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killmongerskeeper · 1 year

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Crashing Waves // Chapter 2 // Namor

Pairing: Namor x POC Reader

Warning: Spoilers

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

The anticipation was enough to make you sweat. The silence was too loud. You wanted to fight in case they attacked. But what if they realized you were locked in your room, maybe they'd let you go. You let down your guard and went to the back of the room just as the door was ripped off its hinges. Fuck. Maybe you should've fought. The people that walked in the room definitely weren't wakandans. Their skin was wet and blue as if they walked straight from the ocean. The woman looked at you before taking a couple steps into your room and you felt your body tense. Backing away you prepared yourself for a fight as she stopped to look at the hulking man next to her.

"Xeen a informar K'uk'ulkan"

(Go inform K'uk'ulkan.)

She spoke in a language I'm not familiar with before the man walked out of the room. You watched him leave before she turned back to you with a stone stare. "Who are you?" You stood with a fierce expression as she took a step forward. "Speak surface dweller."

"You show up out of nowhere killing everyone and you ask me who I am?" You questioned as she tightened her grip on her weapon. Before you could move to attack, another man stalked inside the room. His pointed ears stuck out to you immediately, letting you know he isn't human.

"It'll work out for you better if you answer her." He spoke and you let out a scoff. He didn't take your reaction too kindly as he punched a hole in the wall next to your head. "Are you ready to talk?"

"There's nothing to say. I'm just a college professor." You told him and he tilted his head as if analyzing your answer.

"What's a college professor doing in the middle of the ocean with the military? Surely not teaching a class. You're out here looking for something surface dweller?" He asked and you were actually speechless. You quickly masked your shock before crossing your arms.

"Who are you? Before I go answering any more questions." You said and he gave a small grin.

"My name is Namor. Or K'uk'ulkan. King of my people." He replied and I held my composure, standing my ground. "You don't seem too shocked."

"I've been around royalty multiple times before. It doesn't really come off as a shock anymore." I told him and he crossed his arms.

"Now back to my question, little one. You're out here looking for something aren't you?"

"No, they were out here looking for something. Those people you killed. I'm just here to verify the findings of the resource." You started with confidence as he slowly backed away.

"And what do you know of Vibranium? Are you aware that what you're here to verify could get you killed?" He questioned as he stared at me. You averted your eyes to avoid getting lost in his brown orbs.

"Killed? No. I'm not here to take Vibranium. I'm here to protect it." You replied and his expression became unreadable.

"Protect it? Is that why you're locked in this room? Protecting what you were trying to take from us." He asked, now amused.

"Again I was trying to stop them. I do have my ways. Which I would have used before you showed up." You said as he stepped closer.

“The only ones to protect vibranium aside from us are the Wakandans. Tell me, are Wakandan little one?” he asked and you felt your muscles tense. You figured the man took your silence as a yes as he turned to the woman. He mumbled something to her in that odd language before she gave a small nod. She grabbed your arm, leading you out the small room to the side of the boat. A small panic rushed through you as you expected them to throw you into the ocean below. You peered over the edge to see a whale floating at the bottom as if waiting for something. A blue arm grabbed your waist as you felt yourself falling towards the sea creature. You shut your eyes for the impact but you landed softly as quickly as you fell. You looked up at the blue woman who was responsible for pulling you off the edge with a glare.

"A warning would be great next time." You sighed as she took off the mask that was covering her face. She placed the piece over your own mouth and nose as she held the back of your head.

"Breathe." You suddenly felt as if you were floating as you breathed deeply into the mask. Your head fell backwards but instead of falling onto the whaleback you collided with a wet chest.

"Relax now little one. We have much more to discuss." A low voice said as you felt yourself sink underwater. When the whale began to descend deeper into the ocean you grabbed onto the hand holding your waist as the water pushed against your body. You used this moment to look around at the ruins littering the space before the whale dove again. You let your head rest on Namor’s shoulder as your head started spinning. You felt his lips next to your ear as you began to lose consciousness.

“Rest now.”

Taglist: @missdragon-1 @zooni92802 @22carolina08 @bonnapple @arcaerin @bontensbabygirl @simpingfor-wakasa @secretpostts

#black panther imagines #black panther 2 #namor #namor x reader #namor x you #poc reader #wakanda forever #crashing waves fic

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mymoonagedaydream · 10 months

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Part 3

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language

Part 1 / Part 2

—

The sky was darkening by the time the two of you reached your apartment, streetlamps illuminating one by one and melding with the warm glowing light that spilled from the windows above you. Bucky released the arm that had been firmly anchored around you and took a step back while you rooted around in your bag. He obviously figured that, after the absolute shitshow the last twenty-four hours had been, there was a pretty good chance he wasn’t going to be invited in. You pulled out your keys, letting him sweat right up until the last second.

Before you could unlock the door, however, it swung open to reveal Lily, jarringly backlit by pale, fluorescent bulbs. She looked disappointed.

“Oh, my dear, you’ve just missed them.”

“Who?” You glanced back at Bucky and gave him a reassuring smile, knowing this interaction was bound to put him on edge. “Have your family been visiting?”

“No, your friends. They only left a few minutes ago.”

“My friends?”

“Yes, the young men with the birthday cards for you. Very sweet. I sent them upstairs but my word they were noisy, they must have had some trouble working out how to use the letterbox.”

Well, now you were on edge too, partly because your birthday wasn’t for another three months and partly because you didn’t have a letterbox.

Before you had the chance to respond, Bucky charged through the gap between you and sprinted up the stairs, swiftly disappearing out of view. You asked Lily to lock the door before racing after him, pausing halfway up the stairs when it hit you that entrusting security detail to her might not have been the best idea. You weren’t even sure if she could remember who did and didn’t live here anymore.

After inwardly deliberating for a second, you shrugged and carried on, deciding that you’d actually quite like to see someone try messing with you while Bucky was nearby and this irate. Might even cheer you up a little.

You were out of breath by the time you reached the top of the stairs, but the sight you were met with somehow still managed to pull the last dregs of air from your lungs.

Your door was hanging off its hinges. There were splinters of wood littering the hallway and holes of varying sizes punched into the drywall. A vague path of cigarette burns in the carpet led from where you were standing to the spot where your doormat should have been.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in the back of your throat, you slowly approached, tears welling in your eyes as they scanned over the inside of your apartment. It was worse than you could have imagined. The couch had been torn to pieces, the TV screen was smashed, the curtains had been ripped from the wall and strewn over the floor. You dreaded to think how the rest of the place looked and you weren’t sure you had the emotional capacity to find out right now.

Thundering footsteps approached from inside and Bucky stormed into view, his voice more deep and stern than usual as he addressed you.

“They’re gone. I can’t see anything missing but you should check around too.”

“Buck-”

“Fuckin’ cowards, man,” he kicked a nearby couch cushion and stuffing exploded out of it, “couldn’t even stick around to face us.”

“Buck, please.”

A warm tear spilled onto your cheek. He seemed to soften when he spotted it, quickly moving over and pulling you into a tight embrace. You buried your face in the shoulder of his suit jacket, letting a few more drops soak into the rough material, choking back hiccuped breaths. His hand smoothed down the hair on the back of your head.

“I’m sorry, baby. Take as long as you need.”

You turned your head to the side so your voice wasn’t muffled. “Is it bad?”

“It’s fixable.”

“Are you lying to make me feel better?”

“A little,” he took hold of your hands and gently prized them away from his chest, squeezing them firmly as he moved into your eyeline, “but we’ll do it together, okay? S’gonna be alright. C’mon.”

With a deep breath, you finally stepped into your devastated apartment and looked around. Some things were fixable. Most things weren’t. Slowly, tenderly, Bucky led you from room to room and helped you find all your valuables. Your laptop was still in your bedside drawer, camera still on your desk, even the emergency twenty dollar bill you kept in the key bowl by the front door was still there. It was bizarre, but you were actually starting to feel a little relieved- that was, until you walked through to the kitchen.

You spotted it immediately. Your grandmother’s necklace, the one that had hung from the corner of her picture on the wall ever since you’d moved in, was gone. You were in disbelief. It wasn’t even valuable, it was just a brass locket with a photograph of your grandfather inside, why the fuck would anyone take that?

You spun round and pointed it out to Bucky. If you’d been in a less disoriented state of mind, you might have noticed how his face dropped into something resembling dread, how his jaw suddenly clenched and his eyes squeezed shut, but you were far too busy spiralling.

“Christ, I haven’t even called the cops. I don’t even know what crime this is. Destruction of property? Vandalism? Shit burglary?” Your shaking hands pulled your cellphone from your pocket. “Who the fuck would even do this? You think it could be that guy that was following me before?”

“No.”

“It makes sense, I mean he must have been working for someone, maybe they-” Your train of thought came to an abrupt stop as you realised what he’d said. “What d’you mean, no? Buck, do you know something about this?”

“No, I swear. It’s just- something my brother said earlier. It’s been bothering me. ”

“What did he say?”

“I might be overthinking it.”

“Buck. Tell me.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Most of the conversation was fine, really, I just told him about how much of an ass I’d been and how guilty I felt and he nodded along. But after we’d spoken, just before he left the room, he said, doesn't she know it’s a dangerous city for a girl all on her own?”

You felt the blood turn cold in your veins.

Bucky’s brother had only ever been to your apartment once, a long time ago, when he dropped off your invitation to his wedding. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you vividly recalled him sipping coffee from your favourite mug and asking about the picture of your grandmother hung up in the kitchen. He listened intently while you reeled off all the reasons you idolised her, even putting a comforting hand on your shoulder when you told him how much you missed her. A pinprick of white hot rage started in your stomach, slowly expanding and filling your whole chest.

“That motherfucker.”

“I can’t believe he’d do something like this,” Bucky looked genuinely shellshocked, “I thought I could trust him. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Jesus, would you stop fucking apologising?"

The air between you stilled. It seemed like neither of you had been expecting such an abrupt snap, but you knew he needed to hear this, so you swallowed back your hesitation and continued.

"You know who they are. You know what they do. How the hell is this a shock?”

“They also know how I feel about you. This isn’t how we treat family.”

“Oh, come on.” You were doing your best not to scream at him. “How many fucking times have we been told that I’ll never be accepted as part of your family? Well, now we’ve been shown, too. I don't feel like waiting around to find out what's next.”

“Nothing’s next, cause I’m gonna sort it out.”

You scoffed. “You’re gonna stand up to them?”

“Of course I am.”

“Whatever.”

You walked out of the kitchen, quickly wiping away your frustrated tears before he saw them. You needed to busy yourself or you’d end up doing a Bucky and punching the fucking wall. Dodging shattered pieces of table and couch, you made your way over to the TV and crouched down, starting to gather shards of smashed screen from the floor. He appeared after just a few seconds. His face was flushed and every visible muscle was tensed, a few beads of sweat starting to form just below his hairline.

“I’m gonna make this right, I just need to think.”

“The fuck is there to think about?”

“Well, y’know, I need to, to figure out- Fuck.”

He let his arms go limp at his sides, looking utterly defeated. Noticing what you were doing, he picked up a blanket from the floor and shuffled over, crouching beside you and emptying the sharp pieces from your hand into the soft material. You didn’t look at him.

“I don’t know what to do. My head feels like it’s falling apart. I’ve got a helluva lot of shit to sort out, I know that, but for now all I care about is that you’re not safe here.”

“No shit. What gave it away, the lack of a front door or the visits from your insane family?”

He placed the blanket down. “Look, I know you hate me right now, and you have every reason to, but I need you to stay at my apartment tonight.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“You don’t have to talk to me or even look at me, just let me make sure you’re somewhere safe.”

You spent a minute thinking about it whilst picking tiny splinters of glass out of your palm, but eventually gave a reluctant agreement. What the fuck else were you gonna do? You couldn’t stay here with no door and an increasingly unhinged downstairs neighbour, and you sure as hell couldn’t afford a hotel room for any significant length of time. Besides, even with him there, Bucky’s apartment would probably be the only place you’d feel secure enough to actually sleep.

He called a cab while you packed, collecting all your remaining valuables and yanking your clothes out of the wood pile that used to be a rickety chest of drawers. Both of you stayed quiet during the journey. The city rolling past the window became gradually less and less dilapidated, crumbling apartment blocks replaced by upscale residences and gleaming metal infrastructure, a whole different world than the one you were used to. Bucky’s world.

You hadn’t been to his apartment for a while, but it was still just as ridiculously opulent as you remembered. You dropped your bag on the floor and glanced around. Between working and seeing you, he never really spent any time here, so obviously never felt the need to properly decorate. It was sterile, like an overpriced showhome.

He set you up on the squeaky, white leather couch, flicking on the TV and wrapping you in a blanket before ordering takeout. You listened to him rushing around out of view, marching between the bedroom and the bathroom, running water and spraying cleaning products. You let slip an exhausted chuckle at the cacophony of panicked noises.

One thing you didn’t hear, however, was him picking up the photograph of him and his brother that he kept propped up on the bedroom mantelpiece. You didn’t hear him fold it in half and you didn’t hear the heavy breath that escaped from his lips as he tore it into two clean pieces.

He eventually reappeared and collapsed into the armchair to your left. The TV was blaring but he somehow managed to ignore it, instead staring at the wall all night, deep in thought and slowly tapping his fingers against the leather upholstery.

He was definitely planning something, you just hoped to god it was something rational.

---

Story taglist: @mdpplgtz03

Permanent Taglist: @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes @sjsmith56 @supraveng @thewackywriter @coffeebooksandfandom @littlemiss-yeehaw@buckystevelove @happinessinthebeing @steeph-aniie @nialiuwanderlust@froggyloora @nervousstrangersandwich @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine @pono-pura-vida @crzyplantladyvibes @vickie5446 @cremebruleequeen @wthisbucky @marvel-wifey-86 @alesabisou @blueraspberryreader @casa-boiardi

Untaggables are italicised, will be removing after a few attempts so let me know if spelling is wrong.

—

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d0g0r0t · 7 months

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Yoohoo

Can you perhaps make the reader's pov while Toby was getting institutionalized pleeaaassseee? QwQ

Like we're they worried, panicking, etc etc or did they even know

Y/n when Toby got institutionalized Pt3

TW: suicidal thoughts, Starving, SH

Pt 1

Pt 2

Honestly hearing Toby was captured was like a stab in the heart.

The pain of hearing the only person you had and loved was taken away from you felt like a water fall of emotions

You were mad, sad, vengeful, depressed, guilty, worried, panicked. It was all to much to handle all at once

The first day without him was like a blur. You couldn't remember anything. Only thing you did remember was when Masky told you he was gone.

Days went by so slow yet so fast.

The only time you would leave your guys..... your room... was to do missions and go to the bathroom.

You were sent into a deep depression. Starving yourself to where you feel dizzy and pass out. Not showering or taking proper care of yourself. Spacing out as you pick and scratch at your skin almost taking chunks out of your arms. Chewing and biting at your fingers and lips till you bleed and pieces missing from your mouth.

Those thoughts of just giving up flood your head and actions effecting everything you do.

It didn't feel real. It all felt like a long and painful nightmare .

Nina and Jane were the only ones who truly noticed and cared.

On your worst days they would stay by your side as you sobbed your eyes out, crying about how much you missed him.

They tried their best to get you to eat SOMETHING, but sometimes their best wasn't good enough

Days felt like weeks, weeks felt like months, and months felt like years..

He was only gone for a nearing year but those few months were torturing

When around others your head would hang low and you would block out everything and everyone

You would scroll threw your phone, looking at old photos and videos of you two laughing and being dumb.

It put a smile on your face everything you saw Tobias laugh in those 10 second shorts

Your mind would taunt you into seeing his figure in the corners of your eyes or hearing him call out your name.

It drove you mad.

Going into mental breaks and breaking everything in sight as you raged out on the nearest things.

Punching holes into walls and kicking the door off its hinges leaving your knuckles bloody and your toe nails bent

___________________________________________

The day you saw in him in the forest didn't feel real. You thought your mind was playing tricks on you again.

But when he turned around and stared at you it felt heavenly to see his face again.

Those tried eyes and his unkept hair looking back at you.

When he hugged you you didn't waste a second to take in his bear hug.

Those few moments in his arms could last you a life time

It broke your heart seeing the sweat pants and baggy gray tee the gave him at the ward all dirty and ripped.

But as long as he was in your arms again. You couldn't careless...

THANK YOU FOR THESE REQUEST!!! SORRY THIS ONE WAS A LITTLE DARK BUT I JUST TRIED TO MAKE IT REALISTIC!!!

#creepypasta #ticci toby #slenderman #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #x reader #crp

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respectthepetty · 1 year

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Erm our dining table Ep 7!!! DINING TABLE EPISODE 7 ! ARE YOU OK?!????????????

Anon, let me share something about myself: Love makes me sick. I get butterflies in my stomach which turns into a storm in my belly causing havoc in my system. I get too excited, so I feel nauseous. I get flushed, and my heartbeat increases. I feel anxious and untethered. All that seems on par to being in love, but because I don't like feeling sick, I get unreasonably angry. I start yelling and becoming aggressive. It's a whole messy production.

And I go through this every single time I watch this damn show.

But particularly this episode.

Because the dad not only knows but encouraged Minoru to find happiness with Yutaka. He gave them space by suggesting clay poop to Tane.

Because Tane knows In his own way, and was so upset thinking Minoru hurt Yutaka that he cried.

Because Yutaka felt so afraid to be honest that he hid behind a drawing, but put it down because Minoru is a safe space.

Because they celebrated Christmas again, so they could be together!

Because Minoru and Yutaka love each other.

BECAUSE MINORU WAS BRAVE ABOUT IT!

So to answer your question if I'm okay?

NO! I'm Hulk-ing out. I'm ripping doors off of hinges. I'm throwing cups at walls. I'm punching holes in cars. I'm yelling at the sky.

I'm deep in my feels and livid about it.

I love this show so fucking much, y'all that I hate it.

AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

#our dining table #bokura no shokutaku #minoru x yutaka #Tane is the best brother to ever exist #This dad is winning a PFLAG award #Episode 7 #I hate it because I love it so much

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needsmorewlw · 2 years

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do you have have headcanon for the counselors keeping wolfy traits but in the myth superpower type of way 🥰🥴

I mean yes I absolutely do

I can't help sorting them into almost like...classes?(lol) like strength class, speed class and and heightened senses class.

Like they all got a bit of all three but some of their bodies naturally became more attuned to one or two abilities over the others.

Jacob, Nick and Laura got SUPER strong. Just accidentally ripping windows off hinges and door handles off doors. It's easy enough for them to get the hang of but they have to be careful with their moods so they don't go punching holes through walls when they get peeved.

Max, Emma and Ryan got super nimble and fast. The three of them have those lean muscle frames (I saw your abs halston sage) so I picture them going full on spider man, parkour style with their abilities. Just super agile lil' babes climbing and jumping over things.

Then Dylan, Kaitlyn and Abi got like mad heightened senses. They get even smarter and more strategic and also their perception heightened to like a sixth sense almost. Like to the point when it's like they can predict things but they actually just have insanely good hearing. Also just like, wild fast reflexes

I think the retain the super healing but some of them more than the others. Like the speedy characters can't take a hit as well as the others but that's why they're fast so they're harder to hit.

In addition to the strong characters, I've already made a whole post about how Dylan naturally has crazy high constitution. I think the rest of them catch up to him and meanwhile his goes even higher right through the roof. Shoot him in the chest point-blank with a shotgun and he wouldn't even budge an inch. But he WOULD complain.

I think Kaitlyn's like a super good tracker. She develops this hunter instinct. She knows where you're gonna hide before you do.

I feel like Abi gets some sort of ability where she can like almost see smells and noises. Like she can see stuff in bright colours and it helps her notice stuff others wouldn't.

Ryan's like, hella stealthy. He can basically disappear. Like he can make his footsteps his movements, his breathing silent. He can slow his heartrate so not even the other pack members can hear it (besides maybe Dyl, Kaitlyn and Abi if they're actively looking for him)

This is so self indulgent but what if Emma could like use her pheromones to charm people. She gets close enough for people to smell her and they'll do anything for her before it wears off. She's hot and I love her

I don't have any more rn but I will undoubtedly keep hyperfixating

#the quarry #supermassive games #tq hcs #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #kaitlyn ka #laura kearny #abigail blyg #emma mountebank #jacob custos #nick furcillo #max brinly #anon #ask #headcanons

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sapphicshawol · 2 months

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I actually have no idea why i was never grounded but i dont think either of my brothers were even when they ripped a door off its hinges or punched holes in the wall...

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loueeeeeeee · 1 year

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dnd campaign recap part 7

the current party consists of Essi, Ferris, Bellum, Zike, and Luc. We all have entered what looks to be a hallway, we hear what sounds like to be mechanical noises when climbing up into the hallway, we head off into one direction of the hallway that is aprox 8 feet wide and its just boring rooms with no items of interest. we all head off into the other direction of the hallway when the party is attacked by what appears to be a clockwork spider blocking our path into the other side of the hallway.

essi decides to use a new spell he just got called thunderwave, unfortunatly it also affects one's own party members so it hurts everyone in the hallway and pushes them all away. the mechanical spider is affected the least and it makes a swiping attack to lots of our members including ferris

(update, turns out Ferris is not his name but it is actually Therris, I will change it from now but i am not going back to change it cause im lazy.)

Therris is one of the party members gets attacked, and therris gets his right arm ripped up, or what looks like his arm, upon closer inspection of therris's right arm it appears to look more mechanical than flesh and bone. therris gets angered from being hit so he rips off the sleeve of his right arm fully and reveals his mechanical arm, then a few things happen in quick succession in the next few seconds

therris's arm glows, and suddenly his robotic arm flys off and rockets into the robotic spider, doing a ranged punch to it, and it flys back and automatically reattaches itself to therris's arm, the arm then stops giving off a magic glow and it returns to looking the same as it did before.

everyone else uses up their turn attacking the mechanical spider and bellum finishes it off by giving it a big stomp like one stomps a bug, except the spider is 2 feet tall. the entire party recollects itself back up and heals up and heads off into the other side of the hallway now that the way is no longer blocked by spider.

we see what looks to be a small room with an endless pit where the floor should be, the 2 side to side doors to this room look like they are detached, one of them is misaligned and not fully straight up and the other door is fully off its hinges and is on the floor next to the wall that has a hole in it from what looks like an impact from the door.

the only object of interest is the room with the seemingly endless pit, the player characters realize that this is what looks like an elevator shaft, and it seems to be the only way we can contine forward is downwards into the shaft itself. therris drops a glow stick down the shaft and confirms it has a bottom 30 feet down, everyone tries to figure out how we should progress when essi remembers he has a long rope and a piton to attack said rope to a wall, the only problem is that we are in ruins with indestructable rock walls, so essi tries to budge the piton under the fallen off door to anchor the rope

essi declares that the rope is holding but bellum is unsure if it will hold, he decides to be the last one to grapple down and everyone else goes down with essi going first. unsurpisingly the weight of everyone dislodges the piton from under the door and everyone starts falling down fast, bellum acts quickly and manages to grab the rope quickly cause he was expecting this to happen. everyone else manages to hold on to the rope as it suddenly stops dropping and bellum lets everyone know what happened and that he will hold the rope untill everyone is off.

the rest of the party dismount the rope at the bottom of the shaft and bellum goes back to where essi put the piton and does a good solid kick under the door to get it properly stuck under, bellum tests the rope and he is able to trust it to hold his weight so he grapples down and joins the rest of the team to the bottom of the shaft, the doors leading out are open and lead out to a catwalk above a room, the room itself looks like an arena and the end of the catwalk is a spiral metal staircase leading down to the ground for the arena looking room. we follow the path down the catwalk and down the staircase and we set off an invisible trigger somewhere and two robotic turrets pop out of the walls and air right at our party

the 2 turrets on opposite ends of the room shoot at us with magic missle shots that seemed a bit more alive than the usual kind, these shot out and orbited around the targets untill enough were orbiting a target and all dealt a lot of damage at once, and they were able to easily track us.

when the fight started it seemed that the missles were primarily targeting bellum instead of the rest of the party, the rest of the party didnt understand this yet as they were trying to dodge the erratically moving missles while they kept hitting bellum. eventually it seemed like something snapped inside of bellum and his entire body started to shift, his plates started moving and he started to adopt a hunched over pose, his moving plates from his robot body had the effect of repositioning to grow his body about twice as large as originally from his usual large size.

the fight then devolves into everyone figuring out how the missles work. therris and luc use their ranged weapons to shoot at the turrets while zike and essi still had their melee weapons, essi had a crossbow but he is not so good at using it, he uses his crossbow to take some potshots at the turrets. bellum uses his now larger stature to attack the turrets with his also increased size sword. zike only has his spear so he jump up ontop of bellum to get closer to the turrets.

meanwhile luc figures out you can attack the missles itself after zike deals the final blow to one of the turrets. essi also jumps up ontop of bellum to get a better line of sight to the other turret and attacks it with therris, destroying the last turret after quite a long fight and we all got a bit close to death from the magic missles. bellum returns to his original size and we all heal up and we notice another door at the opposite end of the arena from where the spiral staircase was, we heal up one last time and head into what the entire party thinks is the final boss.

the final room we enter a darker stone room with soft blue lights throughout, four large cylinders next to a holographic console, a work bench with loose scrap and tools, and a robotic humanoid with a caved in head. after the party inspects the body and the room, it seems to be that there is no more enemies to fight, and bellum is able to read the words on the holographic console that is in an ancient language nobody else can read. everyone watches as bellum presses a few buttons by pressing his fingers on the holographic display to navigate the menus and he eventually presses a button that starts up what looks to be a long loading bar, the progress for the time on the loading bar looks like it will take about 2 days to complete, the rest of the party besides essi and bellum decide to head back up to right outside of the entrance to the ruins to wait out the 2 days. essi goes up and perodically comes back down to check up on bellum just silently watching the progress bar slowly fill up over 2 days.

#dnd stuff #recap

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

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Fugitives

Somehow inspired by @chicken0mcnugget and her sister and my sister's more than lovely camping adventure. Somehow, I don't know how. Maybe part 2 if I write it (no promises) will match up to my wild imagination's interpretation of a camping trip. Perhaps, it is a possibility.

Warnings: collapse, passing out, field medicine, blood, gunshot wounds, screaming, gagging roughly for own good, intensive description of possibly gorey wound care, betrayal, some language, going into shock, IV and needles.

"Stop," Villain wheezed, sinking to his shaking knees. "I-i need-" cough, "I need help."

Hero stopped running and looked over her shoulder to see Villain half-collapsed on the ground, holding his abdomen.

"We both need help, Villain. Now get up and run. They'll be here soon," Hero trotted back to her nemesis.

"Mmnh," Villain gurgled, his face an eerie shade of pale yellow. He swayed from his kneeling position, keeling sideways, eyes rolling back-

"Oh my gosh," Hero caught Villain as he fell limp into her arms.

"Wake up!" Hero patted Villain's burning cheek repeatedly. "Damn it Villain," she groaned when he didn't wake.

Hero felt at loss. They were running away from authorities in the middle of the woods, exhausted and sore, with no shelter, water, and food in sight.

And now she had an unconscious villain to deal with.

Hero removed the hands placed so precariously on his stomach to reveal a spot of bloodstained fabric. Hero silently cursed to herself and rolled up his shirt.

The sight made her stomach drop. He had not one, but two bullet wounds in his stomach. One was quite deep and bleeding profoundly whereas the other still had the champagne bullet casing, blocking the precious crimson plasma's flow.

He was shot, Hero stressed to herself, trying to figure out what to do. She vaguely remebered a series of gunshots, but Villain promised that he was okay.

And now...

Hero stopped her thoughts suddenly and stood up, cradling Villain tenderly. He was bigger, without a doubt, but between her fitness and touch of super strength, she succeeded.

"I got you," she whispered to the sleeping villain before taking off at a lopsided jog.

"Villain what are you doing here?" Hero asked, approaching the tall, leather-cladden figure.

"Saving you," Villain replied, running to close the distance and grabbing Hero's arm. "Your team, they set you up. We need to go!"

"What are you talking about?" Hero chuckled, easily shaking Villain's hand off.

"They are-"

A click.

A scuffle of feet.

"Well this, my friends, is a win-win," an all too familiar chortle sounded.

Villain spun around, stepping back to stand parallel to Hero's shoulder. His breaths were hitched, proof of his nervous anticipation.

Hero, on the other hand, was mystified by the scene. Her hands trembled as beads of sweat started to form around her amber hair line. Realization flooded into every vein and all she wanted to do was sink to the ground and give up.

They betrayed her.

Her team betrayed her.

Leader stepped into the single light spot in the warehouse. Even though it was mid-day, the shadows made it look like it was night.

"We have our darling Hero here, and her nemesis. Arrest them," Leader ordered.

Villain lunged at Leader, going for his neck. More scuffles of feet determined that there were more heroes to fight off, but injuring, or killing, Leader would slow them down.

Villain and Leader fell to the ground with a grunt, punching, and hitting, and lashing until Villain was able to smack the golden boy's head against the concrete floor.

Villain discarded his prey and hurried to assist Hero in taking down two muscular, lithe heroes. They were twins, evident in their matching black ponytails.

"You know the pay for your head," one sneered, licking her bloodied lip. "Is more than what I had to pay for my house."

"Hmm," the other laughed. "Not only that, but you are on every 'wanted' billboard in the city."

Hero said nothing, just kept striking punch after punch- most of the time missing.

Then, as if on impulse, Villain grabbed Hero's shoulder and led her to a window. "Hang onto me," He said and closed his eyes.

Then there was a shot... then two... a brief hiss and then they were in the forest...

"Villain are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I promise."

Hero stumbled across an abandoned cabin. A moldy door guarded the entrance and windows were bashed in, but it supplied the dire need for shelter.

Inside, cupboards hung lazily on rusted hinges, creaking as they swayed with the cool draft. A rat-infested couch was hidden in a damp corner with moss growing at the bottom. The only somewhat useful piece of furniture was the metal table in the center.

It was odd to be accompanied by such a modern implement when the rest of the trashy building looked like it belonged in a landfill. Either way, Hero sat on the table, testing its strength. When it passed the test, Hero laid Villain upon it softly and began to inpect the bullet wounds again. The bad one stopped bleeding, but it still looked increasingly painful even though Villain was still unconscious.

Satisfied that Villain wouldn't die, yet, Hero started to search the minimally stocked cupboards. She found a handful of bungee cords, tiny nails as if the former homeowners were into hobby crafts, a mason jar, a metal rod, a various collection a thread, some sort of hemp material, and expired medicines.

She grabbed the nails and thread and walked back to Villain. It was far from ideal to use the nails to stitch, but it was all she had and would have to make do.

Hero tied the thread right under the head, praying that Villain wouldn't get tetanus from the rust particles, and started to sew the larger wound together.

As by some misdeed sent from hell, Villain awoke, screaming like a hungry baby bird. Hero left the nail half-dangling in his flesh and dug her hand into Villain's mouth.

"Shhhh," she cooed. "Someone could be out there. We are apparently fugitives now, remember? Remember the fight?"

It seemed to drain all of Villain's energy, but he nodded. Yet, the second Hero let go of his mouth, he started to curl into himself, whimpering.

"Knock that off," Hero chided and stretched Villain back out. "I need to access that wound."

Villain mewled, but didn't move.

"Okay..." Hero breathed and with a quivering hand, pushed the needle into the ruin skin. Villain hissed, abs flexing, but didn't holler until the head started to pull through Villain's skin.

Oh boy, did he scream. It was like a dying cougar, wild and ragged. Hero, ignoring the wordless pleas for mercy, laced the nail through. It made a small puncture wound, but it had to be done.

"I'm sorry!" Hero rushed over to Villain's head, gathering it into nervously shaking arms that were fueled by adrenaline. Villain's eyes started to glaze over and slip above his eyelids.

She couldn't keep doing this. Every pass, partnered with a screech, and then rushing to comfort Villain would take too much precious time.

Time that could be spent getting as far away as they could from the ravaging heroes.

Thinking briskly, Hero grabbed the metal rod with the tiniest bungee she could find, and appeared again at Villain's head.

"I'm so sorry about this," Hero apologized, and forced the rod into Villain's limply hanging mouth. The villain's eye widened and darted frantically around, searching for the cause of his discomfort.

Hero ignored the obvious signals of distress and pulled Villain's head up. She looped the center of the bungee to one side and then took one strand to do the same on the other. She then attached the hooks together and laid Villain's head down.

A pillow would also be more than ideal. The inevitable thrashing of the head would more likely than not cause some sort of head injury- whether substantial or not.

But Villain would have to do without.

Hero went back to the gaping wound on his stomach and resumed her threading... in... out... in... out...

Everytime, the nail head would have to be roughly pulled through, and everytime more tender skin would rip. Villain thrashed, smacking his head against the unrelenting metal and kicking out with his legs. Hero tried to get by with just sitting on his legs, but the flailing arms also proved to be a problem. She got up, once again leaving the needle haphazardly in the villain's wound, and returned with the hemp fabric.

She tied each wrist and each ankle with the scratchy material, snug. Villain who was resisting the friendly torture immediately fell back into his newfound restraints, sniffing pitifully.

"I'm sorry," Hero tried to reason, but her delirious and exhausted ward was beyond negotiations.

Hero sighed and continued to tend to Villain's wound. Villain pulled back as much as the taut restraints allowed; he bit down against the metal gag until his mouth begun to bleed. Hero winced, concerned that he broke a tooth.

When the first hole was completely stitched up, Hero cut the azure colored thread and strung some more out. She retied it to the nail and set them down against the table.

Hero noticed that the table was beginning to get slick with blood and sweat.

She then examined the bullet. The other one must've fell out when Villain teleported the pair. The dark beige color shone compared to the deep mahogany blood. Hero took two nails out and placed them on both sides of the bullet like chopsticks and tried to use the leverage to launch it.

She succeeded and the bullet just barely brushed against her ear, but the wound began to bleed heavily. Hero groaned and shoved her hand into the bleeding waterfall to staunch it.

Her ears started to ring as her heart pumped faster. Villain's body slumped against the table, his face going pale. Hero gasped for breathing, the wires in her brain not connecting. She didn't know what to do.

She messed things up, now Villain was bleeding out again.

Hero removed one hand and tried to tear a piece of the hunter green shirt she was wearing off; but she couldn't, the cotton material was stubborn.

"Shit," Hero gasped, walls of anxiety closing in around her. The air suddenly felt so heavy as if a furnace was just installed. Her hands trembled, not knowing what to do.

"Think Hero, think," Hero muttered outloud. If she released pressure, Villain would surely bleed out.

Hero leaned all her weight onto the wound. Villain gasped, trying to crawl away. His skin was clammy and unnaturally pale- even more blanch than before. His eyes kept rolling up into his skull before returning to a more neutral place.

His chest heaved in irregular breaths as his stomach convulsed...

He was going into shock.

Hero groaned and grabbed the end of her shirt and brought it to her mouth. She bit it and ripped it all the way to her ribcage. She replaced her sticky hands with the cloth and stuffed it into the wound. It slowed down on bleeding, and the shirt was thick enough to give Hero some time to help with the shock.

She ran to the cupboards and found a bucket. Bringing that over to Villain, she elevated his legs. He was gasping for air now and didn't seem entirely conscious.

She then took off his jeans and laid them over his legs. She remembered learning about shock in her early heroic classes- keep the victim warm and remove restrictive clothing.

She left his rolled up shirt and leather jacket on.

His pulse was insanely weak and too fast as if he was intoxicated. Hero pursed her lips and gently tapped Villain awake.

"Stay awake," she pleaded. "I know it's hard."

Villain lips quivered and he coughed up some thick, starchy liquid.

Blood.

Hero turned Villain to his side and allowed him to spill the scarlet color. All the while, she kept a close eye on the wound. The shirt was nearly drenched.

I could tie a tourniquet, Hero realized and gathered some of the hemp. She deftly wrapped it around Villain's mid torso and pulled it taut.

Stepping back from her work, Hero knew that she had to call someone. A hospital was a no, even with Villain in shock. She could give him a blood transfusion...

If there was adequate IV lines.

Hero rushed to the cupboards once again. It was a long shot, but it was the only thing she could do.

Find an IV line, She told herself- the request was weak though, no one could find an IV in an abandoned cabin.

Find an IV.

And that she did.

Not even wondering what use the prior homeowners had for an IV, Hero inserted the needle in her vein, immediately filled with gratitude for her O type blood and attached the other end into Villain's elbow.

She gave him enough blood until some of his color returned and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Hero finished stitching the wound. Villain remained sleeping the whole time. She then removed the rod from his mouth and stuffed some more of her shirt on both sides of his mouth where the blood origin was.

Finally, when all the work was done, Hero laid next to Villain and wrapped an arm around his chest. He melted into the comfort, whimpering silently. Hero smiled and closed her eyes, asleep immediately.

She didn't notice the security camera in the corner of the building. The one with the blinking red light.

#villain whumpee #hero caretaker #injured villain #whump #whump drabble #unconscious whumpee #my writing #writing #heroes and villains #betrayal #blood tw #field medicine #tw gunshot #collapse #passing out

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blackkatmagic · 3 years

Note

If you're still doing prompts? (i think so? i didnt see a prompts closed post?) Post-Galidraan Jaster/Nico meet-ugly where they're both trying to take down the spice ring that's enslaved Jango. Jaster just wants his son back, while Nico just wants this upset father to stop trying to stab him.

The Mandalorian punches him squarely in the face.

Nico isn't expecting it, mostly because every last blasted slaver who’s come for him so far has tried a blaster, and even beyond that, the bastard was hiding. The only warning Nico gets is a half-second flare of warning, a mind close by that’s pure rage, and then there's an armored fist practically breaking his nose.

It’s not the first time Nico's been punched in the face, even this year, and while it’s surprising, it’s hardly enough to take him out of the fight. He drops, feels the flare of grim victory in the mind of his attacker, and then promptly rolls over, slams a foot up against an annoyingly prominent codpiece, grabs the Mandalorian’s belt, and heaves. There's a loud shout, and the Mandalorian slams headfirst into the wall. No ringing chime, Nico thinks, twisting to his feet and blinking the spots from his eyes. Not beskar, then. He can work with that.

“Of course thugs like these would hire a Mandalorian,” he says witheringly, and the hall is tight, but he still draws his lightsaber, curls the fingers on his empty hand as he ignites the blade. This fight needs to be finished quickly; any longer and the spice smugglers will realize he’s not a pirate out to steal their haul. Depending on the Mandalorian’s skill, Nico might need several tricks he normally would save for—

A blaster shot almost takes him in the forehead, and that rage bubbles over like acid, eating through the air around them. “I'm not with them,” the Mandalorian spits, and Nico narrows his eyes, startled. The man’s armor is black and red, and he sweeps a look over it, but the patches have been sloppily covered by dark paint, recently and hurriedly done. If there's any sort of clan affiliation, Nico can't guess at it.

Besides, there's more important matters at hand.

“Neither am I,” Nico says, annoyed by the lack of knowledge. “I'm here to free slaves, and if you would stand down and let me continue on my way—”

The blaster wavers. It’s noticeable mainly for how it hasn’t wavered before, and Nico stops. The rage is fracturing, he can feel it, splintering into dark shards of desperate hope and wild viciousness. The man’s hand trembles, dips, and his breath rasps loud through the vocoder of his helmet.

“There are slaves onboard?” he demands, taking a half-step forward, and that hope surges, tempered with disbelief that this could finally be right.

Ah, Nico thinks, and snaps his lightsaber off. Someone searching for one of those taken. He’s felt that particular emotional quagmire before.

“Yes,” he says, opening his hands to show they're empty. “This crew picked up several new slaves on Ilos Minor. I've been tracking them ever since, and I haven’t seen any of them sold on yet.”

“Kriff,” the Mandalorian says. “I lost them three ports ago. This is—”

He breaks off, and Nico feels something soften in his chest. Stepping forward, he catches the man’s elbow, curling his fingers over battle-scarred armor, and says quietly, “Whoever you’re looking for, they might not be here.”

“I know that,” the Mandalorian says, but he doesn’t shake Nico off. “You're sure they came from Ilos Minor?”

Nico inclines his head, turning his wrist to show the commlink on his wrist. The tracker is glowing bright red, still transmitting but no longer leading, and the sight of it makes something in the man ease. He nods back, drawing his other blaster, and says, “I assume you can find them, Jedi.”

“The slavers are two decks down,” Nico says agreeably, and turns, leading the way towards the next hatch. “And the slaves themselves are three decks down. It seems we may have to go through the slavers to free their captives, what a terrible shame.”

The rasp of the man’s laugh is all relief and reluctant amusement, and he keeps pace easily, even if he is walking a little more crookedly than he probably was before. “For a Jedi, you fight dirty,” he says.

“I fight practically,” Nico retorts, because he’s had this argument with Dooku more times than he can count. Pausing at the edge of the manhole down to the next level, he narrows his eyes, then cocks his head and flicks a hand. Below them, there's a sharp crack, a loud screech, and the ladder that was previously attached to the edge of the hole hits the next deck and neatly wraps itself around the lurking spice smuggler, pinning them in place. Leaning over, Nico checks for anyone else waiting, then says, “Given that you have a jetpack, I assume you can get yourself down,” and leaps.

As he expected, there's a hum of thrusters that cut out a moment later, and the Mandalorian lands beside him on the catwalk. Nico might not be able to see his face, but he can feel the weight of the man’s attention, hear the undertone in his voice when he says, “You haven’t asked.”

“It doesn’t have any bearing on how many slaves I plan to free,” Nico says brusquely. “Whoever you're looking for may be among them, but I'm going to release all of them regardless.”

There's another pause, then a quiet snort. The Mandalorian slides a blaster away, then offer Nico a hand. “Jaster Mereel,” he says.

Nico looks at his hand, looks up at his helmet, and raises a brow. “I'm fairly certain you're supposed to be dead, Mand’alor,” he says, but he clasps Jaster's wrist. It feels like something he’s getting more used to saying, these days. He blames An’ya’s reckless little hand grenade of a former apprentice. Jon is responsible for half of Nico's grey hairs at this point, and he was never even the boy’s Master.

“Rumors of my death,” Jaster says with a rueful edge. “And you are?”

“Nico Diath,” Nico answers, and Jaster's grip tightens just a little. He pauses, and Nico snorts, able to read what’s in his thoughts. “Whatever bounty you’re thinking of, I can assure you I earned it.”

Jaster snorts, but doesn’t try to argue. Pauses for a long moment, and then says, raw, “They have my son.”

“Then we’ll find him,” Nico promises, and means it. Even if Jaster's son isn't on this ship, Nico will help.

“Thank you,” Jaster says quietly, and the huffs, soft. “I apologize for your face.”

“I've been told black eyes can be charming,” Nico says dryly. “And you can make it up to me later.”

Jaster grips his wrist more tightly for a moment, then lets go. “You have a deal, Master Jedi,” he says, and draws his blaster again. “The slavers?”

“Allow me,” Nico says graciously, and rips the next door off its hinges before the pair of smugglers hiding there can make their move.

[On AO3]

#my writing #jasternico #lithuvia #kat answers

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rebelbyrdie · 3 years

Text

Capitan Carter Ficlet

Title: If Then

Summary: Peggy Carter is trying to adapt to her new circumstances after re-appearing after seventy years. When Hawkeye mentions that there was a movie about her life, she has to see it. Unfortunately, the movie took some very creative liberties, but the experience may not be a total loss.

Notes: Not very edited because I am lazy.

Peggy Carter sat still in the slightly too narrow, too firm and too sticky seat. The house lights were on and the film was over. Names scrolled down the screen. She pulled a small notebook and pen from her purse. She flicked through the pages and drew a line through the word “Film?”.

Of everything she’d seen and learned, this so-called film made her the angriest. “Crikey O’Riley.” Peggy muttered under her breath. She gathered her empty popcorn bag and paper soda cup and went to the exit.

Mr. Barton had advised her that the film had “gotten a few things wrong”.

A few things? She would laugh if she didn’t think it would trigger a crying jag. These filmmakers had warped the story of their lives into something almost unrecognizable. It had, according to the poster at the front of the cinema, won eleven Academy awards. She would like to meet with the film studio and tell them exactly where they could put those shiny statues.

She clenched her hands into fist and headed to the ladie’s room. She needed a moment to calm down before she did something she’d regret, like punch a hole in the wall or rip a door off it’s hinges.

She flicked the cold tap on and let it run over her wrists. She caught her reflection in the mirror. She hadn’t quite caught up with current fashion. SHIELD, or more specifically Maria Hill, had provided her with clothes. She was thankful that the serviceable trousers, shirt and jacket lacked the logo that most of the agents wore on their uniforms.

She looked nothing like the woman from the movie. Even before her transformation, Peggy had never been a petite waif with big green eyes and waif-like proportions.

Steve had never been a lantern-jawed and muscle-bound playboy.

Bucky hadn’t been a hardened killer who had betrayed anyone.

Howard had not flirted with her every time they’d spoken. She’d cured him of that habit with one hard elbow to the ribs the second time they’d met.

It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. She glared at her own reflection and then lashed out. She punched the mirror and it shattered instantly. The shards of mirror didn’t even scratch her knuckles. There was no pain, just guilt, shame, and the ache of seventy years between her and her loved ones.

“Wow.” A voice sounded from the door. “I haven’t seen anyone that mad about the Carter movie since the premiere when Howard Stark punched out the director.”

Peggy twisted around. A woman in the theatre’s uniform smiled at her. She was beautiful, like the movie star from the movie. “Your hand okay?”

Peggy blushed. “I am terribly sorry. I can pay to replace the mirror.”

Well, she could ask SHIELD for a small loan to do so.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, English. The owner doesn’t like the movie much either.”

Peggy blinked, thrown off by the remark. “Oh? Then why show it?”

The woman (an usher of some sort?) hopped up onto th counter beside the sink. “Contracts. See the director wanted the movie to premiere in Brooklyn since the real Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were from the neighborhood. To be that theatre they had to agree to show the film every year. After he saw it, the Old Man about popped his pacemaker. He knew ‘em, English. Said he was glad they both passed before they made it.”

It was surreal. To hear someone else talk about Steve and Bucky like this. To her they were still twenty-somethings fighting a war. To this-

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

The woman grinned and buffed her nails over the small name plate on her vet. “Angela Martinelli, but you can call me Agnie, all my friends do.”

Martinelli, as in the Martinelli Theatre?

Peggy felt another flush coming on. This girl was related to the owner.

“And your name, or should I just keep calling you English?”

Her smile was infectious, and for the first time since she’d arrived, Peggy felt normal.

“Margaret, but you can call me Peggy. All my friends do.” Well, they had.

“Oh, like Capitan Carter? You named after her or something?”

Or something.

“Hell, with a punch like that you could be her.”

Peggy smiled, she couldn’t help it. “I really do apologize about that.”

Angie shrugged. “I’ll get one of my knuckle-dragging brothers to fix it. That’s all they’re good for anyway. My shift is almost over. I know this really great diner where we could get a bite to eat and talk?”

She should get back to SHIELD. She should figure out how to use the pocket-phone she’d been given. She should read about the seventy years worth of events she’d missed. She should visit Steve and Bucky’s graves.

“I would be delighted.”

#capitan carter #peggy carter #Fanfic #cartenelli

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madammaria · 3 years

Text

Writing this out because the brain worms demand it

BIG FUCKING SPOILER WARNING FOR LOST JUDGMENT, THIS HINGES ON SPOILERS FOR EVENTS IN CHAPTER 11 SO TURN BACK NOW IF YOU DON’T WANT THAT

———

Breathe. Relax. Stay calm. Don’t let anything show while you dig out their deepest secrets and sniffs out their lies. Soma put those skills to good use during his time in the Consortium and it still served him well leading this mob of rabid alley mongrels. Nothing quite like fear to keep the boys in line as they cleaned out the club after this last little setback.

He cursed Yagami and his pack of friends, constantly sticking their noses in his business and forcing Soma to act to throw them off his trail. Tying off loose ends and mitigating risks for the bigger picture, even if it meant-

Stop.

Breathe.

Relax.

Don’t think about useless things. Focus on the goal. The club office could have been mistaken for a VIP room, red leather couches on carpet with blackened walls and tinted glass looking down on the club floor meant for a crowd of dancing bodies his body bleeding out riddled with bullets after you

A sharp, shaky breath in as Soma tried to regain control. Breathe. Clear the mind. Get back to work. He dived back into it, pushing down that dark feeling in his head with numbers and names and passwords and the white glare of a laptop screen until his eyes burned with the strain. He let himself sink into one of the couches, eyes closed, sniffling from dust and quietly groaning with irritation at the developing headache. Soma pressed his fingers into his temples but it wasn’t enough. “Ugh this is ridiculous, Akutsu get o-”

Soma’s eyes snapped open, breath caught and body seized tight as reality sucker punched him in the chest. He fought the tremors, struggled to think, tried to force his breath to even out from shallow gasps but his usual calm was nowhere to be found. Slowly, painfully, reluctantly, he turned his head just enough to confirm this fear was real.

Akutsu was gone.

Dead and discarded at the bottom of the bay with so many other nameless unfortunates because I ordered them to kill him.

Soma slowly reached into that space beside him, somehow still believing he could touch that rough skin, vicious smile and godawful sweater but all he found was empty air and the smooth leather of the sofa.

The scream tore itself from his lungs, sudden and deafening as the shots that had ripped through Akutsu’s body. Soma screamed and screamed and screamed, wailing and sobbing hysterically clawing at the leather with his well-manicured nails. How fortunate they had to foresight to soundproof this room. Metal flashed and his ever present knife jabbed into the leather, punching more and more holes into the sofa to reveal the soft (expensive) foam padding beneath. He’s dead, he’s dead and gone and I didn’t even have the decency to be there for him. Soma’s cries petered off into wet, heaving sobs, “Akutsu... Akutsu, Akutsu...... Daimu....” his voice cracked horribly over the name, eyes squeezed shut in a futile attempt to stem the tears.

Aw boss look at ya, what a mess ya are now!

Soma stopped.

He knew the room was empty, that he was alone and the door was locked. That nobody was foolish enough to interrupt him like this. But his mind’s eye saw differently, saw Akutsu laying on the couch still bleeding from his bullet wounds in a ghostly stigmata, smiling as if he’d just delivered a punchline. The stabs in his chest were new, blood gently welling from the punctures and around the knife Soma held. “...A--Akutsu..?”

Can’t believe you’d be crying like this for lil’ old me, ‘specially since ya were always so chilly to me all the time even after I got ya in bed.

He trembled, feeling the chill of his lonely delusion. “Ak-kh-Akutsu, I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry I need you, I don’t want to do this alone, please... please don’t leave me I...”

The other’s face softened, Oh Soma don’t be like that. Yer just cold now ain’t ya? I know what ya need, c’mere and open me up, lemme hold you again. Soma blanked, uncomprehending of what his lover meant until he remembered the knife in his hand. Yeah that’s it, as a tanned hand touched the wounded chest, open me up n’ get inside.

Quicker than thought the blade moved, unseaming the imaginary corpse and Soma could see all the wet, glistening viscera on display like fish at a wet market. He pushed his hand in, gripping and twisting as he slowly tore the first chunk free, Akutsu’s still beating heart pulsing in his fingers. A reverent kiss was pressed to that beautiful organ before Soma let it fall to the floor, tearing with renewed frenzy as lungs, liver, intestines and more were ripped out of that huge body faster and faster until the empty cavity yawned before him.

The knife clattered to the floor, no longer needed as Soma carefully, gently parted the flaps of skin and crawled into the hollow of Akutsu’s chest and belly. It was quiet in here, no thoughts or worries to hound him in the peaceful embrace of his lover. See, ain’t so bad now is it? The rough voice reverberated around him, within him like the rumble of blood flowing through his veins. I always know what ya need, and I’ll always be here for ya, no matter what Soma.

He could feel it, the strong arms holding him down, holding him in, safer than any treasure in the world “Daimu...”

Yeah boss?

“Call me Kazuki, please my love, call me-”

Of course Kazuki, I’ll say it as much as ya want, love you too boss.

Soma closed his eyes, safe in the cocoon of a hollowed out couch and dreamed it was Akutsu’s corpse.

#lost judgment #spoilers #trigger warning #gore #fanfic #body horror #daimu akutsu #kazuki soma #soma/akutsu

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

The Winter Ghost - Part 16

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of death, fluff.

W/c: 2.3 k

A/n: Welcome back, and Happy Labour Day! We’re winding down here folks, but I’ve got some spicy chapters coming up... Thats all I’m going to say about that. But honestly, the biggest of thank you’s to @cutie1365 for editing those parts because they were rough. I embarassed myself quite afew times. Anyways, enjoy babes!

The sun burned into the cabin windows causing the dust that hovered stagnant in the dull room to sparkle. Bucky had tossed and turned for the past few hours, trying to rest his eyes, but it was to no avail. Instead of torturing himself further by counting ceiling planks, he groaned out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. It appeared he wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping.

Steve and Wanda hovered over Vision as he sat at the kitchen table, typing into the laptop.

“Sergeant Barnes, I’ve located Agent L/n” The android spoke, freezing Bucky in his tracks.

“You found Y/n?” He stumbled over his feet, joining the three of them as he watched the small red dot on the screen blink slowly. There you were.

“Okay, that's not too far from here. Maybe a half hour right. Keep your comms on, I’ll get packed and head out now-”

“Alone?” Wanda spoke surprised.

“I can handle a couple of Hydra picks. And I’m not risking what happened to Nat to happen again.”

“That's not really up to you, jerk.” Steve sighed. “I’m with ya… Till the end of the line, remember?”

Bucky’s eyes softened at that, watching as a small smile pulled at the corner of Steve's mouth. His relationship with his best friend had been a little rocky these past few weeks to say the least. But for the first time in a long time, he trusted him. Completely and fully. Bucky wasn't alone, not any more.

“Alright, punk. Let's go get her back.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

You squeezed the trigger, wincing as the machine in your hand clicked.

Silence.

You pulled it again, but same as before nothing happened.

“Oh, baby. You're even more ruthless than I remember.” Tommy taunted, holding up the clip in his hands before springing from the floor, charging at you. You quickly dodged him, sending him into the wall behind you.

“You’d really shoot me? After everything we’ve been through. Bucky Barnes must have some pretty good moves. Remind me to ask him when Hydra gets their little pet back.”

You growled, “Take his name out of your mouth.”

“And what about you, baby. Has it been in yours?” He cooed, lunging at you and hammering a stiff punch to your jaw. You stumbled back a few pases, but ultimately regained your balance.

“I trusted you. I loved you!” You screamed, rocketing your leg forward and sweeping it under Tommy’s legs, knocking him down. He gasped on impact, clutching his chest for air.

“Tell me,” He wheezed. “When he touches you, do you think of me?” The small smirk on his thin lips disappeared as you brought your boot down on his throat. He choked and gasped for air, but none came. For a moment you wondered if this was really who you were. A killer, nothing but a numb shell of a woman he had left behind.

You watched as his face turned a deep shade of purple. He furiously clawed at your leg begging for air. It would be so easy. With your strength and a little more added pressure you could completely crush his windpipe. Hell, you're sure you could rip his head clean off, but you didn't want blood on your new combat boots. It’s funny, all this time you were thinking Bucky was the monster. Yet here you stood, Tommy’s life in your hands and there was nothing you'd enjoy more than watching his eyes roll back into his skull. Just like before, only this time there would be no second chances.

The commotion outside the small room had your head snapping up and away from your prey. Gunfire echoed through the hallways, causing you to freeze. As the footsteps neared your room, you made your decision. Tommy would get his one way or another, but not if you died first.

Reluctantly you lifted your boot off his now bruised and raw throat. He drew a jagged breath as the air rushed back into his swollen lungs. You grabbed the mag from across the room and reloaded the gun with a deep click.

“Not a word.” You threatened Tommy, pressing the pistol into his head behind him. If you were going out, it was going to be a bloodbath, starting with his.

The metal door was torn from its hinges in an explosion of dust and concrete.

“I’d pull the trigger if I were you, doll.” His familiar husky voice boomed.

“Bucky?” You all but whispered.

“We’re not killing anyone.” Steve spoke from beside him as he and Wanda walked through the dust filled room.

“You came.” You swallowed down your exhaustion you only now realised was there.

“Of course we came. Couldn't leave my best girl. All though, now I see you can take care of yourself just fine.” Bucky chuckled. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your lips as relief filled your lungs.

“They're gunna’ to kill you.” Tommy coughed out. Bucky’s eyes shot to his, and as if it was the first time he had really realised he was in the room.

“Oh, you must be Tommy. You know, heard great things, but now that we're meeting - officially- I have to say, I’m disappointed.” He took two wide pases to the quivering man, looking down on him. “You're shorter than I thought you'd be.” Bucky half joked.

“Go on Winter Soldier. Do what you do best. Show her who you are.” He breathed, more confidence in his small voice now. He truly had a death wish.

“With pleasure.” Bucky seethed. You prepared yourself for the gruesome image that was about to unfold but the next thing you felt was Bucky’s hands on either side of your arms. When you opened your eyes, his were soft.

This time, you knew who initiated it. You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips onto his. They were soft and rough all at once as he drank you in. His flesh hand quickly lost itself in your hair as he pulled you in deeper. He kissed you softly, but you urged for more, desperate and craving to make up for lost time. He chuckled darkly at your attempt, holding you tight to his chest. He wanted nothing more than to hold you like that and never let go, but there were bigger things at play. Reluctantly, he pulled away as you gasped for breath.

“Wanna get out of here?” Bucky breathed, taking your hands in his. You nodded, completely lost in thought.

“Please.” He signed, following Steve and Wanda out of the room.

“You can't just leave me here!” Tommy shouted.

“Don’t worry, darling. Hydra’s going to take care of you. I mean, you let me get away, but I’m sure they’ll understand. After all, historically Natzi’s have been known for their forgiveness...” You grinned, turning on your heel and coming face to face with him.

“Y/n, please. Baby, you gotta’ help me. I'm sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Tommy begged. His meak words caused you to grit your teeth.

“I want you to remember this when they’re torturing you… I could have killed you. Easily- without regret. But you deserve so, so much worse.” You signed, slapping his face mockingly. You turned on your heel, as his words hit your back like a threat.

“You're a slut, you know that. No one will ever love you like I did. You'll always be a sad, broken, pathetic bitch. Lucky your family fucked off when they did before they could see you grow up to be such whore.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Bucky watched you carefully as you gnawed on your bottom lip, pleading with your eyes. He met your silent question with a shrug of his shoulders. Swiftly you turned and before Tommy could understand what was happening you took a fistful of his polo shirt and instantaneously collided your fist with his cheek, knocking him out instantly.

“God damn, you're beautiful.” Bucky breathed, causing you to giggle.

“Lets get the fuck out of here.” You spat, watching Tommys limp body crumpled on the floor. It took everything in you not to finish the job right there. Luckily Bucky was there to pull you away.

You were quickly rushed through the hallways, avoiding the Hydra agents who writhed in half conscious pain on the floor. A nice touch by Wanda, who most likely sent them to their personal hell on earth. A few of them had bullet holes in their appendages but nothing fatel.

“Why aren't we killing them again?” You asked under your breath to Bucky.

“Steve thinks if a bunch of Hydra agents wind up dead ittl’ alert his friends back in New York. We’re trying to keep a low profile.” He explained, clenching his jaw. “Doesn't mean I’m not tempted to rain down fire on these sons of bitches. But he’s right.”

“But they know how to replicate my serum now. What do we-”

“We’ll keep close tabs on them. Right now we need to get you out of here. We’ll come back when we regroup.” He resaured you, pulling you close. “You're my mission. You've always been my mission. Can you just let me save you?” He chuckled.

You shook your head, a smile spreading on your lips. “I don't need a knight.”

Bucky flashed that lopsided grin you missed so much, “How bout’ a Sergeant?” He asked deeply, sending a chill to blossom through your body.

“I’ll get back to you.” You spoke sheepishly.

“Sam says the jets fired up. He and Vision are on the tarmac just out front.” Steve spoke, leaning you out the doors and into the burning sunlight. The four of you ran across the pathment as Steve helped Wanda into the aircraft. Wanda wrapped her hand around yours and pulled you up, but before you could climb in, the sound of gunfire exploded through the air.

In the time it took you to turn around, it was too late. Bucky had taken the blow of two bullets fired from the disheveled Hydra agent across the tarmac. Your heart stopped as another round of bullets sprayed through the air. Wanda screamed your name as you pulled away from her and threw yourself in front of Bucky, absorbing the impact. In a flash of red, you disintegrated the bullets, turning them to dust before you.

“Get him out of here.” You ordered, turning for a moment to assess his injuries. Steve and Sam reluctantly pulled Bucky onto the jet leaving you to face your demon. The agent smiled wickedly.

“Leaving so soon, Y/n. Family reunion not all you thought it was going to be?” He snearned.

“Family. Is that even a word you understand?” You spat, closing in on him. He was only a few yards away. The man shrugged and tucked his gun away.

“Maybe not. How about some words you'll understand?” He spoke coolly.

“Выхлоп.” Exhaust. The word echoed around your mind, a memory pulling at your heart.

“Отражение...тоска...забытый...горящий...призрак...пять...замороженный...мост… чувство вины.”

Reflection...Longing… Forgotten… Burning… Ghost… Five… Frozen… Bridge… Blame.

Images flashed through your mind. The inferno of your childhood home. Tommy’s lifeless body tipping over the bridge… Your mom and dad, the way they smiled. You're sisters giggle. Your mission… Finally, numbness washed over you as you hung your head in exhaustion.

You took two steps closer to the man, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Are you ready to comply?” He questioned curley.

“Yeah, that doesn’t work anymore.” You breathed, snapping your head up to meet the man's horrified face. Crimson flames erupted out of your hands as you lifted him off the ground. With the flick of your fingers, the bones in his legs snapped, an ungodly sound of crunching willing the air. He screamed in pain as you threw him like a ragdoll into the side of the building.

You shook your head, physically trying to rid yourself of the daze Hydras trigger words had sent you into. Bucky calling your name from behind knocking you back to reality. You ran towards the jet, climbing in and trying to steady your breathing.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, astonished.

“I think so.” You replied, just as shocked as he was.

“Those were trigger words. Just like Bucky had. How did you fight it?” He spoke.

You looked to Bucky who only blinked at you. You had your answer before you even spoke.

“Bucky. I just remembered Bucky.” You breathed, squatting down beside him and holding your hand over his wounds to relieve his pain.

“I knew it.” He groaned, feeling the ache slowly dissipate into thin air.

“What?” You chuckled, taking a seat beside him and pressing your lips to his temple. He signed into your touch and leaned his head onto your shoulder.

“Knew you couldn't leave me for dead. You’ve got my six.” He explained, repeating his words from the other day. You smiled into your lap and rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I thought it might be a dick move. But we’re even now.” You sighed, nudging him a little. His eyes fluttered closed as he began to doze off. His wounds surely repairing themselves while he slept. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating as you watched him nuzzle into you.

Of course, he did. He smiled softly, knowing he made you feel the same as you did him. Though he wondered if he was pushing his luck to imagine he could take that thought one step further.

.......................................................................................................................

A/N: So, #fuck tommy. Telling him off in this was honestly therapeutic lol. I really hoped you guys enjoyed this one. As always, please like and reblog of you’ve read it. And feel free so leave some feedback, its alwasy welcome!

@projectcampbell

@kalesrebellion

@calwitch

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static-fanatic-1 · 4 years

Note

#36 with phinks please! I loved that uvogin soulmate fic btw 🥺

#36) "I fucking need you more than I need to breathe."

(Thank you 😭 . I was so excited to see Phinks, I saw him every time I did a prompt like this one!)

Phinks has enough of this, enough of her useless struggles. He tried to be nice, but he couldn't be nice any longer. He was pissed, beyond pissed when he found out you were only pushing him away because you had a boy/girlfriend. Learning that was the final straw.

His large hand tangled itself with her (h/c) hair, tugging and dragging her back to her apartment. "L-l-let-let me go." Her pleasing hit deaf ears, the blonde too enraged to listen to the pathetic whimpers. (Y/n)'s legs scrambled to keep up, to minimize the pain felt on her scalp, but he was walking a bit to fast.

Phinks returned to the apartment door where it had started, where he witnessed her body wrapped around someone in an intimate moment. Clad only in lingerie, (y/n) had tried to escape his onslaught against her significant other, but she only got so far before she was roughly grabbed and dragged back. “Phinks, Phinks, please let me go. Phinks please... you don’t have to do this.” (Y/n) was practically choking on her sobs, the aforementioned man throwing her in and locking the door behind him.

A dark look spread across his face, one of list and betrayal. “Really? I give you nice things just for you to go off and fuck someone else!” His question was more of a statement, yelled with a punch to the wall next to him. The blonde pulled his fist out, a crater like hole being left in its wake.

“Phinks... I-I had a girl/boyfriend... I-I....” (Y/n)’s frightened words fell into incoherent mumbles when their eyes met. She froze underneath his gaze, too afraid to move away from his advancing figure.

Phinks shot his hand into her hair once again, dragging her to the couch and shoving her in the seat. (Y/n) sobbed, her eyes taking a terrified glance over to the person she once called a significant other.

Their jaw ripped off its hinges from such a furious punch, their neck twisted to finish the off. There was blood pouring down the top half of the jaw, the splatter leading to the other half across the room.

Phinks grumbled to himself, grabbing her check and forcing her to watch him. She just noticed what he was doing, his green track suit already falling off his shoulders. “W-wait!” She pleaded.

"I fucking need you more than I need to breathe." The blonde continued to strip, his hips straddling her own to keep her under him. “How do you think I felt seeing you with them? I should be the only one to fuck you senseless.” He tore off the rest of his clothes, leaving him in his boxers.

His hands traveled down her shoulders to her her breasts, softly groaning to himself as he kneaded them through the lingerie. Phinks leaned closer, pressing his lips against her own, biting a sucking at her bottom lip. His hands traveled down to her panty line, slightly tugging at the fabric as she wiggled under him.

“I’ll give it to you better than they could, just you wait.”

#yandere phantom troupe #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere phinks #yandere phinks x reader #phinks magcub #phinks magkav #phinks x reader

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jessipalooza · 4 years

Text

Ghost Town

The city of Gilneas was a ghost town, more so since the destruction of Undercity. The large gates still stood, but they stooped and hunched like an old man, moss tangling down as a beard. Pockets of missing stone and piles of rubble made passing by those gates relatively easy, and once a path was found - overgrown as they all were - it led to the rise of a hill. Beyond that hill, was a tangle of twisted streets of cobblestone, dilapidated buildings of 3 or so stories, a tremendous church - all the makings of a city that once stood proud.

Not any longer.

Through the maze-like streets, eerie breezes swept dried leaves and yellows scraps of paper. Shutters that had been left open or fallen open and had not yet rotted off banged gently against the sides of the buildings as though cheering the parade of crinkling debris. Rats scurried down the alley ways, looking for anything and everything they might be able to pick clean and carry back to their nests.

All of these sounds blended together as a death rattle of the city itself. It was a sad reminder of what had been before: lively chatter between neighbors and shopkeepers, groans of cart wheels rolling by, clopping of horse hooves, and the drumming of thousands and thousands of footsteps.

Now there were no footsteps, but that did not mean there were no people.

Wrapped in leathers of deep blue, brown, and brass, a lithe figure of a woman traversed the shadowed alleyways. Each step was so silent that even the gentle scratching of rats was enough to drown it out. Through the maze, she went without so much as a breath escaping the cloth mask that covered her from the nose down. She was as much a ghost - perhaps better called a spectre - as the rest of the city. Every so often, she stopped, looked up and down the main streets, and listened. A few seconds passed and she continued.

Further through the city she went until her fel-tainted eyes snapped onto the third floor of a particular building. There was nothing tremendous that caused the building to stand out from the others. The outside wood was distressed, the glass windows shattered, the door broken in. Spider webs clung to the crooked awning and with each leaf-led breeze, the building wheezed and creaked.

And as the clouds shifted, so did a shadow in the top left window.

Three beats of a heart and the woman of shadows pressed forward. She crossed the uneven cobblestone street and looked to the rotted door, crashed to the side. A scrap of paper remained attached to the door with a rusted nail, and below that were three separate marks: vicious cuts, driven deep into the wood with splinters in their wake. Worgen.

But the woman did not care about such a thing. Not truly. Her attention passed over the scars of curses past and turned to the floor. Wooden floors, split furniture with molded wood, stray leaves, rat droppings, and dusty rugs.

And a trail of footprints.

Within each footprint, the woman stepped to leave her own presence unknown. The gate was wide, the boots large. It was a man, perhaps a foot taller than her. But she knew that much. She knew it was a human man. She knew his name was Lindon Deltane. She knew he was in his late fifties. She knew he was a thief and an attempted murderer.

Up the stairs she crawled, silent and steady. She had done this perhaps a hundred times before. Perhaps more. She had been alive longer than a century and most of those years were soaked in blood - some deserving, some not. This time, it was not justice that brought her to this abandoned house, not her own at least. The man had wronged someone and she was here to right that misstep as a price for her own goal. She wanted information. In exchange, there would be blood. She was fine with that. It was a fair trade.

The top stair groaned; the woman stopped. She waited with a deep and silent breath. Outside, the breeze whistled through the alleys and rattled the shutters. Inside, the building was still. Framed portraits stared down at her, some tattered and others clawed. The men and women judged her as an intruder, as an assassin. She did not care. Without so much as a glance to the ghosts of the Gilneans past, she pressed onward.

Around the corner. Down the hall. The door at the end was opened a crack and in the low light of the moon-lit room, there was a shimmer near the ground. A thread. No. A trap. An easy trap, at least. Slow and easy, she opened the door and stepped high over the thread to cross the threshold of what used to be a master bedroom above a little shop.

The room smelled of mildew and tobacco. A chandelier had fallen and been dragged to one corner, leaving behind scratches in the wood floor. Half of the furniture was covered in grey, moth-eaten sheets as though the owners expected to return, rather than be eaten alive or cursed. A closet door lay ajar, but no clothing was left. There were sheets on the four-poster bed, however, and on top of them was Lindon Deltane.

The thief slumbered with one hand behind his head and the other on his stomach, clutching a knife. A large rifle lay against the side table, on top of which was a plate of half-eaten rations that included cheese, bread, and salted meat. On the floor were two bottles of whiskey and a jug of water. No doubt he had been moving from building to building, waiting out his time in Gilneas before moving on. One did not steal from a thousands-year old elf that specializes in information, much less attempt to kill one of his descendants - not without biding time at a few different locations to throw off the scent.

Unfortunately for Lindon Deltane, he did not do a good enough job, and the stink of his misdeeds clung to him too strongly to shake.

The woman crept towards the bed and pulled from her side the dagger that was her constant companion. It would be easy. A quick slice across the neck, a search for the artifact, and then she would be on her way. There was no need to even hesitate. There was no guilt to be had, no second thoughts. She brought the blade down to the man’s neck.

And at that very moment, Lindon Deltane’s eyes opened.

It happened so quickly. He brought up his knife and she met it with her dagger, sacrificing his neck to save her own. The two short blades clashed together with a shriek of steel and the woman was able to glimpse the strength of the man and know that it was far more than her own. So when he pulled back his free hand for a punch, she tugged herself back. He caught her mask and ripped it free, taking the hood with it.

A long braid of bright orange hair tumbled out and Esme Sunshard wasted no time with witty remarks. She shifted back a step and flung her dagger as soon as she saw Lindon Deltane reach for that rifle. The blade sank into his hand and into the wooden butt of the weapon. To the man’s credit, he did not so much as grunt and still brought the weapon up, dropping his knife in favor of the trigger.

Esme barely had enough time to duck before the rifle shot with a thunderous blast. What was left of the window was blown off the hinges, glass showering onto the abandoned street below. The rifle was cocked, a second shot at the ready, but Esme was too quick. The second shot missed, leaving a hole in the rotted floor where she had been, and she was grabbing one of the decorate wood columns of the bed. Using momentum, she swung herself around and drove her feet into the side of the man’s head.

The two of them tumbled, but Esme’s roll was controlled and she popped up to one knee with ease, her sword drawn.

Lindon Deltane was less graceful, but surprisingly fast for his size and age - for a human. Even with graying brown hair and matching gray streaks in his beard, he moved like he was in the prime of his life. Still, he was no match for Esme’s speed.

Before Esme could get too confident, she felt the heat. It was a familiar heat; it radiated off of Lindon Deltane and carried with it the scent of burning wood and the chemical tang of magic.

“Shit,” she muttered - right before scrambling to the side.

As she moved, she felt the flames lick at her legs and smelled singed hair. It was too close for comfort, but she did not have time to turn to see where the flames had landed. Neither did she have time to thank Faervell for fire-proofing her leather armor. Another blast chased her to the other side of the room and back over to the bed. Flames crackled as they engulfed the brittle wood, and Esme’s only saving grace was the mildew and humidity that stopped the fire from spreading as quickly as it might have otherwise.

She had to stop him, and stop him she did. Nearly every day she sparred with a felmancer. There was no difference to her between green fire and red fire. So there was no hesitation from her to roll over the bed, raise her sword, and swing it down to sever the outstretched hands of Lindon Deltane.

The thief cried out in agony as his limbs tumbled to the ground with heavy thuds. Blood began to flow freely - as free as the curses that spilled from his lips, thick with the accent of Redridge. Just where Quineven had said he lived.

“You bitch! You blood elf bitch!”

Winded from the short fight and aware of the heat closing in as the fire began to crawl up the walls, Esme stood and jabbed the point of her sword against Lindon’s throat. “I do not suppose you are going to tell me where the artifact is.”

Hatred and desperation emanated from the man’s blue eyes. Even as his stumps bled, he spat at her feet. The saliva was speckled red.

“I thought not,” Esme answered cooly. She plunged her sword through his throat, and it drew out a gag and a choke from the man. By the time she drew her sword back, he was dead in the mind. The body was another story, as it twitched - and would for another few minutes, or until the fires claimed it.

Sliding the flat of her blade across her thighs to rid it of human blood, she took in just how much of the room was quickly becoming engulfed in flames. Smoke began to fill her nose and mouth, so the first thing she did was grab hold of the mask that had been torn from her to start with. Haphazardly, she threw the hood back on and tucked the mask up to her nose. It did little to help with smoke, but a little was better than nothing.

“Where the fuck is this artifact,” she muttered to herself. In such a silent city, the crack of fire and the crumble of wood was deafening. She could barely hear herself, but it did not matter. She had to move and think fast.

Under the bed, in the dressers. She searched for whatever an artifact could possibly look like. Quineven had described it as hand held and silver, but for all she knew, it could be in a box or a sack.

“Or a pocket.”

Esme turned and knelt beside the body of Lindon as a final twitch ran down one leg. Without care, she stuck her hands into his pockets - vest and then pants. Her fingertips graced both a gnomish knife and a pocket watch. With an irritable sigh, she shoved him away and began to stand until the realization hit her.

Faervell had kept crystals in something that looked like a pocket watch. Black with a green gem on front. It was enchanted, and he had told her in a night’s drunken slur, “It’s perfect. Small and powerful. Nobody will get to these crystals but me. And you, my darling, if ever you want…”

Hurriedly, she jabbed her hand back into the pocket and grabbed the pocket watch. It was larger than what she was accustomed to with a rune engraved on the front. It was also silver. That was good enough for her.

Stashing the object down the front of her leathers, she turned and hurried out of the room. As though bidding her farewell, the beam above the doorway crashed down behind her and nearly sent her tumbling forward. Coughing away the smoke, she took the stairs two at a time and spared a glance up to the ceiling as she hurried past. Fire burned through the floor, creating glowing cracks within the wood. Had it not been so dangerous and a tell-tale sign of the building collapsing, she might even stay and look at it to admire the beauty.

Out the door, she flew and down the road she continued. Once she was a safe distance away, she turned to watch as flames clamored out the window and the building itself shuttered and crumbled away. She knew what would happen. The fire would cling to the next building and continue on until it rained or found more stone than wood. It would continue long after Esme was gone, on her way to Quineven with his request in hand.

Gilneas should thank her. With one murder, she left the city with more life than when she came.

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@pyrar

#my writing #hoo buddy it's been a while #Esme #Quiniven #prep work for #uh #what do i call this series #Shadow to Shadow #yeah that's angsty and edgy enough

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