about, the only thing he needs, the only one who matters. That interest used to be focused on Rey's power, her talent, her fierce, uncompromising will. Platonic, if not innocent, but now—now he still loves her like a protege, but he wants her too. He wants her, and he can’t keep lying to himself about it.

Yub Nub, and a Celebration Song by @luminoustico

It starts with a forest moon, a destined clash between a scavenger and a knight, and some Very Determined Ewoks.

The Visions That Connect Us by @lariren-shadow

They've seen each other for years before they even meet. Kylo Ren and Rey have visions of the other through out their lives.

Reflektor by @reylotrashcompactor

Kylo Ren isn’t fool enough to believe that her capture was a happy accident. He didn’t believe it was good fortune, and he believed least of all that it had anything to do with the reconnaissance skills of Hux’s half-wit stormtroopers. If they have The Girl Called Rey in custody, it is because she meant for it to happen. It was because she had a plan and this was a step in executing it.

Paper Minds by @kuresoto

At the age of five, Ben Solo built his first droid. At the age of ten, he manifested and started to see her everywhere. At the age of eleven, he was sent to train with Luke. He still saw her. When he was fifteen, she disappeared. He was twenty-three when he left Ben Solo behind and became someone who wouldn’t trust blindly ever again. He became Kylo Ren. He meets her for the first time when he’s on the cusp of turning thirty. These were the events that shaped Ben Solo and in turn, Kylo Ren.

Just A Little Crush by @lariren-shadow

Ben Solo has been away from the Jedi Academy for a few years. Now that he's back he's developed a little problem his brother is keen on goading him about.

Retrouvailles by @luminoustico

Six months ago, Ben Solo was removed from Rey's side and his uncle's Jedi Academy to take up his mother's mantle as Senator, and to act representative of the Resistance. He has already claimed the reputation of a troublemaker. After Han Solo requests Luke and Rey act as Ben's security intel at a ball in Coruscant, it is underneath the pressure of galactic politics that her world and his new world collide.

Convergence by @the-reylo-void

Whatever the next steps are, I want to take them with you.

let the silver arrow fly by @solikerez

Leia plays cupid, and fires a few misshots before getting it right.

What We Do in the Snow by @reylotrashcompactor

The first time she dreamed of Starkiller, not much was different.

The Gamble by @nightsofreylo

Whenever you gamble, eventually you lose...

Matchmaker by @lariren-shadow

Bored with being a Force Ghost Anakin decides that his grandson needs some help in the relationship department. Kylo Ren isn't too thrilled at the prospect but, then again, neither is Rey.

here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true by @the-reylo-void

Here is the place where I love you.

People Will Say by @reylotrashcompactor

In a ditch effort to coax the wary members of the Resistance into accepting the prodigal son Ben Solo back into their fold, General Leia Organa requests a hefty favor from Rey. "Behind every good man is a great woman" is how the saying goes, but the man formerly known as Kylo Ren isn't good, and Rey isn't sure that any manner of hand-holding is going to change people's minds about that.

crave my heart (it's bleeding in your hand) by @mnemehoshiko

She wakes with the taste of salt on her lips and screams in her head.

Dark Matter by @arcticelves

Rey is never really alone. Even on Ahch-To, beginning her training with Luke Skywalker, she is frequently interrupted by an uninvited visitor. But is he truly unwelcome?

kept in the dark (but you were there in front of me) by @mnemehoshiko

Ben Solo is nine when he dreams of sand and darkness.

Peace and Purpose by @the-reylo-void

Across the stars, Rey and Ben yearn for each other, neither able to move on, both facing the unending nights alone. But the Force longs for balance as surely as they long for each other.

Laid To Rest by @khaleesa

Ben wants to show Rey the galaxy, to see it with her. First, they have business on Naboo.

Endings and Beginnings by @shelikespretties

Rey’s hand cradles Ben’s head before it can hit the stone floor. He’s ridiculously heavy, all dead weight, and Rey’s entire body cramps in horror before she sees the faint rise and fall of his chest. He’s not dead. He hasn’t left her. Yet. She cradles his face with both hands and sobs in relief.

What Was Lost Is Now Found by @ceallaigheirinn

With no memories of the past, his mind was nothing more than a void of vast emptiness. He couldn’t remember how he got there. It sounded insane, but he even wondered if he was actually there the moment before. When he closed his eyes, fleeting images of a metallic mask, a world collapsing on itself, the touch of a weathered hand across his cheek and a beautiful woman dressed in white flickered from the dark recesses of his mind. But none of it made sense. He had no idea what those images represented or who that woman was. Did she mean something to him? Was she an enemy, friend or lover?

a million miles (cross the ocean) by @mnemehoshiko

in which the Force tries to pay back some of the debt it owes the Skywalkers.

gift to me forever by LonelyLavenderBones, @luminoustico, TazWren, @thewayofthetrashcompactor

Palpatine has remained dead. Ben Solo followed in his mother’s footsteps and became the Senator of Chandrila, his mother training him in the Force instead of sending him to Luke. And, instead of being left on Jakku, Rey has been trained in the Force from childhood to help redeem the Palpatine name in the eyes of the galaxy's highest social circles.Now the princess of the ultimate Sith is due to make her debut, on the arm of her betrothed, Armitage Hux. But, the Force still has plans for Rey Palpatine and Ben Solo.

My own canonverse Reylo fics:

Rise

Ben Solo and Rey fake their deaths after Exegol and live their lives.

It was not Death, for I stood up

Emperor Palpatine lied on Exegol; Rey is not his granddaughter. Rey sets off on a journey, led by Obi-Wan Kenobi, to bring Ben Solo back from the World Between Worlds.

luminous beings are we

Rey and Ben survive Exegol.

the healing balance

The battle was over; the war was won. The Finalizer was a smoking ruin; General Hux’s attempted mutiny had backfired as the Resistance attacked and finally incapacitated the First Order leadership. Kylo Ren was missing, presumed dead at the hands of the last Jedi, who must have succumbed to her own injuries. Neither body was found. So said the initial official report of the aftermath.

Aggressive Negotiations

It was a shame, really, that Rey did not want her new assignment, did not want to be tempted by Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala’s grandson.

Calligraphy and Atonement

Ben Solo spends his time in exile trying not to think of Rey and keeps failing.

beam that lights the way home

The star lit their path to each other, and lit their way home together.

food for the soul

Rey struggles with new food and the knowledge that Kylo Ren is her soulmate.

you burn with me

Rey's soulmark burns when she meets Kylo Ren for the first time.

light brings forth hidden truths

Light brings forth hidden truths, and demonstrates the Force's balance.

Falling Embers

Rey takes Kylo Ren's hand after they have killed Snoke and his Praetorian Guards.

Force of Light

After celebrating the end of the war and Wookiee Life Day on the Resistance base, Rey heads out into the snow to meditate. Kylo Ren goes out after her...and learns the true reason for the season.

Wanting

Kylo Ren has wanted things his whole life.

My other fic rec lists:

#reylo #rffa writers #canonverse #fan fiction #fic recs #my writing

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mystic-shadows42 · 4 years

Text

Against the Odds {Part 17}

Warnings: Angst, Death, Language, and Violence

It should’ve been a relief to tell the truth, though it still feels like you’re carrying a weight on your shoulders.

You won’t let Hvitserk and Ivar get to you. No matter what, they’d never understand the position you were put in.

You are proud of the fact that you defended yourself successfully even at the expense of some deaths.

There’ll be more threats to come. This was just the beginning. You didn’t know if you’d even make it, but you prayed to the gods that your baby and your siblings will make it.

You couldn’t imagine anything bad happening to them. They were you purpose and motivation to keep pushing. To fight.

You and Hvitserk hadn’t talked to each other since the confrontation in the dungeons. Hvitserk was still here, he hadn’t completely abandoned you. If he was truly angry and wanted to severe ties, he would’ve done so by now.

He had at least defended you from Ivar’s outrage, but was it out for his love for you or his obligation to your unborn child?

You shook the thought away. It shouldn’t matter. He protected you when you needed him to. You were thankful that your baby was safe. That was all that matters.

Ubbe and Sigurd had remained in Kattegat. They hadn’t approached you, they simply kept to themselves. You were thankful for that. You didn’t know where their mindset was at or where they would stand with the upcoming fight.

Meanwhile, Ivar had snuck away in the middle of the night. He was crafty, finding another way out of Kattegat. He would be a threat for sure.

You only felt safe when you were around your siblings and Lagertha. She always had a smile on her face when she would look down at your growing stomach. She treated you with respect and with kind words when you felt down, thinking about Hvitserk.

Some days seemed hard without him when you were feeling sick with your ongoing pregnancy. Instead of his gentle touches and blanket of comfort his presence had over you, your siblings took on the role.

Sif would hold your hand and rub your stomach while Leif would fetch soup from the cooks.

With everything going on, Lagertha wanted Kattegat to be prepared for the upcoming attack with Katia’s father.

Everybody was helping out to defend Kattegat, should anyone attack unexpectedly. Currently you were helping out, making spears. The work took your mind off of all of the bad.

You looked up seeing everybody bustling about. From the left you saw Hvitserk headed your way. You looked back down, focusing on your work. It would be a first in awhile since you last saw him.

His feet were the only thing you could see while looking down. You tried not to get your hopes high in his presence.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making wooden spears to defend my home.”

Hvitserk placed his hand over her wrist that held the blade.

“Your hands look bad.”

He was right. You worked tirelessly making these spears. You feared the thought of wasting time. It wasn’t an option, not when lives were at stake.

“I’ll be fine,” you brushed off, continuing to slice the wood, shaping it into a fine point.

“You need to give yourself a break. There’s no need to overwork yourself.”

“The more I make the better protection we have at defending ourselves.”

He took the blade from your hand and helped you stand up.

“Let me take care of this.” As you stood up, you looked down at his hands over yours. He looked into your eyes as if he wanted to say more. You wanted him to say something, anything that’d indicate what you had wasn’t lost. “Just go home.”

He let go of your hands and sat down where you were sitting to finish your previous task. You masked your disappointment and went home.

****

The next day Hvitserk had approached you. He held your arm, holding you in place. You looked at his face seeing warpaint on his face.

“Ships have been spotted not too far.”

“They’re here already?”

“It looks like it. It’s sooner than we had hoped.”

“I’m surprised you’ve stuck around to help.”

“Despite what’s happened, I understand what you had to do. I may not have reacted that way, but I’ll make that up to you. Just know that I still love you.”

His words were touching and just what you needed to hear, especially if Kattegat was going to be under attack soon.

Hvitserk looked past you with his eyes squinting.

“What is it?”

Before you could turn around Hvitserk grabbed you and pulled you away. All of your body weight was on him as you looked where you were previously standing.

There was an arrow that was pierced in the wooden beam that you were standing next to. It would’ve been a fatal shot.

You looked around frantically trying to see who shot it when you saw those blue eyes staring back at you.

Ivar smirked when you realized it was him who shot the arrow. Hvitserk had already picked you up carrying you in your shocked state. He set you down in front of your house.

“Disguise yourself. Get Leif and Sif and hide in the dungeons. Lock the door and don’t come out unless I come for you.”

Hvitserk had some shieldmaidens escort you and your siblings into the dungeons to hide along with others who could not fight.

Everything was coming undone. Disguisers revealed themselves as the attackers. Arrows were flying everywhere from both sides. Some of the enemy boats were docking. The attackers fell into hidden ditches full of spears.

Hvitserk’s eyes followed the boats and the man who came off of it. It was Katia’s father. His men stood around him, protecting their leader.

Sigurd stood next to Hvitserk watching Katia’s father as well.

“I’m with you brother.”

“Whatever you do Sigurd, don’t go after him on your own. He’s a skilled fighter.” He knew what Sigurd was capable of on the training grounds, but he knew his weaknesses as well. He wouldn’t stand a chance against a man like Katia’s father

Before he could give Sigurd the chance to make a smart comment he went on the attack of Katia’s father’s men. He put all his skills from training into the battle.

He was swift and skilled with his sword in hand, wounding the men before the final blow that’ll end their lives forever. Many men and women will be in Valhalla today. He wished for it, but not before he sees to your safety and his baby being born.

From the corner of Hvitserk’s eyes he saw Sigurd fighting Katia’s father. He was being outmatched and was on the defense.

“No, Sigurd,” Hvitserk tried to make his way over but took a heavy punch to the face knocking him down onto the floor. From there, he saw his younger brother take a sword through the chest.

He had no time to react when the man who punched him lifted him up off the ground. Hvitserk unleashed his anger and headbutted his attacker.

Hvitserk used that distraction to swing his sword at the man, striking him dead. He then turned his attention to Katia’s father. He pulled his sword on him as he did the same.

They clashed swords. Even with Hvitserk’s experience he could feel his arms start to tire. His emotions were overcoming him. He has a lot to lose fighting a man like him.

“Your whore killed my daughter!”

“No. I killed your daughter,” the sparks from their swords blinded Hvitserk for a moment as he retreated to a defensive stance. He wanted his anger to be on him instead of you.

“I’m going to take everything from you just as you have done to me.”

Hvitserk was hit from behind and dropped to his knees unexpectedly. It was a cheap shot by one of his men. Katia’s father kicked Hvitserk’s shoulder and stepped on his hand when he tried reached for his sword on the floor.

He yelled out in pain. He looked up at the man who would take his life. The one that would take everything from him just as he stated before. He prepared himself for his death seeing the man above him pull his sword back.

All of a sudden a spurt of blood splattered on Hvitserk’s face. Katia’s father was struck dead. His body fell to the floor and Ubbe appeared behind him, wiping off his sword.

His brother saved his life. One that he was very grateful for.

Now he has to find Ivar. No doubt he’d scour the earth to find you and make you pay for mother’s death.

Tagged: @lol-haha-joke @geekandbooknerd @alexa4040 @fairyofvoid @soleil-dor @grincheveryday @belovedcherry @lordsexmachine @ahlittlelost @hey-marina

#Hvitserk #Hvitty #Hvitserk x reader #Hvitserk Imagine #Hvitserk Lothbrok #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #Vikings #Vikings Fanficiton #Hvitserk fanfiction

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smokahuntis · 4 years

Text

Mortem

mortem

Pairing : Kylo Ren/Ben solo X mother! Reader

Warnings: violence, mentions of death, depression, blood.

Summery: the Resistance uses (y/n) to get back Ben, only to regret it.

Authors note: I’m not sorry, because I loved this so... also I hit 2.k words with this so. Also! This is part 9 to my forbidden fruit series so I suggest reading that, because if you don’t this is probably confusing as shit.

Forbidden Fruit Masterlist

The resistance and (y/n) had found themselves by Mandalore, the home of the young warrior. (Y/n) was in her armor once more as she stood by her Royal TIE intercepter. Leia smiled at her as she held her grand daughter in her arms.

“He won’t be happy with you, but you have to reason with him, do you understand?” Leia asked looking at (y/n), the child pulling at the strings of leias dress.

“Yea I know,” she smiled faintly and kiss her baby’s head, “mommy will be back okay?” She said smiling at Leia. “Keep her safe, no matter the cost.”

“Of course...” she nodded.

(Y/n) put her helmet on before entering the ship once more, Kylo knew where to find her, but he didn’t expect how he would find her.

“Sir the TIE has landed in Mandalore.” An agent said looking up at Hux, he nodded and walked away to find Kylo. He found him in the throne room with troopers laying on the floor, he rolled his eyes.

“You can’t kill every trooper who try’s to help you.” He said looking at him. Kylo stood walking over to him, he wasn’t the Kylo Ren he knew, no, he was sad, broken.

“I will do, as I please.” He said snarling at Hux, Hux only rolled his eyes.

“She’s landed on Mandalore.” He said causing him to perk up.

“Let’s go to Mandalore...”

It didn’t take long to get to Mandalore since Kylo took the TIE Silencer. Once he got to Mandalore he tracked down (y/n) on a mountain away from civilization, landing the silencer not to far away. She was still in the ship waiting for him, when he stood in front of the ship she exited jumping onto the ground. He drew his lightsaber quickly as he watched her cape flow in the wind of Mandalore.

“Where’s (y/n)?!” He asked the lightsaber glowing brightly in his hands. The beskar of her Mandalorian armor chimes bright in the orange light of the sun, she reached up removing the helmet and letting it drop to the ground. Her braid fell to her shoulder and she looked glorious, and he lowered his weapon, and stared at her in awe, before his eyes met with the signet of the resistance on her shoulder.

“Traitor!!” He yelled looking at her before lunging in her direction with the lightsaber, only to be met with a purple shield fighting it off.

“You would attack me?!” She yelled holding the Kyber shield against his saber, pushing him back making him stumble back but quickly recover.

“You betrayed me!” He moved striking her shield again, she could feel the heat of the lightsaber on her hand as the shield faltered. She rolled away from him so now she faces towards the city.

“I did not come here to fight you Kylo!” She yelled looking at him, he was not the same man she knew, this, this was Kylo Ren, the man she knew was ben solo, and she wanted that man back.

“Then why do you come here dressed in the symbol of the enemy?” He asked standing straight looking at her, anger ran threw him like the lava of Navvaro.

“Because this is who I was before Hux! This is who I’ve always been!” She said but it only angered him more and he moved getting a good hit on her but the beskar held up, and she strict back at him with a blue light that only shocked him more. The lightsaber held up against his own pushing back against him, they stood straight pushing the balance of each others hearts.

“Where did you get that?” He asked looking down at her hands that held the lightsaber against him, then his eyes trailed to her face seeing her fear. He faltered for a second, but just enough for her to push him to the ground.

“You could have killed me already if you wanted to,” she said holding her hand down to him to help him up. “But you don’t want to, because this is not you Ben...” she said looking at him, he looked at her, giving in for a second but he quickly moved away standing up ready to fight.

“You do not know who I am!” He said swinging at her only to meet the lightsaber again, and again and again still she was back against the edge of the cliff looking at him, she knew he wouldn’t let her fall.

“Yes I do! I know who you really are, and this is not you!” She said, the rocks under her feet beginning to break, he used the force grabbing her and throwing her back onto the ground behind him, away from the edge. She groaned feeling the beskar cut into her skin, the rocks of the mountain cutting her cheek. She moved sitting up on her elbow as she looked back at him, her breathe shaky.

“You never knew me! I’m a monster (y/n)!”

“You are not a monster! You are just misguided!” She said standing up holding the lightsaber tightly. “What will you get from fighting me?”

“My daughter!” He said jumping at her, but she moved just in time to not get hit, but her hair did not make it, cutting it at the braid letting her hair fall around her face, cut just above her shoulder. Really looking like her old self, it all came back, she gave up on trying to defend herself. She struck him in the side and kicked him back.

“You really think the Resistance will let you have her after you kill her mother?!” Their weapons met again casting a purple glow to there faces. They pushed each other back and clashed again, fighting each other with the force of a thousand men.

“Let’s find out!” He said hitting her leg making her fall, but she rolled before he could get a final blow on her.

“Why do you stay with the First Order?!” She said standing up deflecting his attacks. He furrowed his brows at her question and she continues.

“Snoke is dead, you are the emperor, you could change the galaxy forever! Bring peace to it!” She said moving back again but he moved forward just as quick and there blades met again in front of there faces, inches apart looking each other in the eyes as the sizzle of the lightsabers echoed in there ears. “You could live without fear, you could live with your family, with Anaka...” she said. “Join me.” He pushed her back and she held her hand out. “Please, Ben.”

Her ungloved hand still shined with the engagement ring she wore, it was welcoming and he wanted to grab it, he did. But something stopped him.

His next move made her gasp. Just a slip of her armor and the pain shot threw her, she gripped his arm and looked into his eyes blinking as she felt the blood rush up threw her throat, burn at her insides. She started falling and he held her as her back met the stone ground of the mountain, of her homeland. She gripped his arm tightly looking up at him, the look in her teary eyes flipped a switch in him and the lightsaber that had founds into place in her stomach switched off and he dropped it to the ground.

“I— I loved you...” she said tears falling down her face, her lip quivered as she felt the life start to flow out of her.

Her blood covered his hands as it rested onto the wound, tears of his own joining hers. She was right, this wasn’t him, he would never kill her, he would never put her in so much pain, he loved her too, and now he’s ruined it, like everything, like the monster he was. Just as her life tethered on the edge of death, he used everything he could to hold her there, to bring her back, to save her and be able to love her one last time. Her eyes finally closed and it was like his heart stopped. His world was falling apart and it was all his fault.

“No...” he choked out threw a sob, bringing her head close to rest his. He cried over her as everything sunk in, the pain the torture he put her in, the life he brought into this world with her, just so he could take another away.

“Please, I’ll do it, I’ll be with you,” he chocked on his words as he whispered to her. “I’ll do anything.... just please....”

his hand moved to rest on her cheek pushing away the tears that had fallen there, he wasn’t sure if they were his or hers, but he knew they didn’t belong there. No tear should have ever grazed her beautiful face, no blood, no pain, just love and happiness, the feelings he took away from her. The feelings she’ll never feel again.

He widowed himself, and killed the mother to his child. Anaka had just turned 1 and she was motherless, and it was his fault. He didn’t deserve her, he didn’t deserve any of them. This should have been him laying there lifeless, it should have been him, but it’s always the kindest people who go first. He leaned down his lips grazing hers one last time.

It was gone, everything he ever had to live for, he knew after this he had no right to have Anaka, he had no right to love her after he covered his hands in the blood of her mother. He had no right to see her or hold her ever again. He was a monster, and she deserved better, she deserved the world, and he just took it away from her. Her chance at ever being normal or being loved by a good family, out the window, gone. She’d never be held by her mother again, never be able to ask for advice or learn to cook with her, or even to learn about the Mandalorians. She wouldn’t even remember her mother, or who she was. What an amazing women her mother was, how strong and kind, how powerful and independent.

He ruined her life.

But for (y/n) it was different then that, it was the feeling of never getting to hold her daughter again, never get to see Ben when they get married. She never got to give him the other children he wanted. But if this was the cost for a good world for her daughter, she’d give it up. She give up everything for Anaka to live in a peaceful world. If this is what it took to get Ben back, she’d do it, because Kylo is not the man she knew, father the name she called Ben. From the moment she met him he was not Kylo Ren, he was Ben Solo with a fake name. He was always to kind to her, so patient, so caring.

So loving

If anyone ever commented on her while she was out with Hux he would kill them later, just so no one would ever say anything about her ever again. He would stay up with her when he could, when he wasn’t to tired he’d make sure she was alright before he even thought about sleep. He would make people get her food that wasn’t available in the supremacy, he did everything for her. When Anaka was born he would stay up late with her so (y/n) could heal. He would take care of her when ever he could, he even tried cooking a few times but usually always ended up starting a fire. He was a god awful cook, but it was cute. He always tried. Because that was ben, not Kylo. Kylo was a monster, Ben was the caring man she loved, Ben was the amazing father she’d given a child to. Ben was the one who healed her.

Ben was the one who loved her.

Both of there worlds were ripped from them, until that shaky breathe sounded in his ear, starting his heart again. What was really 30 seconds felt like 30 years to both of them. He voice broke his heart, but gave him everything back, he moved looking at her face holding it in his hands.

“Ben...”

Tag list: @hxldmxdxwn @jediminddicks1000 @sarcasticbitch @supervengerslock @petalsrdead @dark-night-sky-99 @thomasscresswell @hannahistrash

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #ben solo #ben solo x reader #star wars #star wars story #star wars x reader #violence #general hux #forbbiden fruit

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loptyrs-moved · 3 years

Text

Wilted Flowers and Jilted Lovers

Rating: Teen Word Count: 2,435 Pairing: Seth Hyde/Original Character Tags: complicated relationships, lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers, making out, aphrodisiac, hurt/comfort, angst

Original Post Date to AO3: 12/01/2019

Preview: Gladiolus: Symbolizing strength and moral integrity; also represents passion and infatuation

They know how this goes, and it's always the same. They can't bring back the past. Their love is gone, and lost to memories. But Seth is a sucker... and he's absolutely hopeless. But so is she.

Sunset washed Cradle in rich red, purple and gold. The warm breath of summer had just ghosted over the land, bringing a heat in the breeze. Spring had been forgotten —as quickly as it came, it faded away. Seasons passed by.... just like fleeting affections of time passed. The forest had been their place of solace — their oasis in the desert. A diamond in the rough. But not even the strongest of diamonds could withstand the fallout that came billowing over when everything fell to pieces. And since then, their place lost the magic it once had, even though it hadn’t changed much at all. The rocks were all the same. The magic crystals still grew plentifully amidst the trees.

And for several years, a pair of former lovers met here. They quarreled. They fought. They made love here… like time didn’t slip through the cracks of their fingers all those years ago. But old habits die hard. The setting sun washed over the land, streaking the cloudless sky with pink and orange against the cerulean blue. Hushed whispers echoed in the clearing. Rustling of leaves and the shuffling of feet made this forest a familiar scene between the two lovers. And like always, it hurt more than salt being rubbed in fresh wounds.

She was pinned against one of the trees, mind hazy, nerves singing from the overload of pleasure he gave her. It was sweet… and yet each kiss stung more than the last. Hands pulled at each other desperately trying to get closer without going too far. Fingers tangled in sky blue hair, pulling him deeper into their kiss. Lips and teeth spoke the truth of needing the other more than their next breaths.

“S-Seth… we… we shouldn’t be…” a breathless voice whispered as the man holding her in his arms pressed loving, tender kisses along her neck. His teeth nipped at her, leaving the most subtle of marks against her warm, russet brown skin. Sinewy, gloved fingers dug into the fabric of his black and blue military jacket as she tried her best to keep her balance, for her legs weakened from the impending threat of giving out from underneath her. She knew better. She knew better than to seek the Ten of Spades out, since the outcome of these encounters always ended up with one of them being on the other side of a blade. Or two.

It was always the same. Either one or both of them would be hurt. Was this their punishment? Did the gods find them to be their tools of amusement? What sort of sin did they commit in the lives previous that they were doomed to continue this vicious cycle of heartbreak?

The graze of his teeth against her collarbone forced a soft moan to bubble from within her chest. “Seth…”

He pulled away for just a moment to meet her gaze. Melancholy swirled in her mismatched gold and brown eyes. They called for him. Yearned for him. The setting sun caught the specks of gold in her irises, dragging him further into their depths. How he missed this — how he missed her. He missed the sensation of her skin flushed against his, and how her chopped, messy brown hair felt like between his fingers. How he yearned for her to be at his side once again.

But alas, such selfish wishes would never come to fruition.

No matter how many times he tried to push her memory out of his head, they seemed to always linger behind, tormenting him with sleepless nights and dreams of the love that escaped him. It had been years since they parted ways. Three if anyone was counting. And in those three long, agonizing years, Seth never forgot the feelings he had for Camille Fontaine. Despite their turbulent history, he still loved her. He always would. Seth loved her more than anyone could even possibly begin to fathom.

Loving Camille was natural… like second nature. And he had a hard time kicking the habit of losing himself in the heated kisses they shared. It didn’t help that they met in the same place where vibrant red and orange gladiolus grew wild. They infected the air with their subtle scent as the wind spread their pollen across the land—a rare type of pollen that made even the most composed of people lose themselves to their most carnal desires. And the former lovers were no stranger to it.

Camille and Seth knew this part of the forest like it was the back of their hands. It was a home to memories long passed. Wildflowers once grew in abundance here. A special breed of gladiolus flourished here, making this place special. Magical even. However… like most spells, the magic fades away, leaving behind a gilded memory best left in the past. There was only the sun, shining its bright light of all the memories they should have left buried behind, casting a shadow of what they both had become now—a farce… and the angel of death.

Seth swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. His hand cupped her cheek, caressing her. “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” he said, his usual light, airy voice now hoarse with desire. There was a sadness that brewed behind twin hazel irises. “And I know yours haven’t either.” Her eyes avoided the earnest expression in his warm ones in fear that if she looked at him directly for too long, she would burst into tears.

Her heart screamed for her to tell him she felt the same, for it was the truth.

Camille never stopped loving Seth. How could she?

The love they have—had—was one that only came around once in a lifetime. But it was over… the moment she signed her life off to the most sadistic man in Cradle was the absolute breaking point. There was no way she could allow the man she loved for so long, and with every fibre of her being to be involved in the darkness than he already needed to be. She only did it to protect him. Why couldn’t he see that?

It was best if they forgot each other. It would have been better if they had never met.

But she knew it wasn’t what she really thought. She would have rather died knowing him for even just a moment than to live for centuries without meeting him at all.

She bit her lip, the sensitive skin threatening to split if she pressed her teeth down any harder. The taste of iron seeped into her mouth as blood oozed from the cracked skin. It was only to keep herself from letting the dams holding back a torrent of tears from splintering, and ultimately shattering.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Camille repeated, avoiding his gaze. Her voice was but a whisper, fearing that they would be overheard. “We shouldn’t. We can’t keep meeting like this, Hyde. ”

We don’t have the luxury to love each other anymore.

The cry of the birds echoed above as they flew above in the pink, twilit sky filled the air. They were free, soaring through the warm winds that carried them to places where it was warmer, and safer than where the lovers lost were. The sound of Seth Hyde’s heart shattering into a million pieces was like a bullet cutting through the air before it pierced its target, lodging itself deep within the flesh, and muscle as it bled with no mercy. Love was merciless. Cruel. It tore people apart. Poets sang of how it conquered all, while it was the reasons why nations went to war with each other. Love was blood splattered across the battlefield. Love was the harsh and deafening clang of swords clashing as steel met. Whoever said it would overcome any sort of conflict was a liar. A fake. A fraud. Just like the Ten of Spades.

And yet… he couldn’t help but tilt her head up to meet his tired eyes. The hint of a smile flashed in his sad, hazel irises. A thumb stroked her scarred cheek slowly. Lovingly. “You always say that, Cami. But you were also here waiting for me, weren’t you?” A hand took hers in his and squeezed. gently. Seth’s ached, and heart bled every time he and his former beloved met like this. He wasn’t a masochist, but living a life without Camille in it pained him more than anything. It nearly killed him to see her on the other side of him, threatening to kidnap the Alice that had fallen from the stars and landed in the middle of their pathetic war. To see the one he called his love fight in his name was a punishment worse than death itself.

Yet he still sought her out, wanting to rekindle things—to fix things. There was a part of them that desperately wanted things and people they couldn’t have. But just like her, he wasn’t immune to that man’s reach. Seth Hyde was caught in a vicious whirlpool, and there was no way out. They used him just as they used her for their biddings, whether it was under the guise of being a carefree and high-ranking military officer, or an assassin whose only home was in the shadows. They were two sides of the same coin, and the Jabberwock was the one deciding which one would be the other’s demise.

They could be each other’s ruin if he so wished it to be.

Camille chewed the inside of her cheek. She withdrew her hand from his. Gold and brown eyes grew cold as the sun disappeared off beyond the horizon. Night was approaching, and neither one of them could be caught out here, reliving memories that should have been discarded many years ago.

“You know why I’m here. You missed your check-ins with Dalim the last two times he came looking for you,” she said, her words sharp like the tip of her sword. “And it’s getting old.”

Seth winced. She straightened herself and slipped from his arms. The dark look on her face was one that he had grown accustomed to in recent times. The ray of hope was gone from her eyes, leaving icy cynicism in its place. “You’re wasting everyone’s time, and he’s not pleased about it. You’ve grown sloppy, Hyde, and it’s been ever since you’ve joined that little army of yours.”

Each word was a dagger, cutting into him, stabbing him — leaving his scar-ridden heart bleeding. His brain screamed for him to take her back in his arms, and hold her tight so that she wouldn’t slip away from him again. He couldn’t bear the idea of the one he called his beloved serve that sadistic monster like she was personal attack dog. But what could Seth Hyde protect? Who? He couldn’t even keep his dear sister out of their clutches, so what made him think that he could keep Camille out of their grasp.

She was too hot headed for her own good, and one day, she would fly too close to the sun and fall headfirst into her own demise. But she didn’t want his help. Camille was just as stubborn as he was. It was the reason why he loved her so much… and why he was so reluctant to let her go.

“Cami… I…”

She took a step forward, giving him a murderous glare. She slipped past him, putting a distance between them. Her hand slipped into his coat pocket, and took his written report that was long overdue, slipping another in its place. “So I suggest you get your head out of the clouds and do your job instead of fooling around. Time is of the essence. Don’t forget who you really work for, Ten of Spades.”

Words were stuck in his throat. This wasn’t the first time Camille broke his heart, but it still tore him to shreds nonetheless. He couldn’t even cry, no matter how choked up he was. Nails bit into the skin of his hand, drawing blood. He wanted to argue back with her, but how could he when he knew she was right? It would be futile now. So he remained silent as he watched Camille walk to the far end of the clearing.

“He’ll be expecting an update in the next two weeks,” Camille said nonchalantly, casting a last glance at the man she once loved. And in her eyes, Seth saw tears. If she stayed any longer, there would be no telling what would happen next. They could end up in each other’s arms… or at the opposite end of blades — like it had been for six long, painful, heart-wrenching years. But time was of the essence. And their employer was an impatient man.

“Don’t disappoint him. ”

Seth Hyde stood alone as he watched Camille disappear between the gnarled trees and all their hideous branches. Twilight blanketed Cradle. The moon was rising from where the sun sank, casting her glow on the land. The subtle scent of the gladiolus filled Seth’s nose. And it made him feel sick to his stomach. Acid rose in his throat as his chest throbbed painfully. This place was tainted. Tainted by greed. Sullied by a toxin that choked the life out of everything it touched.

He couldn’t stand to be there any longer… leaving it behind in the past… where it belonged. Tears threatened to fall as all those memories came crashing down on him with no mercy, like an avalanche. He grit his teeth. Damn it. Damn that bastard who held those he loved in the palm of his hand, threatening to crush them whenever he felt like it.

Seth shoved his hands in his pockets and a shaky exhale shook through him when he noticed a scrap of paper in his pocket. It was torn. The late report was taken by Camille when she left him in the dust, but this wasn’t part of it. And when Seth pulled it out, his eyes widened. His legs felt weak as he read the scrawl on the slip. The dams were destroyed. Tears ran down his handsome face. Hazel eyes were puffy and red, and were blinded by the torrent of overwhelming dread and fear as the words branded his brain.

He knows about us… and he’s watching. So please… let me go, so that I can let you go too. Please Seth, if you love me, forget about me. Hate me if you must. But let go of me so that I don’t hurt you anymore. Please…

#seth hyde #seth hyde ikerev #seth hyde ikemen #ikerev #ikemen revolution #cybird ikemen #fic

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razorblade180 · 4 years

Text

Skirmish pt2

“Seriously!? We can fight?” Nick’s entire mood brightened, but then immediately turned to nerves. “What’s the angle?”

Carmine lightly chuckled. She pulled off her scarf and wrapped it around her torso. “No angle, just an apology. I might not have said the kindest words to you. Also I shouldn’t ask for training help then turn someone down. So yes, I’ll fight you.”

“Simple as that huh? Okay, let me know when you’re ready to-”

“Now.”

“NOW!?” They all screamed. Carmine looked at them as if they were the weird ones and nodded. It takes a lot to actually keep her down. Lucas definitely shaved some aura off of her but she had more than enough in the tank to have another skirmish. Carmine gave them a thumbs up.

“Everything is already healed up and fighting below a hundred percent is sorta my thing.

“...”

“Not that I’m underestimating you, honest!” Carmine tried explaining. It was days like these she wished Kovu was around. He typically understood her words.

“Anyways let’s apply the same rules. Swords, semblances, and hand to hand of course. You challenged me so I picked the spot this time.”

“That’s fair. Do me a favor though and choose a place that doesn’t feel like an oven?”

“Actually, I have the perfect place in mind. You might know it.” Carmine snaps her fingers and once again The Void is engulfed by light.

When it eventually fades, the group finds themselves in castle ruins. The walls crumbled slowly and a shattered mosaic scattered light across the room.

“Mom’s battle sight.” Summer said, roaming around. “From when she killed the Arma Gigas.”

“That’s right. In my world Weiss comes here sometimes to get away from it all. Her secret stage is what Weiss calls it. Fitting place for a fight.”

Nick scanned the area. Open space, nice temperature, a certain spiritual charm to it; indeed it was a fitting spot. The others must’ve agreed because the others wasted no time moving towards the broken ceiling, taking a bird’s eye view of the fighters. “Truly a stage fit for our match.”

“I gotta say I’m starting to grow fond of that charisma of yours pretty boy. Nicholas Schnee…”

Carmine pulled out her blade and stabbed it right into the ground. Her hands rested on the hilt and she stood confidently in the middle of the room, letting her crimson aura shine brightly. “Do your best.”

He was scared. Nick didn’t want to admit it but he was actually a bit scared of Carmine at this moment. Was it because she was so calm? So unnervingly confident to the point of choosing a place familiar to his family? Nick drew his blade and looked at it.

A battle of skill huh? Let’s see what I’m made of. To be honest, I might lose instant-

“Hey stupid!”

Nick looked up to see Summer standing up on a broken support pillar. She took her sword and pointed it right at his face. “I’m watching, better not blunder or you’ll never hear the end of it!” Summer stuck out her tongue then smiled. “Kick her butt.”

As far as siblings pep talks go, that one was easily top notch. Carmine could tell Summer was calming his nerves and it had worked. Nicholas slicked his hair back and took his stance. Eyes looked ahead, chin down, back straight, right foot forward, but not too far forward. Mort Froid pointed right at her chest. Carmine couldn’t help but imagine Weiss standing before her.

Nick took one final deep breath. “Little siblings am I right? Once they want something...you gotta give it to them!”

Carmine didn’t see him move. She didn’t even see a glyph, and yet she knew deep down to raise her sword straight in front of her body. Though Carmine didn’t see him, Nick was already in front of her and crashed his blade right where she had raised it. Carmine pushed him off but Nick came right back at her with serious intent to harm. He can’t afford to play nice with an opponent like her.

Nick thrusted his blade at the tip of Carmine’s, then slashed along the middle to knock it away. He followed through the swing by aiming for her face and barely scratching her face before Carmine jumped back. Nick’s left hand flexed and created a glyph behind Carmine that stopped her escape, making her wince the moment the back of her head hit it.

Nick went to sweep her legs from the right but Carmine raised her foot and stopped it dead in its tracks. She raised her blade to return the slash to the face.

He’s open.

Nicholas made a glyph in his left hand and brought it over to the right side of his face. The glyph created the arma gigas blade and blocked Carmine’s strike. He then thrusted it forward and struck right in the middle of her chest. The force of it was enough to send her flying through the glyph that was still behind her.

Nick can’t see my movements like Lucas but he’s faster. Also he seems a bit more experienced; if I knew about the dual wielding then I might’ve asked if I could use my nightstick. But then it wouldn’t be a sword much, and I’d be too tempted to use my scythe.

Carmine manages to flip herself around midair and lands on the stained glass. She kicks off of it, right back towards him with one hand on the hilt and the other on the inside of the curved blade.

Nick crossed his swords together and blocked the attack head on, getting pushed backwards as Carmine’s body forced herself forward against his blade. They kept sliding until Nick’s body hit a wall. He gritted his teeth painfully as he tried to push Carmine back.

Pain shot through his arms and sparks came off their clash. “Damn it! Why are you so..gaaah!” Nick put a glyph under Carmine’s feet and yanked it out from under her like a rug. Carmine lost her balance. Her feet went backwards and Nick slashed upwards to send her sword flying out of her hands. “My turn…”

Nick kneed Carmine in the chin then swung both blades down against her shoulders, earning another wince. His left blade went right while the other went the opposite direction across her body, then did it again in vice versa. The others watched in amazement, except for Summer and Valerie who expected no less.

“Six hits in two seconds. Nick is stepping up his game.” Summer said, a little surprised. Her palms got sweaty and feet started to fidget. “He’s matching my speed now, that jerk. It’s like the only thing I have on him!”

Valerie wanted to comment on the numerous things Summer had over Nick when it comes to fighting but she was too fixated on the boy as well. Unlike with Lucas, Carmine was more on the defensive. Whenever she blocked one sword it meant the other was free to find an opening, and there’s always going to be an opening in a fight. Nick’s greatest strength never came from his swordsmanship, but the ways he mixed up his attacks. Even so, Carmine’s mind seemed to follow a similar thread of logic.

Nick used Mort Froid to swing down at Carmine’s body in order to force her to block, which she did right on time. He then used the gigas sword to strike right at her ribs to expend more air. A failed plan, Carmine quickly grabbed the other sword. Both simultaneously slid their right foot forward and behind each other’s left foot to sweep it but Carmine’s strength edged out Nick’s easily, sending him to the ground and ending up with the older girl’s knee on his chest.

Carmine places the sword lightly against his neck as he turns away from her. Carmine looked a little puzzled. His face was getting red. Was he upset that they did the same thing, or maybe she was heavier than she realized.

“Hey, this doesn’t hurt too bad right? Still breathing fine?”

“Yeah it’s just uhhh, your shirt.” He said, clearly his throat.

“My shirt?” Carmine looked down and realized it was hanging loosely before the way she pinned him. Nick no doubt could see straight down it. Carmine looked back at the blushing boy. He was so calm moments earlier but this seriously froze him up!? Yeah, he was definitely an Arc.

Carmine shook her head out of amazement and disbelief. “I hope you don’t get this distracted in an actual battle?” She chuckled. Carmine didn’t know why but seeing people flustered over things about her like this was always strangely adorable and interesting.

Nick pouted, “I’m way more serious when it matters! I’m even serious now in case you hadn’t noticed.” He motioned his head towards her. Carmine looked over her shoulder to see a glyph with a summoning sword aimed right at her back.

When did he-I didn’t even notice! I don’t remember seeing his hands move at all either. Even in the midst of combat it looked like Nick was always moving towards another step towards getting the edge. His parents must be proud for sure.

“You know….” Carmine bit her lip. “I’m willing to call this a draw if you don’t wanna continue?”

“Regretting not resting up?” He was a bit bitter she chose that option.

“No, I am just satisfied with things I’ve learned today and being able to fight such a unique opponent.”

“But I didn’t even get to see you use your semblance yet.”

Carmine leaned down lower and whispered in his ear so quietly that not even Veronica could hear. All of them watched curiously until Carmine finally got off of Nick and helped him up. He looked a little conflicted.

“Do we have a deal?” Carmine asked, almost pleadingly.

Nick rubbed his hand through his hair and sighed, “fine, we can put this test of swords on hold. On one condition! Show us a glimpse of what you’re really made of.”

Carmine thought about it for a moment. It would be the least of what she could do since he’s cooperating. “Okay, sure.”

“Uhh excuse me!?” Sienna chimed in. “What’s going on?

“Nick has been kind enough to let this fight be on pause in return that I get serious for a moment. Honestly the next time we fight, maybe we’ll both be able to cut loose without restrictions. I’d be honored to have a true grudge match against you.”

“I might just take you up on that. We’ll consider this the warm up then.” Nick summoned the gigas sword to his hand and picked up his actual blade. He then gave Yujin a nod that signaled the girl to pull out Carmine’s nightstick that she was still holding onto for safe keeping. Reluctantly, Yujin tossed the intriguing weapon down to its rightful owner.

“Thank you Yujin. I’m surprised you weren’t tinkering with it.”

“Could you reward my restraint by letting us know what exactly you whispered to Nick?” Her eyes got big with anticipation.

“Sorry, our little secret for now. I promise you’ll all know eventually though.”

Carmine gave her a wink before turning back to Nick; he was already back in his fighting stance. This time with a second sword pointed downwards by his left side.

“Ready when you are Carmine.”

Carmine extended the nightstick and switched her sword to her left hand. She stood up straight with her left side facing more towards him than her right. Carmine had a bit of mixed feelings about this. In now way did she actually want to have a serious fight. It was goofing around, experimenting with new ideas was interesting to say the least. Above all, Carmine didn’t want to hurt Nick in any way. Even if he only remembers this fight while in The Void, she still wanted him to continue growing. He really was starting to grow on her.

“Nick I just want you to know, after eight moves I’ll stop and ask if you want to continue. You’re a good swordsman, a great one actually. I would actually feel bad discouraging you.”

Nick could tell she wasn’t trying to belittle him in anyway, but hearing that was a bit shocking. Was there a specific reason for eight moves only? Why warn him? Did having both weapons really change things that much. This was Carmine, the girl he was actually able to hit several times.

Still he knew better than to let that go to his head. Clearly this would be a different fight. He could already tell her belief in being the strongest wasn’t all talk.

“Okay.” He nodded, slowly. “I appreciate the heads up.”

Carmine’s small smile soon faded. All that was left was near blank expression and eyes as intense as the moon behind her. Nicholas knew in that moment he wasn’t prepared, but he wasn’t about to be scared off so easily. Nothing ventured, nothing gained after all.

No one said a word, or even breathed it seemed. They were too invested in what would happen next. They wanted to know the young woman known as Carmine Arc-Rose, and what made her so different. She put her finger on the trigger of her nightstick and rubbed it slowly. The last thing Nick saw was Carmine point it behind her before a BANG!

It felt like the sound reached his ears after she did. Nick had virtually no time to even blink before those silver eyes were staring into his just a fraction of an inch away. It should’ve been over then. His body should’ve felt some sort of pain anywhere but yet it didn’t. Carmine, she didn’t attack. She only stared at him then calmly walked back to where she stood. Finally she spoke.

“The first move is free. Now then, are your nerves gone?”

Gone!? Nick felt like he might have a heart attack! Using recoil to propel movement wasn’t new in the slightest but was stupidly fast, yet she stopped right in front of him. Still, Nick had a mission. He wanted to see the other seven. He shook his body out and retook his stance.

“Seven more, right?” His voice wavered, yet his eyes held firmly to his desire. Carmine found another reason to like him. With any luck, Garnet would have half of Nick’s spirit.

“Get ready Nick…” she pointed her gun behind her again. This time he didn’t let his nerves get him and crossed his swords right in front of himself as another gunshot went off. He could only see the red tips of Carmine’s hair and her tan scarf turn into a blurry streak that went right at him.

Carmine’s sword crashed right into the guard and left a thunderous noise. She pointed her gun slightly outward from behind her and fired another shot that forced her into a spin. Her blade knocked Mort Froid away and cut right through the gigas sword, making it vanish. The momentum of the spin kept going for another three spins that slashed Nick’s chest, shoulders and then chest again. All faster than he could react to and hadn’t even begun to recover from.

Carmine didn’t give him the chance anyways. Her nightstick connected to the bottom of her sword and the actual entire blade curved down further and locked into place to form her scythe. Carmine swung it past Nick’s legs then pulled the trigger again to pull it against the back of his knees and sweep both legs into the air. Carmine quickly twirled to the right and let the scythe do a full swing tilted up that slammed into his back midair and sent him upward towards the moon.

Seven moves, just like that. Nick wasn’t sure what he was feeling right now as he stared at the moon. Time itself seemed to be in slow motion. He knew it wasn’t and yet everything Carmine just did was so fast that he might as well have been stuck in slow motion. Nick never blinked as he stared upwards, nor did he look at anyone else. His view was eclipsed however in what must’ve been a second. Carmine somehow got above him with her scythe poised to strike as she was silhouetted by the shattered celestial body behind her. Those silver eyes being the only source of light on her in this moment. So this was the difference between them, between her and everyone supposedly. This was Carmine Arc-Rose.

It wasn’t infuriating being outclassed, not like this. They were in a sense, literally worlds apart. Whatever made her this strong was unique to her in every way and yet, Nick knew that wasn’t any excuse. He was an Arc just like her, and would not falter or give in without trying his damndest!

Carmine swung straight down, aiming for the middle of his torso. An easy blow that should’ve connected, but was blocked perfectly by a glyph in that exact spot. Eight strikes, he made it through.

Carmine let out a silent gasp. Huh, he blocked me. Their eyes locked for a moment.

“Should’ve saved your free move.” Nick barely said, before finally starting to fall. Carmine grabbed the edge of the glyph and launched herself downward, catching Nick on the way down. She did a flip to readjust and gently landed on the ground. Carmine couldn’t help but look down into her arms happily to see Nick completely knocked out from exhaustion. A big ol smile right on his face.

“Not bad Nicholas Schnee. Not bad at all.”

Part 1

#rwby #rwbabies #my oc’s #yujin xiao long #summer schnee #nicholas schnee #carmine arc rose #sienna frost #jacquelyn frost #lucas belladonna #val valkyrie #lie tenzen #veronica belladonna

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dragonswithjetpacks · 3 years

Text

Voices of the Fade

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: After the events of the Fifth Blight, Alistair struggles with reality. There is still much to be done in Thedas. But he is unsure he is able to do so without his companion.

Read more on Ao3: click here.

Chapter Two: Ghosts of Lothering

Dawn had just broken. But Alistair had been awake for hours. The little sleep he obtained was quickly interrupted by the smallest sounds echoing through the castle. It didn’t take long for him to realize he would make better timing if he prepared for the morning. He rummaged quietly through his pack, going through the little maps he had and planning his route along the highway to Amaranthine. He would take the road northeast from Redcliffe that lead to the highway. It skimmed just along the edges of the Brecelian Forest and eventually to Denerim. His intentions were to cut straight into the Arling rather than follow the highway, saving some time as he was not too keen on visiting Denerim anytime soon. It was easily avoidable. Unlike Lothering.

He blinked quickly trying not to think about it any further as he rushed quietly to get his belongings together. It was not only his first time traveling alone in months... but also the first time he would be wearing blue and silver since he arrived in Redcliffe. There was no mistaking he had taken full advantage of his pardon while taking refuge in the village. He felt normal. For a change. Not that he knew quite what that was like anymore. It was a good distraction for him. Until it got quiet at night. And it was that thought alone that made him fear his journey. Bandits, wolves, even small groups of darkspawn were nothing to cause concern. But silence that made his mind wander... that was an enemy all on it’s own.

Which brought him to his worst fear. He thought about his dream the night before. About her sitting at the edge of his bed. About her touch. Her smile. It was real. And yet, there was no way it could be. Again, he dared not to think about it and cleared his throat loudly to hush his thoughts. It was time and there was not much more of it to waste. He slung his canvas pack over his shoulder all the while trying not to cause a ruckus with his loud armor. Not that it mattered because the door creaked loudly as he left his room. His next resting place would more than likely be near Lothering. And his intention was surpass it before dusk. He would need to hurry.

Alistair's impatience pushed his eagerness to an early start well before the early birds began to chirp. His armor was not only fastened, but shining brighter than the sun would have that morning. He gave no farewells. No good wishes. He simply vanished into the fog the lake sent up the cliff side. He could see the sunrise from the windmill. Before the memories of battle set in, he turned his back on it and trekked over the hills. The smell of dew and smoke made him feel nostalgic to the early days of traveling only a year ago. The only difference was that the smoke brought the fragrance of food instead of death. It was bittersweet, but it still brought a smile.

In truth, his goal was to over shoot Lothering completely if he could. But in reality, he knew the ruin would be his resting place. It was nearly a day's journey to the village. Staying there overnight was not exactly what he was afraid of. It was what he would find while he was there. In his mind there were still echoes of the dead. The thought of leaving behind so many innocent people to the hands of darkspawn. The idea of fire and bloodshed behind him as he ventured to other places as he sought peace for Fereldan. It was the only way.

But the dead was not the worst thing he could imagine. This became very clear as he spent the rest of the day venturing in silence. He could see the village clearly the way it was before; bustling with fear and shouting. The Chantry was in a state accepting and rejecting refugees as they came and went. The outer rim was filled with merchants and thieves alike. And the farms were prepping to either brace themselves or flee. As he came to the top of the highway and could see the tops of the buildings, he imagined it no other way. What he saw, however, was the worst thing that he did not imagine.

"A toll?" she questioned, her brow lowered and nose wrinkled. "You cannot be serious?"

"I'm afraid I am," the thief replied coolly.

"We are but travelers, passing by to avoid the on coming Blight."

"Your armor says otherwise."

Her gaze past quickly over Alistair. "It should say more than what you know..."

He gripped the hilt of his sword. To take from others when they were weak ... to take advantage of chaos ... to rally others with nowhere else to go ... he could not stand for it. She would not stand for it.

"You will return it all," she said, turning to him.

He unsheathed his sword. There was a flash of silver. The sound of clashing metal. A cry of cowardice. The thieves ran. But when Alistair reached the staircase to Lothering, there was no one there. There was not even a sign that anyone had been there. There was nothing but empty caravans. Collapsed buildings. And tents of recent refugees. And he stood bewildered with his sword wielded in his right hand ready to defend.

"Hey mister!" a shout carried.

The sound caught his attention. But did not quite bring him back.

"You looking for work?"

"Uh..." it took a moment for his eyes to adjust against the setting sun.

"There's a group down there. Check the board," a boy waved sitting on a mound of collapsed boxes.

Alistair looked down. Where did the thieves go? Were they even there? He swore the voice he heard... but no... the face was not... there wasn't a sign of what he truly seen. So he slide his blade back into it's case. What he needed was food and rest. Thank the Maker the boys teasing each other upon the highway was a good sign there was some sort of restoration to what used to be Lothering.

Or what was left of it. There was still a slight smell of death lingering in the air. It was a stench the Blight brought with it. That and the ichor the darkspawn left over everything. There were remnants of it still draped through the trees. The ground was stained dark, almost black, and there were bits of what looked like flesh scattered along the ground. There were buckets and wheelbarrows filled with darkspawn remains. Alistair wrinkled his nose. The land was poisoned. The taint would still remain. Many of these people would become sick. But once again... there was nothing he could do for the people of Lothering.

"We can't leave them here," her voice was just a whisper, but it was firm and desperate.

"There's nothing we can do," his voice was an echo from the past.

"Sacrifice a few to save the many," a voice he did not recognized hissed, distorting the memory.

"I'm not sacrificing anyone," she said, her eyes filled with disappointment.

"We can't make them move, Rael," he said.

"I can't just do nothing," she said loudly.

"Alistair..."

"Warden..."

"Sir..." yet another voice of a child said quietly. "Are you alright?"

"What?" he gasped, his eyes shooting open as he was staring at the ground bent over and gripping his knees. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry."

He waved the boy off, straightening his back to feel the air come through his lungs again. The intake of the foul order made him choke and he immediately began to cough. He turned to the side, covering his mouth to hide his pain from the child. His body still ached from the battle of the Archdemon. And pushing himself in Redcliffe had done him no favors. With a sigh, he slumped his shoulders. Then only to realize the boy was still staring up at him.

"You're a Grey Warden."

"What gave it away?" Alistair grinned.

"There were a lot of you here the other day," the boy said, his accent thick but obscured from his missing teeth.

"Were there?" he knelt down to the boy's eye level. "Did they stay very long?"

"Don't think so," he shrugged, suddenly becoming uninterested. "They stopped, asked some weird questions, then left."

"Left? No one stayed to help?"

"Nope," he kicked the dirt.

"What did they ask?"

"Don't know," he was getting impatient. "They went to the Chantry."

"I thought you said they asked weird questions?" Alistair narrowed his eyes, a cheeky grin slipping onto his face.

The boy smiled, showing more of his missing teeth. "They were. But I didn't understand them."

"Alright, alright," he stood up, waving him off.

The boy gave a small hop before he skipped away, making out toward the highway where the other children were shouting. Alistair looked at them, the stabbing pain of sadness clutching his insides. There shouldn't be children here. He wondered if they traveled with their parents to help. Or if they were orphans left from the Blight. The Wardens could have done something. Taken them, at the very list. He turned toward the Chantry was able to see a good portion of it since the stone wall had been partially torn down. The building itself was intact, but only slightly. The west wall had collapsed and the roof was tilting inward.

"Might as well do some snooping of my own," he sighed.

"Opposition in all things... For earth, sky. For winter, summer. For darkness, Light. By My Will alone is Balance sundered. And the world given new life... and so with this, we will remember the hard times that Thedas has always faced and overcome..." He could not help but roll his eyes. The comparison was hardly relatable, but he could understand the message. The revered mother speaking was not the same one he remembered from before. He dared not linger on the thought of what happened to the previous one. Instead, he sought the voice of one from the templar order. But it did not seem there were any to find.

"Can I help you?" a man in a Chantry robe approached him.

"I'm just looking for someone," Alistair answered.

"There are no Grey Wardens here."

Alistair stopped his wandering, meeting the eyes of his greeter.

"Surely you do not expect to be ignored wearing that?" he gestured with a nod, his hands tucked into his sleeves.

"Forgive, me Brother," Alistair shook his head. "I do not know what to expect."

The man slowly nodded as if to examine the warrior in front of him. He took a moment, as if to think hard about his response. Alistair gave him time to pause, not knowing what would come of it. But he spoke abruptly.

"My name is Evyn. Allow me to speak with you for just a moment," he said quickly and quietly.

Alistair followed him as he brushed off quickly through a door to the side of the hallway. There was not much to the Chantry left after the horde had marched through Lothering. But somehow, a majority of it remained in tact. He stood in a room, a single set of stairs leading upward to a room with only half wall, it's light shining halfway below.

"Are you with the others?" the Brother asked before the door was barely shut.

The confusion was difficult to hide, but he did his best as he thought about his next answer. The thought that Wardens would be investigating the Blight this soon had never crossed his mind. Working in Redcliffe had made him lose track of time. Thinking back, he really didn't know how long it had been. A few weeks... a month... he was unsure. But he knew the Wardens would want to examine the Wilds. If they had passed through Lothering, they had already gone into the swamp. Remembering the hut and what they could find there made his insides turn. He needed to get to Denerim.

"I am," he answered sternly. "I fell a few days behind. Weak ankles."

"You aren't far behind," Evyn chuckled at the poor attempt of humor. "They left as soon as they arrived, I'm afraid. About three days ago."

"Did they say they were heading north?" he chose his question carefully.

"They did," the Brother narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "Were you not aware of their route?"

"I usually just follow from the back. You know... because of the ankles."

"Right," his voice dropped with his smile. "Well, I suppose you'll be moving along just as quickly as they did."

"That'd probably be best," Alistair's tone dropped as well.

He felt a tension in the room suddenly tighten around his throat. Eyes darted across the room between Chantry and village folk alike. It had become obvious he was unwelcome. There was no blame to be had in his heart, however. And he left building peacefully. Grey Wardens fought the Blights, but there was nothing that said they were responsible for the aftermath. Even if he wanted things to be different, he knew nothing would change. Still... he had made a difference where he could. And that was all that mattered.

#rael writing tag #dwjp writing tag #alistair x warden #alistair angst #i redid this chapter because man the one i posted was awful #voices of the fade

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kaiju-emperor · 4 years

Text

d’Artagan (Saber) Character Concept

(d’Artagan servant outfit. Art by @angelicvangaart Thank so much for this amazing work! Please go give them your support)

One of the central characters of Alexdre Dumas’s classic ‘The Three Musketeers’. d’Artagan was a young woman, who dreamt of being a musketeer and traveled to Paris. There, she met the titular Three Musketeers, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. The four would go on many adventures together, and d’artagan would come into her own as a great sword fighter.

d’Artagan takes the form of a woman in her mid twenties, with flowing locks of brown hair. Her usual attire is the leather armor and cape of her musketeer uniform. She wields a basket hilt rapier, a parrying dagger and flintlock pistol with deadly accuracy.

d’Artagan has an easygoing and ‘rougeish’ personality. She is ‘romantic’ in the classical sense of the word, having a deep sense of honor and manners. Her tongue, and wit are sharp, offering witty quips and jibes in and out of battle. However, she knows when the time for such things is over.

As a servant, d’Artagan is a master of the blade. She was more than likely one of the greatest swordmasters of her era. She strikes with precision, and finesse over brute force. Using diversion, positioning and superior skill to win over her opponents.

(Casual d’Artagan)

Parameters

Strength:C+

Endurance:B

Agility: A

Magic Power:C

Luck A+

Noble Phantasm:A

Skills

Charisma C+:Despite not being a leader, d’artagnan has a decently high charisma stat. Her personality is infectious and she has a way with words.

Riding B+: Like most musketeers d’Artagan was trained in the art of horsemanship. She even has some knowledge about sailing thanks to her travels

Magic Resistance B: Being a saber class servant, d’Artagan is granted a high level of magic resistance.

Noble Phantasms

Tous Pour Un: Musketeer’s Bond Rank B

A secondary noble phantasm to d’Artagan’s main one. Using this power, she can call on a phantom of one of the other musketeers. They infuse her with power, each one granting a different boon. Calling upon the power of Porthos, her Strength and Endurance stat increase, allowing her to clash with opponents physically stronger than herself. Calling upon Aramis grants her keen vision, and agility. It also summons Aramis’s trusty musket, which is a low ranked noble phantasm in and of itself. Finally, by calling upon Athos, the phantom of Athos will strike alongside d’Artagan, mirroring her moves, or defending her from harm. Allowing her incredible versatility in combat. As well as the ability to stand toe to toe with servants whose skill exceeded normal humans in life.

Un Pour Tous, Tous Pour Un: Oath Of The Musketeers Rank A

The full power and form of d’Artagan’s noble phantasm. It is a crystallization of her oath, and friendship with the other musketeers. A representation of their intertwined legend. By speaking the famous oath of the musketeers, d’Artagan creates a reality marble that is an image of the Palace Of Fontainebleau. Inside of the bounds of the reality marble, she summons the full forms of her three companions Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. All three of them are full servants in their own right and their parameters are on par with d’Artagan herself. As long as the reality marble is maintained, the four will fight together to defeat their enemy. It is here that the full power of the musketeers is seen. Within the space of the reality marble, things such as authority and divinity do not matter. All are equal within. Which allows the musketeers to harm divine beings despite not having divine weapons or divinity themselves.

FGO version

4* Saber

Deck

Passive Skills

Riding Rank B+:Increase Quick performance by 9%

Magic Resistance B: Increases own debuff resistance by 17.5%.

Active Skills

Charisma C+ : Increase attack party attack for 3 turns. from 8.5 to 17%

Un Pour Tous: Porthos: Increase own attack for 3 turns from 10-20% Apply Debuff Immune for 3 turns

Un Pour Tous:Aramis: Apply evade to self for two attacks. And apply sure hit to self and gain 10-15 crit stars.

Noble Phantasm

Un Pour Tous, Tous Pour Un: Oath Of The Musketeers Rank A, Type:Arts, Anti Unit

Deals 900-1500% damage to a single enemy that ignores defense. Overcharge Increase NP gain for 3 turns from 20-40% (activates first)

Dialogue

Summon

“I have answered your call, I d’Artagan shall be your sword and your shield. Hehe, sorry that was far too formal. Let me try again. I am d’Artagan, Saber class. *leans down to kiss your hand* “Enchante, My Lord/Lady. I hope my companions and I can serve you well.”

Level Up

“ Ah je me sens déjà plus fort!” (Translation:Ah. I feel stronger already)

Battle Start

En garde! Prêts? Allez! (Translation: On guard! Ready! Lets begin!)

Battle Start 2

All For One, And One For All! (Randomly said in French or English)

Attack 1

“Advance! Hah!”

Attack 2

“Attaque au Fer!”

Attack 3

“Doublé!”

Extra Attack

“Parry! Then...thrust!”

Hit By Noble Phantasm

“Gahhh I must...endure!”

Defeat

Ah! Tou...che.

First Skill Used

Transmettre mes amis! (Translation: Onward, my friends!)

Second Skill Used

Porthos! I need your strength!

Third Skill Used

Aramis! Grant me your speed!

Noble Phantasm Selected

“It is time, my friends!”

Noble Phantasm Used

“Let me show you, the strength of our bond, of our oath. The dream of our legend! All For One, And One For All! Athos! Porthos! Aramis! Fight by my side once more!”

My Room Lines

(If you have Jeanne d’Arc Ruler/Archer) “Mon dieu! Is that Jeanne d’Arc?! I was told stories of her as a child. It is such an honor to meet her in the flesh! She is truly as beautiful and radiant as I imagined.”

(If you have Chevalier d’Eon) “A fellow knight of France! It is a pleasure to meet someone who served the country as I did! To think that there would be future knights as lovely and cute as yourself! Hahaha! No need to blush!”

(if you have Marie Antoinette) *quickly bows* “I can tell just from your beauty and countenance that you are of royal blood. A future queen of France you say? So, I was right! I do seem to have a talent for reading resplendent beauties.”

(if you have Edmon Dantes) “That man... He has a dark aura about him. I feel the pain in his eyes. What must he have suffered to have such eyes?”

(if you have Astolfo) “I’ve been spending some time with Astolfo lately. They are quite the character. On the surface they seem quite strange and lack common sense. However, deep within they truly are worthy of being a paladin of the great Charlemagne”

During an Event

“It seems something exciting is happening out there, master. A festival perhaps? Let us go and see.”

Likes

“Things that I like? Hmmm. Wine, roses, books, and poetry. But the thing I love most, are women. Eh? That last one was obvious?”

Dislikes

“Dishonorable types. Backstabbers, traitors and the like. The worst types like that however, are the ones who make women cry.”

About the other musketeers.

“You want to hear about Porthos? Porthos was a boisterous man, always smiling. He had a hearty loud laugh. He was also a bit of a dandy. Always wanting to wear the latest fashions and look his best. I never knew a man who shined his boots more.”

“Aramis was a ladies man, through and through. Despite being highly religious he always seemed to find time for women. *sighs* More than once I caught him knocking boots with the nuns of various churches. But, despite all that, he was a good and stalwart friend, and he always respected when a woman was not interested in him.”

“Athos... Athos was... He was like a father to me. He was the one who taught me how to fight with a blade. I looked up to him, and loved him dearly. But, he was also a haunted man. I often found him drinking away his sorrows. Curse that Lady de Winter...”

Bond 1 “Good day to you my lord/lady. I hope you are doing well. I’m still trying to get used to this modern place. Its a lot to take in.”

Bond 2 “Walking among these halls of heroes, I feel like I’m back at the musketeer barracks again. Just without all the drills, haha!”

Bond 3: “I was not born a noble like the other musketeers. I was a simple farmer’s daughter. But I dreamed of being one despite all that. I remember arriving in Paris, my eyes wide with wonder, and head full of dreams. Ah, sorry, I’m rambling.”

Bond 4:”Hmm? You want to know more about my childhood? Well, there’s not much to tell. I was a farmer’s daughter, as I said. I grew up in the fields of France, milking cows, collecting eggs, milling grain and so on. It was a simple life. But I don’t think it was for me in the end.”

Bond 5(if male mc): “Master, I wish to offer my fealty again. You are my king, and I your loyal musketeer. You are truly a great and kind leader. I could not ask for a better lord to serve.”

Bond 5(if female mc): “Good day, my lady. I hope you’re well. I have something special planned for us today. I’ve arranged a rayshift to the rolling fields of France. A perfect place for a romantic picnic, oui?~ Shall we, my lady? There’s no need to be shy. Take my hand, ma petite fleur~”

Bond CE: “Note From The King”

Effect: “Party Quick, and Arts up by 10% “

“I remember that day. It was many years after my friends and I had drifted apart. I had been recognized for my accomplishments, despite my common birth. I was leading France’s forces against the United Provinces. During the Siege of Maastricht, I was reading a letter signed with the royal seal. I was to be made into ‘The Marshal Of France’ the highest honor I could ever hope to achieve. I can hear the ringing of the sudden gunshot that followed. The feeling of the musket ball piercing my chest... Blood leaked from lips and I felt my life ebbing. ‘Athos, Porthos, Aramis, adieu forever....’ “

#fate #fate series #fgo #fate grand order #the three musketeers #fate oc #servant oc

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raendown · 4 years

Link

What a way to celebrate Tobirama’s birthday. xD

Pairing: None Word count: 4022 Chapter: 3/4 Rated: T+ Summary: Months after the village is built Izuna is near his breaking point. Peace is nice, don’t get him wrong, but he could do without the pale shadow that follows behind him everywhere he goes. All he wants is to understand. What the hell is Tobirama’s obsession with watching him?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 3

As a child Izuna can remember his mother teaching him a method of meditating on his own breathing pattern in an attempt to rein in his temper. It had worked to some extent then. At the moment he finds himself having much more limited success. It wouldn’t be so bad if his unwanted mission partner would only travel beside him but no matter what speed they move at somehow Tobirama always ends up just a step or two behind and it’s driving him absolutely wild.

“Have you tried some sort of rewards system?”

“Different ones, yes.”

Even worse still is that they have managed to keep up a semblance of amicable conversation for nearly the entire journey as if there is nothing more between them but the fact that their brothers are friends. Tobirama’s voice carries no hint of aggression, no undue curiosity, and there are certainly no hints of any romantic endeavors. At some point they find themselves on the topic of a child in the Uchiha clan who doesn’t pay even half the attention he should to his lessons and Izuna is vaguely surprised that his companion’s interest seems to be more for the boy than for him.

“Behavioral based or progression based?”

“What’s the difference?”

“If the child feels he is unable to obtain whatever goals have been set for him then he may not feel motivated even by the promise of a reward.”

Listening to him speak in such a bland tone leaves Izuna confused. He isn’t sure whether the man is trying to pretend his weird stalking isn’t happening or if he is merely striving for a bit of normalcy while they are forced to travel together but either way the efforts are pointless. It‘s impossible to pretend that everything is normal while Tobirama refuses to actually walk beside him.

“Huh, I never thought of it like that,” he murmurs, willing to keep the conversation up if only so he isn’t traveling in silence with an old enemy standing just behind his unprotected back. “We’ve tried to do it like that and we’ve tried to bribe him with sweets for even just showing up every day – I swear every tooth in his head is a sweet one. Nothing works.”

While his companion hums thoughtfully Izuna tries to remember if there are any other methods they have used to try and convince little Kagami to take his training more seriously. The little tyke has so much potential. Such a shame that he insists on wasting it all. If he had some other interest or passion that he were trying to pursue instead Izuna might understand, not all of their clan members are fighters after all, but at times it feels as though Kagami seems determined to simply never grow up.

A pause in the steps behind him catches his attention and Izuna turns to see that Tobirama has gone stiff, his head turned away, eyes narrowed where they stare in to the middle distance off east. Instinctively Izuna turns to look that way as well only to realize that Tobirama probably isn’t actually looking with his eyes.

“Three inbound at high speeds. Feels like Kaminari no Kuni shinobi.”

“Gods, how powerful is your sensing?” Izuna grumbles, loosening his sword in its sheath.

“More than I ever allowed the Uchiha to discover.” Tobirama’s gaze flicks over towards him and there is something dark hidden there before he looks away. “An oversight, perhaps, that I have not seen fit to share my true abilities with our new allies.”

“Right. Let’s take care of this and then we’re having a nice long conversation on exactly what you’re capable of.”

Before there is time for any sort of reply their new company arrives, flitting in to the treetops above them and pausing to assess the situation. Izuna takes a good grip on the handle of his favorite sword, tightening his fingers one by one, counting breaths just as his mother taught him.

In, out, one. Three opponents, one male and two female.

In, out, two. A sword glimmers in the hand of one female, something heavy and club like in the hands of the male, close combat fighters.

In, out, three. Large chakra stores burn almost tangibly in the air around the third, clearly a distance fighter, he will need to keep an eye out for whatever jutsu she has up her sleeve.

He never gets to four breaths. From behind him Tobirama explodes in to motion, charging the woman nearly bursting at the seams with her own chakra. A low hiss cuts the air just before the man leaps in to defend his companion. Izuna rolls his shoulders and acknowledges that he has been left to face the woman bearing a sword to match his own, the perfect opponent. Out of all the spars he has enjoyed with many and varied people since moving to Konoha very few of them have been able to match his skill with a blade enough to offer a proper challenge. In a strange way he almost misses his battles with the man he is currently fighting alongside if only because he worries that without Tobirama to face he might lose his edge.

Sparks leap between their weapons and Izuna realizes that he has moved out of habit without even consciously deciding to, sword leaping to hand and meeting the one aiming for his neck. For a single heartbeat they struggle, brute strength against brute strength, then the woman twists and dodges back once she realizes that his bulk outweighs her own. Rather than allow her the time to think up another angle of attack Izuna hefts his sword and watches her respond with a snarl of frustration. Good. That means she is off balance and an opponent who has no time to think is an opponent he can easily beat.

Only sharp reflexes stop his blade from cutting through the wrong flesh, pulling up a mere instant before he would have pierced Tobirama through the side as his mission partner suddenly appears between them to deflect his opponent’s blade. Then he is skipping away again with a snarl of his own. Izuna floods his eyes with chakra just to take in the expression of something almost like desperation on the man’s face. His reputation being what it is, revealing his greatest battle advantage has the added benefit of causing his opponent to hesitate. Not many people who know what it can do are stupid enough to attack an active Sharingan straight on and Izuna is oddly glad to see that his opponent is not stupid. Easy kills are no fun.

As Tobirama is pressed back by his own two assailants Izuna rushes in to keep this one busy. He can’t afford to let her find her bearings; he learned the hard way when he was younger to never underestimate how many tricks your opponent might have up their sleeve. She might seem like her skills barely match his own but he has no way of knowing what tricks or seals or the like she might pull out at a moment’s notice.

Neither does he have a chance to find out, as it happens. Each time their clash looks as though it might be about to get interesting Tobirama appears between them. At first Izuna accepts that he simply needs to dodge quite a lot while trying to face a long range and a short range fighter at the same time; keeping up with two different styles means keeping on your toes. It isn’t until his Sharingan focuses in on the pair chasing his partner around the field that he realizes both of them are downright ragged looking. One bleeds from several places and the other looks just on the verge of an asthmatic attack so out of breath are they. In contrast Tobirama looks tense yet still in good condition.

So if it’s Tobirama that is leading them around by the nose rather than the one getting chased why on earth does he keep dashing in between Izuna and his own kill? There’s a whole forest here to move around in.

Annoying as it is, the trained shinobi in his soul can’t help but admire how quickly Tobirama moves from place to place, how seamlessly he manages to insert himself just in time to deflect whatever attack Izuna is about to meet and then dance away again as though he’d never been there. Whatever else he is there can be no denying that he’s a skilled fighter. The problem is trying to figure out what the hell he is up to.

It simply doesn’t make sense, Izuna thinks as he takes his opportunity to bull in close and drive the woman back with a rapid flurry of attacks. Weeks and months of stalking that Izuna has been interpreting as some lingering form of aggression. Now suddenly the man is jumping in front of him in battle. Has he been making observations leading him to the conclusion that Izuna’s skills have diminished somehow? That certainly makes more sense than the ridiculous rumors of forbidden love, although it’s also wildly more insulting. Yet even that theory includes enough gaping holes that he can’t quite believe it either.

By the time Izuna finds an opening to drive his blade through his opponent’s neck and watch her gurgle out her last curses on the forest floor he is equal parts curious and livid. Tobirama dispatches of his own two assailants only a moment later as though he has merely been playing with them as some morbid excuse to remain occupied. He waits just long enough to clean his sword and slide it back in to the scabbard across his back, then Izuna is marching across the torn clearing to take the collar of his old rival’s armor and drag them face to face, oddly unsurprised that he is allowed to do so with no resistance.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he growls. “I’m not so softened by this stupid dream of our brothers’ that I’ve forgotten how to defend myself! I had that covered!”

“Your skill was never in question,” Tobirama murmurs. He looks entirely calm, unruffled, and that only irritates Izuna further.

“It sure as hell feels questioned with you babying me like some genin out on their first run! If you think I need to polish a few things then say it to my face, damn it, quit treating me with kid gloves! I didn’t need it back home and I don’t need it here!”

Composed as he ever is, Tobirama fails to react in any satisfying sort of way. He fails to so much as blink while Izuna screams in his face but there is one thing to be gained from overreacting. From this close – perhaps the first time they have ever been so close outside of battle – it is plain to see the well of something dark and deep in those red eyes so like the Sharingan, something that brings ice crawling up Izuna’s spine though he can’t yet define what it is. It’s enough to snap his jaw shut and make him step away to watch quietly as Tobirama turns, murmuring again that they should press on to their destination.

An uncomfortable mixture of anger and confusion with shades of worry twists itself into knots inside Izuna’s belly, keeping his mouth shut for the rest of their mission, speaking only when it is absolutely necessary. On the journey home he can feel the back of his neck itching with Tobirama’s eyes almost every step of the way but he holds his tongue for fear of what else he might see in that unwavering gaze.

When they make it back to the village the first thing they do is make their report to Hashirama, of course. Madara joins them and together they remain sequestered for over an hour discussing the results of their goodwill efforts. Despite his attempts to appear nonchalant Izuna is fairly sure the clan they were visiting with had noticed some tensions between himself and Tobirama but in a strange way it had actually worked out in their favor as their hosts seemed to be impressed with how well they function together anyway. Talking about that without making a big deal of why exactly there had been some friction in their unity is difficult. Izuna is more than glad when finally they have said all there is to say for now and he is able to drag his brother off towards home.

Madara puts up a good act of wanting to stay and finish his work. He fools no one. Not even his workaholic tendencies are enough to keep him from spending a bit of quality time with his favorite sibling – although Izuna does notice the man tucking a few scrolls in to his sleeve before they depart. It gets him out the door, however, so no comments are made until finally they are making their way through the gate leading in to the Uchiha district.

“I can’t figure out his angle,” he blurts, too eager for another’s opinion to bother with context.

“Who, Hashirama?”

“No! Don’t be an idiot, that tree is as transparent as glass with his intentions. I mean his gods damned brother!”

Humming contemplatively, Madara pulls a bit of hair forward to fiddle with. “Wouldn’t having him forced to travel with you sort of negate the stalking? I know you didn’t want him along but I thought it would be nice for you to at least drag him out of the shadows.”

Rather tempted to pull at his own hair, Izuna takes several breaths and counts them before he is able to form a reply through the flash of temper.

Thankfully his brother has the good grace not to interrupt as he recounts everything that’s happened while he was away. His description of the way Tobirama seemed to constantly find his way between Izuna and his opponent during their battle brings a crease to Madara's brow that only deepens as the story goes on. Slowly making their way up one of the side streets, a shortcut towards their home, he tosses the chunk of hair he is playing with back over his shoulder only to grab another and start again.

“Strange,” he rumbles. “Very strange. I honestly have no idea what the hell this is all about.”

“I know that it’s ridiculous but I just need to hear someone else say this out loud: please tell me it’s not plausible that he’s actually fallen in love with me somehow.”

“Plausible, technically yes. Probable, a very strong no.”

“Oh thank the gods.” Izuna slumps with relief to finally have another confirm his thoughts.

After rolling his eyes Madara slips right back in to thoughtfulness. “There’s something about this that just doesn’t quite sit with me the right way. I know it would make the most sense to say that he still doesn’t trust you, that he’s been following you to keep a close watch or whatever, but for some reason I just can’t make myself believe that. There’s no other evidence of that in any other behavior.”

“Yes, thanks, I didn’t quite notice that for myself.”

“If that’s how you’re going to behave then I don’t see why you started talking about it! Go jabber at someone else if you’re just going to be all snooty about whatever I have to say!” With a sniff Madara turns up his nose and quickens his steps.

While Izuna isn’t entirely sure how he ends up being left alone outside he isn’t all that surprised either. The two of them share like tempers after all. Madara is as given to hissy fits as he himself can freely admit to being. He follows behind at a slower pace and lets himself in to the home they share, nodding at the shoes kicked off haphazardly at just the right spot where they might trip him up if he weren’t already expecting to see them there.

Madara is angrily plugging in their fancy new electric kettle when he enters the kitchen and slumps down in to the closest chair, blowing out his fringe with exasperation.

“Done being a baby?” he asks bluntly. Madara crinkles his nose.

“Fuck you.”

“You’re still thinking about it. I can practically see the gears turning in your head.”

His brother pauses in the act of pulling down two cups with the continuing thoughts he doesn’t bother to deny spilling out over his face. “Obviously I am. I keep trying to think of some other reason he might be doing this but nothing comes to mind. If it’s not that he doesn’t trust you and it’s not that he has some sort of romantic whatever–”

“Kami please no,” Izuna interrupts with a shudder.

“–then he clearly has some other special interest in you but I am honestly stumped. If it were almost anyone else I might go so far as jealousy except the two of you have always been so closely matched that I can’t see either being jealous of the other.” Madara jolts himself in to movement again, reaching for the tea leaves, but continues speaking even as he measures them out. “I would have considered that he was trying to learn something specific about you too but for the fact that he hasn’t been shy about asking for any other information he’s wanted on our clan.”

“Which is a lot of information, actually.”

“Hm. I guess. No more than we’ve asked from the others, though, and nothing that he’s asked for has been any more suspicious or invasive than the things we’ve asked about the Senju in turn.”

Izuna rattles his nails against the hardwood table. “Do you think that could be it? Maybe there’s something he wants to find out but it’s inappropriate or he knows we won’t want to share whatever information he’s after.”

He waits with as much patience as he can muster while the other tosses that idea around but even as he speaks the words Izuna himself realizes that probably isn’t it either. Tobirama might be a sneaky bastard on the battlefield and more than capable of subterfuge when it’s necessary during a mission but in daily life he has shown himself to prefer as direct a route as possible to whatever goal he has in his sights. Finally Madara pushes both teacups towards the kettle and leaves it to boil as he comes over to sit at the table.

“No,” his brother says. “That just doesn’t sound right either. And the worst part is that I can’t say why it doesn’t sound right. It feels like there’s something nagging at the back of my brain, something important that I’ve forgotten. Like a missing piece of the puzzle.”

“Would your friend know anything do you think?”

Madara blinks. “Hashirama? He might. It would be worth asking if he’s got any idea what crawled up his brother’s ass.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be going over to their house for dinner tomorrow night?” Izuna rattles his fingers again but this time it is less with frustration and more to express the satisfaction of the stars aligning just for him. He is further pleased to see his sibling lean back with widening eyes.

“I am going to dinner, yes. He asked me over because both Tobirama and Mito are supposed to be busy and he wanted company. We’ll be all alone.”

“You couldn’t wish for a better opportunity to ask a few questions,” Izuna purrs with satisfaction.

When the kettle begins to whistle they turn the conversation towards other things. Spending time together after being apart – even if for so short a time – is only one of the ways they maintain such a tight bond between them. Even here in another home the shadows of the siblings they have lost echo around every corner, chased away only by the warmth of knowing that Madara will always stand beside him against whatever the world might choose to throw at them.

After a while, however, he finds other thoughts wriggling in, thoughts that Izuna knows he is above and yet he can’t seem to push them away without addressing them. Tracing the rim of his nearly empty cup gives him something else to look at as he fills the lull that has fallen naturally in their conversation.

“Can I ask you something?” He waits for the curious grunt before going on. “Why don’t you seem more worried about this whole Tobirama situation?”

“What do you mean?”

“If there was someone following you around all the time I think I’d be a lot more freaked out about it than you seem to be. Not that I’m angry or making any accusations! It’s just…odd. You’re usually so overprotective it’s hard for me to even flirt with anyone.”

“Hn.” Madara bunches his brows together as though mildly offended by the insinuation that he might not care. “I guess I just don’t feel any ill intentions from him. Something in my gut tells me that he hasn’t got anything bad up his sleeve. The way he interacts with you – hell, the way he interacts with all the rest of our clan – I just can’t bring myself to believe that he’s after anything terrible. I guess I was just unconsciously acknowledging that I don’t believe you’re in any sort of danger.”

Somehow that only increases the dread pooling in Izuna’s gut.

“If he doesn’t have any bad intentions then the kami only know what else he could have in that twisted brain of his. Ancestors watch over me.”

While his brother snorts and gently teases him for being so dramatic Izuna lets the words drift by him without actually listening. The entire reason he’s been wanting to go out on a mission is to get away from this situation with his old rival and just clear his mind a bit. Now that he’s been denied that opportunity and come home only more confused in the aftermath he realizes more than ever that he needs a night to just relax, to let everything else fade away until his mind is empty of all worries. And what better way to achieve that then a night on the town with someone he can trust to be entirely disinterested in whatever drama he’s gotten himself embroiled in this time?

“You gonna be okay on your own tonight?” he cuts in through whatever the other is saying. “I think I’ll go see if I can drag Hikaku down to one of the taverns for a few hours.”

“Don’t you have work to catch up on tomorrow?” Madara asks.

“I’m not going to get drunk or anything, don’t worry, I’m not that stupid. Just thought it would be nice to unwind for a while.”

Even as he nods understandingly Madara puts one hand to his chest and exclaims in dramatic fashion, “Because you’re just so stressed with all the work you do, of course. Helping to run a village, keeping both eyes on a walking tree, achieving your lifelong dreams. Oh no wait, that’s me.”

“Fuck off,” Izuna calls cheerfully over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the room, deliberately leaving the teacup behind for the other to clean up after him. Pettiness is just another family trait.

With any luck Hikaku will be as willing to indulge him as his aniki is. Izuna reaches back to pull the tie from his hair and run his fingers through it. Perhaps a bath is in order first to wash the dirt of the road away, he probably still smells like the rivers they’ve been trudging through. Unpacking can wait for tomorrow. If his cousin doesn’t want to come out then he fully intends to bully his way in to the other man’s home and find something there to help him get his mind off of things. Tobirama can remain a problem for another day just once more.

Tomorrow his brother will speak with Hashirama and ask their questions. Tomorrow, he hopes, they will have answers.

#rae writes #tobirama #izuna #madara #fanfiction

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yetanotherauthor · 5 years

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A gift for @writhingbeneathyou :D

Pairing: HashiramaTobirama Word count: 7628 Rated: E Summary: As an alpha uninterested in finding a mate and even less interested in examining why, Tobirama has long decided he would rather spend a lifetime following his beloved older brother.

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Where I’ve Always Belonged

Sometimes Tobirama felt a little silly applying scent before battle. He was already an alpha, no one would ever know the scent was natural rather than applied if he skipped perfuming himself. But a tradition was a tradition and if his father had ever been right about anything it was that a shinobi could never have enough precautions. If all the omega in their clan had to apply scent to hide themselves then the alphas would do it too; no enemy would ever be able to tell the difference between who was actually an alpha and who was merely hiding their true dynamic.

From an early age he had taken his cues from the older brother he idolized, readying himself for war in his own room, a private time that he allowed no one to intrude upon. Some things are learned without questions and from watching Hashirama he learned that battle preparation was a very personal ritual. Today he stared at himself in the mirror and wondered how the world would change now that he only had one other alpha he needed to bow to. Bending his spine for Butsuma had always been a challenge no matter that the man was his own father and deserved a certain amount of respect for being the leader of their clan, if nothing else. With Hashirama it was different. In all his years Tobirama had never once felt threatened by his older sibling and it made coexisting in the same house much easier between them.

Perhaps he should have been more saddened by his father’s death a few weeks before but Tobirama had lost most of his familial affection for Butsuma the day he attempted to strike one of his own children over the freshly dug grave of another. Without the man around Tobirama found himself only glad not to clash so often with another alpha who may have equaled him in strength but surpassed him in authority only by virtue of having taken power before Tobirama was born.

Now he had only Hashirama to follow and Tobirama would follow his beloved Hashirama anywhere. Even in to battle with the Uchiha where he knew his brother would seek out the one he insisted on calling friend so many years after Madara himself had declared their friendship ended. Checking himself over one last time to make sure he had all the weapons and seals he typically carried with him, Tobirama stepped out of his room and moved down the hallway to rap his knuckles against Hashirama's door. The importance of respecting a person’s private space had been beaten in to him at a young enough age that it didn’t matter how long Butsuma lay in the ground, Tobirama would probably never let himself in to another person’s room without knocking for the rest of his life.

“Are you ready, Anija?”

“Just a moment!” The sound of Hashirama's harried cry made him roll his eyes. If ever there was a time to put his best foot forward it would be now while his position as leader of the Senju clan was still a bit rocky. Inheritance was one thing but there were several alphas who saw an opportunity for themselves in a young untested heir.

“You should be ready before anyone else,” Tobirama called through the door with a shadow of disapproval in his voice.

He listened for the huff he knew was coming and then Hashirama was throwing open the door to stick a tongue in his direction. “I just forgot something okay!”

“Sometimes I swear you would forget your own skin if you weren’t wearing it.” Tobirama shook his head and turned to leave, Hashirama scrambling after him and already wearing a pout.

“Would not! I mean, I’d be bleeding all over the place and there would be so many muscles and bones exposed; even I couldn’t miss something like that.” He grinned in triumph as though making the final point in an argument. Tobirama blinked at him slowly and decided he simply looked too happy to fight with.

Hashirama got out of many arguments by looking happy. It was a weakness Tobirama seemed to suffer only for him and it was, in a word, embarrassing. No hardened shinobi should be so weak to a simple smile.

Together they left the house and made their way towards the front gate of the Senju compound where Hashirama took point at the head of their forces and Tobirama stayed where he had always belonged, a single pace behind to watch his back. Where he had chafed at his position of third in command when their father was head of the clan he was perfectly content to remain second in command so long as it was Hashirama in front of him.

Battle that day was much like any other. Lives were lost, blades were crossed, blood was spilled and sworn over. Hashirama made straight for his lifelong rival to hold his might at bay and spout the benefits of making peace between them for the hundredth time. Despite being rebuffed each of those hundred times he persisted with no sign of having his enthusiasm lessened in any way. Of all the annoying things in life that had to be one of the ones Tobirama hated the most, although he’d never been able to pinpoint exactly why it should bother him if Hashirama wanted to waste his breath yet again. It wasn’t like he didn’t spout the same crap to everyone else he met as well.

In the end the battle culminated as it always did, with no clear victor only because Hashirama still refused to bring the full force of his might to bear against the people he believed to be as tired of war as he was and as ready for peace if only the one leading them would finally agree. Madara stood true against his opponent until the last of his people had quit the field. Then he spat at Hashirama's feet with a sneer and told him to stop dreaming of rocks. Those who understood the epithet only sighed.

Tobirama happened to think his brother was foolish to keep chasing such an impossible dream but that didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing the sadness on Hashirama's face as he led their people away from the same scene that had played out so many times. If he could give no other comfort then he could at least give the man a few moments to himself after yet another rejection, leading their people away and heading the march back home. Hashirama caught up to them when they were halfway there, bumping shoulders with his younger brother and offering a smile as a silent thank you. No other words were needed.

“A victory, I would say,” Tobirama noted.

“Can it ever truly be a victory when there have been lives lost?” Hashirama asked.

“We’re shinobi. It comes with the territory.”

“It shouldn’t have to be this way, though.” When he looked over Hashirama had leveled a devastating pair of puppy eyes at him.

Tobirama was having none of that. “Don’t preach at me, Anija. You know very well that while I am more than willing to go along with whatever direction you lead us in I also have less than zero faith in the idea of making peace with the Uchiha. That is your dream, not mine, so don’t come crying to me unless you want me to say I told you so again.”

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Hashirama pouted.

“And I don’t have to be nice about it either. The benefits of having a forgiving brother.” Lifting both of his eyebrows, Tobirama dared the other to challenge him. He was smugly satisfied to see Hashirama's nose shoot up in to the air. No comeback; not a surprise.

When they returned to the compound it was a relief to let Hashirama deal with the debriefing and reporting to the elders while Tobirama himself was allowed to slip away. Even with only two people left in their now too-big house there was still hot competition for who got to bathe first on any given day. If they were still young boys they might have bathed together and done away with any fights on the matter but Tobirama could vividly remember the exact day when Butsuma decided they were both getting too old for that. Hashirama had been sick through the night and Tobirama wanted only to help soothe the older boy, maybe wash his hair for him since he enjoyed it so much, but he was turned away at the door and cuffed around the ears as he was told that boys their age should respect each other’s privacy in these matters. They had bathed separately ever since.

Slipping in to the hot water was an almost euphoric experience, as it always was for him. Water being his element meant that he was happy to submerge himself in any sizable body of it at a moment’s notice but hot water was always an extra pleasure. As soon as he sat down he could feel the tensions of this never-ending war slipping away to leave him almost entirely free of worries. Today’s clash had left him with no open wounds but several new bruises and relaxing in a bath was just the thing to help loosen his limbs so they wouldn’t cramp when the bruises muscles began to throb.

By the time he emerged from the natural pool their house had been built around he felt ready to face whatever idiocies the rest of the day had to throw at him, cleaning the water as he left after his hour of languishing. If pattern held he would probably make time for another quick soak before bed for no other reason than that he wanted to but for now he decided to have mercy and allow Hashirama a turn to soak away the grime of sweat and blood.

As he suspected, that familiar woody chakra emerged from the room across the hall as soon as he slid his own door shut and headed straight for the bathing pool. Tobirama smiled as he dressed himself in a plain yukata, delving in to the calm of having his precious person close just to keep up his own relaxing good mood. Something must have been bothering Hashirama though because, instead of the usual happy lassitude he always seemed to carry, his chakra was laced with a strange frenetic energy that tasted like worry. That couldn’t mean anything good.

It was just strange enough that Tobirama stayed in his room instead of going out to speak with one of his many cousins about whipping them up a few meat pies for dinner as he had planned to. That could wait until after he’d made sure nothing life-ending had come up during Hashirama's meeting with the elders. Only the gods knew what kind of madness went on in the minds of those old coots.

To allow for some respectful distance in case talking would have to wait awhile, he pulled his senses back in to himself and set about puttering around his room to keep occupied. Mostly he read through some of the correspondence waiting on the desk growing out of his floor, drafted a few replies, poked at a few of the trade requests the Uzumaki had sent them. All things that needed to get done anyway so he could justify waffling around in his room until he was needed. Once or twice he got up to clean some trifling messes that didn’t really need cleaning yet until finally his patience was rewarded by footsteps down the hall and a light rapping at the door. Without getting up he turned in his chair and called for Hashirama to enter but when he did Tobirama frowned.

“Why did you send a clone?”

“I, uh, whatever do you mean?” A beaming smile tried to distract him but he only frowned.

“You’re not the original. I can always tell.”

Hashirama let out a nervous smile and poked the ends of his pointer fingers together. “Ah, haha, how can you tell? I have the same chakra!”

“Because I can’t smell your clones.” Tobirama stood up slowly to approach the clone with a suspicious face. “Which you know already. Are you in your bedroom? I’m coming to see you; you’re being strange and I want to know why.”

“Wait! Hold on! I wanted to talk to you before you go in my room! It’s important!” The clone hurried after him but Tobirama ignored it and continued on his way.

Seeing that it was hopeless trying to stop him the clone puffed out of existence to give his original at least a little warning. A quiet squeak sounded from down the hall only a moment later and Tobirama rolled his eyes. For all the work he had put in to creating a jutsu that would allow him to create his own solid clones he still had no preference for communicating with one. It felt wrong speaking with someone and not being able to smell them, knowing that whatever he was sensing might not be what the person was truly feeling at the moment. It felt duplicitous.

Just before he reached the door he heard a bit of quick scrambling that made him roll his eyes as he knocked, opening it at his brother’s call to find Hashirama standing in the middle of the room with his body language all but dripping with nerves, not something he had seen too many times in his life.

“Anija,” he greeted the man slowly. “Why are you sending clones instead of talking to me yourse-…your…is there someone else in here?” Before he could even get through one sentence Tobirama stopped dead, nearly bowled over with the most incredible scent he’d ever gotten a whiff of in his life. It was undeniably omega and entirely unfamiliar.

“No one is in here but me,” Hashirama said and Tobirama huffed, taking another step in to the room.

“Do you think I can’t smell that? There is definitely an omega in this room. Have you found some kind of seal to conceal them from view or are they under your bed?”

“I promise! There’s really no one here!”

Tobirama took another step forward but the denial that someone must have just left in that case died on his tongue as his attention was redirected. With every step closer to Hashirama the scent grew stronger. Logically that must mean that a strange omega had come in to contact with him. Tobirama was well aware that sniffing another person’s scent off his brother was the absolute height of poor manners but he found he couldn’t quite stop himself, not when the smell was this enticing. Hashirama had never cared about personal space anyway.

Leaning away from him, Hashirama giggled nervously again.

“Um, so, this is what I wanted to talk to you about so before you do anything–”

“It’s you.”

“What?”

“The smell, it’s coming from you. Not like it’s on you but as though it’s coming from your scent glands. Why do you smell like an omega?” Pretending he was only drawn in by the mystery absolved him of a lot of the awkwardness that came from stepping close enough to shove his nose right up against Hashirama's neck, breathing deeply and fluttering his lashes closed.

Something inside of him shifted like an awakening, primal and eager, encouraging him to take another deep inhale and shuffle closer until their bodies were almost pressed flushed against each other. From this close he could hear every shuddering breath rushing passed his ear yet instead of making him leap away with shame as he normally would it only made his blood pound harder. With a light quiver in his voice Hashirama began to babble.

“Please don’t be mad at me! I – I didn’t want to keep it a secret! Father made me keep it a secret from everyone but he’s gone now and…and…Tobi?” Swallowing thickly, unaware of the fact that the motion of it had definitely caught Tobirama’s attention, he went on. “Of course he thought I would present alpha and everyone else did too but when I didn’t he said I would have to pretend to be the son he deserved. He made me wear scent everywhere I went and a different scent for battle to keep up the lie but he said I couldn’t even tell you because the more people who knew the more likely it was for the secret to get out and – Tobi are you listening to me?”

“You smell…so good.”

“Oh. Thank you? I mean it’s – you smell nice too. You always do.”

It was the way his voice came out small and hesitant that cut through the fog in Tobirama’s mind, pulling him back just enough for his hindbrain to recognize that this was his brother before him.

His brother whom he had grown up believing was an alpha and yet never felt threatened by in any way, the brother who now smelled like the most enticing omega he had ever met, the brother who had apparently had the wrong dynamic forced on him since the day puberty hit in what was probably a very confusing and terrifying first heat with no other omega there to help him through it. Their mother, he recalled, had been away on a mission when Hashirama fell sick.

Were he in full control of his faculties this would surely have been a much more overwhelming revelation but at the moment the only thing he could concentrate on was the incredible scent. In all his life he’d never felt more drawn to an omega before. Generally he tended to look upon other alphas with scorn for having so little control over themselves and yet here he was unable to convince himself to step back. The fact that this was his own sibling might have made him jump away if he were a Hyuga or something, one of the clans known for rejecting sibling mate pairs, but the Senju had always believed a true imprinting should be pursued no matter what relation you were to each other.

Of course, if the match were too closely related the omega usually volunteered for sterilization to prevent harm to the next generation but that was a whole other basket of worms. It didn’t happen very often anyway. And that was definitely not what he wanted to be focusing on right now.

“I always smell–?”

“Just because I had to apply scent to cover my own doesn’t mean my nose didn’t work anymore.” Hashirama flushed, obviously trying to say something else with his words.

“Okay.” Tobirama frowned. For once his head was too muddled to read between the lines. All he wanted was to bend his neck and press against the source of that glorious fragrance again. His eyes slid down against his will to linger on the brown expanse of skin before him, so tempting, and now that he was thinking from new angles he noted for the first time that Hashirama's neck had a very pleasing shape.

What the hell that meant he had no idea, only that he suddenly could think of little else but that neck.

“Can I…I promise I’m not trying to be weird or anything but…”

“You can do anything you want to,” Hashirama told him in a breathy voice.

Tobirama took him up on that. In an instant his face was buried in warm skin and his hands had found their way over broad hips before he’d actually given the movement any thought. Surprisingly – or he supposed not too surprisingly considering the pheromones mixing around them – Hashirama moved placidly wherever he was asked to and made no complaints about being held tightly against the alpha so intent on taking in his scent.

“Feel like I should have figured this out on my own at some point,” Tobirama said distantly, mostly thinking about how he could have experienced this euphoria a long time ago if he weren’t so blind.

“Ah. I had to…um…” Hashirama shifted against him and purred a little when the arms around him tightened. “I guess my habit of ignoring social boundaries was kind of helpful. And most people still don’t expect an omega to be stronger than an alpha so…”

“Hiding in plain sight. My clever Anija.”

“Clever. Wow. You don’t usually call me that.”

Tobirama smiled through the fog. “Because usually you’re a dunderhead.”

“Hey!”

“But right now you are a clever little thing and if you don’t push me away I am going to embarrass us both.”

Completely subverting his expectations of a mortified shriek and strong arms pushing him away in panic, expectations that were quite reasonable when one considered who he was standing with, Hashirama fairly melted against him and tilted his head just a bit to one side, exposing a little more of his neck in what was clearly a submissive manner.

“Why should either of us be embarrassed if it’s something we both want?” he questioned.

“That sounds dangerously as though you’re asking for something I truly would not have expected you to be interested in,” Tobirama mused. In retrospect he could guess that the clone had been intended as a way to break the news to him before he had a chance to react in such an animalistic nature, something he’d taken to mean Hashirama didn’t want them to act on these base, instinctual urges.

“Are you interested in…those things?” Hashirama's overly hopeful tone left him with an entirely different impression than sending the clone had.

“I suppose that depends; we should probably make sure we’re on the same page here.” Drawing small circles with his thumbs in an instinctual effort to keep the omega calm, Tobirama bent his head down to slowly draw the tip of his nose up the side of Hashirama's neck. “This is alright?”

He knew his answer by the muted whine that slipped out before his brother could say anything.

“Yes, alpha.”

Tobirama bit his lip to contain the rush that went through his body. He never thought he’d be the type to get turned on by such base and simple words. Apparently he was as much a slave to his own body chemistry as everyone else but it was hard to be upset with himself for such weakness just then. It was much more interesting to graze his lips over the hammering pulse calling out to him like a beacon.

“And this?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. And what about…this?” Tobirama parted his lips and let his tongue dart out for just a little taste, instantly craving more. “Is that alright too?”

Fairly shaking in his arms with the effort to stay still, Hashirama whined again. “Yes, alpha. Yes please.”

“So kind of you to be so polite,” Tobirama purred in approval. Feeling bold with so many positive responses, he scraped his teeth along the jugular vein and down across the man’s shoulder until he heard a desperate mewl and Hashirama clutched at him suddenly.

“Don’t tease, Tobi. Alpha. My alpha? I want – please?”

“Oh, am I teasing?” The lightness of his tone contrasted sharply with how badly he wanted to sink his teeth in and claim the omega before him but he got a laugh when Hashirama let out a small huff of frustration. Knowing how much it usually took for his brother to reach the end of his rope, Tobirama felt a little smug that he could get such a reaction with only a few not-enough touched.

“I am not above begging if that’s what you want,” Hashirama groaned.

Knowing the man was actually serious about that very nearly brought Tobirama to his knees but he stood strong and finally let the restraints fall away to take what he could now say for sure they both wanted. Pheromones flooded his mouth as well as his nose like a mind-bending cocktail the second he dug his teeth in to thick muscles and brown skin. Hashirama arched against him with a shuddering cry and Tobirama had never felt so powerful in all his life.

Not the sort of power one wields on the battlefield or in political circles, something to be brandished as a weapon, no. This was the much more heady power to give pleasure to another and until this moment he had never realized the euphoria therein. Having Hashirama fall to pieces in his arms from a bit of nibbling and a few light draws of his tongue along whatever skin he could reach made him feel as though he could touch the sky and yet it wasn’t long until this wasn’t nearly enough. There was so much more he could do, so many ways he could please the omega in his arms, and he found himself grinning as he tried to imagine what his brother would look like in the throes of ecstasy.

Gorgeous, obviously. How could he have never realized the connection between them?

Slowly leading the both of them step by step over towards to the bed, he thought to himself that it suddenly made a lot of sense why he’d never been all that interested in mating with any of the omegas who presented themselves to him. Even without being able to smell what was hiding underneath the false alpha scent Hashirama had used, it was obvious something inside of him must have recognized the true match that had been right under his nose all this time. With how rare they were many still believed in the misconception that imprinting had no element of choice. Tobirama would be thrilled to tell anyone who asked that both of them still had a choice and Hashirama had obviously chosen him a long time ago; he was only too happy to choose the same in return.

Instead of tumbling them both down on to the mattress when they reached it Tobirama paused and rooted his brother to the floor with one look they both knew from many missions together meant he wanted the man to keep as still as possible. Waiting to make sure Hashirama was going to follow his order, he took a single step back and reached between them to pick at the knots on both of their obis.

After the well-worn cotton of their yukatas slid away to puddle on the floor they were both left bare to each other’s eyes, each man devouring the other with a singular kind of hunger that left Tobirama wondering how he hadn’t figured out his brother’s secret before. Looking was quickly followed by touching of course. Tobirama guided his brother down to the bed and soothed the heat between them with long swipes of his hand over the planes of that glorious chest, tracing every line he could see, then dipped his head to taste them. His omega mewled and arched in to the touch.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped against warm skin, tongue laving at the ridges of sinful abdominal muscles.

“Anything alpha is okay with,” Hashirama whispered back. His eyes were closed and his face tilted up as if praying to the gods above them but he gasped and looked down when Tobirama nipped at his skin.

“Now is not the time to be coy. I asked you to tell me what you want.”

Layering his voice with the authority of an alpha made his partner quiver with want, writhing under him and whining as he tried to ride out a sudden wave of lust while Tobirama watching without shame for enjoying the sight. And what a glorious sight he made. Hashirama was resplendent as he bucked and squirmed through his mental battle against two decades of habit pushing his own needs down until finally he blurted them out with little grace.

“I want alpha to claim to me! Please, please fuck me Otouto!”

“Fuck. Yes. I can do that.”

Tobirama wasted no more time. Having his own desires practically shouted at him might not have been exactly romantic but romance was quite far from his mind at the moment. All he could think about was the way Hashirama's cloying scent thickened and grew more potent with every touch, more enticing by the second.

As large of a man as his brother was his bed was still fairly small, barely able to fit its single occupant. With two of them on the mattress space was rather crowded but Tobirama found this worked to his advantage as it gave him more excuse to stay close while he skimmed a hand down the outside of Hashirama's left leg to grasp at the ankle. He fitted himself in to space made when he folded the man’s leg up, spreading tanned thighs as easily as he might spread the pages of a well-loved book, and reveled in the sensation of all that skin pressing against his own as he leaned forward to bury his nose in the source of the pheromones that were driving him so wild.

It almost felt as though he were viewing the world through a haze as he licked and tasted all the skin he could reach, drunk on the melody of Hashirama's helpless pleas for more. He had only just realized his own disappointing lack of lube when he found a bottle of it being pressed in to his hands as though he needed more proof that the two of them worked perfectly together. Hashirama swelled with pride when he murmured praise for thinking so far ahead.

Pulled himself back enough to squeeze a bit of lubricant in one palm was almost a physical pain, separation when he wanted nothing more than to burrow himself closer, but he managed because easing the way would stop him from causing any pain and to hurt Hashirama would only hurt himself in return. No omega deserved to experience pain when a joining like this was supposed to bring them only pleasure and safety. And Hashirama more than anyone else deserved pleasure and safety. Forced to conceal his true self since the moment he discovered it, it was nothing short of an honor to be the first one trusted with a glimpse of the person he was always meant to be.

Shifting back up the bed, Tobirama nuzzled at his brother’s jaw before taking his lips in a kiss to distract from the fingers reaching down between them. Hashirama bucked at the first touch against his entrance, a soft keening sound escaping as one finger slipped inside. Almost immediately the older man began to buck his hips as he tried desperately to get just a little more friction but Tobirama held strong, refusing to go any faster than he thought his brother’s body could handle. Clearly if he had been hiding his dynamic for this long he was untouched, his inexperience obvious even in the way he kissed, and rushing in to things would only end with pain.

Which, obviously, was an unacceptable outcome. If Tobirama had his way his omega would never experience pain of any kind ever again for the rest of his life.

Hashirama keened loudly to be finally gifted with a second finger and despite the red painted across his cheeks in embarrassment he made no move to silence his own noises, for which Tobirama was grateful. Keeping his own needs in check was made easier knowing that he was making his partner feel good. In that moment – for the rest of their lives – the most important thing in his world was the need to make sure his partner felt safe and happy.

“More,” Hashirama panted below him. “Want- need more!”

“Patience, Anija. You can be patient for me can’t you?”

“I-! Yes. Yes I can be patient. I can be whatever alpha asks me to be.”

Tobirama hummed and ducked his chin so his brother wouldn’t see the flutter of his eyes and how ridiculously affected he was by those words. He busied himself with the distraction of two pert brown nipples just begging for his tongue and his teeth, riding the wave as Hashirama writhed under the dual stimulation. From the startled cries he gathered that the man had never thought to explore this part of himself before and discovering yet another first he was blessed to give sent a thrill right down to his toes.

Adding a third finger only increased the glorious sounds filling the air around them. Really two fingers was probably more than enough considering Hashirama's body would have instinctively prepared him to accept his new mate but Tobirama was nothing if not cautious and he wanted to do this right.

When finally he slipped his fingers out and reached down to coat his own length with the lubricant Hashirama was keening with almost every breath and begging senselessly as he panted, not even seeming to realize he was doing so. Despite having asked the man to be patient Tobirama allowed himself a moment of pride to have pleased his mate so well before reminding himself not to get distracted. Right now was not about him. He could preen later.

“N-now?” Hashirama gasped and Tobirama couldn’t help but to lean down and kiss him.

“I certainly can’t wait any longer,” he murmured. “Be a good omega and turn over for me, yes?”

Hashirama's answer was to execute a perfect flip in the limited space between mattress and mate without even bothering to ask for a bit of room to do so. When Tobirama did move away a few inches Hashirama immediately pushed his face in to the bedding and lifted his hips high, presenting shamelessly. The sight of him was so arousing that for a few moments all Tobirama could do was stare in wonder.

As soon as he recovered he was crawling forward to drape himself over the other man’s back, curling to press every inch of their bodies together that he could. He rutted in to the cleft between his brother’s cheeks and inhaled deeply of the scent that had first called his attention to the potential hiding right under his nose for so many years.

“Mine now,” he whispered, as mindless as the whimper that slipped from the body under him.

When he lifted himself away Hashirama cried out as though in loss but Tobirama soothed him with a few strokes down the length of his spine and at the same time grasped himself with his other hand, lining up with the entrance waiting so eagerly to be filled.

Pressing inside was the sweetest heaven, an exquisite nirvana unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Unlike what he had expected in the base act of copulation, it was not the pressure around his length that made him stop and take a deep breath to control himself, although he would freely admit that did play a factor. It was instead the sensation of utter completeness and rightness as he made himself one with the mate he was always meant to be with, the one he had imprinted on the moment he finally took in Hashirama's natural scent. With their bodies together he was whole in a way he could not describe but it was an instant addiction.

He was hardly surprised to hear the man underneath him give a weak protest as he shifted his hips to pull out slowly. Nor was he surprised when driving his hips forward again in a steady rocking motion dragged echoing groans from both of them as they were made whole once again. If not for how much he cared for his partner Tobirama knew he would have been completely lost the moment he took up a proper rhythm, such was the pleasure that left him so beyond words.

Rather than losing himself he leaned forward and braced his weight on the bed with one hand, the other reaching forward to weave between Hashirama's fingers where he was gripping a handful of cotton as though his very life depended on it. Then Tobirama bent a little further until he could sink his teeth in to the delicious brown neck peeping out between curtains of silky brown hair.

With a lewd sound the likes of which he wouldn’t have thought the man capable of Hashirama thrashed, instinctively trying to shove himself further back on to the cock filling him. Following his most primal drives Tobirama snapped his hips again and closed his eyes to enjoy the symphony playing just for him. Their rhythm was broken and hurried, nothing like he had ever imagined love-making would be, but it could not have been more perfect. Every shift of weight and twitch of limb was accompanied by new and enticing sounds drawn from Hashirama like he couldn’t help himself, every thrust met with a roll of tanned hips at just the right angle to have Tobirama snapping his own just a little harder, and he would not have changed a thing.

As much as Tobirama wanted to say it felt like forever and not enough at the same time, as much as he wanted to fall victim to the romantic clichés his brother loved so openly, he was at his core a creature of habit and he knew exactly how long had passed by the time he felt his knot beginning to swell. Draping himself a little farther around Hashirama's body was an instinctual response he didn’t bother fighting. He may never have indulged in physical pleasures before but he understood his own body well enough that he knew exactly what to expect when his thrusts grew shallow and his omega began to whine.

“Please,” Hashirama pleaded mindlessly. “I want it!”

“You’re sure? There’s no need to rush, we’ll have plenty of time to-”

“Please, alpha! I want- I need- just please! Don’t make me beg!”

Tobirama pressed his forehead against the nape of his brother’s neck and flashed a grin unseen. “You said you were happy to beg,” he felt compelled to point out. “But how could I say no when you ask so prettily?”

Having grown to adulthood as an alpha he was more than aware what a knot was and what it was for. He’d been given the mating talks when he was younger and he understood what it meant to knot an omega, not to mention now. What he hadn’t been told but really should have expected was the way it felt. Tobirama could feel every last reserve of dignity he had left shattering inside him and bursting out as a sharp cry when he felt his knot pressing inside for Hashirama's body to clamp down around him, both of them immediately giving in to the convulsions of a spectacular orgasm, clinging to each other and rutting mindlessly.

Unsurprisingly, Hashirama was the first to settle in to minute shivers and fall as still as possible while his limbs struggled to hold him up. He whimpered yet again when Tobirama rutted in to him once more.

“We’re gonna be stuck like this, aren’t we?” he asked between gasping pants. Eyes still clenched shut as he rode the continuous waves of pleasure that came with being knotted inside an omega, Tobirama grunted and pressed a few kisses to the back of his partner’s neck.

“For a while,” he panted back. “Are you okay? I tried not to hurt you but I – nnnh – I lost control for a bit.”

Hashirama's eyes were dopey and glossed over with exhaustion when he turned to smile happily around one shoulder. Just looking at him made Tobirama’s heart skip several beats, his entire being suffused with the sudden need to protect and pamper this gorgeous, precious creature he was blessed to be mated with.

With that in mind he very gently began maneuvering them both on to their sides as best he could while their bodies were locked together, trying hard not to be too obvious about the aftershocks still running through his system. He’s read in a book once that an alpha could experience several orgasms during the knotting and until now he’d always thought such rumors were utter nonsense. As Hashirama squirmed against him he rethought his stance on what constituted nonsense. Nothing should hace the right to feel that good.

“Otouto…”

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” Tobirama asked worriedly.

“Could you hold me a little tighter? Everything is…so much more perfect than I ever imagined.”

“I can do that.” Touched, he did as he was asked and shuffled his arms to hold more of his brother’s massive frame between them.

The two of them curled in to each other as best they could, weaving their hands together and clutching tighter whenever another wave of shivers ran down Tobirama’s spine. It was hard to believe that only a couple of hours before he hadn’t even known his brother was an omega and now they were mated, a bonded pair for the rest of their lives. Not in his wildest dreams could Tobirama have imagined someone more perfect for him than his own older brother.

He had, in point of fact, long contented himself with the idea of following his brother for the rest of his life without actively seeking a mate of his own, entirely devoted to whatever his Anija asked of him. To have happiness handed to him as a reward for his efforts and to know that he would make his brother even happier in return was more than he could have ever asked for.

“I guess we can’t really keep it a secret that I’m not an alpha now since I’ll smell different, being mated and all.” Hashirama made no effort to contain the joy in his voice to say it out loud and it made Tobirama smile a little wider.

“Are you okay with everyone knowing?”

“Even if I wasn’t there’s really no going back now.”

Humming in agreement, Tobirama nudged that back of his partner’s neck. “You knew didn’t you? You imprinted on me a long time ago.”

“Yes. I hope you’re not mad. Not telling you was…it was really hard.” Turning his head, Hashirama looked over one shoulder again with the echoes of a deep yearning in his eyes. “Sometimes I would be sitting right next to you and I would miss you. I don’t know how else to explain it. But it was lonely because I wasn’t allowed to say anything about being an omega so I definitely wasn’t allowed to tell you I had imprinted on you as soon as I went through puberty.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this alone,” Tobirama murmured softly.

They didn’t speak for a short while after that. When they were finally able to separate Tobirama pressed his brother gently down on his back and insisted on fetching some damp cloths to clean them both up himself. He made sure to keep his touches as careful as he could in the hopes of conveying even a fraction of the love and care he felt for the man he was granted the chance to pamper. If he had his way there would be a lot more pampering in the future. Actions had always been easier than words for him. Only when they were both clean and he had fetched a clean blanket from his own room to pull over them did he finally lay back down.

With their arms around each other, face to face on the single pillow they were sharing, the two of them passed a moment simply taking each other in and letting the reality of everything that just happened settle. In different ways this would both change everything between them and yet also change very little. Tobirama lifted one hand to trace his brother’s face, thinking to himself that he couldn’t wait to discover those changes together.

“Mate,” he whispered, rolling the word around on his tongue just to enjoy the sound of it. “I promise that I will try to be everything you need of me.”

“You always have been,” Hashirama told him.

“Mn, even when I angered you? We’re rather infamous for having different viewpoints.”

“You have always been everything I could ever ask for and more, so much more than I deserve. When we see things differently that just means you’re helping me think from a new angle I wouldn’t have considered on my own!”

Tobirama huffed. “I should have expected you to be so kind. Now shush, let me hold you for a while. Sooner or later someone is going to come along and demand your attention for something, they always do, but right now you belong to me and only me. I intend to make the most of the time that I can.”

“Oh my. I…I like that.”

“Like what?”

Hashirama grinned sheepishly. “Hearing you lay claim to me like that. I liked it. It feels very nice to be wanted.”

“You are always wanted,” Tobirama murmured gently and his partner melted against him with a happy purr.

As promised, he tightened his arms to squeeze them together and then loosened his grip to let them both lay comfortably, eyes closed and bodies sprawled in complete relaxation. Never in his life had Tobirama been more grateful for his own sensing capabilities. If he weren’t a sensor he would not have been able to feel Hashirama’s turmoil earlier, he would not have been able to tell he was speaking with a wood clone, and who knew if he would have ever truly discovered the euphoria waiting for him just down the hall. What a mediocre life it would have been to never have Hashirama by his side in the way he was always meant to be.

Forever.

#yetanotherstory #hashitobi #abo #fanfiction

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xelinielx · 5 years

Text

Wednesday - A JadeRoxy pirate AU one shot

This story is for my friend @tentiginouslogophile (Jade) whose birthday is today!! I failed at drawing pictures to this so you’ll have to settle for a short story heheh. It’s a bit messy because it’s hard for me to find motivation right now, though I really wanted to give you something today. I hope you’ll like it anyway. Happy birthday again! I love you!! I will probably rewrite this when I get my motivation back so it will be as great as you are 💕

Warning: contains a lot of fluff, the striders being dumbasses and implied smut.

Out of all the pirate ships sailing the Sburban sea, two stood out and were renowned as led by the scariest captains by all who saw them - but their crew wouldn’t agree.

Pirate captain Roxy Lalonde on the Mutie was actually one of the most absent-minded people on the planet. If they were born in the 21st century, her crew would have likened her with the pirate captain Jack Sparrow from the pirate movies, and Roxy would find that absolutely hilarious.

She was a good captain though, despite not always acting like one. In battle, she was a scary blur of swordstrokes, and she had gotten the nickname The Cat from her enemies. They all saw her as a terrifying force of nature, but her crew, who had more than once seen her throw up over the edge of the ship and fail to pet their aggressive ship’s cat, didn’t agree in the slightest. There was only one pirate brave enough to fight her.

Captain Jade Harley.

They had been fighting for as long as they could remember, always chasing each other and trying to beat the other. Today was the day they would clash again.

Jade Harley was seen as eccentric by her crew. She was brave, fast and had no hesitation in throwing herself in dangerous situations when needed. Also when not needed. That’s why her crew felt more like babysitters most of the time. “No captain, diving from the top of the mast is not a good idea in this storm.” “Captain, if you try to steer the ship through that gap it will sink.” “JADE FOR FUCKS SAKE DON’T TRY TO SHOOT THE SEAGULL WHILE WEARING A BLINDFOLD!”

Her enemies called her The Witch. She appeared out of practically nowhere with her ship, cannons firing rapidly. In the harbors there were people spreading stories about how she must have contacted Feferi the fabled Sea Witch and sold her soul for power.

The first time Jade heard those stories, she’d laughed so hard that she got the hiccups and couldn’t talk normally for the rest of the day. After that, she of course made sure to scream some long difficult words that sound like a spell to spur the stories even further when she fought the crews who dared oppose her.

Jade kicks the door to her quarters open with a well-aimed strike and steps out onto the deck, striking a grin. “Good morning everyone!” she exclaims and puts her captains hat over her unbrushed mess of black hair.

“‘sup Jade!” Dave calls out from atop some barrels where he’s sprawled out, eyepatches over both eyes. He was supposed to be the lookout but he was usually too lazy to do so. He also never wanted anyone to see his eyes, so he looked rather comical with the eyepatches.

“Is it Wednesday again?” Rose, the first mate asks and rolls up the map she was analyzing. Jade saunters over and smacks her hands on the table with a huge grin.

“It sure is! Let’s go to that island we passed last night. I’m sure they’ll be there.” Rose had long since learnt not to question her captain’s directives. Somehow, she always manages to get them to where they are supposed to go — even if it’s the complete wrong way according to Rose’s very accurate maps.

Sometimes she felt like she wanted to believe the sea witch rumors. “John! Prepare the cannons,” Jade shouts down a hatch, jousting the poor boy from his sleep by scaring him so bad that he crashes into the ground.

“Not Wednesday again,” he mutters and goes off to work the cannons while wrapping a blue napkin around his head.

Jade flops down on the deck and starts to pick apart her gun to clean it. It’s an important day after all, and she can’t have it ruined due to poor gun maintenance. What would grandpa say? The fact that she cleaned the gun yesterday doesn’t matter.

Dave groans as he hears the telltale clang of metal objects hitting the wooden deck and Jade humming.

“Is it fucking Wednesday again? Wasn’t it Wednesday like yesterday?” Jade giggles and throws a dirty rag on Dave and takes out a new one. Dave jerks back and almost falls off the ship.

“Shit man don’t scare me like that.” He slips off the barrels (in the right direction) and takes a seat with his back against them. “Like do you want me to die before we even fight? That is so uncool of you. And you call yourself our captain.”

Jade shuts out Dave’s usual rambling and focuses on her gun. When she’s gone over it three times, she’s satisfied and puts it back together.

“There’s a ship to starboard, Captain,” Rose calls out after a while. Jade gives Dave a disapproving look that he doesn’t see.

“And what a good lookout you are then,” she complains before running up to Rose, who is steering the ship.

She could identify that flag anywhere. “It’s them all right,” she says, face turning serious. From the way people start moving on the other ship, Jade knows that they have seen them too.

I mean not that a huge pirate ship is that easy to hide.

“To your stations!” Jade calls and runs over to the side of the ship, tying a rope with a hook securely to the side. “We’re boarding them!”

It doesn’t take long for the ships to close in on each other. Jade scans her opponents with a stern face. There is the black haired guy who wields two small guns and uses weird words to threaten them. What even does “Tally-ho!” mean? Then, there is their cook who doesn’t really like to fight. She holds a kitchen knife in one hand and looks uneasy. She will be easy to take down.

There is the blonde guy who wields an odd sword and looks even dumber than Dave. They seem to have the same mindset about letting people see their eyes- and seeing, apparently. The only difference is that this guy’s eyepatches are cut into triangles. How does that even work?

And then, staring straight at her, a sword and pistol in each hand, blonde hair flying in the wind is no one else but the ship’s captain and Jade’s nemesis.

“Roxy,” she says, and the grip on her gun tightens.

Roxy’s painted lips curl into a smile, and the sun reflects off the small black cat she has dangling from an ear. “Hi there Jadie.” She places the back of a hand against her hip and blows a lock of hair away from her face.

Jade takes a moment to take note of the sleek, fancy pink coat with golden buttons adorning Roxy’s body, the headband she has tied around her head and the white tights ending in knee-high boots.

She can feel Roxy’s eyes scanning her, seeing the loose white shirt, her large captains hat and green pieces of fabric tied around her waist into a loose, comfortable skirt.

Jade can almost feel Dave roll his eyes. “Prepare to be boarded!” Jade suddenly shouts, knocking everyone out of their staring contests. She throws the rope over to the other ship and runs over on the taut line without even swaying. Her crewmates (except for John, who runs down the hatch to the cannons) grab ropes and throw them onto Mutie’s mast, swinging themselves over. They are not going to run over a rope. In just a few moments, swords are clanging and shots are fired.

Dave and Dirk engage in a fierce battle in the front of the ship. Their swords clash together with skill and precision — the fact that neither of them can see doesn’t seem to matter. They attack and block quickly, engaging in a dangerous dance.

On the opposite side of the ship, Rose is using her sword to strike Jake’s pistols rapidly, trying to keep him from shooting. She uses the ship to her advantage, swinging her sword to urge Jake into a more vulnerable position. Jane seems to have disappeared down into the ship again. That’s just as well.

In the middle of the ship, Jade and Roxy cross blades. They whirl around each other, anticipating each other’s moves. Roxy makes a jab with her sword, and Jade slaps it away with the front of her gun, twisting around to pound the back of it into Roxy’s stomach and make her loose her footing for a moment.

But only for a moment. Roxy charges immediately, knocking Jade against the edge of the ship with her shoulder. Jade kicks Roxy’s legs before she can regain her balance, but Roxy slips her gun behind Jade’s back, knocking her to the ground with her.

They tumble around for a moment, Jade knocks the gun from Roxy’s hand with a slap from the flat side of her blade as she struggles to get out on top.

Roxy fights back and straddles Jade, holding her sword at her throat. She feels some metal touch her chin, and her eyes dart down to see Jade smirking with the nozzle of her gun aimed at her. They make eye contact for a second, then two.

Unanimously, they drop their weapons, and Roxy leans down to kiss Jade as Jade leans up to meet her lips. Jade’s hands land on Roxy’s waist, and Roxy places her hands on either side of Jade’s face, gently brushing her hair out of the way.

The rest of the world fades away as the two of them relish in the feeling of each other. The closeness of their bodies, the beating of their hearts, and the taste of the each other’s lips.

Roxy knocks the stupid hat off Jade’s head, grinning against her lips. Jade retaliates by slipping her hands under Roxy’s coat, feeling the soft skin of her stomach.

“Hell no, I’m not watching this.” The two of them part to look at the intruder. Dirk is staring straight up into the sky, triangular eyepatches still over his eyes. Roxy snorts and gives Jade another peck on the lips.

They slip into Roxy’s quarters and shut the door as their crewmates sit down together at the back of the ship. Jane comes up to join them with a few bottles of rum, and John shows up too after a while.

“You’re getting better,” Rose tells Jake after taking a swig of the rum. “Just a few more years and you might beat me.” Dave snorts and almost chokes on the drink.

They chat and joke together until the sun sets. There are several empty bottles of rum between them, and at some point, Jane went away to get them some food to snack on as well.

They hear the giggling before they see Roxy and Jade slip out of the hut. Roxy’s coat is buttoned in the wrong holes, and Jade’s hair is even more of a mess than earlier.

“Clean up after yourselves,” Jane groans and rests her head against the floor, knowing that no one will listen.

Jade and Roxy hold hands, smiling warmly at each other. Jade leans forward to place another kiss on Roxy’s lips. “Same time next Wednesday?” she asks. Roxy can see the sun set in her green eyes.

She places Jade’s hat back on her mess of black hair and kisses her nose with a giggle. “Next Wednesday.”

With those words, Jade’s crew returns to their own ship and Rose sets the course for wherever she likes, as she does every Wednesday.

As the ships part in different directions underneath the night sky, two captains stand at the far back of their ships, staring longingly at each other across the sea that mirrors the stars in the sky until the other ship disappears from view, waiting for the next Wednesday.

#happy birthday jade!#homestuck #jaderoxy #roxy lalonde #jade harley #dave strider #dirk strider #john egbert #jane crocker #jake english #rose lalonde #piratestuck #homestuck pirate au #pirate au #ill rewrite this when my mind doesnt want me to stab myself dhkshdkdf

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