#I know all it's missing is the net and trident | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wreywrites · 7 months

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Tiger Shark

Part 5: The Net

Chapter 31

When I wake up, Katniss is staring at us. And either she’s a better actor than I think she is, or she really does love Peeta.

As soon as she notices I’m awake, she looks away, back to the sunrise.

Finnick is still sleeping, so I stay with him. It’s not like I have anything else pressing to do. I watch the sun creep up over the trees. The arm I’m using as a pillow is tingling and my skin is starting to itch again. With a sigh, I wiggle away from Finnick and move to where Haymitch is sitting against a tree.

Before I can ask for more of the goo, he says, “It’s your job to wake him up now, you know that, right?”

I nod. “I should’ve been doing it all along.”

“Couldn’t really be helped.” Haymitch shrugs. Then he gestures to his feet, where he’s been scratching one of them against the other leg. The greenish skin on his leg has peeled off, leaving a new layer that looks very pink and very tender. “Better than the scabs,” he says with a slight grin that might also be a grimace. “Scrape on it with some sand.”

I pick up a palmful of sand and rub it against my calf. The scales slough off. My lip curls despite my best efforts to keep it still. “That’s gross.”

Haymitch snorts. “Little bit, yeah.”

I scrub off my legs and arms, then do the best I can on my face.

Alvan and Johanna are returning with a basket full of water when another parachute floats down.

Haymitch gets up with a groan. “Better wake up Pretty Boy.”

I stab my spear into the ground and use it to pull myself to my feet. “Watch that for me then.”

Cecelia is already headed toward Finnick.

Catching up to her, I take her wrist. “Wait. I’ll do it. He’s a little-”

“I’ve noticed,” she says, stepping back and gesturing me forward. “I thought he was going to bite me yesterday.”

Chuckling, I kneel in front of Finnick, planting one knee on the trident and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Finnick. Finnick, wake up.”

He jerks awake, trying for the trident but I lean down on it even more.

“It’s me. It’s alright.”

His nostrils flare as he stares at me, then he blinks and relaxes.

I smile. “Just like that. Now come on, I think breakfast is here.”

Breakfast is indeed here. Twenty-four more rolls from Three. They’re not bad, but I could go for some butter.

As we sit down to eat the rolls and the oysters Finnick and I hurriedly collected, Beetee says, “I think we’ll all agree our next job is to kill the other alliance.”

I agree, but also that’s just going to leave our alliance, and maybe another lone tribute or two, and what do we do then? Do I have to protect Katniss from these people, who are also protecting Katniss? I choose not to voice this question, because no one else seems terribly concerned, and I’m not supposed to know anyway.

Beetee goes on. “We could track them down, I suppose, but it’s dangerous, exhausting work.”

“Do you think they’ve figured out about the clock?” Katniss asks.

“If they haven’t, they’ll figure it out soon enough. Perhaps not as specifically as we have. But they must know that at least some of the zones are wired for attacks and that they’re reoccurring in a circular fashion. Also, the fact that our last fight was cut off by Gamemaker intervention will not have gone unnoticed by them. We know it was an attempt to disorient us, but they must be asking themselves why it was done, and this, too, may lead them to the realization that the arena’s a clock. So I think our best bet will be setting our own trap.” Beetee pauses to draw a quick sketch of the arena in the sand. “If you were One and Two and whoever else might be with them, knowing what you do now about the jungle, where would you feel safest?” He asks the question like a teacher, like Coral.

Stay with me.

I focus harder on Beetee. I can’t miss the plan. I can’t miss anything.

“Here,” Alvan says.

“On the beach,” Cecelia says, though a slight frown is growing on her face.

Beetee nods and directs his next question at Cecelia, as though he knows what she’s thinking. “So why aren’t they on the beach?”

“Because we’re here.” Cecelia’s voice is soft. Her gaze drifts to the trees, fear flickering in her eyes. So far she has missed the worst of everything. The mist, the monkeys, the jabberjays. But she has seen what those things have done to the rest of us.

“Exactly,” Beetee says. “We’re here, claiming the beach. And there are eight of us. We have them substantially outnumbered. Now where would you go?”

There is a pause as we all mull this over. Not the jungle, that’s for sure.

Katniss answers this question. “I’d hide just at the edge of the jungle. So I could escape if an attack came. And so I could spy on us.”

“Also to eat,” Finnick says. “The jungle’s full of strange creatures and plants. But by watching us, I’d know the seafood’s safe.”

Beetee smiles. Just like a proud teacher. Just like Coral.

Stay with me.

“Yes, good. You do see. Now here’s what I propose: a twelve o’clock strike. What happens exactly at noon and at midnight?”

“The lightning,” Haymitch says.

“Yes. So what I’m suggesting is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run my wire from that tree all the way down into the saltwater, which is, of course, highly conductive. When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach, which will still be damp from the ten o’clock wave. Anyone in contact with those surfaces at that moment will be electrocuted.”

There’s a long pause while we all digest this. Having been around water my whole life, I know that part of the plan will work, but the wire-?

“That wire be able to conduct that much power? Looks a mite delicate,” Alvan says.

“Oh, it is. It will burn up the minute the current passes through it. In fact, it will act something like a fuse. Except the electricity will travel along it.”

Johanna frowns. “How do you know?”

“Because I invented it.” Beetee sounds a little surprised. “It’s not actually wire in the usual sense. Nor is the lightning natural lightning nor the tree a real tree. You know trees better than any of us, Johanna. It would be destroyed by now, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry about the wire—it will do just what I say.”

Once again, no one has asked the question that now feels most important to me. “And… where will we be when this happens?” I ask.

“Far enough up in the jungle to be safe,” Beetee answers.

Katniss’s eyebrows furrow. “The Careers will be safe, too, then, unless they’re in the vicinity of the water.”

“That’s right,” says Beetee.

“It’ll cook the oysters,” I say dryly and before I can quite stop myself.

Beetee chuckles. “More than cook. We will most likely be eliminating that as a food source for good. But you found other edible things in the jungle, right, Katniss?”

“Yes. Rats. And those nuts Alvan remembered from the last jungle Games. And we have sponsors.” She gestures at the parachute and the empty basket.

Beetee nods. “Well, then. I don’t see that as a problem. But as we are allies and this will require all of our efforts, the decision of whether or not to attempt it is up to you seven.”

Mostly I don’t want to lose the shellfish. I’m not ethically concerned by using the water against the others because that’s how I won last time. And no one else has any questions that sound any less trivial than mine that Beetee can’t immediately but gently and patiently refute.

Finally, Haymitch shrugs. “I’m game.”

Katniss nods. “Why not? If it fails, there’s no harm done. If it works, there’s a decent chance we’ll kill them. And even if we don’t and just kill the seafood, then they lose it as a food source, too.”

“I say we try it,” Cecelia says.

Alvan says nothing. He is looking at Finnick, who is looking at Johanna, who is thinking.

“All right,” Johanna says. “It’s better than hunting them down in the jungle, anyway. And I doubt they’ll figure out our plan, since we can barely understand it ourselves.”

That’s good enough for me. I raise an eyebrow at Finnick.

“Let’s do it,” he says.

Finally, Alvan nods.

“Excellent.” Beetee smiles. “I would like to further examine the tree before it comes time to enact our plan.”

So those of us who were victims of the fog finish scrubbing ourselves and each other off with sand. Then, at Katniss’s suggestion, we smear on another layer of the green goo. It seems like a good idea to me, both to protect our soft new skin from the sun and to serve as camouflage as we enter the trees again to go to the lightning tree.

We have an uneventful hike to the lightning tree, and an uneventful examination of the lightning tree. Katniss goes hunting while Alvan and Cecelia refill our water basket, and Johanna, Finnick, and I stand guard while Beetee examines the tree and talks quietly with Haymitch.

The roar of the ten o’clock wave comes and goes, then a million hissing clicks rise from the eleven o’clock section next to us. They make my skin crawl.

“Are those… bugs?” I ask, not moving my eyes from that direction.

“It’s not mechanical,” Beetee says.

“It’s bugs.” Alvan looks disgusted and a little afraid. “Sounds just like them hoppers we get some years. ’Cept bigger. Probably eat meat.”

After that pleasant discussion, Beetee takes a few more measurements and says he is satisfied. We pack up the tree rats Katniss shot and cleaned and the rest of our belongings, and head to the blood rain section. We go to the big tree there, eat our picnic lunch of roasted rat, and wait until the clicking from eleven starts to die down. Then Beetee has Katniss climb the tree and watch the lightning.

After several minutes, she climbs back down and reports to Beetee. He nods, and then we go back to the ten o’clock beach and start fishing.

That evening we get yet another parachute with twenty-four rolls from Three, and a little pot of some spicy red sauce that we dip the fish in.

Finnick sits down next to me, tapping his fingers in the sand. Ready?

For what?

Anything.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

At about nine, we throw what’s left of the food into the water and hike back up to the lightning tree. Beetee unspools yards of the wire and sets it to the side. Then he, Haymitch, and Finnick stand around the tree and pass the spool around and around and around, winding the wire around the trunk until Beetee is satisfied.

“Now,” he says, putting the spool down. “We’ll-” He is interrupted by the roar of the wave. He frowns, then continues, “We’ll need to split up. Katniss, Johanna, and Cecelia will take the coil through the jungle to the beach, unwinding as they go. When you reach the water, throw the spool and whatever is left of the wire into the water and make sure it sinks. Then run for the jungle. If you start now, you’ll make it.”

“What about the rest of you?” Johanna looks and sounds genuinely concerned, and Katniss looks surprised by this.

“I’ll stay here to finalize preparations, and I need the others to stand guard. We’ll all meet up at the tree in the one-to-two-o’clock sector. If it looks like we’re running out of time, we’ll meet up in the next one. But no one goes back on the beach until I can assess the damage.”

After nods all around, Johanna picks up the spool and heads out, Katniss and Cecelia following her with their weapons ready. Alvan, Finnick, and I stand around the tree, watching in different directions, while Beetee continues to work on the side closest to the force field, still talking with Haymitch.

This goes on for quite a while, until all is quiet after the wave, and then as the clicking from the bugs rises to fill the air. I’m not sure if I prefer having my back to the clicks, or if I would rather be watching that side of the tree. Neither sound fun.

“Hate them bugs,” I hear Alvan say from his post facing the eleven o’clock sector. “Damn creepy.”

Haymitch walks around to my side. “See anything?”

I shake my head.

“With any luck-”

“Haymitch,” Finnick says quietly.

I glance to where he stands, facing into the jungle toward the water. For a second I don’t see what has him worried, then the wire moves. It goes tight, wiggles a little, goes tight again, then with a metallic springing sound, it goes limp.

Haymitch swears. At that exact moment, someone else screams from the jungle.

What happens next makes no sense.

Beetee yells, “Go get them!”

Finnick takes exactly half a step forward, hesitates, and starts to look back, only for Alvan to shout, “Go! I got things here!”

Finnick has only been gone for about thirty seconds when there is a horrible sizzling crack from the force field side of the tree, a scream from far into the trees on my side, and a cannon.

I spin around to the source of the sizzling sound and see Beetee in a heap on the ground, a knife near him, the hilt wrapped in wire connected to the tree. I have no time to process this before Alvan yells and something slams into me from behind.

It takes only a second for me to regain my balance and my bearings, but that is more than enough. One arm is twisted around my back, the shoulder a hair away from dislocation. Now I’m either going to die, right here, failing to protect Beetee and so failing to protect Katniss, beaten to a pulp by whoever jumped me, or I’m going to die, right here, getting fried by the very plan designed to protect Katniss. Both are less than ideal.

“Looks like you didn’t need my help getting out of your costume this year either.”

“Just break my shoulder and get it over with,” I grunt back, smarter than to squirm. If Gloss is busy killing me, he’s one less person everyone else has to worry about. There is more shouting from the trees, and another cannon.

But instead of breaking my shoulder, Gloss grabs the fingers holding my spear.

It almost sounds like he’s smiling when he whispers, “Make it look good.” Then he snaps two of my fingers with no effort.

I scream in very real pain, but I know what he wants as the spear falls from my hand and he kicks it away. His grip on my other arm loosens just enough to let me twist from his hold and turn to confirm what I suspect. Gloss is weaponless. I charge him.

It’s harder to make a fake wrestling match to the death look good than almost anything else I have ever tried. I very much hope someone other than me has a plan, because at this rate, Gloss and I will still be right here when the lightning strikes. And then we’ll both get fried.

Over the roaring in my ears, there is another scream and another cannon. Then the bonging of the clock begins and Haymitch is shouting something. My wrestling match with Gloss has pivoted enough for me to see Alvan, only a few yards away, fighting Brutus, sword flashing with deadly efficiency. Alvan stabs up, under Brutus’s ribs.

Just like Merritt did to Jilly.

Just like Cally.

The cannon booms before Brutus hits the ground.

Gloss has me in a headlock, slowly choking me out, but I’m terrified it’s not slow enough.

There is a blinding flash as lightning strikes the tree, and all around me the thunder of the buffalo.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I wake up in a room with four beds. My arm is bandaged like it’s been bleeding heavily and my broken fingers are in splints. Across the room, Beetee is unconscious and hooked up to what my addled brain interprets as about ninety machines. I lift my head a little and see Katniss asleep on the other bed on my side of the room. There are voices on the other side of the door.

I get up slowly, listening for who they are. Haymitch is talking to someone I recognize, but it takes a few sentences for me to realize it’s Plutarch Heavensbee. That doesn’t make sense, he’s the Head Gamemaker. Did the Capitol snatch us? That would make sense, I was so close to unconscious I couldn’t have gotten too far, but Haymitch?

There’s another voice, confused but sincere, low, worried.

And then Alvan’s quiet voice, but I hear every word.

“We lost too many, Haymitch. It ain’t gonna work… not without ’em.”

My head is spinning. The ground shakes in the beginnings of an earthquake. I haul in a breath and open the door.

Alvan, Haymitch, Plutarch Heavensbee, and Gloss—Gloss?—are sitting around a table, looking generally terrible. All of us that were in the arena have the same bandage on our left arm. Why? What is going on?

Then it hits me. Our trackers. Someone has removed them. Plutarch Heavensbee was in on this whole thing. Everyone was in on it except Katniss, and me, but I had Finnick to follow… Finnick?

“Haymitch…”

“Annie,” he says slowly.

“Where is everyone?” I can’t ask what I want, what I need to know.

“We’re on our way to District Thirteen-” Plutarch Heavensbee starts, sounding placating.

Alvan cuts him off, the beginnings of a snarl in his voice. “Don’t lie to her.” He looks at me. “You, me, these two, Beetee, ’n’ Katniss…” He pauses. He knows.

“Where’s Finnick?”

The floor shakes and Merritt whistles and Zalea looks up at the moon.

“Alvan, where’s Finnick?”

My fingernails dig into my palms, Elsie drops to the ground, Stitch collapses.

“Still in the Capitol.”

The buffalo thunder all around me. Mako’s head hits the ground but when it rolls to face me, it isn’t him, it’s Finnick.

****

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#wrey writes #the hunger games #thg: tiger shark #annie cresta #finnick odair #canon typical violence #character death #dissociation #ptsd #*insert my evil laughter here*#bet you didn't see *that* coming

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bitchfitch · 1 year

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I wrote most of this last week but i just finished this chapter and By God i need to make people look at it. There's at least four chapters between where the fic currently stands and this one so it's going to be Ages until i get to post it to ao3. (if ur in the mgw server pwease don't read this dbdbd the second half is my submission for this period lmao)

The Erdtree towered above, it's golden branches shedding leaves like a blizzard did ice. The rot was doing its job. Spreading from where the Halligtree's roots tangled with the Erdtree's. The scarlet lines etching the golden bark in deep relief as it flaked away from the disease it had helped bare into the world.

The thrones before it's entrance, six instead of the rightful eight, were exactly as Miquella remembered them. His and Malenia's were still pulled out of the perfect ring of the others. Sat closer together and out of line. It felt fitting now. The perfect ring of Malenia's and Radagon's children symbolizing the stagnant order they had cast the lands in, only to have it broken by those who now came to claim what was theirs by birthright.

Miquella let his hand brush along the sun warmed wood of his as he passed, Malenia doing the same to hers without knowing he'd done it too.

He smiled to himself, throwing a look over his shoulder to where Mohg still stood at the entrance. His head tipped back as he looked to boughs above. It was impossible to have never seen the Erdtree, but to be at it's base for the first time must have been something spectacular. Though, it was disdain writ in the lines of his face. Unabashed and kept in full view. His knuckles going pale around his trident as he came to face the embodiment of his exiler's theology.

"Mohg," Miquella called to him, turning away from the tree and holding a hand out to him.

Mohg shook his head, took a breath and came to him. Taking his hand in his and brushing his thumb over Miquella's wedding band. His eyes fixated on it before meeting Miquella's.

"You will return to me," He said it as a statement.

"Of course. This is merely a formality," Miquella would have continued with a further reassurance, some promise or lilly scented statement about a day these thrones would be relegated to memory as the three admidst the boughs of the Halligtree became the crown of their dynasty, but his sisters prosthetic being unsheathed and her voice calling out interupted him.

"Incoming," Malenia warned the second before an omen Miquella had only ever seen in Mohg's most devastating and loss filled nightmares landed hard on the bricks between them and their goal.

Morgott stood. His face the angry grimace of a warrior who knows they will soon die in a final, pointless, stand.

Malenia stood her ground, giving the King of Leyndell a chance to accept defeat before blood was spilled. Miquella didn't hesitate a moment. His hand tightening around Mohg's as he pushed his way into Morgott's head. Searching out the threads of his will so that he could pull them loose and weave them anew, only to find a steadfast golden will. A web with no loose ends. Morgott's disgust at his own being and countless years of faithful stubborn service to the Order protecting him from Miquella's tampering.

"Traitors. You are all Traitors," Morgott growled. Miquella felt that golden net constrict, and set itself into a new kind of grim determination. Another dagger thrown and knocked away by the pole of Mohg's trident. Morgott had no chance against the true blooded gods, but he could drag Mohg down with him.

Mohg was gone from his side as soon as his shock gave way to dread. His hand held out to his brother, his trident kept lowered in a show of peace.

"Stand aside, Morgott. It is over. There's no-" his pleading masked as an order cut off as a golden dagger narrowly missed his head. A warning shot, the second dagger already forming in Morgott's hand.

Morgott launched up and summoned his hammer to bring it down on his own blood. "Traitors who would taint these grounds with our curse-" He wouldn't have missed if Mohg hadn't flown back, "-And ruined blood." Another swing another dodge.

Malenia recognized the focus Morgott had on Mohg Taking the opportunity she grabbed Miquella by his arm and dragged him towards the entrance to the tree. "This is not our battle. He will handle it."

Miquella nearly tripped over his own feet attempting to keep up with her while still he struggled to find a crack in Morgott's mind to worm his way into.

It had been centuries since the omen twins last spoke, dead to each other as they were, but still Miquella knew his husband well enough to recognize the grief Morgott's death would cause. He knew his own spell work well enough to know such grief would override Miquella's control of him and let him see all that Miquella has taken.

Morgott cast a spear their way while Mohg stumbled to right himself after taking a blow from Morgott's staff. He lead his shot to attempt to guarantee a hit. Miquella dug his heels in to stop Malenia barreling into its silent path. Again attempting to use Morgott's focus on them to worm into his head, and again finding those self imposed barriers of gold blocking his way as surely as the thorns at the entrance if Erdtree blocked their physical path.

Mohg stole Morgott's focus back, snagging his brother's tail with the prongs of his trident. Still so careful to avoid seriously hurting him as he pulled it back and sent Morgott into a roll.

Malenia forced her still living hand between the thorns, Miquella's joining hers as he gashed himself on the thorns. She called her rot through the brambles and he forced his blood into the cracks it carved to carry the disease deeper until it could clot at the branches bases. She shoved his shoulder to guide him through their carved path before she followed.

The gash in the Erdtree let it's fading light fill the dark and empty void within itself. Their mother hung by her wrists from the last arc of the shattered elden ring. Her head lolled forward, her stone like corpse limp and crumbling. The last vestiges of gold pulsing through the cracks as the arc shattered and dropped her to the ground before her youngest children.

Gold to red, the old god Marika had courted so long ago taking her body and standing in unnatural halting movements. His hand grabbed the handle of the hammer Marika had used to shatter the ring. Radagon's face was impassive as he stared down his true born heirs.

Malenia went on the offense first, her blade cutting through the air nearly too fast to see it's arcs. The razor edge cutting deep into his flesh as she stole his attention. Miquella didn't try his tricks, instead he again brought the blood coursing through his veins out of his wounds. Slashing at Radagon's back with it and forcing it into the cracks of him. Radagon swung his hammer, knocking Malenia's blade away before bringing it down on Miquella. He pulled more from his veins to give himself a shield the moment before the hammer could connect. It protected him from the brunt of the strike even as he was knocked to the ground. He struggled to keep his focus split between the blood within Radagon and the pool that he cowered beneath. His shield began to fail, he let go of his attack to focus on keeping his barrier up as he rolled away. Malenia continued her assault, uninterrupted as Radagon focussed on Miquella, until he was turning on her and cracking his hammer into her ribs. She gasped for breath, her chest stuttering as her godhood struggled to heal the wound before her splintered ribs could pierce her heart.

Miquella surged, forcing his shield to be a discuss and embedding it in the gaping chasm of Radagon's side. Even as Radagon turned on him, Miquella kept his focus, making his blood burst in a matte of thorns and vines deep within Radagon's chest. The hammer cracked into Miquella's leg, shattering the bone and making him crumple with a pained shriek. Still he kept his focus. He sent the new life surging through Radagon's dry veins and ripping through his skin. He staggered, Malenia took the opportunity. Her blade cut true, their fathers head rolling as his body slumped.

Both knew that was only the beginning. Miquella called the blood he had cast out back to himself, he couldn't risk his own veins running dry when the fight had only just begun. His leg burned with crushed veins, his pain tolerance having not been finally built through countless battles as Malenia's had been. Sha kept her attention fully on Radagon's corpse, backing towards where her brother fell to stay between him and what was to come next. Miquella's hands pressed against her ruined side his magic worming under her skin and huredly binding her injuries, his own being less important in that instant.

The moments respite didn't last long. Finally unbound from human flesh, their true parent rose. It's amorphous form warping the world around them and casting the hollow they had battled in into a new shape.

The Elden Beast, the outer god at the heart of this all, made the world accept it in its trueness, and in doing so unbound it's children from the weight of this reality.

Malenia's wings of rot spread, the patches of decayed flesh accross her body morphing into iron hard chitinous plates that melded with her prosthetics. Her helmet splitting as her own godhood crowned her in bone melting fungal growths. She soared. Her grace and speed un-matched when she was constrained turning to a blur of perfectly controlled violence in her trueness.

Her cloak of wilted flowers matched her brothers limp moth like wings. Their silken membrane bending like fabric or petals when he moved. He couldn't soar, he couldn't match his sister in battle. But he could lend her support. Unconstrained he let himself melt and meld with the world around them. Reshaping it once more to match their needs. Saplings sprouted from sun drenched red soil. Their growth accelerated by the blood he spread into them until they shot up impossibly high in moments. The Elden Beast attempted to avoid the torrent of attacks from one twin, only to be speared through by the other. Malenia lopped off it's tentacle like wings, Miquella made the branches of his trees flare and their bases crumble. Pulling the Beast down from its inside to pin it while Malenia finished the job. Her blade found its mark. She pierced through it's gelatinous head and into the glowing eye. It's attempts at battle looking more like the flailing of caught animal as she sent a shockwave through it. Splitting it open in gush of golden sparks and rain of blood.

The world around them turned bright, Miquella reformed whole and new once more as the reality they inhabited constrained itself. He heard Malenia land behind him but saw only the unalloyed gold of their future.

They'd done it.

Breathless, his heart twitching and spasming in a wasted effort to push blood through his empty veins. His father was defeated. The outer god responsible for their existence vanquished and reduced to nothing more than the Elden Ring it had forced into this world.

His eyes burned with the lingering searing light, and when it faded he was knelt before the crumbling corpse of his mother. The Elden Ring glowing bright within the cavity of her body, her broken off head laying on the ground between them. Her soul still clinging to it long after life had left her.

He felt his twin's hand on his shoulder. He put his own over hers and stood.

Together they reunited their mother's head and body, and together they plunged their hands into her chest.

Together they shredded the Queen and her god consort. Together they took the power of an outer god, and together, as the only full blooded empyreans amongst their siblings they at long last completed their accession and took their rightful place as King and Queen.

At long last, the twin gods of rot and growth did away with the stagnation of what came before them.

For the briefest moment upon stepping from the dark of the dying erdtree and into the blazing sunlight Miquella believed the glory of this day had only grown.

Mohg knelt in the center of the ring of destroyed thrones. The battle he'd been left to wage while Miquella and Malenia made their final bid having destroyed the only place all the grace born demigods had conviened peacefully.

Mohg knelt there in the center of one of the many places the graceless first born twins were never supposed to see. His shoulders heaving with life and breath, his brother held tight in his arms.

Miquella grinned, and stepped forward. The day had been won on all fronts. Morgott was an overly loyal fool but clear as the sky above was it to Miquella that he'd been saved from being a final sacrifice to the Golden Order.

Malenia's hand was on his shoulder again. Holding him firm instead of greeting as it had before. A sharp flick of her other, the still slick blade of her prosthesis flinging golden blood onto the soiled stones as she drew her blade once more.

The arm over Mohg's shoulder was limp. Mohg shook, Morgott was still.

One half laid his other down against the blood drenched ground. His hand under his twisting horns to soften the motion and not hurt what is already gone.

He leaned over his brother, pressing their heads together one last time before standing and turning to face those he had given everything for.

Miquella could see now that Mohg's mind was no longer clouded by his spells. No aching obsession coiled around his every thought. No desperate need to please and aid and serve that bordered on madness.

Miquella had promised him a place as lord consort. Had replaced the nightmares that haunted him with dreams of a dynasty born from love and blood that would have never rejected him or Morgott or all the others like them.

Now that they stood over his brother's corpse promises felt like they were worth nothing more than the breath they had been spoken with.

Mohg held his hand out to his side, his trident flew into it. Miquella's strength was nothing compared to Malenia's still he grabbed her arm and held on with all he had to stop her lunging and slaughtering the painfully mortal demigod before them.

"Mohg-" Miquella was a newly minted god king. His voice sounded like a child's in that horrid moment.

"Leave me," Mohg's words were short and cold. His eyes downcast and looking everywhere but Miquella. They had dreamed of this moment for so very long. Of reuniting and falling into eachothers embraces as King and devoted Lord.

Or Miquella had dreamed that, and he had made it Mohg's dream too.

Malenia pulled Miquella behind her, putting herself in the position of his guard as she had so many times before. Staying between him and his husband like the meager Lord of Blood could ever pose a threat to a true god. She guided him away. He hesitated and pulled, weak in the knees and exhausted from the battle, but insisting still on taking slow and halting steps. Hoping to catch Mohg's eye at least once. Hoping desperately to see something other than hate within them.

Mohg wouldn't even look at him.

Malenia pushed on his back. Broke his line of sight until they were out of the throne room and escaping to what had once been their mother's bed chamber.

They had achieved all that they had dreamed. They had become all that they were always meant to be.

Yet he felt only cold dread over the potential loss of a pawn he had always intended to be disposable.

#elden ring spoilers #like. Ish. this is just my bastardization of the lore. and my personal beliefs v savy who should get to kill marika and co.#tbh im considering massively editing the fic as it stands.#the first few chapters were just me puttering around and figuring out the characters #the plot proper isnt starting till chapter 6...#maybe I can leave the original chapters alone and make the next bit a new work? Set it as the next entry in the series to create #a little bit of separation between the two and let people who just want plot skip the pwp and friendship building

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cloudbattrolls · 1 year

Text

Weaving the Net

Sombra Lyseli | Civitrecce | Present Night

Sombra had no idea what to make of her life anymore, and staring down her sister (who was currently clinging to the underside of a spaceship) didn’t help. The tall, broad indigo toyed with one of her pigtails nervously.

“Saori.” She said, uncertain. “You should get down before someone sees.”

They stood in one of Starsight’s vast shipyards, the nearest factory almost half a mile away. Rows of finished but unpowered vessels lined up on the tarmac in their silent, gleaming bulk.

Many were emblazoned with red tridents, but not all. The small, sleek craft currently being clung to was one of the latter number.

The alien’s big blue eyes protruded like a chameleon’s. They shuttered partially closed under filmy translucent lids in an expression the purpleblood had long since come to recognize as disdain. Her tail, also long and chameleon-like, rolled and unrolled a few times as she shifted her grip slightly on the slick metal surface.

Don’t be stupid, Sombra. What are they going to do? Climb the forcefield and shoot at me? I’d make them die of shame before they could get close enough.

It wasn’t much of an exaggeration. Saori’s powers had a wide range as well as being able to work on any caste. Tetrao had kept her for exactly that reason.

Jamie had made full use of it as well…until he’d had to flee. Some said he’d run off to East Alternia with his kismesis; others said he was dead, already culled by a highblood bounty hunter.

A few in the factory whispered that he’d been behind the hacking attempt, though more trolls blamed it on the intruder caught on camera that same night and said he’d been framed.

Rebels, some claimed. Though other trolls blamed one of Starsight’s rival ship companies.

“You never know who’s watching or listening.” She murmured, knowing the alien would pick up her thoughts if not her voice; though Saori did have keen hearing.

I don’t care. We both have assault gear now. Jamie was good for that before the elites chased him out.

“I heard he left before they could try.”

Troll like that’s walking dead meat anyway. Doesn’t really matter.

The alien crawled up and around, now clinging to one of the ship’s wings. She was…stroking it? Putting her antennae to it? Something Sombra couldn’t fathom. Even after knowing Saori her whole life, there were things the alien had never explained about her behavior.

The highblood hesitated, biting her lip slightly as she shifted on the hard surface.

“He helped us, though.”

So he could use us. Stop thinking we owe anyone anything. Everyone’s the same, Sombra. Haven’t you learned that by now?

“Miss Latrai might be different.”

She felt the sort of telepathic static in her head that was Saori’s equivalent of laughter.

You really are stupid! When she figures out what I am, it’ll be all over; I’ll become some symbol of tolerance for that pretentious bitch and she’ll never let me go. Speaking of, this ship seems like a good one.

“How do you know?” She said with a frown, sitting down on a simple metal bench.

It feels right. Oh, what am I saying? You don’t get these things.

Also, I looked up the schematics. It’s just what we need: low firepower, but high stealth and easy maintenance. The only problem will be getting our hands on a helm. You’ll have to make the purchase, but there’s no way Latrai isn’t tracking those. She’ll catch it in hours at most; we’ll have to move quickly.

Sombra swallowed. She’d been around helms her whole life - they were unavoidable in Civitrecce, especially since she’d been raised in a tech company - but they still unnerved her a little.

Stop being a wriggler. You want to stay here forever? A lot of trolls leave when they’re younger than you, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life having to hide all the time.

“You’re not hiding now.” Retorted the indigo, crossing her arms.

Saori’s eyes shuttered half-closed again as her antennae bristled, her proboscis flicking in and out. Sombra knew what that meant.

Because it’s one of the few times when I’m outside and I can breathe a little. Come on, Sombra. We can go our separate ways once we’re far enough from the empire. I only need you for that, then you can go do whatever it is your thick head wants.

“Thanks.” Murmured the bear troll, then she raised her voice and set her jaw. “Maybe I’ll do it if you’re nicer to me.”

Saori’s tail thwacked against the ship angrily.

Maybe you’ll do it if I wipe away all your rebellion in one fell -

Both women went still as their private communicators - the ones Jamie had given them with a direct, secure line only to him - went off for the first time in perigees with a cheerful tune they knew came from their former boss’s native region.

Sombra answered hers first as Saori clambered down to the ground so she could have both of her gecko-like hands free.

“Jamie?” She said, uncertain.

“No, it’s the empress’s maid.” Came the familiar snide, somewhat amused voice. “Who else would it be? Where’s Saori? I need her too.”

“I’m here.” Came the typed message, almost instantly translated to a voice Jamie had worked with the alien to pick for her, a light feminine one.

“Good, good. Well, ladies, I apologize for the drop in communications, but it couldn’t be helped. I trust you’ve kept your abilities hidden from Latrai?”

“Um. Mine are on record.” Said the indigo hesitantly. “I couldn’t even if I’d tried.”

A sigh came from the communicator. “I know yours are on record, Sombra, but surely you haven’t revealed to her the full extent of what you can do?”

“She hasn’t.” Chimed in Saori, somehow infusing bored disdain into the generically pleasant, machine-generated tone. “Latrai doesn’t know what I am either. She assumes I’m a mutant; we haven’t corrected her.”

“Excellent. So, how would you two like to make some extra caegers?”

“Can you pay us off the books?” Replied Saori before Sombra could interject.

“Interesting…that can certainly be negotiated. Now, how much do you know about the recent intruder?”

“They’re suspected to be a rebel, since no records were found in the system, but no one can trace how the fake appearance was made either.” Sombra cut in before Saori could bulldoze over her again.

The alien glared at her, but thankfully made no telepathic comment, too intent on listening to their former boss as he continued.

“Yes, yes, the false face threw me off too. I combed through receipts of recent surgeries, reports of shapeshifting powers or illusion psiionics…I even tried tracking them through citywide camera footage, trying to see if they’d been caught anywhere else.

I looked into Starsight’s records to see if there were fingerprints or any DNA traces. Even those were a dead end. The hacking methods this person used weren’t any good for an ID either; though it did clue me in to a few holes in my system.” He sighed.

“Are you going to tell us what you found?” Asked Saori pointedly, and Jamie ignored her.

“Then I realized I was trying too hard, when I had a…remnant…of their true abilities right in my hands. Something that seemed to defy my knowledge of traditional psiionic limits and technological capabilities.

I realized, after running some tests on it…why, it was both. Psiionic power used to shape circuitry beyond what most technopaths are even capable of! A computer warped in the shape of a troll body! As if it were an extension of whoever had made it…chilling, but so very promising.

Imagine if you could catch this troll - this construct, really. The technology required to make the virus that sent this would occupy quite a bit of processing power!” Jamie said with a laugh. “More mechanical wonder than organic being, by that point.”

“And so…?” Saori said, tail rolling and unrolling impatiently.

“Do you want your pay docked?” Said Jamie pleasantly, but with a hard edge. “I’m going somewhere with this, if you would have but an ounce of patience.”

Saori couldn’t project an annoyed sigh through the text to speech technology, but Sombra knew what the drooping of her antennae meant. Both of them had sat through the blueblood’s lectures before; the bear troll had learned to let him talk. At least he tended to say interesting things.

“My point is, it doesn’t matter if this troll is a rebel or not; I’ve gone through every database I can find and there’s absolutely no record of a power like this even existing, so this rogue psiionic is fair game.

If their capabilities match my theories, I could revolutionize the entire tech industry, starting with Starsight. The empire wouldn’t ever be able to call me cullbait again.” He said with glee.

There was a moment’s pause as the sisters absorbed this information.

“So…you want us to catch them.” Sombra said slowly.

“No, I want you to invite them to midnight tea.” Jamie remarked with extreme sarcasm. “Obviously! Sometimes I wonder about you, Sombra. Yes, we’re going to lay a trap for our prize, and we need to do it without tipping off Latrai. Once that psiionic’s safely contained and in my custody, you’ll be paid in full. Fifty thousand caegers.”

Sombra’s eyebrows shot up and Saori’s purplish gray fur stood on end.

“That sounds reasonable.” Saori managed to answer. “So, what’s this trap we’ll be setting?”

“Ah, now that’s the fun part. Listen closely, ladies, because you’ll need to do exactly as I say…”

#cloud writes #the mind electric #jameth abnale #sombra lyseli #saori #jastes somewhere fast asleep with his face in his guinea pig dad. what a popular guy

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hangezoeenthusiast · 3 years

Text

You failed me

multiple x gn!reader

word count: 2,524

warnings: cursing, yelling, arguing, death, angst, blood, explosion, the egg (it deserves its own warning)

synopis: you guys failed me(us)

(the lyrics go with each person, might not get everyone, and also xd’s part is kinda wonky)

song: rät by penelope scott

I come from scientists and atheists and white men who kill God They make technology, high quality, complex physiological Experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good They taught me everything, just like a daddy should

Quackity, Karl, George, and Sapnap left you. Your mentors, your friends. The ones who taught you everything you knew. They went to build their little “Kinoko Kingdom” while you stayed in the ruins, the dust. “They’ll regret that.” you swore. You built something better, something greater.

It was called “Las Nevadas”. A place where everyone was allowed. They would remember not to fuck with you. They would soon realize that they should watch their back for the rest of their short, stupid lives.

“Watch out, you guys, I'm watching your every move.”

And you were beautiful and vulnerable and power and success God damn, I fell for you, your flamethrowers, your tunnels, and your tech I studied code because I wanted to do something great like you And the real tragеdy is half of it was true

Wilbur majorly fucked up. He was supposed to be with you to the end, your guys’ country, right? No. He left you behind. He went to find peace, find his heaven, while you stayed on earth, wallowing away until your flesh seeped off your rattling bones, rotting away by yourself, with no one to bare witness.

“Why didn’t you bring me with you Wilbur?” you asked his stupid grave on top of the once L’Manburg. “Why did you get the ecstasy, why do I get the remains?”

“I’m coming for you Wilbur, and when I do, we are going to wreck upon justice on everyone who wronged us, wronged you, they will feel our wrath.”

But we've been fuckin' mеan, we're elitist, we're as flawed as any church And this faux-rad West coast dogma has a higher fuckin' net worth I bit the apple 'cause I trusted you, it tastes like Thomas Malthus Your proposal is immodest and insane And I hope someday Selmers rides her fuckin' train

"Y/n!" Technoblade yelled. "I TRUSTED YOU, AND YOU BETRAYED ME, FOR WHAT, TO BLOW UP A STUPID COUNTRY, A COUNTRY THAT WAS DOOMED TO FAIL FROM THE START." He started to battle you, missing every single swing, blinded by fury.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE.”

"LOOK AT ME GODDAMN IT."

You looked up at him in the eyes and boldly said, "No, Techno, don’t you see, you’re in the wrong here, you’re the one who betrayed me." You were blinded by friendship, you couldn’t see that Tommy had betrayed Techno, and that what the Butcher Army did to Techno was terrible.

"What do you mean Y/n, you know what they did, they wronged me, they used me, they tortured me, they gave me hell, so I gave it back to them, I destroyed the things they loved, the people they loved, you see Y/n, those who have treated me with kindness I will repay that kindness tenfold, and those who treat me with injustice, that use me, that hunt me down, that hurt my friends, I shall repay that injustice a thousand times over, do you understand?"

"No I don't, Techno, you can't do this.” you begged. He pushed you out of the way, "Get out of my way Y/n." “No, I won’t, I won’t let you destroy everything we worked for.”

“Well, then I have to fight you.”

And thus the battle began, Swords clashing against each other, blood spilling from open wounds, friends digging each other into a whole both of them couldn’t get out of. Techno was letting you off easy, he knew his strength, he knew that he could’ve beaten you in one swipe, but he didn’t want to kill you.

So when you had the opportunity, you swept from under his feet, and knocked him down. You placed your blade onto his neck, pressing down until a little drop of blood appeared, “Stay down Technoblade, or I’ll do something worse than try to put you on trial.”

He watched as you walked away from him, trying to save L’Manberg from a worst fate than death itself.

“One day Y/n, you’ll see, I’m on your side.”

I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it's true I wanted to be you and do what you do I lived here, I loved here, I bought it, it's true I feel so stupid, and so used I feel so used

"Why would you do that Dream? You didn't have to do that." you interrogated. Dream had stupidly blew up the community house. You both didn't plan that, he had gone behind your back. "I had to Y/n, you wouldn't understand."

"What do you mean I don't understand, you went against my back, we were supposed to-" you cut off yourself, "Dream, don't you understand, you did something stupid, and what did you get, you got stupid jail." "The reason I did that is because I needed to isolate myself from humanity." he said, proudness lacing his words.

"What do you mean?" you questioned. "If anyone knows I can revive people, I'm screwed, so that's why I need to be by myself, yeah it sucks major ass, but at least no one else will know, well, besides you anyways." "I have a task for you Y/n/n, I need you to find a way to bring Tommy and Ghostbur in here."

"Why Dream?"

"I'm going to revive Wilbur."

I was your baby, your firstborn, the hot girl in your comp-sci class And I was Darwin's prep school dream, bred, born and raised to kick your ass I fell for circuit boards, rocket ships, pictures of the stars If you could only be what you pretend you are

"PHILZA MINECRAFT COME BACK HERE." you were chasing Phil, through the woody forest, covered by oak trees. He had information on Technoblade's whereabouts and you needed it. You chased him with your enchanted netherite armor, netherite sword and axe, and a few op potions. Your goal was to capture Philza and interrogate him on where Techno's place was. The thing was, you were his child. His own child trying to kill his own son.

He felt betrayed, his own child turned against him and their brother, their family. "The Butcher Army must've gotten to you somehow." he thought in his head. Surely, his darling Y/n didn't do it on their own will, right?

He was incorrect, you did it because you believed that Techno needed to be brought to justice, by punishment. You believed that your own sibling needed to die, because he was a "liability" to L'Manberg's growth and future. He needed to die because as long as he would live his long life with his little enderman Edward, retired, he would still cause trouble to everything you, Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy, and Ranboo had built.

He pleaded, "Stop Y/n, you don't have to do this." You argued, "I do Philza, as long as he lives, my plans for L'Manberg will forever cease to exist."

He felt like shit, you called him Philza, not Dadza, or Dad, or anything besides his normal name. "Did I screw something up?" he asked himself quietly under his breath. "Yes you did Phil, you took the traitor's side." you had heard Phil mumble.

"HE'S NOT A TRAITOR." Phil yelled at you. "Yes he is, he deserves what he is about to get, I will say it again, where is his base?"

"I'm not saying, Y/n, why are you doing this, Techno is your own sibling." "He's not my sibling anymore, that stopped when he destroyed L'Manberg, you're lucky I forgived you." you declared.

"Y/n/n, please don't do this."

"I have to Dadza, I can't let him roam free."

When I said take me to the moon, I never meant take me alone I thought if mankind toured the sky, it meant that all of us could go But I don't want to see the stars if they're just one more piece of land For us to colonize, for us to turn to sand

Bad had tried to convice you to join the Eggpire. You had no effect while being next to the egg, and he had to take you out. People who had no effect towards the egg had to be eliminated.

He was creepily following you, waiting until you stopped to get a chance to capture you. He had hope that you did have an effect, that you would join the Egg with him. He didn't want to kill you, you were his best friend, besides Skeppy of course.

"Come back here Y/n." he said. "No chance in hell Bad, get the fuck away from me." "HEY, LANGUAGE!" he exclaimed. "No language, get away from me, you're creeping me out."

He threw his trident, spinning in the air, trying to catch up to your frantic steps. You were trying to get to Church Prime, where no one could kill anyone, hopefully Bad would abide to that rule. You were just about to step on Church Prime when you bumped into a hard, armored chest.

You looked up shyly, and saw Punz, with his red eyes reflecting anger. "Where are you going Y/n?" he questioned. "Somewhere." you blankly stated. You were desperate, you didn't want to die, or anything else that Bad was going to do to you. You tried to dodge Punz, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, "Stay right here Y/n."

"No, get away from me, I don't know what's wrong with all of you, but go away, I don't want anything to do with your stupid Eggpire." He raged, and grabbed your wrist heavily, "DON'T TALK ABOUT THE EGG LIKE THAT, IT WILL TAKE CONTROL OF THE SERVER, AND YOU ALL WILL BE ITS SERVANTS." "LET ME THE FUCK GO PUNZ." you screamed. You were wiggling in his grip, trying to escape his lunatic self.

While he was holding you, you saw two other shadows behind you. It was Antfrost and Bad. "What do you guys want from me, I didn't do anything wrong."

"You are against the Egg Y/n, people who are like you and Tommy have to die."

"Well, I'm not dying today." you murmured under your breath. "What was that you said?" Antfrost asked you.

You smirked, "I'm not dying today, I'll tell you one more time, let go of me."

Bad and Antfrost walked closer to you, Punz right behind you, all of them cornering you into a tight spot. "What you going to do about it Y/n, you're cornered."

"You'll know when they get here, but for now, you better run boys."

'Cause we're so fuckin' mean, we're so elitist, we're as fucked as any church And this bullshit West coast dogma has a higher fuckin' net worth I bit the apple 'cause I loved you, and why would you lie? And then I realized that you're just as naïve as I am Oh, you're so traumatized it makes me want to cry

"Tubbo, don't do this." Schlatt had unfortunately found out that you were a spy, that you were on Pogtopia's side. He had ordered Tubbo to kill you with fireworks, to light you on fire, give you blisters all over your body. "Please Tubbs, you're my friend." you pleaded.

"I can't Y/n/n, or something worse will happen." he whispered to you. "What do you mean?" you asked. "He can-" he trailed off, looking somewhere else besides your eyes. "Tubbo, you don't have to do what that stupid bastard tells you to do, you're your own person, with your own thoughts and actions."

"I'm sorry Y/n, I hope you can forgive me."

"TUBBO N-" you was cut off by firewords hitting your skin, making blisters and burn marks all over your body. You lost your second canon life, feeling betrayed by Tubbo. He killed you for what, a stupid father who never cared about him in his entire life, a father who exiled his friends that actually treated him like a person, and not like some random piece of trash.

You respawned in your bed, feeling bruises and bumps mostly on your forearms and your back.

"I'll help you Tubbo, I’ll get rid of him.”

You dumb bitch I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it's true I wanted to be you and do what you do I lived here, I loved here, I bought it, it's true I'm so embarrassed, I feel abused

“Come on Y/n/n, come with me.” Punz begged of you. He wanted you to visit the Egg. You didn’t want to be controlled by a stupid omelette. "I'm not Punzo, why are you so obsessed with that stupid thing."

"DON'T SPEAK OF THE EGG LIKE THAT."

You put your hands in front of you, accidentally touching Punz's chest, "Ok calm down buddy." He didn't calm down and instead yelled at you on why you had to join the Eggpire.

"If you join, you will be forever happy."

"If you join you'll get whatever you want."

You were tired of the members of the Eggpire to convince you to join them, you didn't like eggs anyway. "Punz, for the last time, I'm not joining you, stop telling me."

“Then you have to die.”

So fuck your tunnels, fuck your cars, fuck your rockets, fuck your cars again You promised you'd be Tesla, but you're just another Edison 'Cause Tesla broke a patent, all you ever broke were hearts I can't believe you tore humanity apart

“XD!” You were pissed at him, he had destroyed your house, made your friends pissed at you, just everything you liked. All because he wanted you for himself.

He wanted you to be dependent on his every word, and he was being a manipulative psychopath. And you didn’t tolerate that, it was like he was his human counterpart, Dream.

He walked to you with confidence, waiting for to get a hug from you, well, he didn’t get that. You slapped him so hard his head swung to the left.

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

“That’s what you get you stupid son of a bitch. You fucking ruined everything.” “Calm down Y/n/n, what is wrong?” He acted concerned, but you knew that he was faking. He would do anything to get someone’s approval.

“DO YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT’S WRONG, IT’S YOU, YOUR STUPID PRESENCE IN MY LIFE. YOU KEEP ON WALKING AROUND LIKE YOU FUCKING OWN THE PLACE.”

“Calm down darling, just take some netheri-” you interrupted him by slapping the ore out of his hands. “I don’t need jack shit from you XD, you know what, take back the necklace, I don’t want it.” You pulled the shiny, green emerald necklace off your neck, and pulled XD’s palm out.

You placed the necklace filled with memories, and put it on his hand. You closed up his palm, and walked away, leaving XD to his own accord.

“We could’ve had evertything X.”

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glitteryglitter · 3 years

Text

Fishing trip

𝙰𝙽: This was requested by @badrepwonder

I originally saved your ask in my drafts and then it disappeared, (Thanks a lot, Tumblr) so I'm sorry about that. I hope I did your request justice! I also included Annie, because she’s amazing.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: None, I think! (If I missed anything, please tell me)

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Finnick x Capitol! reader

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1036

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

The weather was perfect, the water was warm, as was the air yet something felt off.

That day, Finnick and a few of his friends had decided to go fishing.

Y/n had decided to go along in the hopes of making some new friends.

Unfortunately, it was quite awkward.

They'd all assembled on a dock where the blue waves sparkled in the sunlight. It was picture-perfect but at the moment, y/n was finding it hard to focus on enjoying any of the scenery when everyone except Finnick seemed to be avoiding any type of conversation with her.

Y/n could really tell his friends were trying to be hospitable and kind, yet she couldn't seem to find a topic that would stick.

She'd ask a question and the group would talk for a few seconds, then, they'd go silent again.

This really wasn't how she'd hope to spend her afternoon at all, yet here she was.

As y/n tried her best to hold a conversation, her mind wandered.

Why weren't her topics sticking?

Was she saying something rude?

Was she simply annoying Finnick's friends?

If she was, they'd tell her, right?

She tried to force the ideas out of her head.

"So, what's your favorite thing to do in district 4?"

"Swimming is always a good idea" a boy with dark hair responded

"Yeah, I like it a lot too. The water's really warm here so it's nice all year-'round" a girl with red hair replied.

The silence returned.

Soon, all that could be heard was the sound of waves crashing against the wood of the dock, plus the occasional seagull from above.

Y/n would not give up so easily.

"It's warm here all year? that sounds lovely!"

"Yeah" the boy replied as he checked one of his nets for fish

this time, the red-haired girl did not respond, she merely nodded serenely.

Y/n tried once more.

"Have you done anything interesting today?" she chirped attempting to keep her ever-waining smile plastered on her face as best she could.

"I think so.." the girl whispered.

Y/n nodded expectantly hoping she'd elaborate.

Unfortunately, she did not.

Y/n truly did want to enjoy herself here, but it was nearly impossible.

It didn't help anything when Finnick after he'd caught a significant amount of fish and placed them in a basket. walked over to his friends and was pulled into the conversation easily as ever.

From her failed attempts at starting a conversation to the fact that she couldn't fish, Y/n had never felt more out of place.

Finnick paused for a second.

He noticed that his girlfriend, who was sitting dejectedly on the edge of the dock, really did look like she needed someone to talk to.

He assured himself that he'd check on her as soon as he could.

Unfortunately, the topic of knot-tying was extremely interesting to him and his attention eventually drifted back to his friends.

This went on for about 15 minutes until y/n couldn't take it anymore. She pulled Finnick aside.

she cast a worried glance at his friends, however, they didn't seem angry at her for needing to talk with Finnick. That was a good sign, however small it may have been.

"Fin, I need your help. I don't think your friends like me. Was it something I said? because if it was, I'd really like to know."

"Darling, don't worry. they may seem a little prickly at first, but the truth is, they're a bit intimidated by you. They've heard of the capitol, and know it as a place where the people are official and proper. They want to make a good impression. They've been practicing their good behavior for a while now, but I don't think it's going as planned is it?"Finnick smiled

Y/n giggled. "Not quite"

"Don't worry, they'll come around. I'm sure of it. Just give them some time.

So, let's go make you some friends."

Finnick pulled her towards his group of friends who were chatting animatedly.

At that moment though, he had a thought.

"Y/n, I have an idea; You should learn to fish with a trident!"

"Okay. I'll give it a try" Today was, Y/n decided, about trying new things.

After several tries and a few close calls which involved y/n almost falling off the dock and in the ocean, she’d finally done it.

"Fin! I did it! I caught a fish!"

Finnick rushed over and indeed, his girlfriend had caught a silver and blue fish.

He threw his arms around y/n

"I knew you could! Congratulations, darling."

"Look at what my girlfriend did! She caught a fish! She's a natural! " Finnick jogged over to where his friends were.

"Also, she really would like to get to know you, she's just a bit nervous"

They smiled at the thought.

Maybe the girl from wasn't as strict on rules as they thought, she did seem to be very friendly.

"Y/n's from the capitol, Are you sure she wants to talk with us?" the dark-haired boy asked.

Finnick let out an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, I'm sure you'll absolutely love her. Just give her a chance"

His friends looked at one another.

The red-haired girl nodded. "Alright, let's go!" I'm sure we'll get along.

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

Several hours later, the entire group was positively exhausted.

They had decided to lay down on the dock and watched the sunset.

That had been a while ago and at this point, only a small bit of light remained on the horizon.

They'd had a very successful day of fishing and had packaged their fish in several baskets to take home and store.

However, their outing given them much more than a few fish.

It had given them friends as well.

"I hope we can do this again" the red-haired girl y/n had come to know as Annie said.

"Definitely. I had a lot of fun!" Y/n replied.

She was so thankful to have made friends and was beginning to finally feel at home in district 4.

With Finnick beside her and her new friends near, Y/n felt truly happy.

For the first time in a while, she felt as though she had everything she could ever want and more and for that, she was extremely grateful.

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

#finnick odair #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #THG #thg x reader #The Hunger Games #the hunger games imagine

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

Family, Duty, Honor [Part 4]

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Game of Thrones AU

It no longer shocks her to awake in an unfamiliar chamber.

It had once; when she awoke that first morning in Highgarden, green silk sheets slick beneath her fingers and the finest emerald velvet as her cage, her stomach had given a queasy lurch, putting her on unsteady feet when faced with her Lord Paramount. In those days she had only just grown used to the rooms above her apothecary, to the quiet that could settle in the air when there was no tavern beneath it, patrons drinking and shouting well into the night. To be plucked from those walls and hung out to be seen like the herbs she cut from the Lord’s forest-- it was too much, even for nerves forged as steely as her own.

But after so many years shunted from one set of quarters to the next-- three alone at King’s Landing, in almost twice as many months-- the fear dulled, until all that remained was the vaguest sense of curiosity, followed by inevitability’s heavy shroud. A girl could not forever anticipate waking up in the same bed when she had no home to return to.

It is, however, nice to be warm.

Shirayuki stretches, the whole of her body suffused with a satisfying ache. For once, it is not the complaint of muscles abused past endurance, but instead the pleasure of ones gently used; the same stiffness roused after a day in the gardens. Save, of course, for the aches in certain places-- places she has never been so aware of, ones that leave a strange heat curled between her thighs.

With a sigh, her eyes blink open; it is still night. Strange; she is not one to stir before the sun. Practically part plant yourself, my lady, Obi would tease her, you never open for anything less than the dawn.

It would be wiser to slip back into slumber, to let this mystery await until she can look at it in the full light of morning. But it is impossible-- her curiosity has been roused. Even now awareness spreads through her body, the hairs on her skin standing and settling as thoughts kindle from their embers. There is silk beneath her, soft and cool against her, and--

And she know this because she is naked, not a stitch of clothing on her.

She rolls from belly to side, stifling a curse as she meets the curtains standing sentinel around her. They are dark, and even shadowed in night as they are, she knows their color-- russet red, the same as the hair on her head. On the bedposts are fish, large trout carved open-mouthed, water spurting and swirling upwards to where the canopy rests. Riverrun, the ancestral home of the Tullys. Her home.

Or at least, so she had thought. I’ll marry her myself, her uncle had said, every word filled with bitterness. Get a boy on her.

Her fingers clench, silk and velvet spilling through her fingers. Family, Duty, Honor. The Tully words; her father had spoken them, that night in Dorne, and she had known as sure as rivers run south that they were hers.

And now she knows why her father had left; why he had taken her mother and ran to where the Harmund’s fingers could not stretch. Fishlords, some called the Tullys, and her uncle earned it by his flopping. Blood might be thicker than water, but it still ran as easy as the Trident in his veins; a trout following the strongest current.

Family may be one of their words, but words are wind. A lesson she should have learned when even dragon turned against dragon, darkening the skies above the Blackwater.

Betrayal stung, but Shirayuki’s heart had long been forged into something stronger than flesh, her mind honed sharper than steel. She may not wield a blade or command armies, but her weapons may be just as deadly, so long as she applies them in their proper place.

Anything can be a weapon, Miss, Obi told her once, dragging a cutpurse by the collar to the Watch. The bruise was still livid on the boy’s face, hardly looking like the apple that had made it. You just have to use the right pressure...and where a man’s vitals are.

Her stomach lays flat beneath her palm, but beneath it, it roils. She wanted to reach out to her uncle, to convince him to her side-- to Zen’s side with logic and reason and perhaps even fondness. She wanted them to talk as equals, but now she sees-- he had never taken her for anything more than a pawn, something to be traded for a better lot. And if she must press what weapons she has to his vitals, she knows just which one she might use.

The mattress shifts beneath her, the night’s silence broken by a soft, muffled groan. A man’s. Memory crests as a wave, tumbling her beneath it-- this is not her chamber at Riverrun but Obi’s. She is warm not from the pan beneath the bed, but from his body beside her. And her nakedness, this ache between her legs is because-- because--

She has already set her plans in motion. This languid satisfaction is from muscles used indeed, and this sting a maidenhead lost.

A soft sigh slips from him, his breath rippling along her back. No, not lost but given freely, to a man who had known it for the gift it was. Not the one she thought would receive it, but nonetheless she does not regret it, not one moment. She had done what needed to be done, and Obi-- well, he had made it pleasurable besides.

Shirayuki shifts, one side to the other, smiling at the thick cocoon of blankets, a man-made mount of velvet and fur. A sliver of bronze peeks through a vent, baring half a face slack with sleep and satisfaction. It’s not his, he says, but that does nothing to stop the fondness that wells in her chest at the sight of it. Nor does it quell the new heat that kindles in her belly.

Obi has ever existed at her side, just at the corner of her vision. A touch away, should she need him; a soft pressure when she needs support. Fond has always been a pale word, a shallow reflection for the depth of her feeling. Simply by knowing he is near, she is safe-- no, she is known, vulnerable and inviolable all at once. That face man not be his, but she knows the way he wears his anger, his joy, his grief, and now--

Now she knows its pleasure too. How his mouth slackens when she touches him. The strangled noise that drags unwilling from his throat when he slides inside her. The furrowed knot of his brow as he draws close to his end, voice straining as he dances at the edge of it.

Wetness coats the tops of her thighs, and oh Maiden and Mother, she could burn alive from the way her cheeks blaze. To think of him like this when he is only providing a service-- it’s shameful. He might never claim his title, the ser he has so greatly earned, but even without a white cloak he is kingsguard still, and this another sacrifice to protect the Iron Throne.

No, not for the throne. Nor for the Targaryen name either. For Zen, who needs the Lord of the Riverlands if he is to ever do more than hold the line. Who needs to bring to the table more than the North if he is to ever convince Dorne to throw their lot in with his.

Shirayuki knows this for what it is, but still, her body reacts. She is no high born lady to think the joining of man and woman a mystery-- if she had not seen animals in the yard, she had too often seen the ones behind the tavern, trying to catch a quick moment before they went back to their own beds. And she knew all too well the ailments that could arise from too many of these trysts taken with little care, or how a lady might bleed before her time if her husband did not take his. But still, even knowing the arithmetic to make two into one, she had thought this might be a more dutiful act, restrained by the weigh of the favor she was asking him-- he had certainly not seemed like a man performing a duty.

Wake me in an hour, he had said, his voice a delicious rumble beneath her hands. I’ll be ready for you then.

She lifts to an elbow, reaching over the man-mound to push aside the curtain. A breath of cool air sighs against her skin, leaving shivers in its wake. By the sky hung in the windows, she had given him more than his hour-- and more than the second she had meant to spare him. If she woke him now, he could press her back against the mattress again, putting his cock where she aches for him still--

And he will, she knows. They must, if this plan is to work. Lies might fool a man, but it would take more than that to trick a maester. Her uncle will not be content to take her at her word, not when it so neatly scuttles his plans, nor when so much glory could be had if he could leverage this child to make himself Hand to the new king. There must be a real, actual child growing in her belly by the time her uncle returns, or all will be lost.

She peels back the layers of his cocoon, enough to sneak a hand through. Soft fingers brush over the cusp of his shoulder, scar ragged beneath them. “Obi.”

He grunts, burrowing deeper into the pillow. It had taken her three years to ever see him sleeping, and even after, he would wake at her slightest sound, at even the threat of her touch. But now--

Now he groans, long legs stretching out, chest arching until his shoulder cups firmly in her palm. And yet, his eyelids hardly flicker.

“Obi,” she tries again, impatience seeping in at she presses closer. His skin is so warm against hers, hard where she is soft. The heat coiled in her belly writhes. “Obi, please, we need to...”

One gold eye unfurls to half-mast, hazy with sleep. Her words are lost, gone like birds on the wind. It had taken all her courage to ask the first time; she cannot bear to dredge up enough for a second.

“Ah, Miss,” he sighs, and, ah, she feels him against her. It. His cock, half-hard, nestled against the forgiving flesh of her thigh. “So insatiable.”

Shirayuki does not pout; no, this pursing of her lips is forbidding, stern. “You did promise.”

He hums, one hand tracing up the curve of her bottom, settling against her back. “I did,” he slurs, sleep thick in his voice, staring up at her through the net of his lashes. “And lucky for you, I’m a man of my word.”

That hand slips up to her shoulder, urging her down, and she gives beneath him. His mouth meets hers on the journey, dragging her into its undertow with a slow, languorous slide. Nothing about this is hurried, like Zen’s kisses, or frantic, like the ones from mere hours ago, but patient, perfect. He hasn’t slept long enough for his breath to be sour, but it’s stale, and she--

Ah, his hand drifts down again, jerking her against him. His cock buries between her thighs, heavy and hard, and she could not care less what he tastes like, so long as he keeps kissing her.

Her own palm slips from shoulder to cheek, nails scraping beneath the bristle of his hair. With a whimper, his hips jerk into hers, leaving them both breathless.

“You’re already wet,” he murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction and wonder. “So wet. And all for me, Miss?”

He should hardly need to ask. He’d pushed her to her back last night, and it’d flowed out of her like a creek swollen in a storm, blossoming over her nightgown. She’d feared he would see it, that he might even smell it as he pressed his mouth to her and know that she had left her own duty long behind, driven now by a needy curiosity. This might all have been her plan, but it was not like her to want, to need. Even now as he rubs himself between her folds, her slit aching for him, empty, she worries that this craving might not ever leave her.

“Obi,” she whines, so unlike herself she might as well be some other girl, the kind that has trysts outside taverns and sees a barn as an opportunity. “I need...”

“Oh,” he laughs darkly against her mouth. “I know what you need.”

Her only warning is the curve of his lips, and then she is weightless, reeling under a force not her own. Like rolling down the hills of Honeyholt, at the mercy of the land beneath her; only it is not the Father’s hands she leaves herself in tonight, but the Stranger’s.

When that breathless moment ceases, she is atop him, pale hands braced upon the bronze of his chest, legs splayed to either side of his narrow hips-- though his shaft no longer sits between them, instead curving along her bottom. Shirayuki shifts, trying to work it beneath her again, to feel the hard ridge of him where she aches, but his hands rest on hers, stilling her where she sits.

Beneath their fingers he is patchwork of scars; unlike this face, they belong to him, the only record of who he was before he came to her, of what he might have been before arrived at the doors of the House of Black and White. Her thumb brushes along the curve of his borrowed cheekbone, heart leaping as he leans into her touch, his smile nestling into her palm.

No, it is not the Stranger she courts tonight, but the Many-Faced God. One in the same, Obi might tell her, a single form of a god that touches every angle of this world, but still--

It is from his jaw whom she has snatched suffering. It is his servant who she has made aid her. Death makes a merciless lord, and she has a habit of standing before his throne, defiant.

Her fingers stiffen where they hook behind his jaw. “I need you,” she says, a whisper so fierce it burns. “As long as you are with me, that is all I will ever need.”

Those shuttered eyes fly open, gold burning bright as a candle in the dim. It’s pale, not coin nor honey nor the intensity of amber, but a spool of golden floss, unwinding. “Miss,” he breathes raggedly, chest stilling beneath her. “I...”

His mouth works, but no sound comes from it. Instead he speaks with his eyes, their wild search of her own conveying more question than words ever could. Her heart pounds with an answer, but it chokes her, refusing to speak itself, refusing to even let her know what it might be, and it is too much, too intense for this moment, this night--

So she kisses him instead. That, it seems, is a language they both speak fluently.

He laughs, joy crashing against her lips. “You say you need me.” He lifts her hips, allowing his head to gently slide down her slit,. “But I think what you need is my cock.”

She wants to protest-- it is not the promise of his size or skill that drew her to his bed in her time of need, and it is surely not what keeps her here, drinking down every drop of his drugging kisses, but--

But he lowers her onto him, shaft nestling between her lips. It’s both what she wants and not enough entirely; more, she needs to tell him, but instead she only whines, leaning into his touch. His fingers flex against her skin, gripping so hard a peach would bruise beneath it, and with a twitch of his hands, he drags her along his length. Her thoughts cease completely-- at least those that are not how his shaft slides along her slit, or the way his cock’s head rubbing at the center of her maiden’s flower, making her skin dissolve in a shower of sparks.

“Obi!” She wrenches herself away from his mouth, trying to gain space, gain her bearings before this heat can consume her. He keeps moving her even still, that steady front and back, watching her with hooded eyes and knowing smile. Her cunt growing slicker with every stroke, anticipating when he might misjudge his angle, and let himself bury within her--

“Obi,” she tries again, shaking herself. She needs to speak, to tell him something--

But instead she looks down, right to where his head plunges between her thighs, flushed and thick and glistening with her own slick. All she can think is how she needs him in her, how she needs him to douse this heat that threatens to consume her whole--

“Obi--” it’s more sobbed than spoken, a fact that might shame her if the whole of her attention wasn’t on keeping herself in a single piece instead of burning into ashes-- “Obi, please--”

“Yes.” His moan throws his head against the pillow, the muscles of his neck straining. “Yes, Miss, I have you.”

He lifts her again, and this time, his cock’s head flicks over where she is empty. She whimpers, an animal wounded, wanting, her hips seeking him out trying to catch that moment of completion. His laugh huffs against the back of her hand, and she nearly scolds him-- how could he be so amused when she could light the glass candle with her skin alone--

And then he is in her, buried in her cunt with no more than the barest stretch. So easy, as if he were made for her.

“All right, Miss?” he asks, little more than a gasp. She manages a moan as his hips twitch beneath her, driving him just a scant inch deeper. Mother, but she wants more, wants all of him. It cannot be possible to be closer than this, but she wants it still, that cessation of space between them.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His thumbs rub at the flare of her hips, so gentle, before his palms slip. They glide lower, over the soft skin at her joint, cradling her thighs before guiding them forward. Her legs splay, pulling her closer still, sitting more of him inside her, and yet-- she feels more exposed too, vulnerable. It’s an odd angle, one she’s not sure she entirely likes, and she nearly says so until--

Until he surges up into her and paints a field of stars over her eyes, Dondarrion’s banner in full.

Her finger scrabble at his chest, trying to find purchase as he thrusts up. He’s filling her, more than he can before, each stroke touching her so deeply that she’s left gasping, clawing at his skin. She finally clamps her hands around his shoulders, toes curling in the sheets in an attempt to keep her steady. It’s a futile battle; even anchored as she is, moans leap from her, long and low and soft, hips chasing his cock even thought it never once leaves her.

“Obi,” she manages, a gasp rattling from her lungs. “This isn’t--” a moan slips from her, embarrassingly loud-- “this isn’t the best position for--” he leans forward, taking the tip of her breast in his mouth and sucking-- “conception!”

His chest rumbles beneath her palms. “I think,” he sighs, hands sliding down to grab her hips, “that I’ll come just fine like this.”

“I didn’t mean--”

His fingers dig in to her hips, so hard she knows she’ll bruise, but she can’t care, not when he cants her hips and drives her into him, over and over again, his head hitting something in her so right her vision whites at the edge.

“That’s right,” he hums, guiding her along his cock with a savage, almost feral glee. She leans back, letting him hold her weight and his smirk widens. “I’ll spill fine enough inside you, seeing you like this. Plant a seed and let it quicken, and everyone will know just how good you’ve been fucked--”

Her breath catches. This rough talk, it shouldn’t-- she shouldn’t--

She shouldn't like it. She doesn’t like it, she knows for certain; there’d been plenty of men at Highgarden who had made such promises in their cups. Grandfather had always seen them out on their asses, and told them never to darken his door again.

But the way Obi says it, the way he looks at her, pride and desire both-- it’s different. One thumb reaches out to graze her belly, and it draw her gaze down, down to where she can see his shaft pull near all the way out before thrusting again, covered in her own wanting, and Shirayuki-- she cannot last.

The heat between them finally consumes her, hot and cold both, and she is no longer steel, no longer porcelain, but instead putty in his palms from pleasure, slumping over him. His own breath stutters, and with a stifled groan, he spills over, hips twitching beneath hers.

The maesters knew little about childbirth itself; that was a woman’s realm, best left to the midwives they disdained as ignorant fishwives. But on the topic on conception opinions overflowed, an entire shelf in the Citadel dedicated to its methods-- specifically to those that would insure a male heir, even from a woman who had only evinced daughters. Most all of it was hogwash, merely men believing dominate the Mother’s domain as a lord might his lady, but some of it was true, told to her by midwives more experienced than any man in the maesters’ white tower.

Shirayuki knew, in the last bastion of her mind that was not consumed with pleasure, that she should roll off him. That she should get on her back and lift her hips to urge his seed deep inside her, encouraging it to take root. And after that, she should clean herself to prevent any infection from taking hold-- another thing the maesters’ texts found too unimportant to mention. It is what she would tell any woman that would come to her, looking to be taken with a babe, but instead--

Instead she stretches, luxuriating in the warmth of his skin against hers. The maesters and midwives never mentioned this, how close he would feel afterward, their bodies slick with sweat and wanting. They never said how sweet it would feel to have his cock soften inside her, how a simple hand brushed down her spine could quiet even her loudest thoughts.

“Ah,” he laughs, the tips of his fingers teasing at the divot at its base, not daring to curve lower. She wants him too, but she’s too tired to say it, instead just burrowing encouragingly against his chest. “Good morning to you too, Miss.”

“It’s still night.” She traces a scar, a small one right above his breast. it tremors beneath her touch. “Or I suppose it might be the wee hours before dawn.”

He hums, thoughtful. “You should be getting back.”

Shirayuki blinks up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” His teeth flash in the dim. “I hate to kick a woman out of bed, but your maids will be up with the sun.”

And all of them would he happy to hum Harmund a tune, should he ask for a song. Especially about his niece’s nighttime dealings. As little as she likes it, she’s lingered long enough.

“Yes,” she sighs, levering herself up. “You’re right, I should...”

She stares down, heart in her throat. Even in the dark she can see it, the pinkish stain smeared across the sheets. The remnants of her maidenhood, dried and set in silk. “Oh...”

Obi rolls craning his neck to match hers. “Ah, well. Do you think they’ll believe me if I say I had my courses?”

Shirayuki spares him a flat look.

“Oh, don’t you be worrying about that, Miss.” He waves her off, using his hips to bounce her leg off him. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to get blood out of silk.”

“But it’s dried.” She lost more than a few good skirts and sheets from that alone. “It’s nearly impossible--”

His hand cups the back of her neck, swinging her gaze around to meet his. “I said I have it handled.”

Her mouth opens, then closes with a snap. It’s hardly be the first time a man like him would have to clean blood from cloth.

“All right.” She pads over to the basin, wincing as the cold water touches her skin. “I’ll only clean myself and then--”

She’ll never know how he can pace a room so fast; one moment he’s at the end of the bed, putting on trousers, and the next he’s standing next to her. Long fingers pluck the cloth from her hand, his mouth curving as her breath catches.

“Let me handle that, Miss,” he murmurs, so close to her they could hold a playing card between them. “It’s my job to take care of you after all.”

The cloth slides down her belly, freezing in its wake, but it hardly bothers her, not when she is but skin wrapped around a living flame. It sinks further still, Obi’s breath fanning across her face as he slips it between her thighs. Her chest hitches when it traces along her slit, so slow, so tantalizing, one of Obi’s long fingers teasing at her entrance.

“Obi,” she whimpers, but it’s the only sound she makes before he covers his mouth with her own. Her fingers curl around his shoulders, trying to keep herself upright, and she slips, just a little, nails digging in--

He gasps. She presses the advantage, slipping her tongue past his lips; all pretense is lost then. The cloth slumps to the floor as his finger sinks knuckle-deep into her cunt, the banked flame in her belly blazing with little more than the slide of his lips and a pump of his fingers. He stirs against her hip; she glances down for a breath, but his cock is still soft, lolling out the gap of his trousers.

To her everlasting shame, she lasts barely more than a few breaths; both surprise and sensitivity working against her. His hips press her hard against the basin, and his finger curves just so, just enough to have her gasping and writhing and riding him to a second fall, Obi grinning the entire time.

“There.” He lifts his finger to his lips, sucking them clean. “Just wanted to make sure it would stick.”

If she’s flushed, at least the dark shrouds it. “I’ll--I’ll see you in the morning.”

She feels him watching as she bends over, gathering up her shift. “With the way I had you, you’ll see me in your dreams first.”

It should annoy her that she knows he’ll be right, but instead-- instead heat flares in her, making her bold.

“Good.” She slides her shifts over her shoulders, and with a single look back, says, “I’ll need you to do it tomorrow, too.”

His face is worth every shade of her blush.

#obiyukibingo2020 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #lemon #my fic #game of thrones au #family duty honor #ans #here i was thinking i was done with this fic #but NO #it has come back to haunt me #with SMUT and POLITICS #mostly smut this time #but in the inevitable continuation i am sure...politics

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Metanoia - Chapter Fourteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 5k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

If the career districts had their hands on books like these, you would have been forced to read them. Mercilessly. Like, a whole couple of units just studying these useless things. They’re mostly published for the Capitol citizens--which is why they’re not supplied in districts--but imagine having everything you could possibly need to know, in a couple of books.

These handbooks are genius. Even if they’re meant for entertainment and not practical use, they’re fucking fantastic.

Every nine years, one of these books comes out. Inside, they have every tribute that had gone in for those nine years--which comes out to be two hundred and sixteen tributes in total. They have the names, ages, weights, heights, eye and hair colors. Who their mentor, stylist, prep team and district representative was, and so much more.

For example, for the year you won, they start with the tributes and their information.

District One, Deimos Chambers. Black hair, brown eyes. He was seventeen, six-foot-one, with a weight of one hundred and seventy five. His mentor was Gloss, and as for the rest, it seems a little unimportant to you. However, his go-to weapon during training was always a sword, and he seemed to be very skilled in hand-to-hand combat.

Which all career tributes are skilled in, but whatever. You’re all taught to be proficient in something, and it’s mainly hand-to-hand. You’ll hardly see a career tribute try and do shit from far away. You know you wouldn’t bother all that much. From far away, you risk the chances of missing, up close, you can kill them in one goddamn shot.

Deimos’ score was a whopping ten, which is basically what all the comprehensive people had gotten. In his interview he wore all black, and when the lights had been shut off momentarily, the glow in the dark constellations came to life. And it wasn’t that bullshit green color either. It was white, and looked like there were actual lightbulbs behind it all, but the stylist was just creative.

It lists the people he chose to be allies with: Alhena, Zeke, and yourself. How many he killed during the bloodbath, which was one. But in total from start to finish it was three to four, counting assist kills. It says how he died, how many days he survived for, and what he placed.

Next is Alhena Hurley. Brown hair, blue eyes. She was sixteen, five-foot-seven, weighing in at one hundred and thirty five. Her mentor was Cashmere, respectively. Her chosen weapon inside of the training center was a mace, and her special note was that she was strong.

“Not emotionally.” you mutter, snickering to yourself as you continue reading.

Alhena got a score of nine, her interview dress was silver, with black specks on it--which is more or less the opposite of what Deimos had. She killed two people in the bloodbath, and that would stay her number for the rest of the games. She died because she got killed on the third day by someone who was hiding in the trees.

On the District One page, it holds both Deimos and Alhena. Pictures of what they wore during the reaping, train station, parade, interview and inside of the arena. Along with their special picture that would indicate that they were dead. The next page holds their family and friend interviews--if they had any--with the questions that Caesar asked and the answers given by their loved ones.

Then, there’s District Two, starting off strong with Zeke. Blonde hair, brown eyes. Seventeen, six foot on the dot, weighing roughly one hundred and sixty pounds. You guys had the same mentor, so it was Enobaria. He was boring and chose a sword, and his special skill was that he was always moving. More or less, he was quick.

Training score of ten, his suit was a bronze color, while the dress shirt was actually black. It was sorta metallic in the light. Zeke managed to kill one person in the bloodbath, and came out to two to three at the end. And he obviously placed second, because you were the one that killed him so that you could win.

And then there’s yourself. (Y/n) Rosecelli, sixteen. You had fairly short hair when you went inside of the arena--just so that it wouldn’t be grabbed and used against you. You were pretty tall, around the recommended weight group--although, that didn’t really matter in the end--and your mentor was Enobaria. Your chosen weapon inside of the training center was the sai’s and your special talent was being a know-it-all.

You scored a ten, got the same metallic bronze color of a dress with the matching black. Inside of the arena you had killed eight people, placing number one. At the very top of the page it says ‘WINNER!’, like it’s some fucked up game and not a fight for your survival.

It had the pictures and interviews as the others did, but with yours it’s extra special. You get the second interview by Caesar and what outfit you had worn for it. A small section for all the highlights inside of the arena, and then the victory tour, with the celebration at the mansion. All the headlines that you had gotten for being inside of the Capitol ‘willingly’.

And there’s also close-up pictures of all the tattoos you had gotten while you were there too.

It makes you sick knowing that they had produced these for entertainment, when it really could have been for the betterment of future tributes. Apart from all the useless shit they had for profiling the tributes, they literally had their battle plans.

Like for Finnick, it says that he used a fishing net while he and the opponent were in water. He’d get them tangled, and then when he was sure they couldn’t hurt him, he’d just kill them with his super expensive trident. And all the tributes didn’t know to be afraid of him until it was too late.

Just like with Johanna too. She played stupid for her entire time inside of the Capitol, and a little bit into the games to draw people in. She purposely scored low on her private training session--which is no doubt a big setback sponsor-wise. But then she became a killing machine, and almost a legend of sorts.

It made tributes wary of those who pretended to be stupid like that. Gave away their entire motive, because Johanna had done it first, and she won because of it. Anyone who did pose a threat early on would get killed.

It’s the exact reason why you went after the District Four tributes when you did. Your games were directly after Finnick’s, and the thought of one of those fish-eating fuckers getting their hands on you like that was terrifying. So, the only way to eliminate the chance of that happening, is to get rid of the only people who really know their way around water, and nets, and fishing.

Finnick likely hated that, the fact that you went after them specifically when you had the chance. However, you know deep-down that he appreciated that you wouldn’t let them suffer. You just wanted them dead immediately to get rid of the chance of them still being alive. You wouldn’t move from the bodies until the cannons had gone off.

Honestly, your allies should have killed you when they had the chance. If you were smart enough to stand over tributes to make sure that they were dead before moving on, that should have been a red flag. Even when they had wanted to leave tributes to bleed out and die, you’d be the one to finish them off.

Not to mention, you marking your arm after every broadcast of The Fallen was a whole new level of insane. And it’s not like they didn’t notice it or anything, they just chose not to point it out. They knew what it was for and all, but they didn’t say anything.

Someone clears their throat, making you look up from the handbook. You’re not really surprised to see Finnick standing there, in the same white scrubs that you’re wearing.

“Good afternoon.” you flip the page, landing right onto the District Four tributes from your games, “Or evening, I can’t tell in this coffin anymore.”

“The nurses tell me you haven’t left your room in a couple of days.” he doesn’t move from the doorway.

You give him a glance, “Why would I? Peeing in my own bathroom is just the same as the one down the hall. Both have cold toilet seats and smell like cleaning products.”

Finnick cracks a smile, coming into the room now, “What’re you reading?”

“Hunger games handbooks.” you hold it up for him to see briefly, “This is the year I won, and these are the tributes you mentored.”

Finnick comes over, and you turn the book so he can read it a little.

Brook Giles, fifteen, five-foot-eight, around one hundred and fifty six pounds. He has bleached brown hair and blue eyes. His training score was a nine, he wore a classic light blue and white suit during his interviews. His go-to weapon was a sword inside of the training center and he died on the first day because you killed him.

“One of my first takeouts,” you watch his face, wondering if he’ll get mad if you talk about it so carelessly, “It was almost fun.”

Finnick meets your eyes, “You were scared, just like the rest of them.”

“I killed him because he reminded me of you.” you then turn to the girl, “And so did she.”

Mira Osborne, sixteen, blonde hair and green eyes. Five-foot-five, one hundred and forty pounds. She wore a white dress that barely went to her knees, some blue accents here and there. She scored an eight, her go-to weapon was a spear. One kill, and only a few days later she’d die because you’d find her hiding in a cove.

“I was fifteen when I watched you win, and I knew that the following year I’d likely be picked to volunteer. I realized that I didn’t know how to swim at all, and the thought of ending up in a net, scared and drowning was more terrifying than anything I had come across up until that point of my life.” you smile, looking at Finnick now, “So, I dug a hole in my backyard, filled it with water and taught myself how to swim.”

Finnick stares, as if he doesn’t know if you’re kidding or not.

You aren’t.

“Of course, as extra precaution I chose to go after them first. Anyone who got in the way was an added bonus to my kill streak. I hunted Mira like she was a fucking deer and I was starving.” Finnick’s silence is what you expected for telling him information like this, and you’re not even done yet, “And had you not been my soulmate, you, Mags, Katniss, Peeta and Johanna would have ended up just like her.

“And I wouldn’t have stopped until you were all dead.”

Finnick straightens up, stiff. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but snaps his mouth shut.

Smug, you smirk, “What? Did you suddenly realize that I’m exactly who I told you I was?”

Finnick turns to leave, and you wait patiently as he goes towards the door frame. But then he grabs the chair by it, and takes a seat. Although, just by looking at his body language, he doesn’t want to be here. And he doesn’t want to let you win this either.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you flip the book open again, “You’re making a grave mistake.”

“Stop telling me that.”

You glance up, “Is it because you know that I’m right and you don’t want to admit it? You know you’re leaving a nice, capable girl that would love to settle down, have kids and grow old with you. For someone who’s an insufferable bitch that hates the life she’s been given, and everything that she’s ever cared for gets killed or leaves her.”

“Is that why you won’t let me at least be friends with you?”

You take in a deep breath, “No, I don’t want you near me at all because you’re you. You’re Finnick Odair, darling of the Capitol. You’re Finnick Odair, the youngest victor in history who was also given the most expensive gift ever sent inside of the arena.” you laugh, “Oh! And you’re Finnick Odair, the man who also exposed Snow for who he is. Which lets you be in the spotlight more times that you’re worthy of.”

“So you think you’re not worthy?”

It’s like a blinding rage for a split second as you hurl the twenty-five pound book straight at Finnick, “I can’t fucking stand you!”

Finnick catches the book just barely before it hits him in the face, “(Y/n)--”

“No.” you cut him off, “No, you don’t get to pretend like you’re the voice of reason here, because you’re not. I’m a fucking nightmare, and even I know when enough is enough.” You get up and off of the bed, grabbing a hold of the necklace Tanith gifted you. As you begin to leave your safe place, you point at him, “I know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“You hopped from what you think is one broken girl to another. But news flash, Finnick, I’ve lost much more people,” you get down to his eye level, “I lost my entire family when I got home to District Two after I won my games. And it wasn’t just my immediate family, it was distant aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. Everyone who was even a shred related to me, is now dead. I’m the only one left of my fucking bloodline.”

You stand up now, “Losing Tanith is nothing compared to what I had lost then. I wish I had grown a pair and stepped off the fucking hovercraft to bury her, because doing that wouldn’t have been nearly as much as a hassle compared to dealing with you.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, and you don’t wait to see if he does either. You go straight out, ignoring the nurses that stare at you, because it really is the first time you’ve left the room in days. Everything is delivered to you, if there’s something you want, they’ll go and get it.

You have a vague idea of where you want to go, just getting there is going to be the problem. Typically, even if you do leave the room, someone will follow you out to keep an eye on you. You remember very vividly, a certain nurse standing at an arm's distance from you, during Coin’s last speech. When she announced the liberation of the prisoned victors.

A joke. This whole place is one fucking circus.

Just as you expected, the floor is pretty vacant. Here and there, someone will wander in and out, but that’s really it. You give a look behind you, confirming that there isn’t a nurse following you just yet. Then, you take off towards the elevator.

You barely remember how that one doctor used it, but it shouldn’t be that hard. You press the button, bringing the lift to you. When it stops and makes the annoying sound, you pull the guard rail up, and then step inside. Pulling it down again, you can see one of the nurses round the corner.

You give her a bright smile, punching the top floor, “Tata.”

The elevator starts moving up, and you give her a wave. Then, she’s blocked out by the cement flooring.

For the rest of the ride up, you cross your arms and wait, staring straight ahead. Your game plan is to head to the woods and don’t stop walking until you’re lost. Hopefully, no one will think to follow you out there.

The elevator stops at the top floor, allowing you to be met face to face with a band of people. They’re pulling up the guard rail before you even have a chance to reach for it.

Katniss is on a stretcher, her sister is hovering over her. Haymitch, Beetee, Gale and Boggs are nearby. Not to mention all the other people behind them.

“Geez.” you move out of the way, allowing Katniss to be wheeled in. Beetee and Gale fit themselves on, but Boggs and Haymitch don’t follow.

There’s not nearly enough room for them all to fit on the elevator, anyway. And apparently it gives Boggs to grab a hold of you before you can escape.

“Where are you going?”

You give him a kind smile, “I was given the okay to clear my head for a little.”

“Why are you still in scrubs, then?”

You make a face, shrugging, “Don’t ask me, they’re the ones that told me I was free to go whenever.”

Boggs doesn’t look convinced, and honestly, neither does Haymitch.

“Fine, I made a breakaway because I can’t fucking stand it in there.” you pull your arm from Bogg’s grasp, “For a district that’s all about equality, I don’t see why it should matter if I come up here to disappear for a little while. Or the fact that I’m being followed around when I do leave my room because you guys think I’m some sort of Capitol bootlicker.”

Haymitch laughs, “Same old (Y/n).”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” you then look at Boggs, “Don’t send anyone to follow me. I’ll come back when I feel like I’m ready to breathe stale air and eat shit for dinner.”

“Had you expressed your distaste for District Thirteen earlier, we might have taken you right back to District Two.” Boggs says.

You raise your eyebrows, “Earlier? When did you go?”

“A couple hours ago.” Haymitch says, “We just got back.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “Great, my only way out of this shithole and I wasn’t even aware of it. It’s funny how you brought the guy in the wheelchair and not the girl who literally grew up there her entire life.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Bogg says, “Enjoy your walk.”

The elevator is back, and they step on. You turn around and leave, heading straight towards the opening. You can already hear the chirps of the birds and you’re nowhere near the door.

You pick up the pace, jogging right past the people that work out here. One of them waves, and you raise your hand in acknowledgement. The smile doesn’t even come across your face until the sun is in your eyes.

You take a sharp left, taking the trail for the most part. When you’re out of the sight of those inside of the building, you slow your pace, taking your time with getting lost.

You’re not even kidding when you say that it’s literal fresh air. This smells and tastes nothing like what goes underground. It’s stale, and out here it’s sweet. It must have rained a couple days ago or something because the plants have that smell to them--petrichor.

After a while, you detour from the trail, heading into the trees some more. You weren’t kidding when you said that you’d like to get lost. Being out here, wandering for hours on end is going to be more entertaining than reading those depressing handbooks. On top of that, you won’t have to see Finnick’s face for a while.

He really does get on your nerves. Him pretending that he knows every single detail about you, and claiming the opposite of what you tell him is pissing you off. You’re a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You’d rather be told the heartbreaking truth than have someone lie through their teeth. So, you assume other people like it that way too. It cuts out a lot of unnecessary drama.

Unless it’s another person’s lie, then you’ll play along. If they want to fabricate things for their own gain, then have at it. Who are you to say no to them?

With Finnick, you’ve told him several times, over and over that you can’t stand him. And he acts as if that’s all going to magically change if he forces you to get used to his company or whatever. And you even dumbed it down for him, explained what the deal was. You don’t want him, you don’t need him. You want or need the help.

He doesn’t need to stick around after that wish has been fulfilled. All he’s doing is hurting his own feelings.

At this point, it might just be the challenge of getting you to like him. Show some kind of friendship just so he can drop it. You wonder if you fake it, he’ll finally leave you alone. You might just have to try that out until he realizes that you’ve had an entire personality flip.

Finnick would probably see that it’s a facade but might go along with it just to see how long you can keep it up for.

It’ll be your own personal game. How long can you be nice on the outside and calm on the inside until Finnick does something completely absurd that it makes you flip your shit? The time starts now.

You take a deep breath, going down the hill carefully, because you can clearly see the river. Off to the left some more are shoeprints and the trail that you had supposedly detached yourself from. It doesn’t really matter anymore, as long as you can sit here and be by yourself, you’re fine.

You get as close to the water as possible, taking off the shoes and rolling up the scrubs. You let your legs sit in the water as you lean back on your hands, staring at the scenery. It truly is a beautiful place here, but you’d never want to stay. Even if District Two is in shambles, you want to go back.

It’s your home. It holds so much grief and terror, and yet you just want to be back in the comforts of your own town. You want to see all your old neighbors before your victory. And see Victor’s Village overflowing with people always, no matter how annoying they were.

They’re all dead now. The only surviving victors from District Two is Lyme, and yourself. Everyone else is dead. Enobaria, Neysa, Tanith, Sorcha, Brutus, Edmond, Zavian and everyone else. Lyme had filled you in, that Snow had them all killed, and anyone else who proved valuable went with him.

Lyme and Paylor are lucky to be alive.

You’d literally give anything to talk to one of them again. To relive Tanith showing up uninvited in your house the morning of the reaping. You would have been so much more gentle than usual if you had known that it would have been the last real conversation without gloom hanging over your heads.

At least you’re lucky to say that your final goodbyes to her and Zavian wasn’t terrible at all. You were able to hug them both and tell them just how much they meant to you. Even if it wasn’t really heartfelt for Zavian, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world he could have heard.

And now they’re gone, and you’re still alive.

“Lucky me.” you murmur, finding a rock and tossing it into the water.

It’s funny how you only feel bad after all those people are dead. You would never in your right mind would have ever thought of being kind to those people until now. You’ve got some genuine guilt on your hands.

Edmond and Neysa really had tried to act in your best interest. They knew your limits, but you like to think that you can push it. Like Edmond making sure you’d be sober and not make a fool of yourself in front of all those people at the train station. He wasn’t doing it to restrict you. And even though he didn’t show it the best way, you could have at least tried to understand.

Neysa just wanted you to get good allies. She wanted to give you a fighting chance, and had you just followed what she wanted, you wouldn’t have been so waist-deep in shit with distrust from Finnick’s alliance. She knew something you didn’t when it came to the fact that you shouldn’t go off alone inside of the arena.

And yet you like to be independent.

There’s a crunching of leaves beneath boots, making you dip your head for a moment. You sigh through your nose, raise your head and then look over your shoulder. It’s exactly who you thought it would be, but he’s not wearing those white scrubs anymore. He’s also got some clothes draped over his arm.

You squint at him, “Are you wearing a suit?”

“Not the reaction I was expecting.” Finnick’s got his signature smile on his face, showing off his dimples.

You turn away before you can say something mean.

“I figured you’d rather run away in something much more fashionable.” Finnick stops behind you.

“How’d you know?”

You stare at the water for another moment, before pushing yourself up, brushing off the dirt from your butt, knowing full well that it’s still going to be there. In Finnick’s hands sit some familiar ripped black jeans, but a navy blue shirt.

“I see they have a pattern.” you hold up the shirt to see, “And it has a breast pocket too.”

“The pink shirt was thrown away since you destroyed the hem.”

“I was anxious.” you reason, placing the shirt back.

You take off the white scrub shirt, making Finnick turn his head away. A smile appears on your face, because he acts like he literally hasn’t seen you naked before--cough cough, after you got bit by spiders. Butt ass naked, it wasn’t just Finnick who saw you completely nude. You flashed the whole fucking country.

They probably couldn’t keep that in, and had to change the camera perspective after that.

You pull on the shirt, and then you pull off the bottoms, being sure to wipe your muddy feet on them to clean off your feet.

“So what made you follow me out here this time?” you ask, taking the jeans and pulling them on.

“Your stunning personality, as always.” Finnick looks over now, “And the fact that Haymitch and Boggs wanted me to follow you out here. I tried to tell them it wasn’t the brightest idea, but they had me do it anyway, gave you a thirty minute head start first, though.”

“Smart of them. I’m assuming you saw Katniss, then?”

“Seems like she’s been taking hit after hit lately.”

“Imagine getting strangled by your fiance.” you laugh, and Finnick joins in.

“Imagine getting punched by your soulmate.” Finnick gives you a look.

You roll your eyes, “Okay, you have to admit that you deserved it.”

“Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”

You press your lips together, stomping your foot into the boots since you’re too lazy to untie them. You repeat the process with your left foot, which takes a lot longer. Finnick just laughs at you the entire time, since you refuse to go down and fix it yourself.

“Let’s get serious for a moment.” you look at Finnick, and he looks a little afraid, “It’s nothing bad, you might even think I’m lying for a second.”

“That’s not--why would you say that?” he laughs.

You take your dirty scrubs from his hands, “Because I think ahead.” you tap the side of your head, “Anyway, I honestly want to apologize for what I said earlier.”

Finnick’s eyebrows skyrocket, and you can’t help but to laugh, “You’re being serious?”

“I am.” you start towards the trail, “And I would also like to apologize for everything that I’ve said before that. And all my actions too, like if I punched you or threw something at you.”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Finnick asks, “I mean, I accept but you gotta tell me why.”

You look at him, “I was thinking before you came out here--obviously--that people aren’t really out to get me. I don’t have to be independent and fight by myself anymore, not when there’s people with the same… struggles. You get it, right?”

Finnick’s impressed, “I do.”

“You know, a genius once told me that I’m not as dislikable as I like to think.”

It takes Finnick a moment before it clicks in his head. He’s the one that said it to you.

“A genius, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

He nods, “Well, if we’re apologizing for things--”

“We’re cool, you don’t have to.”

Finnick ignores you, “--I’m sorry for approaching you so strongly.”

“You thought that it was the only way to get through to me, I get it. If someone has their walls up, sometimes the only way to get them down is if you meet their energy.”

“Do I even know you?” Finnick laughs.

“Oh, the glory of having an epiphany.” you smile, giving him a look, “So what are we dressed up for?”

“Your newfound freedom.”

“The fuck?” you laugh.

“Haymitch and Boggs convinced Coin to get you a little more freedom, which means that they weaseled me in too. We get a dorm, get to eat with the others and we can come up here whenever we want.”

“I have a feeling this is a little bit of bullshit.”

Finnick chuckles, “How did you know?”

“You can’t deceive me, I see through most of the shit you and your buddies do. I pay attention. I knew you, Johanna and the others were in an alliance before it was formed. And I also knew that you were planning a rebellion, and all you asked is if I was a loyalist.” you get back to walking, “You could even say that I’m a little insightful.”

“I’ll give you that one.” Finnick agrees, “Also, before we go back inside, you should know something else.”

“What did you do this time?” you look at Finnick.

He’s stopped walking, and so you do too, “I’ve ended things with Annie completely.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia chapter fourteen

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

February Contest Submission #2: Quo Vadis

words: ca. 6000 setting: Ancient Rome AU lemon: no cw: Blood, violence, injuries, death, swords

Quo Vadis - Part 1 [abridged]

—

“Aut viam inveniam aut faciam tibi,” Anna said.

She heard Elsa sigh and turned to face her, the older woman stood with her arms folded over the stomach of her simple toga. They were standing in front of the gladiator dorms. A small dirt patch surrounded by small apartments jammed into a corner of Rome not far from the Colosseum. The true training area was in a city further south.

“Must you become a gladiator?” Elsa asked her.

“I’m a good fighter already, this would be an easy way to earn us money.”

“You could die, Anna, did you even consider that?”

“I’m quick on my feet Elsa, I would be amazing with a blade.”

“You do realize this is selling yourself into servitude?”

“How is that different from what you do now?” Anna asked, referring to Elsa’s job with a local shopkeeper. She was stuck working with this man till her debt was paid. Thankfully he was a kind soul with a large family and just needed someone to help with the day-to-day. He afforded Elsa a lot of freedoms and she was careful to never abuse them.

“I’m not risking my life for entertainment,” Elsa argued back.

“Elsa, when was the last time you saw a gladiator die?”

“Last week…”

“The emperor gave the thumbs down, it happens.”

“And that could happen to you!”

Anna shrugged, “Then I will die like a Roman, not a poor coward.” Anna folded her arms across her chest. “I’m signing up.”

At that, the two men standing behind the nearby table perked up. One had been watching them intently, the other was busy picking at his nails. Both had whips, a stark reminder that however well the gladiators were treated and however much they were loved by the masses, they were still locked into contracts of servitude. Just like Elsa, but much more dangerous.

“What do you want, woman?” the one who had been watching asked.

“To sign up!” She answered, trying to project as much confidence as possible.

“A woman, willingly signing up? Now I have seen everything.”

“Do you know what you’re getting into, girl? You do not fight like the men, you are just entertainment,” the one picking his nails asked.

Elsa looked desperate and scared, she reached out and grabbed her arm. “Anna please, please just think about this,” she begged

“I have,” Anna replied and then looked at the men “If no one watches, I will make them watch!”

“I love you,” Elsa choked out, a common phrase.

Anna looked over her shoulder as she walked away and casually threw back a response, “I love you too.”

“How sweet,” the nail-picker remarked. “You are in a 5-month contract, you renew unless you are with child. I am Mattias, I am your lanista, tomorrow you will fight.”

“Tomorrow? Don’t I get any training? Or a room?”

“No, women do not train and thus do not get dormitory space unless they are a fugitivus. You are not, so go home. If you do not return, I will have you killed or worse.”

***

The first thing she noticed was how loud the Colosseum was. People shouting and cheering above the sound of clashing swords and metal on metal. The second thing she noticed was that she was one of four women. All prisoners, Anna was the only one who had signed up willingly.

She watched one named Megara select a trident and net before sitting down on the bench with the other two women. Roman soldiers stood at the entrances, looking bored.

Mattias had been watching stone-faced from the wall. Once Megara had selected her weapon he turned to Anna. “Pick up a sword and shield, you’ll fight her.”

Anna did as she was told. She was surprised at how heavy the shield was and she struggled to secure it to her arm. Mattias just turned up his nose, it wasn’t his problem. He felt getting stuck with the women was beneath him, something he said frequently. Anna had only been here for an hour and he had already mentioned it seven times.

“Let me assist,” the woman named Mulan said in broken Roman. Anna hesitated then held out her arm.

Once the shield was secured tightly to her arm Mulan smiled before sitting back on the bench again. Megara rolled her eyes and spat on the floor.

“It is dishonorable to fight for the entertainment of others. I view this as sparing, training if you will,” Mulan added.

“Whatever,” Megara muttered and put her helmet on.

Anna copied her, the helmet she selected was big and moved around on her head.

“Doesn’t matter, loose, tight, it’s all for show, we never fight for real.”

Mattias pointed to the door. Megara stood and walked through it, Anna followed. It was a long hallway that sloped upwards and ended in a closed gate, beyond which was the arena.

Anna’s heart pounded, she was nervous. Next to her Megara yawned audibly.

“Hope this is everything you signed up for. Some of us didn’t have the choice,” Megara said, her tone dripping with venom. She continued before Anna could reply. “You walk out first, I’ll come running. Doge the net, I’ll always swing it to your left. Hit my trident, I’ll drop it, then I’ll net you, take your sword and win. Got it?”

“Wait, you mean we’re not going to fight?”

“No, idiot. Just go through the motions, no one gets hurt, we get food and go home. Now go!” She shoved a confused Anna forward as the gate opened.

Anna stumbled out into the sunlight and squinted. She looked around the arena, Mattias and Megara weren’t kidding, no one was watching. People were milling around, eating, or having conversations. They paid little mind that she was even in the arena. The loudness she had heard earlier was now a dull roar of sounds not unlike the market on a busy day.

Quick footsteps behind her made her turn to see Megara running at her with her net spinning. Anna held her sword and shield at the ready like she had seen other gladiators do. In the back of her mind she knew this wasn’t a real fight but her adrenalin took over.

Magara’s net hit the ground to Anna’s left, causing a cloud of dust to flare up.

Anna hid behind her shield and heard Magara grunt as she swung again, the net flaring out in a wide arc to Anna’s left. Magara was watching it fly and not looking at Anna, it left her open and vulnerable.

Some kind of deep-seated instinct took over. Anna planted her right foot and lunged forward leaning into the shield so it carried nearly all of her weight. She connected with Megara and sent the other woman flying backward.

Anna held her footing and crouched low, she gripped her sword tightly and held it to the side of the shield. She watched Magara stand up, her muscles and actions stiff. She was mad.

“Bitch!” she yelled and came running. Her net was gone. She charged with the trident.

Anna sidestepped the charge, slashed with her blade when the other woman passed. It easily cut into her thin leather armor. It wasn’t enough to go all the way through, but enough that she must have felt it. So much for dull weapons. Megara pivoted on one heel and shouted, thrusting wildly with her trident. Anna blocked each jab with her sword. Her shield was old and wooden — she wasn’t sure if it could withstand an attack.

An opening presented itself and Anna repeated her shield bashing but Megara was ready this time and kept her footing. Landing one pong of the trident in Anna’s arm. It stung but Anna didn’t have time to think about it as she swung her blade at Magara’s throat.

Her lack of training showed itself and she missed the throat and buried her blade into the flash of Megara’s bicep. Both girls now sporting arm wounds, disengaged and stepped back, circling, waiting.

Megara made the first move, taking a running charge at Anna, her trident held forward like a battering ram.

Anna ducked behind her shield again and braced, the trident made contact and sunk into the wood. Anna took a gamble that Megara had a bad grip and moved her shield arm down and away. The trident came with and Anna delivered a kick to Megara’s midsection.

Somewhere in the stands, she thought she heard a gasp.

Anna stumbled a bit on her recovery, the trident was heavy and threw off her balance. She tried to shake the shield off her arm but Mulan had secured it too well.

Megara came running at her and Anna couldn’t swing the heavy shield/trident combo fast enough to block her. The other woman tackled the redhead and sent them into the dirt. Her too-big helmet flew off and the impact dislodged the trident but it didn’t matter. Megara straddled Anna’s hips and held down her shoulders.

“You know if you didn’t just completely disregard everything I said and tried to kill me, this would be very hot,” Megara said, so close that Anna could see her eyes through the helmet grate. She meant her words.

In an arena full of strangers, Anna felt embarrassed and flushed and awkward. It left her open in a way she had never thought to prepare for and this time Megara took advantage. She grabbed Anna’s head and smashed her own helmeted head into it. Hard.

Darkness.

***

“I think she’s waking up,” came Elsa’s voice.

“Oh joy, guess I’ll cancel the elaborate funeral plans I made, praise the gods or whatever,” Megara replied.

They both sounded very far away. Anna brought a hand up to touch a knot on her temple.

“Ouch,” she mumbled.

“Oh you’re fine softy, just shake it out. You’ll have a headache today, it will be gone by tomorrow. Serves you right for trying to kill me,” Megara said, sounding annoyed.

“Thank you for bringing her home,” Elsa said, her voice lacking any discernible tone.

“Don’t mention it. And don’t expect it again, I only carried her here because it was her first day.” Megara didn’t wait for more conversation and left abruptly, leaving the sisters alone.

Elsa was watching her. Which felt welcoming until she saw her worried face. Then the guilt sat in.

“Anna.” She touched Anna’s face with gentle fingers and Anna felt herself leaning into her hand.

Today felt long and Elsa felt comforting.

A single torch burned on the wall. It was late afternoon yet inside their small home it was dim. Anna found herself thankful, maybe Elsa was distracted by the slash across her face and didn’t notice the bruise now forming on her head, or the wound on her shoulder, or the mess that was her back.

Elsa saw because of course she did. Anna watched her light the room more. They were lucky that, although a lower class, Elsa’s employer-provided them with a space behind and above the shop. The lower floor had a small table, a hearth, and a water basin crammed near the entrance. The rest of the space was storage for the shop itself including an area where Elsa mended cloth goods. A ladder next to the table went to a loft with two beds. There was little in the way of privacy, but the shop owner never entered the loft. He was an old man and the ladder was not stable.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t get hurt,” Elsa mused now, seemingly satisfied that Anna was alright.

“Yes well, it is just the first day, I’m finding my footing, my style,” Anna boasted, earning a frown from Elsa.

“I still don’t like this, you know.”

“I know.”

Elsa leaned down, glancing quickly towards the passageway to the shop front, and kissed the cheek without the slash. “Promise me you’ll be more careful,”

Anna felt a warming comfort wash over her body, Elsa always doted on her but something about that touch felt different. First Magara and now this, maybe that hit to the head was messing with Anna more than she thought.

“I’m going to lie down,” she announced, standing up slowly, a little off balance. Elsa eyed her but said nothing.

Elsa followed her upstairs and covered her with a blanket. This one she had stitched a small flower in the corner that Anna always pulled up to her face to sleep.

Elsa brushed Anna’s bangs aside, her hand lingering on Anna’s face. She was staring right into the redhead’s eyes. Sky blue locking with the sea. “I love you,” she whispered

And Anna knew she meant it.

***

The next few months passed without incident. Anna only fought once a week. To call the activity a fight was being generous. They were more of a dance, a flashy show with no stakes or consequences. Even so, Magara always seemed to hit a little harder than she needed to. Anna suffered no deep wounds but on days she fought Magara she would always return home with small cuts and bruises.

Part of Anna didn’t mind because Elsa would always tenderly care for her on those days. Anna did notice though, that her touches lingered longer, her proximity was closer, her eyes seemed to look directly into Anna’s soul. Anna took it for increased concern and nothing more. Even if the back of her mind screamed otherwise.

On her off days of fighting Anna cleaned the blood, sweat and who knows what else off the men’s armor. She found herself growing increasingly more jealous of them every day. The men had more action, the crowd actually cared what happened. A hard hit was met with thunderous applause no matter if it was against armor or into flesh.

Others often turned away from the wounds, but Anna looked and studied; tried to imagine what led to a slash on the thigh or a jab to the ribs. Had they not blocked? Did their opponent have a longer reach? She wanted to know more, needed to know more.

When the opportunity came up to work in the ring, collecting discarded weapons or other objects between matches, Anna took the opportunity. Mattias himself suggested it, because Anna was terrible at cleaning, much too distracted.

From the arena side, she studied the matches, the styles of fighting. The popular gladiators knew what they were doing with their weapons, their feet working in coordination with their swings. Newer gladiators or perhaps those less skilled stumbled around. Throwing their whole weight into a swing or a block, leaving them open and off-balance. She loved the sword and shield battles the most — the Secutors, Provocators, Murmillo fighters. She made sure to watch them all intently.

***

The dorms were nearly empty except for a pair of young boys—of noble descent based on their clothes—bashing sticks together and shouting. Anna paid them no mind. She walked to the small storage room where the tunics were kept and tripped over something on the floor, spilling the clean linens she was carrying.

“Ow!” came a man’s voice

Anna spun around to see a man half laying on the floor, his shoulders propped up against the wall and his arms and legs sprawled out on the floor. She recognized him as the smaller man who was defeated earlier and spared, and lowered the fist she just realized she had raised on instinct.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded

“Hiding,” he answered.

“A Roman doesn’t hide—”

“I’m not a Roman,” he said, cutting her off and holding up his hand to show the branding there.

She sat her mouth in a thin line and looked at him. He was small, lacking in much muscle definition and boyish features to his face overall he looked defeated and empty.

“Who are you?” she demanded, not having caught his name before the fight.

“Kristoff.” He sighed and sat up straighter. “I was a soldier once from a land far from here. Now I am just another body for the arena till they finally put me out of my misery.”

“I saw you today, why do you not fight? You were a soldier, you must know how.”

“There is no glory in these fights, everything I’ve ever known was taken from me. What am I fighting for? The praise and respect of people from the land who burned mine?” He looked her right in the eyes as he spoke. His brown irises, the color of drying mud, held no secrets.

And Anna felt pity for him. Her life was merely half a step above his and only because she wasn’t branded slave. She did, however, still love her city and her people, and she hated how he was in a position to fight for the respect of the masses, the honor of being a Roman. He was living the life she thought she wanted, yet he wanted to throw it all away.

Then all at once, an idea washed over her. Elsa always said she got ideas like she was struck with an arrow. And Elsa was going to hate this.

“You don’t want to be a gladiator.” It was more of a statement than a question. Even so, he nodded. “And I want to be a gladiator.”

He tilted his head. “I’ve seen you, you are a gladiatrix.”

“I’m a puppet in a play.” She knelt to his level. “What if we work out a deal. You train me, I fight using your name and we split the winnings.”

At this, he laughed, a full-bellied laugh that caused him to throw his head back against the wall. “A woman who sold herself, lowered herself for a few coins, now wants to fight as a man. Wouldn’t it be easier to just sell your body to lonely souls?”

She slapped him and he stopped laughing, choosing instead to rub his face and glare at her. “I’m serious,” she stated.

“I can see that, you’re stronger than you look, that hurt.” He paused for a moment then added, “You could die, either by the blade or when they find out you’re not me.”

“I’d rather die by the blade like a Roman.”

He sighed, “I’ll help you train. Mostly because I don’t think I can change your mind. And, if I’m honest, not fighting in the arena is ideal. Tell me though, what about the armor issue?” He placed a hand on his chest then gestured vaguely at hers.

Anna had seen him fight, he was billed as a Provocator but dressed more like a Secutor for some reason. Meaning he had previously fought bare-chested. Provocator gladiators were newer to the game, less popular, and typically only fought each other, they also happened to wear a breastplate.

“You have your full armor right?” she questioned.

***

“You’ve been coming home late,” Elsa said. It was more of a statement than a question.

Anna looked up at her, the torch lights dancing in shadows across her sister’s face. It made her look older, more serious. Anna wondered if she was mad or just tired.

“Mattias, has me doing more.”

Elsa stared at her, icy blue eyes seemed to be cutting right through.

“You seemed to have gained some muscle and you’re eating more. When we go to bed you’re out as soon as your head hits the pillow. Whatever he’s having you do must be some hard labor.” Elsa reached across the table and grabbed one of Anna’s hands and flipped it so the younger girl’s palm was facing up. She watched in silence as Elsa traced the outline of blisters with cool fingers.

“You’ve been fighting more haven’t you?” she asked.

“What? No, just training.” She placed her free hand on top of Elsa’s. “I promise.” And it wasn’t a lie, she had spent nearly all her free time training with Kristoff in his tiny single room in the gladiator dorms. People assumed the wrong thing with her going to his room followed by the sounds of grunting. Let them think that, as it was as good of a cover as any.

Elsa leaned in and moved a copper strand of hair behind Anna’s ear and she felt her breath catch. “You never tell me about your day anymore.”

She was so close, Anna could almost taste the mix of smells from the shop still lingering on her skin. And she wanted to tell her everything, tell her about the training with Kristoff, about her plan to fight in his place, about her first fight tomorrow, about splitting the money, about how Megara seems to keep flirting with her, about how much she likes Elsa being this close.

She couldn’t do any of those things because, above everything else, Anna didn’t want Elsa to worry. So instead she smiled and said, “My days are boring, I cleaned a sword, I shined a helmet, none of that makes for a good story.”

“None of your stories are boring to me.” Elsa leaned back again and Anna felt herself moving forward to keep the closeness before she caught herself. “I have the day off tomorrow, I’m going to come to watch you fight.”

Anna panicked, her eyes wide, and she clenched a fist “I do–I–I mean I don’t fight tomorrow.” she lied

Elsa narrowed her eyes, “Is that so?” she challenged.

Anna stood abruptly, she had to get out of Elsa’s gaze, it felt suffocating. Of course, she fought tomorrow but not as herself. “I’m going to bed, goodnight.”

“Anna wait,” Elsa grabbed her wrist and held Anna in place with the lightest of touches. “What are you hiding? What are you not telling me?”

Anna’s free hand was wrapped around one of the rungs of the ladder to the loft. She clenched and unclenched her grip, stalling. A million things were running through her head as she weighed her options. Then a single thought drifted down like the first snowflake of the season, till it settled in the forefront of her mind, spreading out and taking over. It was a stupid idea, it would change the subject completely but it was so incredibly stupid that she considered bashing her own head against the table instead.

She turned to face Elsa. The older woman didn’t look mad or upset, more so worried and confused. She was about to become even more confused.

A leap of faith disguised as a step and Anna was there, the distance between them narrowed. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause, before she closed the gap entirely, capturing Elsa’s lips with her own. She felt her sister gasp and Anna tried to pull back but pale hands anchored her. To Anna’s surprise, Elsa deepened what was supposed to be a quick peck.

The kiss was like a flower, finally blooming after a long winter, bursting with new life and exploding with colors. It was so vibrant that it frightened Anna, so she pulled back abruptly and put a few steps between them.

“Anna I—”

“I’m going to sleep.” She turned and scurried up the ladder, leaving Elsa alone downstairs.

***

Anna arrived early, to avoid Elsa and to make sure to change into Kristoff’s armor when no one was around. She was, thankfully, one of the first fights of the day. She felt uneasy as the other gladiators started to populate the space, the air turning into a mix of leather, sweat, and iron. A few of them gave her a weird look since she was sitting on the furthest of benches, full armor, with a helmet on, while the rest of them were considerably dressed down. Some weren’t even dressed at all.

She had seen naked men countless times. Still, it never got easier. They looked so rough, all hard edges, hairy, and solid in the wrong places. Not soft like the women she fought with. Not soft like Elsa.

Her mind drifted back to the previous night, her thoughts twisting into a mix of confusion and shame. She had heard of family being together, always a brother and sister. Not two sisters. Not them. How was she to further Rome’s population if she were to be with a woman? This was of course all assuming Elsa wanted anything to do with her.

Foolish thoughts that did nothing more than distract her. She pulled on the linen wrapped around her hand, concealing her skin that lacked the mark Kristoff had.

“Provocator! I see you dressed correctly today,” a well-dressed man said. He walked towards her, his toga held across his arm so as to not drag on the ground. “Cloth around your breast? Does the armor hurt you? Is that why you do not wear it?” He seemed genuine in his concern, this must be the man who owned Kristoff. It was in his best interest that his gladiator was comfortable and able to move well. Even so, the fact he was looking that closely worried Anna, and she knew she could not verbally answer.

Instead, she nodded and proceeded to twist her torso back and forth to show the ease of movement. This seemed to please the man.

“Well if you only need simple cloth to wear your armor correctly you should have mentioned it sooner! Nevertheless, do try to win today. You’re embarrassing me and I am beginning to lose my patience.”

Anna pounded her chest with a fist and nodded. This also pleased him and he smiled, and just like that he was gone. An empty man looking over his cattle for slaughter.

It wasn’t long till Anna was standing at the gate, waiting for it to open and the battle to begin. Her heart pounded so hard it sounded like someone was knocking on her helmet. She checked her arm straps on her shield once more and rolled her shoulders. She was nervous but she had to focus, this wasn’t a dance, this was real.

The gate rose before her and she stepped out into the bright sun. The noise of the crowd picked up as it always did when a new gladiator entered the arena. She spotted her opponent in the middle of the field. Another provocator, his helmet had two circles of latticework much like hers, only he sported two tall blue feathers that matched his loincloth and shield.

She approached him and the match began. He pushed forward with his shield and swung weakly with his sword. Anna met his attack with a loud bang as shield hit shield. He stepped back and lunged forward with his shield again, Anna blocked and tried to swing her sword into his elbow. He responded by rotating his shield, blocking her swing but leaving his legs open. Anna disengaged then stepped forward into a lounge, he parried by stabbing with his shield, throwing off her momentum.

A few more lounges and blocks and it was clear that he favored his shield to his blade. So much so that he often left his sword arm completely open. It was covered in thick heavy armor so she knew she couldn’t easily land a hit but she could force him to block differently. He came at her again and she slashed at this armor. To no one’s surprise her blade did little more than scratch the leather. The crowd loved it though, roaring.

The man wasted no time in trying to hit her exposed kneecap with his shield, a move she had seen him do on another opponent recently. She jumped back and he followed with his shield. Again, she went to slash his blade arm. This time he rotated his shield to black, leaving his stomach completely open. Anna maneuvered mid-swing, her blade cutting a Z shape in the air before she sliced deep into his surprisingly soft flesh. She followed with a shield bash and a stab into his leg.

The man dropped his blade and grabbed at his largest wound, he pulled his hand up and looked at the blood before dropping to his knees and looking at the emperor with a raised arm.

Anna could not believe he was giving up that quickly. All around them the audience erupted in boos. He had not fought well, gave up after two wounds. A better gladiator would have kept fighting. Thus Anna was not surprised when the thumbs down was given.

She didn’t think, didn’t allow herself to. She approached him and grabbed his helmet. He grabbed her upper thigh, at least he was willing to die an honorable death. Through the latticework on his helmet, he looked her right in the eyes and she felt his grip tighten.

“You are no ma—”

His words cut off when Anna plunged her sword into his neck. The blade went in too easily, then stopped, and the awful sound would haunt her forever. He was dead; his lifeless body slumped to the side.

Blood.

There was so much more blood. So much more blood being this close and not four stories up in the stands.

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause and Anna stood and stared at them, she rolled her showers back and puffed her chest, doing everything to look tough and victorious like she had seen others do. Thankful for the distance that they couldn’t see her shaking hands and more thankful still for the helmet that hid her tears.

***

“My Beautiful boy!” the rich well-dressed man called to her as soon as she was back undercover. She had to give him credit for how quickly he moved. He stopped short of reaching her, obviously not wanting to get blood on his pristine toga. “I said win, not to kill the man!” he laughed.

Anna grunted as deeply as she could in response.

“Oh it is nothing, I’ll pay his lanista. Worth every coin my boy, what a show! The crowd loves a kill. Keep this up and there will be great things in your future!” The man walked away, not bothering to excuse himself. He was above Anna, above Kristoff, and had no reason to be polite.

Anna continued down the dark hall till it opened to the dimly lit room. Thankfully her luck continued and the baths were completely empty. Most of the men liked to wait till the end of the day to trade combat stories over the steam.

“You survived,” came a deep voice from a darkened corner, the torch on either side had been extinguished, casting a black shadow and completely concealing the figure. Even so, she recognized the voice to be Kristoff’s.

She exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “I did, the other guy did not.”

“You killed someone?” Kristoff stepped out of the shadow and gestured for her to take his place.

Once she was concealed she removed her breastplate and handed it to Kristoff, who put on his own body. His only unique armor, decorated with his symbols, was his helmet and chest piece.

She had just handed him his helmet back when loud footsteps drew near. Anna pressed her back into the corner as much as possible when a man entered the baths.

“Kristoff, why did you come all the way here in armor?” he demanded, he was another gladiator, not a lanista or guard, he was large with a long scar across his face.

Kristoff hesitated to answer as Anna struggled to remove her leg guard.

“I wanted to bathe in my victory,” Kristoff finally said right has Anna got the guard off. The arm would have to stay.

“You’ll make your helmet rust, why is it so dark?” He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer.

Anna reacted quickly. She fell out of the darkness into Kristoff, giggling and hiding her armor-clad arm behind him. The man stopped and smirked.

“Women love a man in armor.” He turned to leave. “Enjoy your victory bath. If she wants more, come find ME!”

“That was too close,” Kristoff said once the footsteps had faded.

Anna nodded. “We’ll have to be more careful next time.”

“Next time? We nearly got caught this time.”

“No, we just didn’t have a good plan, people already think things about me going to your room every day, so of course I would meet you here too. Let’s play up that story.”

“I don’t like that plan,” he said, helping her out of her arm guard.

“We’re not actually going to do anything, just let them think we are so they leave us alone long enough for me to change.”

He grumbled something under his breath and she leaned close to him without thinking much of it. Anna heard his breath hitch when she accidentally brushed against his chest. She looked up at him and he looked down at her. His eyes were half-lidded, his pupils full. He tilted his head to the side with a wordless question.

Anna felt nothing.

She stepped back, letting the arm guard fall to the ground with a thud. Kristoff let out a sigh and climbed into the bath without removing his loincloth, defeated.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Anna said hesitantly and he waved her off, staring at a different wall.

***

“I heard a gladiator was executed today,” Elsa said over dinner.

Anna nearly dropped the chunk of bread she was holding. “What, how did you hear that?”

Elsa didn’t seem to notice or if she did she didn’t say anything. “When the emperor gives the thumbs down, the word travels fast from the arena.”

“Oh, yes it does.”

“However, I didn’t have to wait for the news, I saw it.”

This time Anna did drop her bread, earning her a puzzled look from her sister. “You were there?”

“I told you I would be, I didn’t see you fight, however, just two other girls.”

Anna could feel her staring but she refused to make eye contact. Instead, she picked at her bread, tearing off small chunks.

“I don’t understand why you’ve been training so hard,” Elsa continued. “The fight between the women was barely a fight. Not that anyone would notice. Hardly anyone watched.”

“Yes, no one cares. We just fill the time, there’s hardly a point,” Anna replied.

“So why all the intensive training?”

“To uh… get better, to make it look more real.”

Elsa didn’t buy it. Anna risked looking at her face and saw the distrust. Her sister knew she was up to something. How do you tell someone you’re breaking countless laws just for the thrill of combat? And what a thrill that had been. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so alive.

Well, she could. It was the other night when she kissed Elsa.

“Seems like a fruitless task.” Elsa stood, cleaning the remains of her meal. “Please tell me the next time you fight, I wasted a lot of time at the circus today. I need to get up early tomorrow to make up for it.”

She started to walk towards the ladder when Anna reached out and grabbed her wrist, Elsa stopped and looked at her. Really looked at her. Behind the tired icy blue eyes, Anna saw pain and that in itself made Anna feel guilty.

“I thought you had the day off?”

“You and I both know I never really have a day off.” Those same eyes flicked down to Anna’s lips and lingered there for perhaps a beat too long before looking back to the ladder. She tugged her arm away and Anna let her go. Neither of them was ready to acknowledge the other night.

Once Elsa was up in the loft and Anna was left alone, the weight of the day finally came crashing down on her.

She had killed a man.

Shoved the sword right into his neck and watched his crimson blood spill out onto the dirty sand. What if he had a family? A lover? A life had been cut short by her blade. Back in the arena, she had justified the kill because he had fought without honor. But wasn’t she also fighting without honor? She wore the mask of another, she deceived Rome — yet killed in its glory.

She felt sick and leaned forward till her head rested on the cool surface of the table. Closing her eyes she breathed slowly in and out till the pounding in her chest subsided. She wanted nothing more than to talk to Elsa about everything, but she couldn’t. Desperate, broken, and alone, she mumbled into the darkness; “Aut viam inveniam aut faciam tibi.“

#elsanna #submission #february 2021 contest #prompt: ancient worlds #cw: blood #cw: violence #cw: injuries #cw: death mention #cw: weapons

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anestheticrage · 4 years

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Be me: Japanese honor student🎓, 15, with half a brain and even less of a plan. Hunting bitches by day and witches by night. Livin that dank only child✌️ life while mom n dad yeet all over the globe, leavin me plenty of time to forget not to make 2 lunches for myself #quirky 😜

no time for socialization or basic electronics skills ???📱??? when your best friends are an alien demon rabbit🐰👽 and the inexplicable Hole ™ in your brain. lmao, btw did i mention im ✨M✨A✨G✨I✨C✨A✨L✨

dreamin bout my 2D waifus again when familiar pink haired cancer patient dances through my brain passin out fliers: Kamihama Meguca Dating Service: Sponsored by Cult of the Magius. 250 stones per session 🤔

seems legit, Mr. Moneybags. wasn't spending my unwieldy sack of gemstones on anything else anyway. lets pull 💎💎💎

first up we have Redhead Radagast and her plethora of plants. 🌿☺️🦎

anndd, nearly dies immediately.

well not off to a great start but i guess shes pretty cute at lea- oh FUCK its her girlfriend, Tsundere Poseidon😒🔱💦, and their exasperated, straight and single Sword Mom 😔🗡️🔥. fml gonna have to save up for the next pull. might as well play a few rounds with what i got tho.

get in some good girl talk about things like school, color coded hair styles, body count, permanent soul damage, and our personal demon pacts. ya know, the usual 😚 . realize my dark backstory seems to be missing, so the girls take me to Ketchup Queen Sappho 🍅🥧 (wtf?) to molest my glowy egg stone. whatevs, more action than ive had since Kuroe 🖤 got added to the story anyway

the gang agrees it's time to hunt down the cutest rabbit pimp 🕶️🐇💵 in the city. >> say 🎵mukyuuu🎵 one more time and ill hug you so hard my backstory will pop right out, you adorable fluffy bastard. plz be my new best friend 💕

Form brand new friendship pact with Kyubae, and remember that my lil Sis 🐥 was always the best wingman for pickin up magic chicks, and kept her side of the room so spotless i forgot she existed. whoops 乁༼☯‿☯✿༽ㄏ Maybe if I find her i can stop paying these exorbitant pull fees.📵💎

speaking of which: hot damn this week's featured bachelorette is a 19 year old model and magical detective🔎 with massive levels of PTSD and self loathing 🥵💙💦 more likely to stab you or dramatically jump off a rooftoop than utter a single positive comment. wow, maybe i really COULD find true love…

... if i had MORE THAN A 1% FUCKING DRAW CHANCE. 😡 smh

hard to make much progress finding sis or winning the broken heart of a hard boiled detective amidst the never ending lover's quarrel of the Trident Vine Lesbians. 💔 Sword Mom tells them if they don't behave a monster will take them away. LOL classic mom 🤣

>>>HOLY FUCK IT DID

declare all-out war on urban legends, starting with staircases ⚔️ to reunite the dysfunctional trio, and hope that I net a way better lineup with the next 10x pull. at least sad sleuth lady came to help out. they say combat is the best way to bond wi- and there she goes off the rooftop again 🙄 fml

alright that got way off track, we need a fresh start, away from all the loli drama. how bout a little B&E🔓🔨🤷🏻‍♀️ at the local house of worship to clear my head. ahh nothing like the unanswered prayers of the masses to get you in the mood for another wasted pull, and the 🔥 MIGHTIEST 🔥 headache you could ask for with a side of Double Cooked Pork 🐖🍜 (meh 5/10🧾)

venture forth into the spiritual unknown with your new human flamethrower🔥🌻🧡 and ask your favorite private eye to please, for the love of Eve, trade Meguca accounts with me~~~ Head through the eastern spirit portal to meet up with hologram propaganda sis and detective crush's evil ex, who joined a dating-app cult (#fuck) and also turned into the moon?🌕?(that's rough buddy)

get ambushed by Acid Horse on Wheels 🌈🐴 and vomit up my soul so hard that its time for a crossover episode. T U R F F F W A R R R *que operatic harmonies* 💛 Blondie with the hair drills and enough attitude and guns to fill up a noble phantasm tries to ban my account permanently, but PI heartthrob denies her admin privileges. aww babe i didn't know you cared. 😭♥️

get kidnapped by my new true love and go back to her place 😏 defs enough empty rooms to house five emotionally traumatized girls and at least two ghosts hehehe👻 XD 💚🃏💜🎸 decide to form the anti-gossip brigade and recruit my blazing sunflower after getting ambushed by the witch living in my fruit loops🥣

❌outvoted 2:1 that cults are bad. mf. fiinneee one last pull to round out the team and then I'll delete the app. cmonnn Karin 🎃~

OH HELL YEAH TWO FOR ONE.

Always wanted a daughter 💜🔨🐄 with a penchant for pissing off the local Martial Arts & Books Club and drinking suspicious liquids offered by total strangers. Well if it's good enough for her AND the sexy mayadere with enough game to seduce a mermaid, might as well get in on that myself.

#curseddrank 🤢 0/24 would not recommend to a friend, 'cept maybe Ria

win alot of cash 🤑, blow up a fountain, meet the pied piper²🎶🖕, moon cult, monochrome feathers, something about liberation✊🏻; adopt temper tantrum cow girl. aces 💜🥩

Next up!!! skydiving with DJ Hammer! Jump to apparently-not-certain death after suicidal A.I. 💚💾🗼 tells you to rescue her hostage before they run out of Radiohead albums and have to move on to Thom Yorke's solo discography. save the invisible shield kitten 💚👑😿 from happiness and get chased through the internet by the sexiest homicidal Paint Pallette 💚🎨😈 since Caravaggio. (apparently green is the color of the digital apocalypse. i’m deleting Kako from my friend's list)

that’s it, fuck this app. 250 stones 💎 per-life-threatening-experience is more than i’m willing to deal with 😓 don’t wanna mess with the perfect nuclear family anyway. we've already got:

✔️the two emotionally traumatized moms with memory and commitment issues

✔️the adhd daughter with anger management problems and a giant hammer

✔️the psychologically abused scizophrenic cat

✔️and the eccentric aunt with crippling anxiety

#squadgoals

now that were done hoarding bitches, its time to hunt the witches. and the bitches makin the witches. btw did i mention the witches ARE the bitches! AND WERE ALL GOING TO DIE!? 📽️⁉️💀 wait fuck lets back up a second

This is Nemo📕 and Token🧪 and they have all the answers but prefer if you only ask vague questions in exchange for vague responses so they can fill in the rest by discussing their superior intellect 🧠 at length. not to mention they built that dating app, so of course everyone in my harem decides to be a FUCKING. TRAITOR.🤬

cept waifu prime ofc 🥰💙. [PTSD > brainwashing] 'yOu CaN bE tHe LeAdEr NoW'. i have been from the very beginning you traumatized Hinedere nightmare. maybe if you weren't so caught up collecting surrogate daughters you would've noticed IM👏THE👏ONLY👏 ONE👏PROGRESSING👏THE FUCKING👏PLOT✨

rescue the rest of dysfunctional found-family™ from selves before my adorable firebender burns down Disnihama🎡🔥😱 during her weekly anxiety attack. (love the makeover T B H)

CHAPTER 8: Magical Girl Massacre🩸🗡️

- everyone has like, the shittiest day ever

- the new Pope really needs to be extradited from the church

- make friends with a really pretty tree 🌺🌲✨

i swear, if i don't finish this god damn story in time to get that free pull im gonna beat the shit out of every mirror i find in that giant mansion that i haven't even had any time to even mention yet. 🖕🏚️ let alone EVERYTHING happening with the prequel [fuck you, I'm the star] girls 💗💜💙💛❤️️ and their multidimensional melodrama. We don't need that many repetitive af episodes to emphasize that Homo-ra is a shitty person. we've all seen Rebellion. 🙄

NO, I DONT CARE IF YOU WANT SAPPHO'S BACKSTORY, I ONLY HAVE 79 STONES LEFT AND IF YACHAN FINDS OUT I HAVEN'T DELETED THE APP YET IM GONNA HAVE TO GO SLEEP IN WITH SANA 😭💎💸😠

uhhhggggg where were we… Topple a cult and burn down Hotel Denoument only to realize that Sis was fused with the dating app servers this entire madokafuckin time (told ya she was the best wingman 😊).

Dilemma: Sis =🥚, Triumvirate of Trouble want 🐣. What do? vote now:

Help Hatch - IIIIIII

Not Do That - IIIII

What The Actual Fuck Is Going On - IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lets just fight everyone until something good happens.

🔥🔫🔥🗡️🔥😱🔥🌆🔥😱🔥🛡️🔥💣🔥

Kill (???) the artist-in-chief of the italian reindeer murder police after teaching her the true meaning of Christmas 🎄 hatch 🐣lil Sis and realize she WAS your wingman all along🐰 MUKYUUUU! we're just gonna ignore how much trouble it would have saved if you'd just mentioned that. "yOu DiDnT aSk..."

FUCK YOU SPACE BITCH. ONCE AN INCUBATOR ALWAYS AN INCUBATOR 🖕🐇🔪

anywho, somewhere along the lines we of course summoned the Antichrist ⚙️ because why not raise the stakes to max and still not kill off a single character. Madofuckinkami, can we PLEASE wrap this up. 😩💤

feathers (not the culty kind, tfm) rain from the sky, and the power of friendship and not having the Urobutcher 🔪🩸as a lead writer saves our peacefully sectioned off alternate reality 😇

TL:DR fuck cults, real life waifus DO exist, don't sell your soul to space rabbits, or your stones to megacorporations. Enjoy arc 2 on the JP server with your shitty translation patch you filthy fuckin weebs

Yours Truly,

- Thirsty Weeb Eroha 💗💎😘

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years

Note

Could you do “The Little Mermaid (Sprace)”?

I am so stoked for this one!!!!!

The Little Mermaid (Sprace) AU

Characters

Racetrack Higgins (Tylilleprins) — Ariel

Spot Conlon — Prince Eric

Jack Kelly (Jaqeleder) — Sebastian

Alberd DaSilva (Alberdybhav) — Flounder

Bryan Denton (Brydenbeskyttelse) — King Triton

William Snyder (Snydehavheks) — Ursula

Medda Larkin — Carlotta

The Delancey Brothers (Osvraggods and Mostrandingsgods) — Flotsam and Jetsam

Mermaid colors:

Race has a blue tail.

Jack’s tail is green.

Al’s is an orange-red

Denton’s is like navy blue

Oscar’s tail is dark dark green, almost black

Morris’s is dark red

Snyder’s is a cecaelia (half human, half octopus) but his color is purple. Obviously.

Okay, so this AU actually takes place in modern day. Spot is the son of a very rich man who is practically royalty in Manhattan and basically lives the life of a prince.

Anyways,

Race, a fifteen year old merman with the birth name of Tylilleprins, is a prince of Atlantica in the Atlantic Ocean. He is the youngest prince, second only to his big brother Jaqeleder who he calls Jack. They speak their own mermadian language (in my head it is made up of small clicking sounds, almost sounding like purrs mixed with dolphin sounding noises and sometimes and some actual vocal words). His father, Brydenbeskyttelse, is the king (yes he has a very long name. It’s shorter in mermaidian).

Race is fascinated by the human world. Him and his best friend Alberdybhav (Albie) often go off to explore sunken ships and swim as far up to the surface as they can before Jack catches them.

Jack catches them a lot.

Al doesn’t always go with Race willingly. Race often drags him along on adventures even though it is forbidden by the king to go to the surface.

The king and the older prince of the sea have their reasons to hate the human world, but Race does not, so he has this curiosity that Jack warns him time and time again is very dangerous. He doesn’t heed Jack’s warnings.

One day, Race and Al eventually make it to the surface and hide behind seaweed and small rocks of the ocean while they get closer and closer to shore, gazing at the beach. He catches sight of a boy, about his age, maybe a little older, getting ready to go surfing with some friends. Of course, Race and Al have no idea what the boys are doing.

Eventually, Al says something that makes Race remember something.

They were supposed to be at a party in which Jack was being presented as the kingdom’s next leader. When they get back, Jack’s already mad at him, but is even more worried about him. When he finds out where Race was, he swims away and shuts Race out for a little while so their father can lecture Race about going to the surface, grounding him as he’s yelling at his youngest son.

Race and Jack had always been close, despite being at odds a lot of the time. Jack is extremely protective of Race, often shooing off potential suitresses and suitors who are after the crown. He tells Race he’s too naive to be in a relationship because there will be a lot of merpeople out there who are after him for status and power.

Race doesn’t mind that Jack is protective of him, though sometimes it breaks his heart that so many people he finds himself interested in are using him.

He doesn’t like that Jack won’t let him up to the surface.

What Race doesn’t know is that Jack hates the human world because he witnessed the humans murder their mother when Race was only a baby. Jack and her had been playing up near the surface at sunset and a group of fishermen spotted them. To protect her son, their mother pushed Jack behind a buoy and tried to swim away, drawing attention to herself and away from Jack. He watched them shoot her with something to slow her down and drag her up onto their boat with a net. She screamed for him to swim away so Jack did. They tried to shoot him too but they only grazed his chin. It’s how Jack got the scar that’s there.

After Race misses Jack’s party, their father persuades Jack to keep an even closer eye on the kid, trying to get Jack to forgive his little brother and somehow Jack ends up following Race and Al to the surface where he tries to literally drag the boys back down to the castle. But he hides behind a large stone when he finds that Race is watching some surfers.

Jack starts to get a little bit more frantic when he realizes how close they are to the shore. But they can’t swim away without someone seeing them.

Eventually, Jack finds that Race is infatuated with one of the boys in particular. They watch him for a long time until the boy is out there alone, riding waves until he wipes out, hitting his head on his board and falling under water.

Race’s reaction is immediate as he dives to save the boy from drowning. Jack screams at him to come back, forcing Al to swim away as he chases Race who doesn’t listen to him at all.

Race swims the stranger back to shore, taking in the sight of him and falling in love with him immediately. He talks to the boy, but to humans their language sounds like song above the water, while below the water it just sounds like ticking and dolphin noises (In some myths I believe Sirens, not mermaids but still, sound like song above the water and screeching under the water).

But when the boy starts to wake up, Jack grabs Race and panics, dragging him back under the sea before the boy can fully see the person who saved his life.

Spot Conlon is the son of a rich business owner. His father is rarely around, leaving him with a lot of butlers and maids to keep him company in his mansion that he practically lives in alone. He has a few friends from school, Hot Shot, Kid Blink and Rafaela. He loves to spend most of his time with them at the beach.

His mother used to tell him that he’d live in the ocean one day. That is, before she left them for another man. Regardless, Spot loves the ocean.

He has a tattoo on his arm of a mermaids tail along with a seashell on the back of his shoulder. His father technically paid for them, but he doesn’t know that. Spot gets them out of spite. He knew he was supposed to be a perfect child, but he hated that.

Anyway, he goes out surfing with his friends on his birthday. They all leave by sunset, but he stays a little longer, not wanting to go home to an empty house.

He loses his footing on his board and hits his head, going under.

He wakes up for a moment, hearing someone singing sweetly. He can see bright blue eyes above him before he goes unconscious again.

When he wakes up later, he’s in his bed with a doctor hovering over him as Miss Medda, the head of staff at his mansion, worrying over him like she always does.

Spot begs to know who saved him but Medda tells him he got washed to shore by the tide. Spot tries to explain that there was a boy that saved him and sang to him, but Medda tells him he must’ve been dreaming.

Spot promises himself he’ll find the boy who saved him.

Meanwhile, Jack is scolding Race for making contact with a human before Brydenbeskyttelse finds them and scares Jack by asking them where they were. Jack gets skittish and eventually manages to cover for Race, not wanting to get in trouble himself. But he quickly finds that Race is still curious about the boy he saved and the human world in general. Before he can try to talk to Race about it, his brother is gone, off being completely lovestruck.

Al teases Race and tries to figure out who made such an impression on his friend before realizing it was the human he’d saved. He gets a little nervous and Jack tries to talk Race down, eventually following Race to a small grotto filled with things from the human world. Race doesn’t seem to mind at first that Jack is there. In fact, he seems happy that his brother finally gets to see his collection.

Jack is horrified.

He doesn’t want to, but he tells their father.

The King is furious, scolding Jack before finding the grotto and frightening his youngest son. Race tries to explain to him that these things won’t hurt anybody, but Brydenbeskyttelse destroys everything within his sight with his trident. Jack is horrified by this too, trying to calm his father down, but only getting screamed at in response.

In case anyone was wondering: Race calls Brydenbeskyttelse “Daddy” because he literally is Ariel and he’s the baby and he loves that and his father had never gotten this angry at him before.

Their father leaves and Jack tries to apologize, trying to tell Race he was only trying to keep him safe, but Race would yell at him to go away, scaring Jack and Al who had unintentionally watched the entire exchange. Race ends up breaking down on the floor of his grotto, feeling alone and betrayed by his brother who he trusted more than anyone else in the world.

What he didn’t know is that he’d been watched.

Osvraggods and Mostrandingsgods have been watching Tylilleprins since the beginning of the story, in fact, they’ve been watching him for years, waiting for him to be at a vulnerable place where they could sneak in and try and comfort him.

Os and Mo circle around Race at first, creeping him out when he sees them. They coo at him and wipe at his tears. He’s scared and almost cries for Jack before they tell him there’s someone they know that can fix all of his problems. A sea witch named Snydehavheks. Race is skeptical, knowing that witch was dangerous, at least according to his father.

But the mermen promise Race that he will be able to be with the man he loves and away from those who destroyed everything he adored. So Race goes with them.

He is unknowingly followed by Jack who was trying to go back to check on him and Al follows him closely behind.

Together they watch the whole exchange. Snydehavheks is a strange but powerful man. No one knows much about him, but he reveals himself to be Race and Jack’s uncle who was banished from the kingdom after a few spells gone wrong. Race tries to retreat after hearing this, but with eight arms, the guy grabs him easily and holds him back, explaining that he’d turned over a new leaf and wanted to help.

Jack tries to go in and help his brother, but is stopped by Os and Mo who hold a “knife” to his throat (its sharp fish bones fashioned as a weapon).

Race still doesn’t know he was followed.

Snydehavheks offers Race a deal, one he describes as very good and well worth the cost. In exchange for two weeks on land with human legs and the ability to understand English, the witch will take his voice. The only catch is that Race has to get Spot to kiss him by the final sunset on the last day to remain human permanently or else his soul would belong to Snydehavheks. See, mermaids' tails can turn to legs when they’re on land, but walking on them is painful and horrible for them. So this offer is to take the pain away and make sure his legs stay no matter what for two weeks.

Race tries to argue, not understanding how he’d get Spot to kiss him if he couldn’t speak, but Snydehavheks would tell him that he still had everything he needed to make it happen and he’d offer Race a contract.

Jack would finally get the weapon away from the brothers in front of him and cry out for Race not to do it, but Race would just get even more angry and sign the thing.

His voice would be gone immediately and his legs would start growing. His fangs would turn into regular human teeth and his claws would shrink and flatten out.

He’d quickly find that he could no longer breathe.

Jack would act fast, Al right behind him. They’d swim Race up to the surface so he could breathe and Jack would be screaming at Race the whole time until Race was too stunned to listen. He’d be human and he’d be terrified.

Jack would tell him that they could fix this. That he’d go back and talk to the sea witch, but Race wouldn’t let him. He’d grab Jack’s arm and try to hold him still. Jack can see how shaken Race is and Al doesn’t know what to do so he can’t just leave the two of them up there.

Eventually, Jack tells Race he needs to go get some sort of clothing. While Jack doesn’t understand humans, he used to observe them too and knows they don’t just walk around naked.

Race would steal someone’s clothes that were left on the beach, realizing how difficult it was to walk when he’d never tried it before. Jack would panic and try to tell him to come back to the water, but Race wouldn’t and Al would tell Jack that even if he did make a deal with Snydehavheks, Race would still be human for a little bit and someone was bound to find him sooner or later.

Jack would try to get their father but before he could, humans would catch sight of Race. Jack would try to drag him into the sea by his ankle, but Al would force him under the water and away from the shore.

Race, who is now on the ground, would be approached by the very boy who he’d gone up there to see. It’s early in the morning at this point. And the boy who introduces himself as Spot was going out for a morning surf.

Spot asks Race if he’s alright and Race goes to respond, realizing again that his voice is gone. He starts to panic and Spot asks him where he can take him or who he can call. Race just shrugs and shakes his head which Spot takes to mean as he’s alone.

Jack and Al watch as Spot leads Race away from the ocean and Jack has no idea what to do.

Taking Race to Miss Medda, Spot tries to communicate with him, finding that this mysterious boy can’t read or write, but seems to understand him just fine. Spot finds that something about this boy reminds him of someone but he knows he can’t be the boy that saved him because the boy that saved him had hummed and sang to him.

Miss Medda gets Race cleaned up and washed up and redressed in modern clothing that fits Race perfectly. Spot offers to show him around since Race agrees that he doesn’t know where he is really and doesn’t have anyone he knows there.

Race is nervous and anxious about everything but gets excited about little things anyways. When he sees Spot’s tattoo, he grabs the other boy’s arm and studies it for a long time. So Spot asks him if he liked Mermaids and Race immediately smiles and nods his head.

Spot decides to then take Race to the local aquarium where they meet a scientist named Mr. Weisel, who Race immediately finds he doesn’t like. Weisel tells them about a mermaid they caught years and years ago (Race’s mother) who they unfortunately killed a little bit too soon. A lot of people don’t believe there was ever a mermaid, as mermaids are myths, but Race puts the pieces together easily. He shows them a necklace made of shells that Race recognizes immediately as his mother’s.

He gets upset and even more scared so Spot would take him home.

Now it made sense why Jack, who seemed so fearless, was terrified of the human world.

From then on, Spot talks to Race about mermaids and how he was sure he’d seen some in the past (he’d seen Jack when Jack was little, playing with their mother).

Eventually, he takes Race back to the ocean where Race meets his friends who think he’s a bit odd, but Race doesn’t mind. They’re at the beach and Race can see Al. When he finds a way to get to where his friend is hiding, Al says that Jack is losing it. Race feels guilty, knowing it’s his fault his brother is so worried. Al tells him that Jack still hasn’t told their father what’s happened, explaining that Race was sick and wouldn’t leave his room and always finding an excuse for the king not to go see him.

When Spot finds him, Race shoves Al back beneath the water and pretends to just be watching the waves.

Spot and his friends teach Race how to surf.

Race is surprised at how much he likes it.

For the next few weeks, Spot and Race get very close. Spot starts to teach Race how to read and Race shows Spot how to appreciate the ocean in an entirely new way.

About a week in, Spot becomes infatuated with Race and starts to hold his hand. Race loves it.

At some point, they almost kiss in a lagoon, but are interrupted by Os and Mo who were sent by Snydehavheks to stop Race from succeeding.

Jack and Al, who were trying to help Race succeed, see the other two mermen and follow them back to their cave to figure out the sea witch’s actual plan where they learn that Snydehavheks is after the crown and plans to use Race as leverage to get it.

By the time they try to get back up to Race to warn him, it’s the end of the last day and he and Spot still haven’t kissed.

Weasel, who suspected there was something off about Race from the beginning, was watching him and Spot who were sitting at the edge of the water.

All in all, it’s a big mess.

Race begins to transform back into a merman and it causes him physical pain. He cries out, realizing his voice is back and tries to swim away before remembering that if he goes back, he belongs to the sea witch who gave him legs. So he hesitates just long enough for Weasel and a group of fishermen to throw a net over him and use long sticks with formed edges (not pitchforks but something similar) to pin Race to the shore. He tries to squirm away and cry out for help. Spot is confused and at a loss for words but tries to do something.

Race starts screaming for Jack who is hiding behind a buoy farther out in the ocean. Jack is paralyzed with fear and doesn’t know what to do so all he can do is watch them put his little brother in a large tank and pack him into the back of a truck and take off with him.

He dives back beneath the water and begs Snydehavheks to tell him where his brother is, reluctantly offering up his soul in exchange for information and help getting to Race.

The sea witch offers to help, but doesn’t grant Jack land legs. He simply tells Jack to swim up to shore and the rest would be made clear to him.

So Jack does what he says.

On the shore, there’s a uniform waiting for him. It’s a janitor’s uniform from the aquarium. He pulls himself from the water and puts it on, standing up on scaly legs and finding it extremely painful to walk on them, like thousands of needles piercing his skin. But he forces himself to walk and get to Race.

There’s an invisible trail leading Jack straight to his brother.

Race is being kept in a display tank for now in the aquarium. He’s been there for almost a full day by the time Jack finds him. He doesn’t like being in there. People tap on his glass and call him a freak. At first he’d hiss at them, showing off his sharp fangs and daring them to continue taunting him. Eventually he just gave up and turned away from the humans, curling up in a ball on the floor of the tank and trying to imagine his brother was there with him. Jack never let him be scared. Even when he’d wanted to shut down Race’s curiosity, he hadn’t wanted to scare him.

So he’s laying there with his tail pulled up to his chest and he’s crying, knowing he can’t do anything until he hears someone speaking his own language behind him and he turns around to find Jack standing outside his cage, looking like he was in pain, but still managing to look relieved that he’d found Race.

Race presses his hand up against the glass and Jack matches it crying at the relief of seeing his brother alive.

After a minute, he tries to break open the tank with anything he can find around him. He gets it to crack after a while, so Race starts hitting at it, trying to break it. Eventually, Jack manages to shatter the glass and Race gets pushed out onto the floor.

That's when a worker finds them, just as Race is regrowing his legs. Jack immediately sits down and pulls Race to him, hissing at her because he’s not a full human and has his fangs and claws still.

The woman, Katherine, Race reads off of her name tag, is shocked at first. He tries to speak English for the first time in his life, saying things like “please” and “ocean” and “daddy” because he knows that Jack is there but he still wants his dad.

Katherine would melt at the sight, finding some pants for Race to wear. That’s when Weasel would rush in. Jack was still holding on tightly to Race and Katherine would stand in front of them ready to defend them because she didn’t agree on keeping the merman from the beginning.

When Weasel tries to get to Race, Jack claws at his arm, deep enough to make him bleed.

That’s when Weasel figures out that Jack’s a merman too.

He grabs for his walkie talkie and calls for backup just as Spot breaks into the aquarium to try and break Race out. He finds Race and Jack on the ground behind Katherine and goes to get closer to Race. Jack tries to lash out at him, but Race stops him, though he still is a bit cautious of Spot because Spot didn’t save him while he was being captured.

Spot tries to ask Jack for his permission to help take Race back to the ocean. Race has to translate for him the best he can. Jack let’s go of Race, knowing that as long as Race made it home, he could be happy.

Eventually, he lets go of Race with one more kiss to his head and let’s Spot scoop him up as Katherine starts to fight with Weasel, tasing him with his own taser as more backup arrives.

She helps Jack stand and realizes walking must pain him, so she takes his weight and tries to get him back to the water.

They have a very hard time getting out of the building as Katherine has to hide them from Weasel’s men. Jack takes a reluctant liking to Katherine as she helps him through the building and back to the water. Even though they can’t understand each other’s language, Katherine manages to make Jack laugh and Jack finds himself intrigued by this woman.

Once they get back to the water, they find Spot on the shore panicking.

He tells Katherine that Race was there a second ago but the second he was fully in the water, some kind of octopus dragged him down.

Jack doesn’t understand, but he sees the panic on Spot’s face and immediately finds a place to dive into the water, going to find his brother only to be caught by two other mermen who drag him down beneath the water.

It’s Osvraggods and Mostrandingsgods. They tell him that Snydehavheks is there to collect him as he is now his property.

He finds Race struggling against Snydehavheks, who has his tentacles wrapped around the boy as they are forced to face their father who demands to know what on earth his half brother thinks he’s doing.

The sea witch shows Brydenbeskyttelse the contracts his sons signed.

The king knows what his brother wants. So he gives it to him.

With one final look at his sons who are begging him not to do what they know he’s about to do, he offers Snydehavheks the crown and his trident after making the other man promise that no harm would come to his boys. Snydehavheks agrees before making his half brother sign a contract and then taking the trident and turning Brydenbeskyttelse into stone.

Jack’s heart breaks as he watches his father fall but he demands that the sea witch release them as he made a deal. He rushes to grab Race before Race can go to the statue of their father and forces him to stay close, unsure of truly what to do.

Eventually, the younger prince fights his way out of Jack’s arms and tries to fight Snydehavheks who nearly kills him with the trident. After that, Race rushes up to the surface to get away from the man who’s now chasing him and Jack goes to help him.

At the surface, Spot and Katherine are still standing confused on the shore. But when they see Race struggling to get away from a giant half man, half octopus, Spot rushes to help him, managing to hurt the sea witch but eventually getting dragged beneath the surface.

Katherine tries to rush to help him, but Jack grabs her and helps her back to shore before Os and Mo can grab her.

Jack and Race then manage to get Spot to safety before Race finally takes his father’s trident and stabs Snydehavheks in the back, killing him. Jack then takes the thing to scare Os and Mo away. Once he does that, him and Race swim down to their father, freeing him.

Brydenbeskyttelse hugs them tightly before Race remembers Spot and rushes up to the surface again, hugging Spot immediately and trying to apologize.

Spot holds him back just as tightly before pulling away and kissing him.

Jack swims over to see Katherine and they have a cute little moment where Jack says in his own language that there was something about her he just wouldn’t be able to get out of his mind. She doesn’t know what he said, but she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

Their father watches the exchange, asking Race if he truly wanted to be with Spot. When he hesitantly nods, the king reluctantly gives Race the ability to walk on land without pain, even though he can still return to the ocean if he wants to.

Race doesn’t go without hugging his family again.

Eventually, Spot and Race do get married. But every time they get in a fight, Race goes back to find Jack and stay with him for a little while.

Spot gives the merpeople “human names”. He calls Race “Tyler”.

Jack visits his human friends and his brother once a week at least, learning how to speak English and finding that he was falling for Katherine who was just as quickly falling for him.

She finds herself fascinated by the life of the sea and eventually lets Jack take her down after he has his father’s permission. Brydenbeskyttelse turns her into a mermaid (her tail is yellow and orange). And her and Jack eventually become married and she gets to be a queen.

I know all of their names look like I was just typing random letters but I actually looked up the Danish translation for somethings (just on google, so I have no idea how accurate it is) because The Little Mermaid is a Danish story.

Tylilleprins — Lille prins means Little Prince

Jaqeleder — leder means leader

Brydenbeskyttelse — beskyttelse means protector

Alberdybhav — dyb hav means deep sea

Osvraggods — vraggods means flotsam

Mostrandingsgods — strandingsgods means jetsam

Snydehavheks — hav heks means sea witch

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed! I really like this one! Writing mermaids is interesting.

Let me know if you guys wanna see any scenes written out!

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

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darkpurpledawn · 4 years

Text

Divine Intervention

Crowley, in the warm, hip anonymity of a crowded café, frowned at a drink that was steaming like his mood. His hair was rain-soaked, slicked across his head after the algal fashion. He had coffee burns on both forks of his tongue. Worst of all, he found himself staring at a rosy-cheeked angel, which was just the sort of thing he came to trendy cafés to avoid.

The angel on the wallpaper had a golden trumpet from which a speech bubble issued, proclaiming WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE. Said angel was unfortunately blond and rubenesque and nude, save for some improbable drapery, and it was doing something damnable indeed to the hellish pits of Crowley’s stomach. Aziraphale had been occupied with a “highly important and temporarily inexplicable” matter for three weeks, and Crowley was losing the battle against the urge for suspicion and sulking.

He was settling in for a proper rainy-coffeeshop wallow when he noticed the floor was beginning to bubble. Crowley cast an alarmed glance at his coffee (The barista had inquired, prior to entering the order, whether he was taking any heart medications). Then the wall started to gurgle and melt.

“Hated that wallpaper anyway,” Crowley mused, right as the laminate dissolved beneath him and the stinking fizz that had been his chair, table, and sulking nook fell down and down and down.

He landed with a crunch. Crowley looked around and felt a sick jolt ricochet through his body. The floor was covered in the long, twisting skeletons of hundreds of snakes.

A door opened, or maybe a part of the infernal drywall simply collapsed in despair.

Three demons entered, glowering beneath hoods so cavernous they seemed to demand spelunking. One was carrying a large net, one was holding a plastic pitchfork, and the other was crunching on a bag of cheese puffs.

CrOwLEyyyy, scratched the voice of the demon with the net, wELcOmE bAcK. hELl’s MiSseD yOu.

“Erm, thanks for the hospitality,” Crowley certainly didn’t whimper. “W-what’s with the pitchfork, did I arrive on Retro Night or something?”

“Pitchforks are a classic,” said the demon with the cheap trident. There was something oddly familiar about that voice.

RiGHt, wHAt AsMoDeUs SaId. A hulking shrug. He’S NeW, tRaNsFeRrEd FrOm AcCoUnTiNg.

“You’re gonna love your new accommodations, Crowley,” the cheese-puff-eating demon said. “Asmodeus here volunteered to show you around, look after you. He was really enthusiastic about the job.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve been very busy the last three weeks,” the pitchfork carrier chimed in,“thinking of ways to torture you, of course.” Beneath the hood, a blue eye winked. “Right, you go ahead, er, foul traitor Crowley.”

There was a gentle jab of the plastic pitchfork, and a yelp as Crowley’s hands flew to his buttocks. He was ushered through a dark hallway, while the gloating laughter of the other two demons faded into the distance.

When they reached a slightly less ominous room, Crowley turned to face his cloaked captor.

“Thanks, Asmodeus. And angel, if you’d like to go poking me in the backside there are more fun ways I can think to—”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about my dear. That was entirely accidental.”

#good omens #good omens fic #good omens ficlet #ineffable husbands #my fic

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 5 years

Text

whumptober day 8, 10, 11, 12

Ok I’m totally falling apart as far as staying on schedule here so tonight you are getting another combo fic, incorporating four prompts!!

Day 8: Stabbed

Day 10: Unconscious

Day 11: Stitches

Day 12: Don’t Move!

Penelope

It started off easily enough. Cross the water to Long Island, a uninhabited islet near Hampshire. It didn’t take us all that long to get there. Langstone Harbour is a little over an hour from Watford.

Took longer than that with the bus but there’s no helping it.

I must say the Mage is simply terrible with logistics. He saddles Simon with missions but never tells him how to get there or how to get back. He doesn’t even spring for tickets or reimburse Simon for expenses. I’ve half a mind to send a letter to the Faculty Board or the Coven but I don’t want my mother getting wind that I’m helping Simon. I’d probably be able to hear her yell from here. And Morgana knows what spell she’d magic up to stop me from helping again.

I’m not going to risk that. I’d rather deal with the Mage’s stingy ways than have my mother find out what we’re doing.

It turned out that this place isn’t much of an island at all, name notwithstanding, although my preparatory research did reveal that it was inhabited in the Bronze Age and even up into Roman times. That’s why the Mage wanted us to go there.

There’s some sort of talisman he’s discovered through scrying. I didn’t think the Mage believed in crystal balls or images in pools of enchanted spring water. Simon says he uses all available means of magical discovery and that scrying is a fairly common practice in Wales. That’s where the Mage is from. Simon says he rarely speaks of it.

We made our way to the island right before dusk and I magicked up a causeway. Simon wanted to steal a boat. Why steal when we can use magic? A stolen boat leaves a trail, a memory for the Normals, something out of the ordinary. A magickal causeway and a judicious “through a glass darkly” is all that’s necessary for something like this. No one will even know we were here.

Or so I thought. The Mage neglected to mention that this island is protected by the Mer people. And that this talisman has some magical significance to them. Typical.

We made it over without incident and I cast a few finding spells, using a sketch of the talisman the Mage had provided. It took about an hour but we found it, plucked it out from the center of a stone mound and stashed it in Simon’s pocket, wrapped in a scrap of cloth.

One of Baz’s linen handkerchiefs to be accurate. Simon can be so petty sometimes.

It took a fair bit of magic to keep the causeway up that long—the island was a fair distance from the coast, and the span wasn’t as simple as a footbridge across a river or ravine, like I’ve done before. I could feel my magic waning as we made our way back across.

Which is, of course, when the Mer people showed up. They rose up out of the water, on either side of the causeway. Dark-haired men, heavily muscled, wielding tridents at us. Mer people have their own kind of magic and they don’t particularly like anything crossing over their watery domains. Particularly not mages. There is all kinds of history there, none of it good.

I could see my causeway start to shimmer ahead of us. We only had a short distance to go, the shore wasn’t that far ahead, but then the causeway had flickered completely away in front of us, leaving me and Simon balanced on the edge. I darted a look behind me.

Merlin’s teeth. They’d erased it behind us too. We were stuck on the little remnant, surrounded by them.

Reasoning didn’t work. Simon called the Sword of Mages and made quick work of a few of them, slashing through their tridents and slicing some arms off as he did. It got a bit ugly then. Simon got blurry at the edges, like he gets when his magic rises up. He was moving so fast I could barely keep his sword in sight. He had me tucked behind him with a “can’t touch this.”

I don’t know why he didn’t do it over himself too but Simon never casts protective spells on himself.

He won’t weatherize himself either, even if it’s pouring rain. I don’t know if he forgets or he’s just incapable of doing it. I think he just forgets. He doesn’t think of himself that way, as needing a shield or a defense. Just everyone else.

We were outnumbered and Mer people are fierce when they’re feeling slighted. Or anytime they’ve got strangers near them, to be honest. I was trying to cast nets and churn up the water but it was difficult to cast when I was stuck behind Simon and hard to avoid getting him tangled up or knocking him off this remnant of my causeway.

A trident had whipped in front of my legs but the spell held it off.

Simon hadn’t been so lucky. He got speared in the side by another raging Mer-man. It was enough of a shock to make him go off. We ended up on the shore, under a tree.

It takes me a moment to clear my head and brush the sand off me. That’s when I get a look at Simon.

He’s bleeding and there’s a huge gash along his side. It looks like he got stabbed and then the trident tore along the surface of his flesh. It’s nasty looking.

Wide. Gaping. Blood pouring out of it.

“Don’t look at me like that, Penny. I’ll be fine. Just give me a “get well soon” and I’ll be alright.”

His breathing is too fast.

I point my ring at him and it gives me a half-hearted glow. Fuck a goblin. I need more power than this. I point it at him and cast a “get well soon” and a “right as rain.” The bleeding slows up and his breathing slows too, but the wound is still there.

I can’t think of any other spells right now. “Early to bed” comes to me and I cast it. Simon grabs my hand. “It’s all right, Penny. It’s better. I can manage.”

He can’t, the great thumping git. He’s got a bleeding hole in him, literally a bleeding hole, and a good eight-inch gash along his flank.

I need help. I don’t know how I’m going to get him back to Watford. The bus will take too long and we’ll draw too much attention if he’s bleeding on the bus. I doubt a “nothing to see here” will last long enough, the way I’m casting right now.

I find a blanket in a rowboat nearby and I cast “sanitized for your protection” on it before I tear it into strips to bind Simon’s wound with it. I make it snug enough that he gasps when I tighten the last bit.

“Bloody hell, Penny.” “I can’t have you bleeding out, Simon.” My voice is curt but I pull his arm over my shoulder and we limp our way to the station. He rallies a bit for the trip home.

It feels like we’re traveling forever.

We finally make our way to Watford by cab and blast it, the bloody drawbridge is up already. Fuck a nine-toed troll. I am going to skin the Mage the next time I see him, I swear to Merlin.

What am I going to do with Simon? I need to get him inside, I need to get him to the infirmary. We’re standing here, staring at the drawbridge, at the moat, at the gap between us and the wall, trying to figure out what to do.

Simon chooses this exact moment to pass out. He slumps right down, sliding away from me and falling into a heap at the moat’s edge. I drag him back. The mer-wolves have a keen sense of smell and I wouldn’t put it past one of them to crawl up out of the water to investigate the scent. They have a unnerving nose for blood.

I’ve had enough of bloody mer-creatures for one night, thank you very much.

I’m wracking my brain trying to think of a way to contact Agatha. If I could reach her she could get the nurse or the Mage or even Miss Possibelf, if the Mage is gone. He’s gone half the time as it is. He sends us off on these blasted missions and isn’t here to claim the artefact he sent us to find in the first place, the barmy bastard.

I’m on my knees casting “get well soon” on Simon again when I hear a voice calling my name.

“Bunce?”

I look up to the ramparts and see Baz’s pale face shining in the moonlight.

“What the devil are you doing out there, Bunce? And what have you done to Snow?”

Beggars can’t be choosers. Baz Pitch is a blessed sight at the moment.

“Stop chattering, Basilton Pitch, and help me. Simon’s hurt and I can’t get across the moat.”

He frowns down at me and for a moment I think he’s going to turn away. Next thing I know he’s over the ramparts and floating down across the moat, calm and collected, as if he casts “float like a butterfly” every day.

“What’s the situation?” he asks, as he lands, sinking to his knees next to Simon. I can see why Simon gets irritated with him. He even makes kneeling in the mud look elegant.

I give him as vague a story as I can. He shakes his head at me. “Can’t the Mage do his own dirty work?”

It’s startlingly close to my own opinion on the matter. It was fun and exciting the first years. But we’re sixth years now and it’s getting a bit irritating to always be at the Mage’s beck and call. It would be nice if he did some of this on his own. I don’t know why it always has to be Simon.

Baz’s grey eyes meet mine. “I don’t know if I can carry him over the wall with the spell,” he says.

I know that.

“And I can’t magic the drawbridge down.”

I know that, too.

“Can you get the nurse, Basil? Or Miss Possibelf?”

He looks down at Simon then and in an uncharacteristic motion takes Simon’s hand in his, pressing his fingertips to Simon’s wrist. “His heart’s racing. How bad is he hurt?”

“Bad enough. I got the bleeding to slow down but the gash wouldn’t heal.”

Baz’s nostrils flare at my words.

Oh fuck.

I point my ring at him, leaning over Simon menacingly. I hope I look menacing. I’m not sure. I probably just look tired. “Don’t move, Baz. Stay back.”

He knocks my hand away. “Calm down, Bunce. I’m not going to hurt him. I may loathe Snow but this is perhaps the least sporting way to inflict damage on him.” His expression softens. “Let me help.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you either. Now will you shut up and let me help or not? You’ve dragged me into this, I may as well make myself useful.”

His wand is in his hand and he’s pointing it at Simon. I want to push him away. I want to shout at him to stop.

I want him to help me.

He casts a “get well soon” and I can feel the power of it. I press my fingertips to the blanket bandages and they come away wet.

“I think we’ve got to close the wound. I think that’s the only way we’ll get the spells to actually take.”

“Unwrap it then.”

“Can you handle it, Basil?” I’ve never addressed this with him. I’m not even sure I believe Simon. About Baz being a vampire.

But I can’t risk it. I can’t risk Simon.

Baz raises one eyebrow and quirks his lip. “I can handle a little blood, Bunce.”

Baz

Aleister Crowley, I hope I’m right. Thank magic I fed just a bit ago. I’ve got a full belly, blood sloshing through me still. The rats were plentiful tonight and I was thirsty.

It should be fine. Everything should be fine.

The scent of Snow’s blood hit me when I was still up on the ramparts. It’s what made me look down. I know that scent.

I’d recognize it anywhere.

I’ve smelled it all too often; from when I’ve hit him myself, from all the nights he’s crawled into bed after one of the Mage’s missions.

He smells like bacon and warm cinnamon buns. Like hazelnut coffee and campfire smoke.

He smells good enough to eat.

I can’t let myself think like this.

I have to do this. I have to help Simon.

“It’s fine, Bunce. Unwrap the layers yourself, if you don’t trust me.” That keeps me from getting blood on my hands. I don’t know if I could handle that right now.

Bunce meets my eyes and we stare at each other for a long moment. Then she nods and unwraps what looks like a plaid fleece blanket from around Snow’s waist.

The gash is ugly. It’s ragged and a good six inches in length, gaping near the stab wound but tapering off at the end. There isn’t much active bleeding. It seems the spells have at least managed that.

I don’t know how to heal a wound. I’ve not had to do this before. Experimentation seems a bit risky. I try to think of something that might bring the edges together but my mind is a bit of a blank, between the glimpse of Snow’s freckled skin and the rising scent of his blood surrounding me. I may be a tad woozy from it all.

Bunce shoves me. “Do something.”

“I’m trying to think what to do.”

She huffs. “If you can’t think of a way to seal the wounds then we’ll just have to stitch him up.”

“You must be joking.”

“I’m waiting for a better idea from you.”

She’ll be waiting a long time then. I’m blank other than healing spells so I hit Snow with a few more of those to stall for time. The wound narrows a bit and the bleeding stops completely, thank magic.

He’s still out cold. Blood loss and shock, I’m assuming.

“A stitch in time” I cast and a threaded needle shimmers in front of me. I’m not sure if I should use my wand or my hand to direct it. Bunce makes the decision for me. She grabs the needle and starts to make the first stitch. She manages to make three uneven stitches before she groans and covers her face with her hands.

“Ugh. I don’t know if I can do this.” “What do you mean you don’t know if you can do this? You asked me to help. I’m helping. Come along now, Bunce, stitch away.”

“I can’t. It’s awful. The way the needle feels going through his skin and the way his flesh quivers when I do it.” She shakes her head. “You do it.”

I stare at her. “You can’t be serious.”

The glare she shoots me over her glasses is menacing. Bunce can be quite terrifying when she chooses.

I bite my lips. I do not want to touch Snow’s skin. That would be an absolutely terrible idea. I may want to trace the constellations of moles that dot his chest and abdomen but now is most certainly not the time for that.

What am I thinking? There’s never going to be a time for that.

I shake my head to clear it.

I really can’t afford to get any of his blood on my hands.

I lean over him, wand pointed at the needle Bunce has abandoned on Snow’s skin. “I’ve got this all sewn up.” I make the sewing motions with my wand and the needle parallels my movements, slowly stitching up the wide wound, inch by inch. I make her tie the knot when I’m done.

She casts a “sanitized for your protection” on the blanket remnants, which is truly an inspired spell. I’ll have to remember that one.

Once she’s got Snow all bandaged again, she moves to place his head on her lap, gently stroking the hair off his face.

I imagine it’s me doing that. I think about how his curls would slip through my fingers, how the calluses on my fingertips would catch in his hair. How I’d stroke the side of his cheek . . . bloody hell, I need to stop this.

I drag my eyes away.

“Anything else I can do, Bunce?”

“Cast another healing spell, would you, Basil?”

I cast another healing spell. And another. Just in case.

I don’t think I can magic Bunce and Snow over the wall. We’ll just have to wait until morning, when the drawbridge comes down. Or flag the goatherd down at sunrise and have her magic us over. Fiona says she may be unassuming to look at but she’s a powerhouse when she chooses.

I wouldn’t know.

The night is getting cooler and the breeze picks up. I magic my coat into a blanket and Bunce does the same with her jacket. We wrap them around Snow and huddle together for warmth, Snow’s head still pillowed on Bunce’s lap.

He’s inches away, closer than he’s ever been before, except when we’ve been fighting.

It’s too much, having him here like this, so close, so still, so quiet. It’s unnerving. I’m worried that he hasn’t woken up yet. I’m worried he’s lost too much blood. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong though and I try to convince myself it’s just exhaustion and blood loss.

I can’t help it. I reach over and lay my cold hand on his forehead. It feels warm but not too warm. What would I know? I’m not a normal temperature myself.

Snow turns his head into my palm and rubs his forehead against my hand. I snatch it back, not daring to meet Bunce’s eyes.

She places her hand where mine was. “He’s not running a fever, if that’s what you’re worried about, Basil.”

“I’m not worried. Just thought I’d check is all.”

I get another one of Bunce’s penetrating stares. I don’t say anything. I just lean back against the tree we’re huddled under and tilt my head up to look at the stars.

I follow the patterns of the stars but what I see in my head are the patterns on Snow’s skin.

It’s going to be a long night.

#whumptober 2019 #whumptober day 8 #whumptober day 10 #whumptober day 11 #whumptober day 12 #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #Penelope Bunce #my writing #my fics #stabbed #unconscious #stitches #don't move

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wreckofawriter · 5 years

Text

See you around One.

Pairing: Marvel x reader

Word Count: 3,866

Warnings: Swearing? Implied smut?

Request: Hello! I have searched everywhere, trying to find an imagine or fic for my boi Marvel. When I came across your blog and finding out you could write about him, my heart- I thought of a x reader insert where the reader is from another district and she catches Marvels attention, the other careers tease him about his crush and the night before the games they meet up and kiss or sumn else 👀 Thank you :)

A/n: ok so. All of this might not be accurate from the books but like idc. Umm sorry this took so long to come out, hope you guys like it.

Marvel had never been a very romantic boy. He had never liked a girl past the thought of her being hot, he had never wished for a girl in more than a sexual way and he sure as hell never dated a girl.

He stuck to himself in the academy and focused on training, it was easier that way. But here he was finding himself staring helplessly at you again and again, his eyes tracing over your body as you twirled a knife in your hand before thrusting it at a target, as always lodging itself into the red circle on its head.

"Marvel!" Cato yelled clapping his hands together to gain the boys attention.

Marvel tore his gaze away from you and glared at the other boy.

"What?" He asked sharply, visibly annoyed with the other careers.

"Can you please at least try and focus on something besides Four's ass?" Glimmer scoffed, "It makes us look weak."

"Please Glimmer the only thing making us look weak is your poor attempt at a shot," Marvel mumbled, "Now hand me that bow so you know what hitting a target is."

Glimmer rolled her eyes handing the boy the bow before walking off to talk with Clove.

Once she left he took a few shots before letting his eyes wander back to you. He knew it was wrong, but he could help himself.

He had first seen you in person just before the chariot parade and he had felt his breath leave his body.

You had been dressed in a maroon strapless bikini with a fishnet dress hanging loosely over your body. Your hair had been half up half down, curled slightly at the ends.

The boy had been in a daze the whole parade, he couldn't focus when he could run his eyes over so much of your smooth y/s/c skin. It was definitely true what they said, district four had the most attractive tributes.

Marvel was snapped from his daze when you began to head towards him. He quickly turned his gaze from you and back towards the targets attempting to ignore the color trickling up his neck. He knocked another arrow, pulled back the string and released. It wasn't a perfect shot but it was okay.

You were now beside him and he felt his cheeks rise in temperature.

"You almost done with that?" You asked, your voice strong and sharp.

Marvel turned towards you. Your hair hanging in a Dutch braid a few strands falling into your face. The tight shirt and pants you were wearing brought attention to your curves, your y/e/c eyes shining dangerously. Your eyebrows were raised in anticipation, arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

"Almost." Marvel shrugged causing you to roll your eyes impatiently.

The tribute grabbed a final arrow all to aware of your judicious eyes watching him carefully. He once again knocked an arrow, pulling back the string and releasing smoothly.

You snorted quietly, trying to control your laughter.

Marvel turned back towards you his intense hazel eyes narrowed, "What?"

"Your doing it wrong." You laughed biting your deliciously pink lips.

"How would you know?" He asked scornfully.

"Well just from looking at one shot I can tell you're not floating your aim, your trying to pin-point it, which wont work well. You need to follow through mentally and focus in more in the smaller range your trying to hit" You smirked, "Also your grip is way too tight, you need to relax your hand."

Marvel attempted to mask his embarrassment with annoyance, "Is that all?" He drawled sarcastically despite his cheeks flashing crimson.

"Nope," You popped the 'p' in your lips. "You also should only use two fingers to pull back the string, you may feel like you have more power when you use three, but it fucks with your aim."

"Oh."

You laughed again, Marvel had never heard such a sweet sound. "Can I have the bow now?"

He nodded handing you the weapon, his face red, ego damaged.

You knocked an arrow pulling back the string and releasing, hitting the target square in the chest.

The embarrassed boy turned to leave but was stopped by you voice, "It also helps if you focus on your shot instead of on the girl throwing knives across the room."

Marvel blushed deeply and looked at anything but you, his gaze landed on the group of three who were now laughing and giggling behind their hands at him. His eyes were brought back to you when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

"I'm kidding you know, I don't really mind the staring, its refreshing." You shrugged.

"You don't get stared at often?" Marvel said in disbelief.

"I do, just usually by men twice my age or slimy creeps, not…" your voice trailed off as your eyes traced his body, "attractive young men."

"Oh." Marvel repeated his face warmer than it had ever been before, he noticed a bit of color in yours as well.

You knocked another arrow firing at the target to the left, "Also, I've seen you with a spear, your really good."

"Thanks." Marvel mumbled scratching the back of his neck.

"You'll have to give me some tips some time." Another arrow, this time at the target to the far right. "I can't throw a spear for shit."

"Y-yeah, sure." Marvel stuttered feeling his heart rate pick up at the idea of talking to you again.

"It's been fun talking to you Marvel, it's nice to know not all of the careers as assholes." You murmured nodding your head at the group of teenagers laughing at a young girl on the climbing wall.

"You too y/n." He paused before adding, "Good to know I have someone besides assholes to talk to."

"See you around One." You smiled before setting down the bow and heading over to a rope climbing section. Marvel watched you leave in a daze a small smile twitching on his lips.

The smile disappeared quickly when the group of three began to make their way towards him.

"How was your little chat lover boy?" Clove sneered.

"None of your business Clove." The boy murmured walking towards a rack of swords.

"Oh he's all bitter now that his girlfriend left." Glimmer pouted humorously.

"She's not my girlfriend." Marvel grumbled angrily, picking up a short Dao sword with leather handle.

"Oh but you wish she was." Clove snickered.

"Trust me your going to be happy that she isnt when were in the arena and I drive a knife through her pretty little ne-" Catos words were cut off when a sword was suddenly thrust centimeters from his neck. Glimmer gasped Clove room an instinctive step backwards.

"I'd watch what you say if I were you." Marvel hissed his voice low and dark, "Wouldn't want to get hurt now would we?"

Cato leaned forward, almost touching his neck to the sharp blade, "You need to get a hold on your emotions One, or you'll get yourself killed over some stupid girl." He spat.

Marvels eyes darkened with rage but before any action could be taken the boys were pulled apart, the blade pushed from Marvels hand.

You watched from your perch in the netting strug along the ceiling. You hadn't heard Marvels words but you couldn't help but smile as you watched a blade was put to Catos neck. You hoped you would be the one to get him in the arena.

The next time you and Marvel spoke was the day after the fight as you stood in line waiting for your turn to throw knives.

You nodded your head sending silent respect to Clove. She may have been a complete bitch but she definitely had some skill.

"You're better than her you know." Marvel stated, suddenly appearing next to you.

"I don't know about that, but I do know I'm better than you." You smiled, turning to face the boy. He had been the first to throw, they were on target but the rotation was off causing the handle to hit the target instead of the blade.

"Well, you are definitely better than Clove, she can hit some but she misses quite often as well. I've never seen you miss."

"I've never seen her miss." You shrugged taking a step forward as the boy from three reached for a knife.

"Well I have." Marvel smirked, "How did you get so good with knives? I thought tributes from four were supposed to be good with tridents and spears?"

You snorted, "We all know that spears are your thing One."

"Well, why are you so good with knives and a bow? We all know that not fours thing."

You sighed, "My dad cleaned fish for a living, I have been around knives my whole life. They are definitely different types but once you get good with a blade, it's easy to pick up another. I started throwing when I was nine, my dad got me a set of throwing knives for my birthday."

Marvel nodded, he wondered what it would have been like if he hadn't trained in an academy for most of his life, what would he be good at then?

"And I'm good with a bow because I have always been terrible with a spear. I used to use arrows with fishing line attached to fish instead. I got really good at it."

"Cool." Marvel nodded he opened his mouth to continue the conversation but was cut off.

"District Four!" The trainer shouted.

"See you around One." You smirked before stepping and forward grabbing the set of knives, standing on the platform to wait for the targets to light up.

You could feel four sets of eyes boring into you, you turned to see all four Careers staring at you. Cloves mouth twitched into a sneer her eyes narrowed.

You glared back before turning back to the targets.

You took a deep breath in and waited. The second the target lit up red you sent a blade into its chest where it landed with a thump. The next target lit up and a knife lodged itself into its head. Another target and you released a blade with perfect aim.

You took in a deep breath, the last targets were two at once. Clove had to take one shot then the other because she couldn't throw with her left but you were used to throwing with your left hand.

Both targets lit at once and you released a knife from each hand, hitting both in the head. You smirked looking back at the careers, Clove shrugged raising her eyebrows, Glimmer rolled her eyes and Cato was glaring at Marvel who had a lopsided smile plastered on his face.

"You were right." You said as you descended from the platform. "I am better than Clove."

The next two weeks were a constant flirtatious banter between you and Marvel. You would tell small stories to each other about your family's or your interests. Just quick things while you were waiting in line or practicing side by side. You would both sprinkle suggestive remarks and various complements into your conversations making the other blush as well.

You could still feel his eyes locked on you when you spared with a trainer or climbed the wall, but it's not like you didn't stare. You had found your self following his movements as he thrust a spear into a target or admiring his muscular form as he pinned a trainer to the ground, he sure as hell wasn't ugly.

Marvel got into one more fight before the games. It was four days before the game, the boy from district eight had been hovering around you all day, chatting and training with you. Marvel had been on nerve since he had seen the boy graze his hand along your arm that morning.

"Somebody's jealous." Glimmer cooed as Marvels jaw clenched watching as the boy from eight showed you how to grip an axe.

"I am not jealous." Marvel scoffed reaching for the next spear angrily and thrusting it at the target.

"Oh please," Glimmer snickered, "a blind man could see it, your jealous because another boy is flirting with your girlfriend."

"She's not my-

"Yeah, yeah we know, we've been over it." Clove interrupted rolling his eyes. "Catos right you know."

"Never heard that sentence before." Marvel jeered grabbing another spear and thrusting it at the target.

"Well he is, you need to get your emotions in check before they check you." Clove stated looking back up at Marvel who's eyes and attention was elsewhere.

The girls followed his gaze to you and Eight just as you bent over to pick up an axe you dropped. Eights eyes danced over you hungrily before reaching out and grabbing your ass. Marvel dropped the spear he was holding with a loud clang, the two girls glanced at each other knowing this wasn't going to end well.

You spun around anger radiating from you, your eyes dark and dangerous, fists clenched.

The boy put his hands up in surrender "Sorry." He scoffed, "I just thought you were an easy fuck."

Your fist connected with his jaw wand he sprawled to the ground,his hand flying to his jaw. You were about to advance on him once more but Marvel beat you to it.

He grabbed the boy off the ground lifting him by his shirt into the air, "You touch her again and I will kill you before you even get a chance to look at the arena." Marvel snarled his eyes narrowed.

He threw the boy to the ground and began to advance on him but was pushed back by a man in white body armor.

"Step back! I said step back!"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, I'm back." Marvel spoke harshly backing away his hands raised. His gaze softened when he turned to you only to be met with anger.

Your eyes were set in an icy stare but much to Marvel's surprise it was directed straight at him.

"Y/n?" He asked softly, taking a step towards you.

You scoffed turning and walking away from the tribute.

You had effectively ignored Marvel for two days, and he had no idea why.

It made him angry, confused and heartbroken. You wouldn't even look at him, the feeling of your eyes lingering over him disappeared completely after the fight.

Cato and Glimmer tried to convince him to forget about you and move on and he tried, he kept telling himself it was stupid to start to like you anyway, you would be trying to kill each other in a matter of days. He thought if he had time away from you it would be easier in the arena.

He was terribly wrong, your complete absence made things worse, he found himself imagining your touch and taste more than ever now. He had dreams about you, they varied from kissing you to killing you. Some gave him relief when he awoke, others made him wish he had stayed asleep. He missed your small chats, your cunning smile and your sweet laughter desperately.

You sat in the private sessions waiting room running the plan you and your mentor had made over and over again in your head. He had said if you got a nine or over he could get you some sponsors. So that's what you were going to do.

You were tapping your foot nervously when the door at the front swung open to reveal Marvel, a thin layer of sweat made his face shine his dusty blonde hair was a tousled mess he glanced at you his hazel eyes locking with your y/e/c ones for just a second before yours darted away.

The next time you saw each other was before your interviews. You were adorned in a white and blue top that reached just before your belly button with a matching skirt that had two slits in the fabric where your legs were, making the skirts material fall around your skin. Gold painted swirls twisted around your arms and legs paired with golden dots at the corner of your eyes and a golden tiara to match.

It took everything in Marvel not to slam you against the wall and kiss you right there, but he kept his composure and calmly made his way over to you much to the other careers amusement.

When you saw him coming you turned to leave but were stopped by his voice.

"Please y/n, just listen to me." He begged making you turn to face him. Marvel was in a blue and yellow tux, his hair combed back neatly his eyes desperate and longing.

"What?" you snapped harshly.

Marvel smiled a bit, he hadn't even expected you to speak to him. "You look amazi-"

"Don't attempt to flatter me Marvel, what do you want?" You hissed despite the color rising in your cheeks.

He leaned in close to you, his breath on your neck making you shiver. "Meet me near the elevator on the second floor at midnight tonight." He whispered, "Please."

Marvel then walked back to the front of the line. He heard giggles from Clove and turned to face her. When he turned Cato got down to his knees in front of Clove. "Oh please, y/n please talk to me, I'm so desperately in love with you please." He mocked.

Clove responded with, "Don't attempt to flatter me!" Before bursting into a fit of giggles Cato mimicking her actions.

"You two are childish." Marvel scoffed rolling his eyes.

"Well at least we're not in love with a girl they are going to have to kill." Cato pointed out causing Marvel to flush.

"I'm not in love with her dumbas-

"District 1!" A voice called and Marvel rolled his eyes before ascending the stairs to the stage.

You debated meeting Marvel for a long time. On one hand you were pissd at him, on the other you really, really wanted to see him, run your hands through his soft hair and kiss his boyish pink lips.

Finally after two hours of pacing and debating you slipped into the elevator, heart racing. You pressed the button next to the number two and listen to the soft hum as it dropped you three levels.

The doors opened with a soft ding and you were met with a relieved pair of hazel eyes.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." Marvel said softly, reaching for you hand and pulling you through the penthouse his district was staying in.

He lead you to a bedroom shutting the door softly before turning to face you.

"Why are you so mad at me?" His voice was kind yet melancholy when he spoke.

You sighed walking over to the window where you could see the people of the capital partying below.

"I barely touched that guy I don't understand."

"It's not about how much you hurt the guy." You huffed in annoyance.

"Well then what is it?" Marvel asked joining you beside the window.

"It's the fact that you stepped in, you made me look weak." You explained looking down at your hands.

Marvel stood silently, unsure of what to do, he was slowly realizing how him stepping in to save her could appear on her end, especially in front of the gamemakers.

"I-im really sorry, y/n I didn't mean to." The boy stuttered, "I just got so mad when I saw him touch you. I wanted to help you."

You glared up at him, "I was fine by myself. I was handling it."

"I know, you were, it was stupid of me to step in I just…" he exhaled loudly not exscatly sure what happened himself. "I got so angry I couldn't stop myself."

"You should try to keep your emotions in check." You scoffed.

"You think I haven't tried?" Marvel seethed.

"Try harder." You hissed back.

"You make it very difficult!" He defend quietly, not wanting to wake the other people in the apartment.

You sighed looking down again.

"If it's any consolation, you got a higher score than me." Marvel mumbled.

"That did feel good." You smiled, your happiness was cut short when you were reminded of your impending doom by a particularly loud cheer from the crowd below you.

You reached slowly for Marvel's hand brushing your knuckles against his. He quickly grabbed your hand, wrapping it in his own.

"I don't want to have to kill you tomorrow." You mumbled a tear leaking from your y/e/c eye.

"I know," Marvel sighed sadly lifting your chin with one of his fingers to meet his gaze. "I don't either."

"I'm sorry." You whispered you voice breaking.

"For what?" Marvel asked confusion momentary taking over his features.

"For this." You murmured before placing your lips on his.

You kissed him softly, feeling his lips dance slowly against your own, he tasted minty and sharp, reminding you of the peppermint candies you used to steal from your kitchen. When you felt his tongue grazed your lips you pulled away.

"If I do this I don't think I'll be able to kill you." You whispered dropping his hands.

"We only have tonight." Marvel mumbled tracing your jawline softly, "I don't want to waste it."

Against your better judgement you slammed your lips back onto his. This kiss was much more aggressive. It was desperate and lustful, so drastic from the first kiss you shared.

Marvel pushed you roughly against the wall sliding his tongue into your mouth without hesitation, his hands holding your waist firmly. Your own hands found the back of his neck, one of the two sliding up to his smooth hair.

His lips moved from your own down your jaw to your neck leaving marks that were sure to be bruised tomorrow. You moaned quietly when his lips danced just above your collarbone.

Marvel lifted you up and walked you over to the bed his lips meeting yours quickly because the truth was you did only have one night.

The next morning you woke to a shriek followed by muffled giggles.

You darted upward to see Glimmer standing in the door entrance hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide.

"Oh my god!" She yelled making you flush red when you realized you had no clothes on and was in an equally naked boys arms.

Marvel quickly jerked awake flashing red before yelling "Glimmer get out!" And throwing a pillow at the girl before turning to you.

"Sorry, she has no concept of personal space." He mumbled, face a light pink.

"I better get out of here." You sighed sadly, wanting to stay in bed with him forever.

"Yeah. You probably should." Marvel agreed his voice equally glum.

You stood up the cold air hitting you in a wave before you gathered your clothes and got dressed.

The whole time you could feel his eyes following you. You turned and looked at the boy, a small forced smile taking your lips.

"See you around One." You mumbled before turning and walking out through the door.

#marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x you #marvel x oc #marvel x y/n #marvel imagines #hunger games imagines #hunger games #team peeta #gale hawthorne #peeta melark #peeta melark x reader #peeta melark imagines #peeta melark imagine #gale hawthorne x reader #gale hawthorn imagines #cato #marvel from the hunger games

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doomedandstoned · 5 years

Text

A Freewheeling Conversation with Temptation’s Wings

~By Shawn Gibson~

I have wanted to interview Asheville, North Carolina stoner-sludge band TEMPTATION'S WINGS for Doomed and Stoned for a while now, so this is special. I used to work with drummer Jason Gardner for a few months on a construction site, where we first met. One thing led to another and we started talking metal. The rest is history. I had a radio show at the time and told Jason to give me some music from Temptation's Wings to play it on air. Jason made a press kit and dropped it off at the radio station, which had a flyer for an upcoming show which I went to. I had them on my program at least two or three times, as well. When I see these guys live, I see my friends -- my metal family. To Jason and guitarist Micah Nix: many more years of bard’s tales, mead by the fire, and ravishing tales of Bloodshed and Conquest!

The Path EP by Temptation's Wings

Hey Micah! What's up man?

Micah: Nothing much, what's going on?

Not much it's been awhile.

Micah: I know man! How you doing?

Good. Watching a game between Syracuse and Clemson.

Micah: Cool.

Pulling for Clemson.

Micah: I'm sorry I can't agree with you on that one. (laughs)

So who do you pull for in college football?

Micah: I'd say it's better than Alabama! I'm a Carolina guy, University of North Carolina.

I remember when Temptations Wings were playing the Odditorium and Carolina Chupacabra came up from Columbia SC. You made a joke on stage towards the lead singer about having the wrong Carolina shirt on or something.

Micah: Oh yeah I remember that. (laughs)

So you guys are at practice or are you done?

Micah: Were just unloading. We had a show last Sunday. Our PA has had some feedback issues. We're moving some speakers around and trying to figure it out.

Is Jason with you?

Jason: What's up man?

How's it going?

Jason: Good. How are you?

Good. Glad to hear your voice. Great to talk to you guys! Sorry it's been so long! Please forgive me!

Micah: It's alright. Not a problem. We've missed you!

I miss you guys! I try to keep up with posts on Facebook and Instagram. I've been grateful to go to all the shows for Temptations Wings that I did! Thanks again for dedicating or mentioning me when you guys played Bloodshed and Conquest. Means a lot!

Micah: Oh, of course, man. That was our jam!

It was awesome you guys giving me a shout out when I'm in the audience! I appreciate that. So you guys have a live album you recorded out now? Tell me a little about the album.

Micah: It was our first show in [Asheville, North Carolina] as a four piece, since Chad moved over to guitar. It was the second time we played the Grey Eagle. We know they have a good system there. We were like, "Let’s record this thing live and see how it turns out ya know." If everything sounds good, we can put out a live album and show everybody a snapshot of where we are at.

Right on. What’s the name of the album?

Micah: It's called Savage Tales - Live at the Grey Eagle.

Do you guys have that on Bandcamp or where can we get this?

Micah: Yeah, that's on Bandcamp, Spotify, iTunes, Google Music. There are a couple that I've never even heard of that are streaming it. Any kind of streaming apps or sites should have it.

Following you guys over the years and not just as a friend as a fan noticing very positive reviews you guys have received. I'm proud of you guys!

Micah: Our last album Skulthor Ebonblade was on Spotify and more streaming services and was getting out to people and turns out a lot of people liked it. It was really awesome to read the positive feedback.

I'm very glad just to bear witness to your earlier days and watch the growth you have had. You've had some lineup changes and going from a three piece to a four piece band. The music is still the same. The message is still the same.

Micah: It's still kind of Bloodshed and Conquest kind of theme. We have a lot of metaphors for real life. Story telling is what we like to do.

Savage Tales-Live at The Grey Eagle by Temptation's Wings

What is something that makes you guys laugh?

Micah: I saw a collection of fart memes this morning. I laughed until I cried!

Jason: Tridents and nets. (laughs)

That is a funny combination. I've told you guys years ago I'm a mace and flail kind of guy. Do you guys still have that weapon I gave you?

Micah: (laughs) Yeah we do! It's on top of our PA.

Nice!

Micah: The club the Bandit gave us!

I saw a memory you had re posted a picture of us holding the club in the studio before or after the radio show. That shows you care about somebody to give them a weapon ya know?

Micah: Oh, I know. That's a legacy piece. One of our crown jewels.

So for anybody that doesn't know anything about Temptations Wings, what are your influences?

Micah: I think we get Black Sabbath a lot. Now that we have two guitars I think you'll be able to hear we are Iron Maiden nerds. Jason and I like going back to days of Bloodshed and Conquest where we were nuts over Amon Amarth.

Who are some Asheville bands and bands from western North Carolina you guys love to play with?

Micah: We've been wanting to play with them for a while. Labor Day weekend we played with Bask.

That was at Heavy Mountain wasn’t it?

Micah: Day one of Heavy Mountain Festival in Asheville North Carolina.

Did you stick around for day two?

Micah: Oh yeah!

I missed that one and I'm crying over it. I wish I could have seen you guys play at this. It was a sick lineup! Inter Arma, Obituary, Bask, High On Fire.

Jason: Yep. Exhorts!

I had their latest album from Prosthetic Records sent to me. Good stuff!

Jason: We saw them a few months prior in Spartanburg, South Carolina.

Sweet, Clemson touchdown. What are some good books you have read?

Micah: I just started one. I can’t remember the name. It's a new author and his first book. It has won awards for Fantasy. Dawn Of Wonder by Jonathan Renshaw. I'm only maybe a third of the way through it. It's excellent. It is about this kid living in a town that starts to have weird things happen. I don't want to give anything away. The dude is going to be a great author for many years. Jason is still reading The Never Ending Story. (laughs)

The Never Ending Story!? (laughs) It is one of the best! I wish I had a luck dragon!

Jason: One of these days!

What was that like playing with Bask?

Micah: They are all really down to earth guys. We've met em, hanging out at various shows and stuff. They gave us the rock star treatment. A fridge full of cold beer, all the pizza we could eat. The show was sold out!

I was going through my voice recorder inventorying all my interviews on there. Temptations Wings is one of the first interviews on there. I listened to Jon Schaffer of Iced Earth's interview and remembering seeing Temptations Wings open for Iced Earth! I remember you guys telling me at sound check Jon Schaffer was quoting Chappelle's Show and shouted "Darkness everybody!" when you guys were on stage, busting your balls!(laughs)

Jason: I remember that! It was epic!

You guys played with Y&T? How was that?

Micah: It was cool. Some people might not recognize the name but recognize names of songs by them.

Temptations Wings has a good following in western North Carolina and you guys have opened for some bigger touring acts. I'm very proud of you guys!

Micah: Thanks, man! We are still dumb founded by a lot of it too.

What is in the future for Temptation's Wings?

Jason: More writing, more recording, more shows.

Micah: We are trying to decide how to do our next release. We are not sure if we want to do enough songs for an EP or go ahead and wait and do a full album.

You guys have songs written? Maybe write some new songs?

Jason: Yeah we got like five ready to record right now. We'll discuss it I guess.

You guys have done well that way to always have a show coming up and put out an EP or full length album. Always having something to show for hard work and practice!

Micah: We always try to keep busy. We like to create. We try to get better every time we write a song. Trying to stay busy and stay in people’s minds. Play more shows and see what opportunities we get.

Definitely! I want to spread the word for Temptation's Wings. Let me know when you guys have some shows or music to share! I usually re post you guys' stuff on social media. Create more Bloodshed and Conquest!

Jason: We'll have to play that next time you come up. It's been a long time!

Micah: (laughs)

Skulthor Ebonblade by Temptation's Wings

What has been an awkward moment as a band?

Jason: Uh, never really awkward. There was one time we played out of town and the show was mismanaged. I kind of felt bad for the band after us because they got all there stuff out and was trying to load in and didn't get to play and ran out of time. That was weird. Never really awkward. We don't show up drunk or forget our songs.

Actually, on that show, the guy who put the show on left before our set was done. I'm not sure anyone told that last band they weren't playing. They kind of said we're done with metal for the night.

Jason: Yeah! They had to move on to a hip hop pajama party! (laughs)

Whaaaat? (laughs)

Micah: Now that you mention it that was pretty awkward. (laughs)

That's about all I've got for ya. Anything you want to push or plug?

Jason: Thanks for reaching out man! We were wondering if you were still doing anything with Mountains Moved or you changed your name or something.

I bought a domain name and am going to have a site for that down the road. I still have my ear to the ground. I have been grateful to be part of Doomed and Stoned and interview my friends Temptation's Wings again! I miss you guys! If I can help share your music let me know!

Micah: We always appreciate it, man!

My pleasure!

Micah: You were actually the first radio or any interview that we ever did. You've been there since the beginning.

Yes sir!

Micah: We appreciate all of it!

Jason, I still have that flyer you sent to MainFM. I still have it from the little press packet.

Jason: What show was that?

Probably The Get Down, back then. The flyer had a barbarian of course! (laughs) I couldn't tell you the line up to save my life.

Micah: We might have it on our wall of fame here in our practice area.

Anything else coming up?

Jason: Our end of the year festival at the Odditorium. Steel and Stone Festival 3. We are headlining. We also have Coffin Torture from South Carolina.

Sweet! Are you guys going to get 'Dismal Planet' on vinyl.

Jason: I've got one saved for me.

I think there are only 200 copies.

Jason: I've got one saved.

They are going to go fast!

Micah: They have some really cool colors too!

Hell yeah they do! I got the blood red! Once again your live album, 'Savage Tales - Live at the Grey Eagle' is on Bandcamp right?

Jason: Yeah, Bandcamp or message us on Facebook or Instagram for physical copies. Twitter, we are on there too. On the live album there are two new songs.

This Wednesday I'm going to see Midmourner, Oakskin, and Modelow in Charleston, South Carolina.

Micah: [Midmourner] played around here not to long ag0.

There was Starkfest at the Radio Room Greenville SC, Oakskin, played there. I went to the second day July 7th. Oakskin, Coffin Torture, Ape Vermin, Garrow, Horse Flesh, and Xael.

Jason: We like Ape Vermin a lot! We saw them open for Monolord at the Mothlight.

Oh my god dude! I saw posts for that. I wish I would have seen that one! Did you guys see Conan?

Jason: I did!

Jason, you lucky son a bitch!

Micah: I was unable to see Conan. I switched back to day shift so now I can see shows again.

Have you heard the new album?

Micah: Yeah, I have it. It's awesome!

I have not yet. I will open it like a bottle of wine and savor it!

Micah: Uncork it and experience it when your ready.

Well that's all from me. Thank you for your time guys!

Micah: It was good to talk to you again!

It's good to hear your voices again. Jason and Micah, have a great night! Hope you have a good practice!

Micah: We'll do it, man! Hope you have a goodnight!

I appreciate you guys. I am proud of you guys and I'll make sure not to be a stranger! I apologize to you guys!

Jason: It's fine, everyone has things going on.

Micah: Life happens! We would like to play Charleston! We have been talking about that for a long time. It has been a long time since we have been down there.

If you come down here I'll spread the good word about the show, just let me know! You guys have a goodnight!

Jason: You, too, Shawn! Thanks, man!

Micah: Thank you!

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#D&S Interviews #Temptation's Wings #Asheville #North Carolina #Stoner Rock #Sludge #Metal #Shawn Gibson #Doomed & Stoned

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