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ameliajessicawilliamspond · 3 years

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PART 1

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"Where is this blasted thing?" Luke complained, opening the map for the tenth time in the last 10 minutes.

"Same distance as the last time you checked the map." Din mused. Luke pursed his lips and closed the map, pulling his coat tighter around himself. He and Luke had done many missions together, both searching for what the remnants of the fallen Empire wanted with Grogu and the Jedi, as well as Luke's never ending search for more information on the strange ancient religion.

"You alright?" Din asked. Luke had been fidgety and testy the whole trip to Kajimi and had become downright orny ever since they stepped foot on the planet.

Luke huffed in frustration, shoving his nose into his scarf. "I'm not a fan of the cold." he mumble from beneath the fabric.

"Yeah I picked up on that." Din said, an amused huff escaping his lips.

Luke shot the Mandalorian a hard side glance, like a teenager throwing a fit. Luke always kept himself so stoic and distant, a protective mask from everyone around him. Seeing it slip because of some cold weather made his heart do a funny little flip. Yet the other side of him knew it obviously upset the Jedi so he stopped pressing him. He slipped his own scarf off and wrapped it around the jedi's neck. Luke looked at him incredulously but the Mandalorian just shrugged. "I run warm."

A while on -and lots of huffing and puffing from the Jedi later- they finally began to approach their destination.

"The holocron should be inside this cavern." Luke mumbled from beneath the scarves, nose burried in the holomap.

"Waterfall." Din corrected.

"...Cavern." Luke repeated, not looking up.

"Yeah...under a waterfall." Din said, pointing ahead. Luke finally looked up and saw what Din meant. a cavernous mouth to a cave, beneath a huge, freezing waterfall, billowing into a cold, deep lake.

Luke's blue eyes bulged. "Kriff."

The pair snuck up the side of the embankment with just enough distance to be able to avoid falling into freezing water below.

Luke hit a slippery patch amd let out a yelp as his foot slipped. Din reacted quickly, yanking the Jedi back up to the snowy embankment, the momentum putting them nearly nose to nose with each other. Din's breath seemed to catch in his throat as Luke sucked in a breath himself, his bright eyes locked with Din's visor.

"No falling behind." Din said, shaking Luke from whatever stupor just grasped him. The jedi nodded and they pressed forward, carefully approaching the ice cold waterfall.

"Seems there's no going around it." Din said, pressing forward but Luke grabbed his arm.

"Wait." he said, voice demanding yet gentle as the jedi stepped in front of him, eyes rolling back in his head. His hand shot up, palm open toward the falls.

Din stared in awe as the waters parted like a curtain. "Go." Luke said, eyes still closed. Din slipped around him and jumped into the hidden cave. Luke followed like a blind man, hand extended and eyes closed, but shoulders squared with determination, confidence in each step. Once in, he finally opened his eyes and dropped his hand. The waters slammed shut behind them.

Luke spotted Din staring, unmoving at him. "What?" He asked, slightly bashful.

What could he say? He was in awe of Luke and his abilities? Luke always surprised him? He was so beyond what Din could ever be himself? Luke was...Luke was amazing. "I wish you could teach me that." Is what he ended up settling on.

Luke let out a small laugh, lips parting into a smile and despite the cold, Din felt a warmth spread through his chest. "Come on," Luke said, taking the lead. "The holocron should be straight ahead."

They finally were right on top of where the holocron should be. But in its place was a giant hole in the side of the cave wall where it had been hidden. Luke dropped his head. "No..." he whispered to the ground.

"Smugglers or pirates, most likely. The Spice Runners of Kajimi are in this area." Din said, examining the square hole.

"They probably sold it by now." Luke said, arms flailing in an 'of course' sort of gesture. "Its long gone, probably has been for a long time."

"Not nessesarily. These are new markings on this. It would have been within the last week they found this. " Din said, trying to ease the already frustrated Jedi's mind. Luke rubbed his forehead. "If we find their camp we may be able to relocate the device."

"...Alright Fine." Luke said, biting his cheek, clearly irritated. "We're never getting off this frozen rock." He mumbled, rubbing his arms as be began to march back to the mouth of the waterfall.

"Hey," Din called, rushing to block the jedi's path. Luke avoided his helmet's gaze as Din finally grasped him by the shoulders. "Luke, talk to me."

Luke fidgeted in his grasp, looking anywhere but his visor. His eyes finally settled on the destroyed hole where the holocron had been, eyes distant.

"I'm from a desert planet." He began. "Tattooine."

"I'm familiar." Din said, earning a slightly surprised glance from the jedi.

"I'm...I'm already not used to the cold. And then later on in the war we were stationed on Hoth." Luke shifted from one foot to the other, obviously contimplating if he wanted to continue. "I was out on last patrol when I was attacked by a Wampa."

"You were attacked by a Wampa and survived?" Din questioned.

Luke just shrugged, and Din could tell that, somehow, being attacked by a kriffing Wampa wasn't even at the worst part of this story. "I escaped, but by the time I did it was approaching nightfall and the winds had picked up. There was snow everywhere, all I could see was white in front of me and I...I was so cold..." Luke pulled out of Din's grasp and turned away. "I fell. I fell and didn't get back up. Ben wanted me to go to Dagobah but... I was so sure I was going to die there." Din stepped forward, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Han found me. Stuffed me in his dead Tauntaun to keep warm while he built a shelter. I smelled like rotting flesh for a week...and..." Luke sniffed, pulling himself together. "...And the next day the Empire attacked and I got shot down. My co-pilot Dak didn't make it... I lost a good friend." Luke said, looking at Din, eyes distant.

Din spun Luke around and pulled him in for a tight hug. "I'm sorry. That sounds awful." He offered.

Luke tensed for a moment before melting into the hug. They stayed like that for a long time before Luke finally broke the silence. "You do run warm." He mumbled into his shoulder.

Din laughed. "Come on, let's find those blasted smugglers and get off this rock."

They went back to the cave entrance, Luke reaching foward, parting the waters once again. Din stepped through before Luke's eyes snapped opened and yelled, "No, Din, WAIT--!"

Before Luke could finish, something wrapped around his leg and yanked him into the lake below.

Din sunk below the water, waterlogged vision spotting a large monster with at least 5 tentacles keeping him below the surface. He reached for his blaster, shooting at the monster. It made a noise and the grip on his leg disappeared. Din swam with all his might back to the top, grabbing on to Luke's extended hand.

Another tentacle shot up, latching around his torso and pulling him below once again. Above him, he saw a green laser appear as the jedi ignited his lightsaber as another tentacle shot up above the water toward him. He sliced at it, making the thing bellow once again. The grip on Din loosened but not enough for him to pull out of the tight grasp.

A splash from above caught the Mandalorian's attention. Luke was swimming right toward the creature. Din squirmed and fought to free his arms so he could shoot it again but he was weakening by the second. Through greying vision he watched the Jedi reach forward and touch the monster's head, the scarf Dinnhad given him dangling from his back pocket. Din felt the grip around him loosen too late as water filled his lungs and his vision went dark.

The next thing he knew he was back on the bank of the lake. Luke was above him, coat missing, soaking wet, and leaning over his him, lips having just left his own. Din thought he had to be dreaming or dead until he felt the aggressive shoving on his chest. His ringing ears picked up on Luke begging him to breathe.

He tried to inhale, but instead was greeted with a coughing fit, water spilling from his lips before finally managing a small, shaky breath.

"Oh thank the Force." Luke breathed out, head dropping. "We need to get you somewhere warm." Luke said, pulling the coat he once wore up Din's chest, tucking it around him.

Before Din could attempt to object, something grabbed the Jedi's attention. His head whipped to the side and his eyes widened. "Kriff!" Luke shoved Din's helmet back on him before throwing his arms up in a defensive stance, hand shaking violently. "Please, we don't want any trouble. He hurt! He needs to go somewhere warm! Please!" Luke begged, but his pleas seemed to land of deaf ears. Hand decended on the Jedi and pulled him from where he kneeled next to the Mandalorian. "No, no!!" Luke yelled as he was dragged away from Din's side.

Din shifted, rolling onto his stomach, trying to call for Luke but instead earning himself another coughing fit. From his new position he could see Luke strugglnng witn a large group of people. Din couldn't tell if Luke was holding back because he didn't want to reveal his identity to these scoundrels or because he was still trying to beg them for help, but either way the large group finally overpowered the jedi. They pinned his arms out wide and his head was shoved violently to the side, a needle shoved into his neck. Luke tensed before slumping in their grasp. Din tried to reach for something, anything, any weapon but couldn't find the strength to even lift his hand.

"Leave that one. He's as good as dead." The group laughed.

Din watched as Luke was carried away like he was nothing more than stolen loot.

"L...Luke..." Din managed, before his frozen body slipped into unconsciousness.

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REQUESTED TAGGED: @theonlyredcar

Comment below if you would like to be tagged in part 2!

#dinluke #star wars #prompt: almost drowning/hypothermia/PTSD #part 1 #fanfiction #fanfic #luke skywalker #din djarin #din djaren #the Mandalorian #mandalorian #poor din #luke gets in next #sorry in advance #fun stuff too and soft moments #but also pain #stay tuned

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walkerwords · 3 years

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“The Savior Sessions” Part 21 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/SKYBOUND

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: The months after the blizzard were full of bliss, but now the reader needs to get back to work. What happens when Judith finds a mask belonging to one of Alpha’s people? What does this mean to the survivors? How is the relationship going with Negan?

Word Count: 5512

Warning: Swearing, Fighting

Song I Wrote To: “Battlecry” by Jordan Mackampa

Note: So yes, there is the time jump in this! However, throughout the next chapters, I will reference some flashbacks from both Negan and the MC’s POVs. Remember from now until the end, we are changing a bit from season 10, but there will be some of the bigger moments present. With the new episodes coming up, I just want to make it clear that this story will finish with “Certain Doom” I have no plans to continue the plot into Season 10C or Season 11. ALL ASL IN ITALICS

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Winter wasn't easy.

Food stores were low and with the Kingdom out of commission and the forests barren, it was a harsh few months. The snow came in waves, blanketing the ground with fresh white powder only to be turned to slush and ice with the rain the next day.

At least there was one good thing to come out of it.

Negan was out of his cell when it got to be too much on certain nights.

Whenever a particularly cold front came through, he was granted permission to stay at your place for the night as long as you returned him to his jail in the morning. Provided that extra blankets and warm food were supplied, you agreed to the terms.

Those cold nights became the very thing that held you together. Negan has been right, body heat was incredibly beneficial. Every waking moment of the day, Negan was on your mind. His hands, his body, that damn smile of his too. However, while you enjoyed the sex and the feeling of him asleep beside you, you were in love with the conversation just as much.

You also began to learn more about his life before the Apocalypse. His life as a gym teacher, his love of vintage t-shirts, and even some things about Lucille as well. Never did you bring her up on your own, but you also never shot him down when he did either. Just as he never told you to not talk about Sasha.

Sasha became a regular topic when you began talking about the past. You missed her so much and all you wanted was to keep her memory alive. Talking about her to Negan helped with that. He would then tell you about his time with the Saviors and how he actually liked a lot of the people who he worked with.

Simon was an asshole, but Negan admitted that he was one of the smartest men he had ever met. Dwight was a nightmare at times, but still, Negan oddly admired his heart.

You weren’t surprised to learn some of this, but you were shocked to learn just how protective and jealous he could be when he wanted to.

Daryl had finally moved back into Alexandria with Lydia, Daryl moving into the Grimes’ basement, and Lydia into your guestroom. You would spend as much time with Daryl as possible whether it was for personal reasons or because you were still on edge about the Whisperers.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Negan who was starting to get suspicious. He even asked you if you and Daryl had once been involved.

“You’re joking, right?” you asked when he had brought up the subject one day as he was helping with repairs to one of the walls.

“Is that such an odd question to ask?”

“Kind of,” you said. “Negan, Daryl is like a brother to me. We’ve never...absolutely not.”

“I just find it hard to believe that you never found yourself being with anyone since this whole shit show started.”

“Didn’t have much of a chance,” you had said. “As I have said before, I’m better off alone.”

“Yeah, well don’t expect me to leave you alone any time soon, alright?” Negan had said as he finished his job. You had nodded, but something was telling you that he couldn’t keep that promise, nobody could keep promises anymore.

Your injury had fully healed just as Negan said it would, but it left an angry scar that still stung on the colder days. It wasn’t pretty, but none of your scars were, they were just part of the new world and you had to get used to them.

You were trying to stay positive as the months went by. Rosita eventually had her daughter, Judith became a stronger fighter, and you were starting to get nervous.

Everything was too calm.

It seemed that the Whisperers had gone underground for the harsher months of winter. However, like all predatory species. They would soon be returning to their hunting grounds, you were sure of it.

Domestic life was starting to be too much. Your nightmares were getting worse and on the nights that Negan lay beside you, he would wake you with a hard shake in order to be able to snap you out of sleep. You would never tell him what plagued your dreams and he never asked, but you knew he wanted to.

You also knew that he wanted to move forward with you and start thinking about a future together. However, you also knew that if that were to happen, you would need to leave Alexandria. Nobody, no matter what he did, would accept Negan as part of the family and you didn’t blame them.

Still, you wanted to be able to hold his hand as you walked through the streets and kiss him in the rain, but he was still Negan and while you got to play normal on certain nights, the cell was still his home.

It was months after the blizzard that you began planning. You began to stash bags in your house. They were filled with canteens, extra clothes, extra gauze, and when you were able to get it, non-perishables. After so many years of feeling as if you had put down roots, you were slipping back into survival mode because if you had to, you were ready to leave with him.

You loved your family, but you couldn’t live without Negan. Not anymore and not after Alpha had taken so much away from everyone. You thought back to what you had told Daryl that night when he came to visit you in the infirmary after the blizzard. You had told him that you would fight for your family even if it meant betraying Negan.

Now, you knew that wasn’t true. Negan was your life now and nothing was going to make you stop fighting for him.

And while you wanted to spend every moment with Negan, everyone knew war was imminent. Even though Alpha, Beta, and their people had gone quiet, you and everyone else knew they were still out there and so, you began to prepare.

Coco, Rosita’s daughter was just a few months old when Daryl interrupted your babysitting duties to tell you that he had spoken to Cyndie and Rachel. It was time to get ready to fight their enemies.

When Daryl announced that he would be taking people to Oceanside to prepare and learn to fight in formations with new weapons and with new strategies, there were immediate volunteers. Siddiq, Eugene, and Ro were going to be staying behind with Gabriel, but Judith and RJ would be going with their mother just as Aaron would be going as well.

You didn’t get much of a choice. You had to go as you were second in command when it came to security. You were also going because Michonne wanted time to continue the training you had been doing with her, honing your skills with your sword.

Negan wasn’t thrilled when he found out you would be leaving, but you promised him that it wouldn’t be for long and that it was necessary. You spent the night before leaving in the cell with him, curled into his side as he lulled you to sleep. You told him you would be coming back soon and asked if he could look out for Lydia when he could.

You immediately pulled Lydia under your wing. You trained her, using the new staff Alden had made for her. It was much like the one Henry once used. You taught her how to hunt and track while she helped you move around the Dead as if you were invisible. Being able to learn from one another solidified your bond quickly.

Lydia was a naturally curious young woman who wanted to hear stories about everything. You told her everything from the farm to meeting Jadis’ people for the first time. When she asked how you met Negan, you had told her one night in the quiet of your living room. Lydia had been patient the entire time as she listened.

When you were finished, she had exhaled deeply and then reached over and took your hand in hers. “I guess we both care about people capable of horrific things,” she had said and that line had stuck with you. It replayed in your head even now as you stood behind a barricade on a white sand beach, prepared to fight.

—————

Every inch of your body was coiled to a spring as your sword weighed heavily in your hand.

Aaron led the charge, he and Alden using the metal shields to stay in formation as they moved towards the old boat. Judith struck a waterlogged Walker that tried to drag itself up onto the shore. Returning to her position between you and Michonne, her wakizashi poised for battle.

Ezekiel and Jerry pulled open the door of the ship and the Dead spilled from the rusted wreckage. Walkers weren’t as sophisticated as Whisperers, but they did act as great decoys and practice for fighting the enemy.

Daryl walked along the edges of the main battle, observing and making adjustments when needed. The archers were behind, ready to fire when ordered and then, there was your group. You, Michonne, Judith, Ezekiel, Magna, and others kept your weapons raised, ready to strike.

For months, you and Michonne practiced whenever you could. She taught you different ways to hold your blade, how to use it to block, and most importantly, how to kill. Walkers were easy, but you had yet to fight an actual armed enemy.

While you wouldn’t give him a weapon, you were practicing your fight skills with Negan whenever he was in your home at night. This was more for his benefit than yours, but the two of you would take turns in practicing hand-to-hand.

Lydia would watch on with curiosity as you and Negan exchanged punches and holds. Negan would then give her tips on how to move with her weapon, how to keep balanced, and even where to strike on both Living and Dead threats.

That training came in handy now as you and Michonne moved forward, swinging your swords. The sun glinted off the metal as you fought back to back, taking the Walkers down by removing their heads from their shoulders.

Daryl joined the fight as soon as the Walkers began to overwhelm the fighters. His dual knives cut through the Walkers easily. You were so used to seeing Daryl fight long-distance with his bow just as you once excelled at with your rifle, but this was a whole new Daryl.

There was zero hesitation in his strikes and you had to keep focused on your task so you didn’t get too distracted. Moving to cover Michonne, you slashed out at a pair of Walkers who were moving in on Kelly. With a single strike, their rotting heads rolled from their bodies.

A sharp sound came from behind you as Daryl shoved a knife into a Walker’s head that tried to grab you. You didn’t have time to thank him before Alden’s spear soared over your head and you ducked. The weapon found its target and you kept moving.

Taking out the remainder of the Walkers took some time, but between every fighter on that beach, you dispatched them cleanly and without incident. The final Walker that stumbled on the beach approached you and with a hard swing, you cut its head into two, your blade sliding right down the center of its skull.

With a hard pull, you removed the sword with a huff. As the body fell to the ground, you rested your blood-soaked blade on your shoulder, trying to relieve the fatigue that plagued your biceps.

Daryl, who was standing just a few feet away, watched as your weapon lay against your shoulder and it was oddly familiar. He watched as you dropped it back down to your side, but he saw it. It was hard not to. It was as if you were holding Lucille and not Jesus’ sword.

There were still a few left inside so you jogged up to help Ezekiel clear them out as Aaron began calling out orders. Once you finished working through the remaining Dead, Ezekiel let out a tired breath.

“Nicely done,” he said and then offered his hand for a high five. You obliged and tapped your palm to his.

“You too,” you said as you scraped the blood off your sword. You then noticed that he was looking at you with a tilted head. “What? Do I have Walker blood on my face?” you asked, worried.

“No, I just noticed something,” he said.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“You seem happy,” Ezekiel said.

“I am,” you said. “I didn’t think I would be able to feel this way after what happened at the fair, but all I feel is this underlying aura of happiness.”

“Are you worried that that is a bad thing?”

“I feel almost guilty to feel happiness after everything that happened. It almost feels inappropriate to feel any sense of joy, you know?”

“I do know,” he said sadly and then you immediately felt horrible.

“Your Majesty, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” you trailed off when he raised his hand.

“One, you don’t need to address me with that title,” he said. “And two, it’s okay. I miss him every day, but I can also understand that he would want me to smile on occasion.”

“Henry was a good boy,” you said, reaching out to grip his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing back. “I also know that many people aren’t happy with whom you’ve chosen to love.”

“Ezekiel…” you began, but he was already speaking.

“I don’t care,” he said. “I do not care who he is. I have just missed your smile. If Negan is who it takes for you to get that light back in your eyes, so be it. I think we have all missed that even if you haven’t realized it. I know what he’s done, but I know that you also know as well.”

“I do, but I can’t help but love him.”

“And that’s okay. It’s...unorthodox, but it’s okay. The heart wants what the heart wants, (Y/N).” You didn’t hesitate to reach out and hug the man before you. If that was the way that he thought then perhaps there would be more hope for those who disagreed with your new connection with the former enemy. However, there was also the realization that many would begin to shun you just because of your relationship with Negan.

In that rust-filled ship hold, you smiled at the king who had just lost his kingdom and realized that perhaps he understood at least that part of Negan’s past. As Negan once said, he knew what it felt like to lose a kingdom.

————

On your way back to the main area of Oceanside, you ran into Luke.

“Call on line two,” he joked as he handed you the radio. You immediately knew what he meant and with a roll of your eyes, you took the walkie from him and began walking away from the masses.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” you asked.

“I have to admit,” Negan said on the other line, “I feel like a teenager sneaking into the basement to call his secret love.”

“Some things never change then,” you said with a laugh as you found a boulder to sit on as you watched the waves crash against the shore.

“No, they do not,” he said and you could tell he was smiling. That thought sent a jolt into your chest.

“What did you do to get this privilege?”

“I may have paid off this kid, Brandon,” Negan said.

“With what? Tomatoes?” you asked, amused.

“Nope, just a little life advice and maybe some instructions on how to make moonshine,” he said smugly.

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned.

“You love it,” he teased.

“Mmhmm,” you said.

“Tell me about your day,” Negan said.

“We’ve been working on battle formations,” you said. “Daryl thinks that we need a stronger defense.”

“What do you think?” Negan asked.

“I think that someone needs to find me a gun so I can take Alpha out,” you admitted.

“Easy, Darlin’,” Negan said.

“Why? Why can’t I want the bitch dead?”

“Oh, you definitely can. I just think that perhaps you may wanna think it through before going all Terminator.”

“In order to do that, I’d need a gun and we are out of bullets,” you said and then your hand found its way around your neck where the old shell casing Daryl had given you hung on a chain.

“I wish I could help,” he said and then you sighed, leaning back on the boulder.

“You are helping,” you said. “You’re keeping me sane.”

“That’s a first. Especially cause I specifically remember you telling me that I drive you crazy. I think you were on top that time.”

“Wow, you are such a romantic,” you said, but you were smiling nonetheless.

“I am the best at romance, trust me.”

“Always do,” you said without hesitation.

“God, I fucking miss you,” he said.

“I miss you, too,” you said as you watched Aaron take down another water-logged Walker.

“What else is going on?” Negan asked.

“Carol is comin’ back today,” you said, turning your gaze to the horizon.

“I’m sure Daryl is thrilled about that,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ah, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed those two? I clocked it the first time I saw them together.”

“There’s nothing going on between Daryl and Carol,” you said with a dismissive scoff.

“Right, and I’m the damn Pope,” Negan said.

“No, you’re not. The hat wouldn’t look good on you,” you argued.

“Uh, I look good in everything, (Y/N). Don’t lie to yourself.”

“This is true,” you agreed, trying not to smile.

“Speaking of,” Negan said. “What are you wearing?”

“And we are changing the subject now,” you said.

“Buzzkill,” he countered.

“Perv,” you shot back.

“Oh, shut up, you know you love me.”

“Lord help me, but I do,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Knew it,” he said. You smiled, but then turned the conversation onto something else.

“How’s Lydia?” you asked, worried about the teen.

“She seems okay,” Negan said. “I talked to her this morning. She misses you,” he said.

“Yeah, I miss her, too,” you said. “I’ll be home soon, though. Is anyone messin’ with her?” you asked, concerned she was going to be met with the negativity that should only be reserved for her mother and her former family.

“Just the odd dirty look behind her back so far,” Negan assured you. “Nothin’ she can’t handle.”

“You don’t know that,” you said. “She hasn’t had to be around people beside Whisperers. Let alone people her own age.”

“Well, she’s got you now, so I know she’s gonna be okay,” Negan said gently and you let out a breath, letting his words soothe you.

“Just please keep an eye on her when you can please,” you asked him.

“Don’t worry, I got her,” he promised. You were relishing in the sound of his voice when you realized that you needed to get going. You were then wishing for a time machine to go back to when unlimited minutes were available on cell phones. “What are you thinkin’?” he asked.

“That I should get goin’,” you said with a sigh. “I know Luke wanted me to help him set up dinner with Jules.”

“Who’s Luke again?” he asked.

“Uh, the violin guy. New group,” you explained.

“Right…” Negan trailed off.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin’, just… Is he keepin’ his hands to himself?” Negan asked and you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. So, instead of calming his nerves, you decided to have some fun.

“Nope, he is definitely not,” you said nonchalantly. “In fact, we’ve already had a steamy make-out session and Cyndie has agreed to marry us at sunset. Daryl is giving me away and Jude is gonna be the flower girl. I think it will be a wonderful ceremony. I’ll send you a piece of cake.”

Negan was quiet for a moment and you figured he was either rolling his eyes or staring off in the distance as he sighed deeply. Eventually, he pressed the talk button and said, “You really need to work on your sense of humor.”

“And you need to get back to work before Brandon realizes that you don't actually know how to make moonshine,” you said.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“See you soon.”

“I love you,” he said softer and you leaned your head against the radio.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, and then, static returned to the channel.

You let the radio rest in your hand for a moment as you thought of him. Being together for all those months without any break was almost like living a different life and now it felt alien to be away from him.

Hopping off the boulder, you began to head back to find Luke. “Who was that?” Jumping at the voice, you turned to see Connie and Kelly behind you.

“Jesus Christ,” you swore, signing as you did. Connie snorted.

“Nope, just me,” Connie signed and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, who was that?” Kelly asked.

“Nobody,” you said with a shrug, but after knowing the sisters for a while now, you knew they saw right through your bullshit.

“Right,” signed Connie. With a sigh you relented.

“It was my boyfriend,” you explained. Connie and Kelly both raised their brows at that.

“Why do I feel like that wasn’t a positive reaction?” Kelly signed to her sister.

“Because,” Connie began, “they are with Negan.”

“Who’s Negan?” Kelly asked you and then you told your story. Connie had to remind you of a few signs such as “baseball bat” and “murderous widow”. You managed to finish without straying from the main train of thought and when you did, Kelly whistled low. “Shit,” she said.

“Tell me about it,” you said.

--------

After helping Luke and Jules set up the fire pit, you went in search of Aaron, but you found Daryl and Carol first.

“Look who’s back,” you said as you approached Carol. She reached out to hug you tightly.

“Good to see you,” Carol said.

“You too,” you said with a smile and then tapped your fist against Daryl’s. It was then that Negan’s comment came back to you. You couldn’t help but try to see what he was seeing when he looked at the duo. Perhaps he was right after all.

“What?” Daryl asked

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but he was still looking at you with narrowed eyes through his messy hair.

“Right,” he said. “We were just talkin’ about Maggie.”

“Anyone heard from her lately?” you asked as you began to walk beside them.

“Not yet,” Daryl said. “She has been checking in less and less lately.”

“Are you worried?” you asked and then turned to Carol, “Is he worried?”

“He’s Daryl,” Carol said, causing the man on her left to roll his eyes.

“I hate when the two of you are together,” he muttered and Carol hooked her arm in his, playful leaning her head on his shoulder.

He let her of course and you could just hear Negan saying, “I told you so, Teach,” in your mind. You hated when he was right.

“You worried about her findin’ out about Negan?” Carol asked and you shot Daryl a look.

“Yeah, I told her,” Daryl said. “You ain’t really making it a secret.”

“Guess not,” you sighed. “I don’t know, Carol. I don’t really want to imagine what her reaction would be. The woman scares me enough.”

“Ya weren’t that close,” Daryl said.

“Close enough,” you said.

You and Maggie had an odd relationship. While you were close with both Glenn and Beth, you and Maggie were never particularly close enough to be considered good friends. You had each other’s backs and you cared for her, but you never really knew what she was thinking.

“I think she’d hit you,” Carol said casually.

“Thank you, Carol. Your support is incredible,” you quipped and she just gave you a wink.

“Come on, we have bigger things to worry about, right?” Carol asked.

“You got that right,” Michonne said as she jogged up to you three. She carried something in her hand and when she raised it, Carol froze at Daryl’s side. It was one of the Whisperer’s masks. “We need to talk.”

--------

“It washed downstream,” Rachel said as she looked at the mask on the table. You and the leaders were standing around one of the tables in the main meeting room trying to figure out what to do next. “It could have been from months ago.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” said Michonne.

“Thoughts?” Carol asked, looking at her friend.

“It could be something, but it could be nothing.”

“We’ve agreed to her damn borders,” Daryl said from his spot next to Cyndie.

“Which we shouldn’t have done,” you added.

“I agree,” said Carol.

“And then what? She kills more of us?” Michonne said. “It’s not that simple and you know it.” Carol was quiet then, stewing in her own thoughts about the woman who murdered her son.

“We need to tell Hilltop and Alexandria,” Enid pointed out. She and Alden had taken on roles of leadership along with Ezekiel at Hilltop.

“I’ll go call Gabriel,” Daryl said as he grabbed the radio and left the room to contact Alexandria. You were staring at the mask before you and you remembered a moment from a few months ago...

It was the middle of the night and you were out walking the streets of Alexandria, trying to shake off your nightmares. The weather was better so Negan was back in his cell. You had begun to walk to him, only to be sidetracked by the sound of the windmill. You stood there in the dark, staring up at the moving blades and a feeling crept up your spine.

It was almost as if someone was watching you. Scanning the darkness, you only saw shapes that were slightly illuminated by the moonlight. Still, that feeling followed you as you continued to pace around the community. Eventually, you found yourself at the stables, stroking the horses to calm yourself. You had been able to not think about the Whisperers for moments at a time, but in the dark of night, you could only think about the way they moved and the way they whispered to one another.

Looking down at that mask with its hollow eyes now made you feel sick. It was as if it was a message from Beta, telling you that he always knew where you were, where Lydia was. While Alpha scared you, Beta was who your nightmares were about. Alpha was smart, cunning, and ruthless, but Beta was her sword and Beta was going to be the one that struck first, you were sure of it.

“(Y/N)?” Enid said, snapping you out of your memory. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, not looking at her. “Excuse me,” you said before following Daryl out of the room and back into the fresh air of Oceanside.

You didn’t look back as you kept moving towards the water, taking in deep breaths of the salty air. You tried to focus on the waves and how they crashed into one another on the shore, but it was hard to think of anything that didn’t send your heart into a panic.

Your hand gripped your sword at your side and you felt as if your fingers were about to break, but you tried to steady yourself.

It was just a mask.

Except, it wasn’t.

You felt a nudge at your back and turned to see Dog standing behind you. Connie was walking up behind him, giving you a friendly smile. You smiled back, scratching Dog behind his ears.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” you said.

“I did not mean to call your boyfriend out like that earlier,” she said with a frown. You waved her off.

“It’s okay, Connie,” you said. “He’s not a secret, at least I’m trying not to make him that.”

“He is lucky to have someone who cares for him that deep,” she signed.

“Thanks,” you said, turning your eyes to the setting sun. Connie got your attention again as she began signing.

“Are you going home?” she asked.

“I might have too,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t like Lydia being there alone.”

“She is a good kid,” Connie said. “I can see that you care about her.” You nodded, agreeing with Connie’s statement. You also knew that Connie had a soft spot for the teenager as well. She had been with Daryl when they rescued Lydia and Henry from the Whisperer camp and brought them back to Alexandria and then the fair. You also knew that Connie felt guilty for what happened to Henry, you all did.

“I’m not sure how that happened,” you said. “We just connected.”

“You know,” she continued, “you would be a great parent.”

“Easy there, Connie,” you said with raised brows.

“Just saying,” she said with a shrug. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it before, becoming a parent. You knew that your friends had done it. Maggie, Rosita, Aaron, and of course Carol, but you never saw yourself in that light. At least not until you found Alexandria and began to take care of Judith when Rick was still around. He trusted you with both of his kids and then Aaron did as well with Gracie.

As a teacher, you loved teaching and taking care of kids, but after Elliot’s death, you shied away from the possibility of ever taking care of one of your own. However, now, with Negan in the picture, perhaps taking care of one wouldn't be that bad. Especially if it was Lydia.

“Does he love you?” Connie asked after a moment.

“He does,” you answered easily. “But it’s complicated.” Connie shook her head then.

“There is a reason that the past stays behind us, (Y/N),” Connie said.

“Not after what he did,” you said with a meaningful look.

“Nobody is a saint. That was taken from all of us as soon as the first Dead began to walk.” Connie then reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tightly in her own.

“You’re wise,” you said and Connie scoffed and then let go so she could use her hands again.

“No, I just know how to see people in a different light,” she explained.

“How?”

“I try to see them as people who make mistakes, and not mistakes masked as people,” she said and you smiled at that.

“Thanks, Connie,” you said and you really meant it.

“Anytime.”

-------

You were heading back towards the cabin that you were sharing with Daryl and his dog when you ran into Judith.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, concerned.

“Tomorrow,” you said, already having decided that you would ride for Alexandria the following morning. Judith frowned then, her attention on her boots. “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’m worried about Negan,” she admitted.

“Why?” you asked, kneeling down so you could see her better.

“People are angry,” she said with a sigh. Her hat was low as she tried to avoid your eyes. You reached out and pushed it off her head, taking her shoulders in your hands. She looked at you with those eyes that reminded you so much of Shane. Regardless of what that man did, he helped make an incredible kid and you saw him in her eyes every time.

“They’re mad at Alpha, not Negan,” you assured her, trying to soothe her nerves.

“I don’t think that matters,” she said, kicking at a loose seashell.

“I know,” you said, brushing a piece of hair off her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I know you care about him.” Judith nodded and then moved forward to wrap her arms around your neck, resting her head against the junction between your neck and your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” you asked, squeezing her back as she held you

“I like that you see him as a human being,” she said and you nearly cried at her words. You just held the little Grimes back.

“I always will,” you promised.

“No matter what?” she asked.

“Yeah, kid. No Matter what.”

Tags:

@cameronsails @lucillethings @stark-dreams

@amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor

#walkerwords #savior sessions #twd imagine #the walking dead #negan imagine #negan x reader #negan x you #Negan x gn reader #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead fanfiction

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tigerkirby215 · 2 years

Text

Talking about Unearthed Arcana: Heroes of Krynn

(Artwork by Yuhong Ding of West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

https://media.wizards.com/2022/dnd/downloads/UA2022HeroesofKrynn.pdf

It’s been awhile since we got a UA, and here we are with some content straight from Dragonlance! I don’t know much about Dragonlance so I’m purely judging this as an outsider looking in. They’ve done a lot of experimental stuff with this UA; is it for the better? Ehhhhh...

RACE - THE KENDER

So my literal only knowledge about the Kender before this was my one DM who really fucking hated Kender, like to the degree that I hate Vedalken. However browsing on Reddit it seems that a lot of people who have played a Dragonlance campaign really fucking hate the Kender because of their kleptomania (but not really I’m not going to go in-depth into it.) I’m not going to judge the race based on their lore and purely evaluate the stat block, so what have we got?

Brave - This is more-or-less directly lifted from Halflings. Never a bad thing to have, but their small size makes it a little harder to play this race as a martial (who’d benefit the most from being able to cleanse fears.)

Kender Ace - Reddit has been bitching about how poorly designed this ability is and uh... Yeah. Being able to produce an item out of thin air is useful but the fact that it’s almost completely random is what hurts this ability and makes it so aggravating to both use and DM for. But let’s evaluate the options:

1. The gold is obviously magical and no shopkeeper with half a brain is going to accept it. Especially from a Kender.

2. This consists of a Club, Dagger, Handaxe, Light Hammer, and Sickle. The ability to produce a thrown weapon has some implications, and similarly with the ability to produce either a bludgeoning (skeletons) or slashing (vines) weapon. Reddit has also pointed out that these weapons are technically magical, making them usable to bypass nonmagical resistance.

Honestly I don’t get why the “Light” limitation was added because that cuts a total of 5 weapons (Greatclub, Javelin, Mace, Quarterstaff, Spear.) Overall there’s so few situations where you’d want to pull a weapon from this ability since not carrying a weapon in the first place is a dumb idea unless you want to intentionally gimp yourself for roleplay purposes. There’s maybe some funny interactions you can do with giving an NPC a weapon or producing a thrown weapon but that’s not worth having as a racial feature.

3. For the sake of completion here’s a full list of what you can produce (which means I have to fuck up Tumblr’s formatting and also make this post way longer than it needs to be)

Arrows (20)

Blowgun Darts (50)

Sprig of Mistletoe (Druidic Focus)

Totem (Druidic Focus)

Bell

Candle

Crossbow Bolt case

Scroll / Map case

Chalk

Flask / Tankard

Ink Pen

Lamp

Mess Kit

Oil (1 flask)

Paper (1 sheet)

Parchment (1 sheet)

Piton

Pouch

Quiver

Sack

Sealing Wax

Soap

Tinderbox

Torch

Vial (empty)

Whetstone

Of that list there are a few that stand out excluding the obvious pick of arrows (it's a free 20 arrows to give to the party archer) and oil (free oil for a lamp.)

A bell can be used to make a trap or alarm.

A candle or sealing wax both provide wax which can be used for a variety of useful (if admittedly temporary) features such as maxing wax molds or rubbings.

A case (for either crossbow bolts or a map / scroll) can be used to store important small objects and documents. Good if going through a waterlogged area, or if you just want to hide something. Same with a pouch, quiver, or sack.

Chalk (or a candle / sealing wax if the DM allows them to be colored) can be used to mark important objects on walls / floors.

Anything made of glass (Flask, Vial) can be smashed to make sharp glass for a trap, or smashed in someone's face if push comes to shove.

Anything flammable (Sprig of Mistletoe, Totem, Candle, Paper, Parchment, Torch) has that going for it.

Speaking of flammable: a lamp can keep a fire safe if you need it for light in an area where an exposed flame would be snuffed easily. (High winds or waterlogged area.)

Also speaking of flammable: a tinderbox is never bad to have

A mess kit, along with being good for etiquette, contains a variety of kitchen utensils that can be useful in a variety of situations. (Cup to carry liquids, forks and knives to do pokey stuff, spoon to dig technically, the mess kit itself can be fashioned into a pan which can be used as an improvised weapon.)

A piton can be used as a door-stopper, or wedged between something to jam it.

I know a bar of soap has adventuring uses but bugger me if I can remember them.

A whetstone is a good rock which can be good for chuckin'. (Possibly with the Magic Stone cantrip.) Alternatively you can sharpen your weapons which is not the worst idea.

4. Trinkets are fun but they’re mostly gimmick items, and I doubt any DM will let you pull out anything useful. Still: you can roll on the trinket table and have a bit of RP fun with whatever you find.

5. Neither are bad to have in a pinch but neither are the kind of thing you wouldn’t already have on-person. The grappling hook can be good to attach to a rope you won’t need later, and the crowbar is sorta there as insurance more than anything.

6. Very similar to the equipment creation, only for tools (which are more limited) with a bigger price tag. Again here’s a full list of what you can pull out with this:

Calligrapher’s Supplies

Carpenter’s Tools

Cobbler’s Tools

Cook’s Utensils

Leatherworker’s Tools

Mason’s Tools

Painter’s Supplies

Potter’s Tools

Weaver’s Tools

Woodcarver’s Tools

Herbalism Kit

(The following are technically listed under the “tools” section but are either Gaming Sets or Musical Instruments.)

Dice set

Dragonchess set

Playing Card set

Three-Dragon Ante set

Drum

Flute

Horn

Shawm

All tools have their uses, especially if you use Xanathar's rules for tools. However there are a few that stand out I think:

Calligrapher’s Supplies and Painter’s Supplies both theoretically come with ink, which (like chalk) can be used to mark important things in a dungeon.

Carpenter’s Tools may contain tools to easily break or reshape wooden objects into something useful. If someone is carrying something to use as glue (or nails, for some reason) you can make a variety of useful wooden objects on the fly.

Mason’s Tools often contain tools to break smaller stones, which may be useful.

Woodcarver’s Tools likely contains some small sharp objects that can be used as improvised weapons.

A Herbalism Kit is probably the most useful tool of the bunch, as it can be used to identify plants.

A Playing Card (or Three-Dragon Ante) set contains a bunch of flammable playing cards. Alternatively you can try to use a playing card as a makeshift lockpick depending on your DM.

A Drum or a Horn can both easily create loud noises that can be used as an alarm or to startle foes.

Overall when you consider that over half the options on this list are memes (1, 2, and 4 are essentially useless) this is a racial trait you can use proficiency bonus times for long rest that has a 50/50 chance of being useless, and even if you do get one of the “good” options often the tools or the crowbar won’t be that helpful. The only good option is being able to produce an equipment item, and I’d much rather this ability expand upon that one option instead of giving these 6 different options that only serve to frustrate both the player and the DM.

Taunt - Should I rewrite my Teemo build to make him a Kender? Jokes aside Teemo still makes more sense as a Gnome. Will all that being said this is basically a Bonus Action Vicious Mockery (without damage) which is... alright?

(Artwork by Horace “Hozure” Hsu. Made for Riot Games.)

The big question to ask is why does this have a limited amount of charges from a lore standpoint. I understand the game design reason but the point does stand that making someone mad having a limited amount of charges is weird. I feel like this should be 1 use per Short Rest but I know WoTC is phasing out Short Rests. My only other complaint is that this also gives enemies disadvantage to hit you which again: I understand from a game design perspective but in terms of abilities it feels weird to me.

---

In conclusion Kender Ace needs a big rework but I think the race is fine on a pure conceptual level. They feel rather boring to me is the thing and while I know the lore will likely carry them for the people who are interested the actual racial traits leave a lot to be desired in my humble opinion.

(I get to use Legends of Runeterra artwork yay! Artwork made by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

SORCERER - LUNAR MAGIC

This subclass is... messy, to say the least. It feels like it’s trying to do way too much at once and ends up being overloaded as a result. (Just like the average Season 10 League of Legends champion; badum-tiss!)

LEVEL 1 - MOON FIRE

Sacred Flame is a good damaging cantrip and being able to hit two enemies instead of one (even if it’s situational) is very strong. Thing is Sorcerers get cantrips up the ass so giving them one for free (especially one that will be stronger than most other options they can grab) is questionable to say the least? Still: I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s a very fun and evocative feature for the fantasy the subclass is looking to fill.

LEVEL 1 - LUNAR EMBODIMENT

So you get fifteen additional spells known?! To call that excessive would be an understatement! And these are good spells too: the only duds imo are Darkness and Bestow Curse, and even then those spells aren’t bad.

The Full Moon has the best spell list by far. There’s little reason to pick the Crescent Moon imo since all the spells are situational.

LEVEL 6 - LUNAR BOONS

Wow this is huge. It’s essentially a free boost to the number of Sorcery points you have equal to your proficiency bonus. Considering that Sorcery points are kinda your main thing as a Sorcerer getting more of them is never bad.

Crescent Moon is still the worst option since the vast majority of Divination spells are situational. (Transmutation is alright though and there’s a lot of them.) Full Moon is also a bit iffy since a lot of the Abjuration and Conjuration spells don’t get much of a benefit from using Sorcery points on them, excluding obvious options like Quickened Spell.

LEVEL 6 - WAXING AND WANING

So your 5 free spells from Lunar Embodiment now turns into 15 for the low low price of 2 Sorcery points, and getting bad Lunar Boons doesn’t even matter because you can just swap them on the fly.

Ima be real with you chief I feel like this shouldn’t be a thing. Honestly I think you should just be forced to pick a specific moon state and have that be your whole subclass.

LEVEL 14 - LUNAR EMPOWERMENT

Full Moon lets you turn into a discount Paladin, once again furthering my opinion that Full Moon is the best option. New Moon is also nice with both combat and non-combat benefits. Crescent Moon is still garbage but hey at least it has its uses, and combines well with the level 6 ability Waxing and Waning.

LEVEL 18 - LUNAR PHENOMENON

Honestly for a level 18 class feature these are kinda... bad? I mean, Full Moon can do good damage yeah but you need to be within 30 feet of your foes as a Sorcerer with a d6 hit die. New Moon is a little better as an escape tool but it still requires you to get close as a Sorcerer. And Crescent Moon is just a slightly better Misty Step.

Overall these options are at least nice because they’re a Bonus Action (and since they’re not spells you can cast regular spells alongside them) but even then they feel somewhat underwhelming to me as 18th level features. I also feel like they have no synergy with what the subclass was originally intended to be, which primarily seems to be a Sorcerer with a “spell school” that gets empowered abilities based on which spell schools you choose to focus on.

---

Overall I like the idea of the Moon Sorcerer but I feel like it should either be three sub-subclasses (that can’t swap between moon states) or three whole separate subclasses entirely. It ABSOLUTELY shouldn’t get FIFTEEN WHOLE SPELLS FOR FREE and I also think Lunar Boons is a bit too strong for its own good.

But beyond that? It’s salvageable. Not like some of the UA subclasses we got in Tasha’s (Astral Self, Fey Wanderer) which essentially had to be reworked from the ground-up. Overall I think the core concept is good but the balance needs some major tweaking.

BACKGROUNDS

I’m not going to talk about them much (they’re very specific to the Dragonlance setting which I don’t know much about, and are basically the Soldier / Knight background and the Sage background) but I will talk about how they’re seemingly adopting more of the mechanics from the Strixhaven backgrounds.

I didn’t like how the Strixhaven background gave you feats as background features and I don’t like it here either. I found the Strixhaven backgrounds extremely restrictive as it essentially forced you to take a student background unless you wanted to be objectively worse than everyone else, and it restricted the Strixhaven backgrounds to only be used in a Strixhaven campaign.

I understand these backgrounds are only meant to be used in their specific settings but being unable to easily modify these backgrounds to fit another setting is annoying. I know from personal experience having played two “Rakdos Cultist” characters and having played with a “Simic Scientist” outside of Ravnica that these backgrounds can still be played outside of their main setting with their features and background traits in mind. With that being said let’s talk about those background traits, or rather the lack there-of:

These backgrounds have 6 traits, no bonds, no ideals, and no flaws. I didn’t like it when they did this with Strixhaven and I don’t like it now. I see no need to do more than just quote myself in the Reddit thread I just linked:

I know that for some people ideals, bonds, and flaws are more of a nuisance than anything, but I personally find them to be great inspiration when making a character. Rolling on these tables for backgrounds I found interesting has allowed me to make up characters on the fly, and also add personality traits that I wouldn't have otherwise given my characters. So seeing backgrounds essentially be ignored (...) is extremely disappointing

(May as well post more League artwork. Artwork by Xiao Guang Sun of West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

FEATS

We’re seeing the reintroduction of feat trees! After the... lukewarm reception to Strixhaven I’m glad to see them looking at branching feats again. The only comment I can really make is that 5e doesn’t give enough ASIs to make taking multiple feats worth it. But I don’t think that devalues feat trees as a DM can simply allow more feats in their game.

With that being said there’s three different sets of feats that we’ve got to talk about, being the Divine feats, the “Sorcery” feats (or perhaps “Robes” feats? The caster feats), and the Knight feats:

Divinely Favored - I actually really like this feat as it allows you to bring some divine power to any of your characters. My only complaint is that it feels extremely main character-like. Oh and that this is basically just worse Magic Initiate.

Divine Communications - Amazing RP feat; kinda a bad feat on its own. Just let the Cleric cast these spells if you really need them.

Initiate of High Sorcery - Black Moon is best by far as you can grab one of three very strong cantrips along with Healing Word. White Moon is second best cuz cantrips are bad but you can get Find Familiar. Red Moon is trash: not worth a worthless 1st level spell just to get Guidance. Of course the big caveat is the feats they lead into.

Adept of the Black Robes - There's some decent spells for this feat. That being said Life Channel is fucking trash: oh yeah I'm going to waste my d6 hit die as a Wizard or d8 hit die as a Cleric to do like 12 more damage with my third level spell. Considering that you don't add CON to this it's a massive waste, but even if you did it would still be horrible.

Adept of the Red Robes - You get Heat Metal which is never bad? Everything else is kinda meh. Magical Balance is alright: it's the Clockwork Soul's Trance of Order ability on a much smaller scale. It has its uses but I wouldn't go out of my way to get this feat really.

Adept of the White Robes - Worth it for Find Steed alone, but there's a ton of crazy good Conjuration spells at 2nd level (also Aid and Lesser Restoration, I guess) Protective Ward is kinda poop unless you're playing a class that can afford to spend its spell slots: the two classes I'm thinking of are either a Ranger or an unbelievably generous Warlock, but you could also play a more martial-focused caster (Swords Bard, Bladesinger Wizard, Artificer?) and still get use out of this ability. With all that being said: Protective Ward is almost always objectively worse than just casting a spell. Still worth taking this feat just for Find Steed though.

Squire of Solamnia - Free Medium armor rather ironically makes this feat really damn good for casters and fucking garbage for martials, but thing is I’m honestly okay with there being an easier way for a caster to get armor proficiency. (As long as it’s not attached to a background.) The other two abilities are honestly kinda shit and this feat overall feels like trash.

Knight of the Crown - Woah Pack Tactics on a stick. This is particularly good depending on your team comp (ironically enough not that good with Rogues; very good with Paladins though) and a pretty solid feat overall.

Knight of the Sword - Woah okay now this is powerful! Even if you can only (successfully) use it once most martial classes can afford to throw a hit die away to save an ally from a devastating saving throw.

Knight of the Rose - Hey look guys its Inspiring Leader but bad. I mean it can obviously be taken alongside Inspo and it allows low-Charisma classes (such as Barbarians which this feat synergizes with very well) to give out Temp HP but... I fail to see any situation where you'd want this over Inspo Leader.

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

FINAL THOUGHTS

This UA felt very experimental, which both a good and a bad thing. We got a lot of unique ideas but a lot of it felt poorly balanced and just outright poorly designed. But overall there isn’t anything I particularly “hate” in this UA other than the fact that they’re making more backgrounds with feats attached, since I still firmly believe that’s not a healthy direction for the game. But I’m excited to see the final version of all this content in the potential new Dragonlance book!

#Unearthed Arcana #dnd #dnd 5e #dragonlance #review #discussion #feats #Sorcerer #kender

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ythankucaptainmccoy · 3 years

Text

Triple Frontier: Unwanted Job Chapter 9

Guys I am sorry it has taken me so long to post this, but a lot of things have been going on. Thank you all that have given me the support I needed during this little hiccup, but I am back and ready to rock and roll! This is the next chapter and I want to let people know that the fics that have been requested are being written, but I am having some writers block with it so just bare with me. WARNINGS: Threats, Gunfire, Explosives, Explosions, Death, Upset Guys, Sorrow and Last I Love You.

Gif credit goes to the original creator

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It had been at least four days after Santiago and Benny had headed home, and Frankie was healed enough that Cait knew he really didn’t need her anymore. She needed to go home because it wasn’t fair to June to stay any longer than she actually needed. How was she supposed to tell Frankie that she needed to go. Maybe this whole relationship was jumped into a little too soon.

Frankie watched Cait as she fidgeted with the hem of his shirt she had on. The previous night they had both tumbled into bed, and he knew his handprints were still on her hips where he had gripped her a little too hard, but she had said it was fine and that it was hot. “Hey can we talk?”, she asked, breaking his memory of last night. He straightened at those four little words. Those four little words that he heard from previous girlfriends.

Those four little words that he never wanted to hear come from her mouth followed by “This won’t work”. “Yeah what about?”, he questioned. “Well you are healed up now, and you don’t really need me here”, she started and she noticed the way Frankie’s shoulders slump. “I mean I still want us to be together, it's just that I am going to have to go back to the ranch eventually”, she explained.

Frankie let out a breath he hadn’t meant to hold at her confession of still wanting to be together, but it was true she had responsibilities. He pondered a moment then spoke up, “How about you go back and I can come visit when I can. I know a pilot that flies out there for a small company every other weekend, and I can visit for the weekends and come back home in time for work”. Cait took in the information and it didn’t seem like a bad deal at all.

“Alright then I should go ahead and book a flight home then. Is it okay if I leave today. I have to make sure that everything at home is okay”, she told him. “Yeah that should be fine. You know I think I miss you already”, he told her making his way to her. “Oh I think you are strong enough to survive without me Francisco Morales”, she smiled. He loved hearing her say his name especially when she was writhing under him with pleasure.

She turned around to plate some food she had been making, and he came up behind her grasping her hips and grinding into her. She gasped and turned smacking his chest playfully, “Francisco I am trying to serve you breakfast”, she tried sounding stern. “Mmmm I think I would rather have you for breakfast”, he growled. Cait smiled as he picked her up and lay her down on the table. He leaned over her and kissed her slowly, and eventually pulled his shirt off her body.

She watched as he kissed his way down her body taking it slow as if mapping every dip and curve as he went. That was one thing that she had come to love about him. He was always attentive and made sure she was comfortable with what he had planned before doing it. His eyes met hers as he kneeled down. Well she guessed that she would have to buy that plane ticket later as his mouth met her and she cried out.

X Two Hours Later X

Cait lies in bed with Frankie tucked against her side with his head lying on her chest. “Are you looking at plane tickets?”, he yawned. “No I was looking at cars”, she sighs. “Cars?”, he questioned. “Yeah I figured instead of taking a plane I could rent a car; drive and see some sites on the way back home”, she beamed. “Well you know I could tag along and catch a flight home”, he suggested.

“Frankie you're supposed to be back to work on Monday and you wouldn’t be able to make it back in time. Besides like you said you can catch your pilot friend and fly out to see me”, she replied. He knew she was right, but he didn’t like the thought of her driving alone. “I would much rather you take a plane, it is safer than traveling by car alone”, he worried. “I can still book a flight if that would make you feel better. Then I can have a road trip when you are fully healed, and can go camping”, she joked.

“I like the sound of that, but would the others be coming to or just the two of us?”, he asked. “Well that would be up to you I really wouldn’t care either way”, she answered. Cait had her things packed and Frankie helped her take it to the truck where he drove her to the airport. He helped her all the way until he had to stop before the security checkpoint. He pulled her in for a tight hug. “I really wish you could stay”, he mumbled into her hair. “I would, but there is a ranch and a good friend that I’m sure would like to get back to her normal life”, she sniffled.

When she pulled back Frankie had tears welling up and she let hers fall at that point. She turned to walk away, but before she made it two steps she twirled around and slammed into him for a lip bruising kiss. “You better go or you will miss your flight”, he whispered. “I know. I love you Francisco Morales and I will call you as soon as I land”, she told him pulling away. “I love you too hermosa”, he yelled as she walked to the security checkpoint. Once she was through her last look at Frankie made her heart break. He stood there with the look of a kicked puppy.

The flight was usual and she kept thinking of the past couple of weeks that she had stayed with Frankie and the confessions that they had made to each other. Could she really do this long distance relationship with him? Would he be able to do a long distance relationship or would he break it off when the newness wore off? She was still lost in thought when the plane touched down. She went to baggage claim where Benny was waiting for her.

“Where is June?”, she asked. “One of the cattle had a calf and she didn’t want to leave until she knew it was okay”, he replied. “Oh by the way can you grab my luggage I have a call to make”, she told him. “Ooooooo your boyfriend wants to know you made it safe and sound how cute”, he joked. “Fuck you Benny”, she giggled pulling out her cell. Two rings was all it took for Frankie to answer. “Hey I made it. Benny is picking me up as we speak”, she informed him. He sighed in relief and they spoke for a few minutes while Benny looked for her luggage. Once Benny found it she said goodbye to Frankie and hung up.

The ride home was filled with many jokes and updates on things around the ranch. When they pulled up to the house Cait noticed the door was open. “Did you leave the door open when you left?”, Cait asked. “No”, he replied. They made their way inside, but everything seemed to be in order. “Maybe the wind blew it open”, Cait dismissed. Benny didn’t look convinced, but let it go when June walked in. “Hey the new calf is here and doing good. He is going to be a strong bull”, June told them.

“So now that you're home I think me and Benny should let you get settled”, she smiled. Benny and June got their stuff and left with goodbyes and to call if Cait needed anything. She was texting Frankie as she checked on all the animals and made sure they were okay. As she made her way into the house she got an unsettling feeling. She hadn’t been truthful with Frankie when he had asked if everything was okay before they left his house for the airport.

She had received several text messages from the person posing as her vengeful ex, but she didn’t want to worry Frankie or the others. They had lives to get back to and more than likely it was a sick joke like they had said. Just as she started dinner there was a knock on the door, and she quickly grabbed an old revolver shoving it into the back of her jeans. When she opened the door Sheriff Lawson stood there.

“Sheriff Lawson what’s going on?”, she questioned. “Cait I think we need to talk”, he told her. “Oh please come in can I get you some coffee?”, she said as he came inside. “Coffee is fine. I came over because we got some startling news today, and I thought you should be notified”, he stated. She quickly started the coffee as Sheriff Lawson looked around. “Here you go”, Cait said, handing him a mug. “Cait have you received any threats or anything while you were gone?”, he asked, getting straight to the point.

“Yes I have, but I think someone is playing a sick prank”, she huffed. “Cait I’m here to tell you that those threats are real, and that Mason isn’t as dead as we thought he was”, he announced. Cait felt the floor beneath her give way as if the ground opened beneath her and she was falling. Sheriff Lawson had to catch her as she buckled. “Cait are you alright?”, he concernedly asked. She only nodded as fear gripped her heart then gave way to anger. “He threatened my friends and my friends family”, she growled.

“How is he still alive! How do you know that he is still alive!”, she seethed. “Here sit down and I’ll explain everything”, he told her. She let him help her into a chair and he waited until her breathing came back to normal before speaking. “Are you okay for me to explain?”, he asked. She nodded, but reality wasn’t all there at the moment, but she listened intently. “When you identified the body was there anything you remember that seemed off?”, Lawson questioned.

“Not really I mean the tattoo that Mason had didn’t look the same, but they told me that waterlogged corpses could be a little bloated causing a warped appearance, but other than that no, but I also wasn’t in the greatest mindset I mean he did try to kill us both”, she spouted. “Well the body that you identified was his twin brother. It seems he was working for a drug lord in South America, and a shipment of drugs went missing.”, he explained.

“So that’s why he tried to kill himself”, she supplied the missing piece. “It seems that way, but some of the drug traffickers we just brought in identified him, and we have photos from an informant that he is alive and well”, Lawson finished. “Cait I think you should have armed officers stationed here at the house or go into witness protection. From what these men told us he is after you”, he told her.

“No that isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine besides he still probably thinks I’m staying at… Oh my God no no no no”, she panicked. “Whats wrong?”, Lawson inquired. “Frankie I was staying with him when I was getting the threats I have to make sure he is ok. Thank you Sheriff, but I have some calls to make”, Cait said as she ushered him out the door. She waited until the Sheriff pulled out of the drive and out of sight before she called Frankie.

He answered groggily meaning he had been asleep. “Frankie listen to me my ex Mason is alive, that's who was sending those threats and texts. I just got visited by Sheriff Lawson and he told me he is after me. I don’t know why he would be after me. I haven’t done anything wrong”, she relayed. “Cait calm down it’s okay”, he tried to calm her. “No you don’t understand Frankie he wants me dead and he said it himself in those text messages that nothing would get in his way. Oh shit I have to call Will and the others I gotta go”, she hung up.

Frankie looked at the gun beside his bed and made sure it was loaded before he went and checked the doors. Everything was locked up, but now he was worried about Cait. She called Will and he answered and she could hear the baby crying. “Will, my ex Mason is back”, she told him and relayed everything Sheriff Lawson had said. “Cait you stay safe, and I’ll get the boys back together”, he said.

“No, I want him to think I’m still in the dark about this. Just call Benny and let him know the situation, but to stay with June. I don’t want to raise his suspicion that I’m onto him”, she sternly told him. “Cait I don’t like this, what are you planning?”, Will questioned. “Everything is going to be okay Will, I promise. You won’t hear from me for several days”, she told him before hanging up. Once she hung up the phone she made her way to the barn and grabbed her pack bags, then headed back inside to fill the bags with clothes and things she would need.

Before leaving she dialed the number that had been messaging her. “Hello Cait you have been ignoring me”, Mason sneered. “Listen you piece of shit I’m home now you want me you're gonna have to come get me”, she growled out and hung up. She left the phone on the kitchen counter. In about half an hour she was dressed warmly and attaching the pack bags to Takoda who snorted. Saddling Chief was easy and with another once over she hoisted herself into the saddle, and rode out into the night as if nothing were wrong.

Frankie had been trying Cait’s cell for the past hour, but nothing came of it so he quickly got dressed and packed a bag full of weapons and clothes into the truck and started driving. He called Santiago on the way and told him he couldn’t reach Cait, but all the sudden his phone started ringing. He answered the unknown number and it was Cait. “Frankie I just called to let you know that I’m okay, and you can let the boys know I’m under witness protection”, she told him.

“Cait I’m driving out there”, he told her. “No it’s okay I’m in good hands. Trust me Sheriff Lawson has his finest watching me. It's okay. I’ll call and check in on you every couple hours during the day”, she reassured him. “Cait are you sure you’re safe?”, he worried. “Yes I’ll be fine, and Frankie I love you. Talk to you tomorrow”, she said as she hung up. “I love you too novia”, he replied to thin air.

Frankie quickly called Santiago back and let him know that he was headed back home and that Cait said she would be fine. “I don’t know man this seems odd for her to go under witness protection”, he added. “I know but she said she would check in every couple hours a day so I will keep you and the boys on standby”, he agreed. “Alright man just stay safe and keep me posted”, Santi hung up.

Frankie was so wound up that he kept the bags of weapons and clothes packed just in case he needed to go get Cait. He paced for a while around his house, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It started to thunder outside and then the sound of rain hitting the roof helped him to relax some. It took a few hours of lying in bed before he was able to drift off to sleep.

Cait had just made it to the base of one of the mountains when she saw lightning off in the distance. She was headed to an old cave she had discovered one evening to hide out, and hope her plan worked. She got to the cave forty-five minutes later. It had taken her two hours of trails to get to the cave, but now she was safe and she ushered the horses inside with her. She took them several yards back until they reached the back of the cave.

Once they got settled she set up a small camp, and before too long she was able to start a fire right as the rain hit. She walked to the entrance and made sure to cover the entrance enough so people couldn’t see the light of her campfire. She waited several hours until the storm passed then saddled Takoda since he was the younger of the two horses. She put the fire out and made her way back to the house to set up for the next couple days.

The house was just as she left it and she went to the barn and went to the middle of it. Looking around making sure no one was around she pulled the hay bales away to reveal a small trap door. She needed to do this and she kept telling herself that as she pulled out several blocks of C-4 and all the things she would need. Cait had always worried that the cartel they knocked off in South America would come find her and this would be her version of a last stand.

Three hours later she had the entire house rigged to blow and now she just had to get the barn done. The barn being easier with the fuel she stored for the equipment. It only took an hour and a half for the barn, but now she just had to get a few things from her bedroom and she could leave. When she came into the house she had an overwhelming sense of sadness knowing that she would more than likely lose everything. She picked up a couple pictures taking them out of their frames and putting them in her saddlebags.

Moving around the bedroom she continued taking her pictures out of the frames. Most of them were her and the guys. The last couple things she grabbed were small family heirlooms, and eventually the saddlebags were full and she took them out back to Takoda who stood about fifty yards away. She put the saddlebags on and secured them then turned to go back to the house. She picked up her phone on the kitchen counter and sent a quick text to June.

Right as she was about to leave several headlights flashed in through the blinds and she could tell that this wasn’t good. No one would be visiting this late at night. It had to be her ex’s men there was no other explanation. Sure enough when she looked out a bunch of thugs along with Mason stepped out of the vehicles. “Cait I know your home. Such a lovely little ranch you have here”, he yelled.

Grabbing her phone she called Frankie, but he didn’t answer and it rolled to voicemail. She tried once more, but it rolled to voicemail so she left one. “Frankie I wanted to let you know that I love you so much. Mason is here at the ranch with his thugs. Whatever happens I want you to know that none of it is your fault. It’s my fault for getting you into this. I am so glad we spent those couple of weeks together. God this is so stupid, but I have to let you know that I imagined us settling down. Maybe having some kids”, she continued sniffling as tears started.

“Shit they are trying to break in the front door I gotta go. I love you Francisco Morales and don’t you ever forget that”, she cried as they shot into the window. Gunfire erupted as she took cover behind the counter. The phone dropped from her hand as she crawled towards the back of the cabin. The front door exploded into splinters causing Cait to scream. She had a split moment decision and made it. She ran and pressed the detonator and the whole house and barn went up in explosions and flames as Mason and the others hopped in the vehicles and tore out.

Frankie woke to his phone ringing that morning and seeing Benny’s name flash on the small screen. “Hey Benny what's going on?”, he answered. “She’s dead Cat they fucking killed her”, Benny sobbed into the phone. “What the hell are you talking abou… No you don’t mean. No she called me last night she was fine no no no no”, Frankie tried to stay calm. “They blew up her house and barn with C-4 man. They are saying her body won’t be found because of the explosion”, Benny wailed.

“NO SHE IS ALIVE AND FINE. I’M HEADING OUT THERE!”, Frankie yelled into the phone. He ended the call, and got into his truck heading out. He was trying to breathe and get his thoughts together. Cait couldn’t be gone not after they just got together and things were going so well. He had a long drive ahead and he was not going to stop unless he absolutely had to. He tried but couldn’t hold back tears at the thought of never being able to see her again. He called Santi and Santi agreed he would get a flight there that day. Then he called Tom explaining everything and that he was prepared to go to war with whoever had done this. Tom agreed to help and that he would get there as soon as he could.

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

That was a whirlwind and I hope you all enjoyed it. I know you all just love these cliffhangers. How will the guys cope and what is the fallout going to look like. Stay tuned and find out I’ll post as much as I can. Sorry for any errors I didn’t have time to go through and edit.

#Triple Frontier #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #oc x frankie morales #ben benny miller #william ironhead miller #santiago pope garcia #tom redfly davis #shits about to go down

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vixensheart · 4 years

Text

After Work

Rain sucked.

Really. It soaked into his hero suit, making the thick material cling to his skin. Which, did nothing to stop the chill from leaking into his bones. His hair, ever the mess, was plastered against his forehead, getting in his eyes, letting rainwater drip down his face, and all together making life a lot more difficult than it needed to be. Izuku pushed his bangs out of the way for the umpteenth time and sighed.

At least patrol was over with, finally.

It was a boring day, with crime rates being nonexistent, thanks in large part to the relentless rain that curtained the city. Izuku knew he should be grateful for the slow day; no crimes meant no lives at risk. But being out in weather like this was absolutely dreadful.

He thought briefly about stopping back at the agency to change. He really did. The thought of warm, dry clothes was so utterly enticing, but then Izuku realized he’d have to trudge back through the torrential downpour, just to get home, thus retroactively negating getting dry in the first place. So here he was, still decked out in his hero gear, soaked through to the bone and shivering, dragging his feet back to his apartment.

Izuku sighed. Just another block to go.

There weren’t many civilians out. Only a handful of people dared to brave the storm, huddled under their umbrellas and walking at a brisk pace, barely sparing Izuku a passing glance. Which was probably a good thing. Izuku wasn’t sure if anyone really wanted to see the current number four hero looking akin to a drowned rat.

He dashed across the street, boots sloshing through yet another puddle. Crap. Izuku shivered, wincing as he felt more chilled rainwater slosh into already waterlogged his shoes. There was no escaping the many puddles that littered the streets and alleyways, and Izuku had honestly given up hours ago. That didn’t mean he liked getting water in his boots, however. It was cold, and wet, and he was starting to lose sensation in his toes.

Izuku just bent his head and powered onward, thoughts of a warm shower, dry clothes, and a much needed nap filling his mind. Just a little farther, and he could get out of this costume. And get warm. And get out of this awful rain.

When his building finally appeared around the corner, Izuku felt like he could cry with relief. He didn’t, of course; crying would take too much energy. Energy he did not have, thanks to the dreary and dreadful day. He fumbled for his wallet, hidden in one of the many pouches on his utility belt, and pulled out his keycard. Or, tried to. His cumbersome gloves paired with his numb fingers made things rather difficult. Which left Izuku standing outside his apartment building, fighting with his wallet for a good five minutes before he finally managed to free his keycard and swipe himself inside.

Stupid security measures. Izuku got it; safety was vital, especially given how many celebrities and heroes lived in this complex. But dammit, he just wanted a warm shower. Was that really too much to ask?

Apparently it was- Izuku got stopped by the doorman, who insisted upon asking him about his day, which while quite polite, left Izuku shivering miserably and dripping all over the white tile floors.

Then, he missed the elevator and had to wait for it to travel six floors up- and yes, he counted- before coming back down. And of course, just as he was getting on, another five people dashed up, hollering for him to hold the elevator. Izuku did, of course; he was raised to be polite, after all. But he grit his teeth the whole time, shivering and trying to not look as pathetic as he felt.

Of course, because life apparently hated Izuku in that moment, each person needed a different floor. Because of course they did. So, Izuku had to wait as the elevator stopped five different times, on five different floors, before he could get to his. Why he ever agreed to stay in a ten story building downtown, Izuku didn’t know. He was certainly regretting such decisions, now.

The elevator finally pinged for his floor, and Izuku stumbled out, heaving a sigh.

Ugh.

He was dragging by the time he reached the appropriate apartment door. Unable to even lift his boots, the staccato squelches came accompanied by the squeaks of wet sneakers on linoleum. Izuku fumbled with his keys. His numb fingers made things difficult, and curses crowded his tongue. Dang it. He resorted to yanking his gloves off with his teeth and letting them flop onto the doormat. It helped; Izuku was able to get the right key into the doorknob at last.

One twist and the door sprung open. Izuku fumbled his way inside, kicking at his gloves to get them across the doorway. He’d pick them up, but he was so tired. Izuku was afraid that if he bent over now, he’d fall over and wouldn’t be able to get back up.

The floor would be too comfortable, and his limbs too leaden.

Once Inside, Izuku was met with warmth and the savory smells of dinner. He somehow managed to shoulder the door closed behind him, and began the ever difficult process of untying and kicking off his boots. The strings were soggy and waterlogged, making Izuku grimace. Gross. His fingers, now tingly, still felt cumbersome as he tugged at the knotted string. Izuku leaned heavily against the wall for balance as he muscled his shoes off, a sigh breezing past his lips as he freed his feet from their cumbersome and damp confines. There. He picked up the boots and placed them on the mat with the rest of the neatly organized shoes. The socks came off next; Izuku ripped them off, grimacing at the way they dripped.

Ugh.

Distantly, Izuku registered the sounds of rustling and movement from within the apartment, but his mind was singularly focused. He trudged past the living space and kitchen, staggering his way to the bedroom. There was a pause, and the clank of dishes echoed through the space. “Izuku?” a voice called. He managed a hand wave as he crossed the threshold, hands already fumbling to remove his rain drenched costume.

A shiver wracked his body as he peeled away the soggy fabric. He stripped down to his boxers, dumping the wet costume in the hamper with a sigh. Izuku ran a hand through his damp hair. Should he shower now, or…?

Warm hands caressed his shoulders, skidding down to his waist. Izuku hummed and leaned into the touch. The warmth and care chased the chill away, and he melted as Ochako pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Hey,” she murmured.

He smiled. “Hey.”

“Long patrol?”

Izuku shrugged. “Boring, mostly. The weather was awful, though.”

She hummed, the vibrations tickling his skin from where she pressed against him. “I hate patrols in the rain,” Ochako murmured. “I always end up drenched.”

That was the understatement of the century, and Izuku couldn’t help the snort. He felt her smile curve into the back of his neck, and she hugged him tighter. “Go take a hot shower,” she said. “I’ll finish dinner, and then we can cuddle. Okay?”

Izuku twisted in her grasp so that he was facing her, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” he said, voice soft. It was moments like these, quiet, behind closed doors, that he liked the most. After it was all said and done, they took care of each other.

Rain sucked, but having a warm place to come to made it all better.

FIN

#izuocha #bnha #my hero academia #izuocha week 2020 #day one #after work #my writing #adventures in writing

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entropic-introspection · 3 years

Text

I'm vibing (❁´◡`❁)

Build process discussion below

Build started with the question: what blocks or colors do I not use very much? The really pink stuff. Ok, so what can I build with that color palette? Oh, there's spore blossoms! Hm, my base pattern looks good, but what if I play with height variations? Oh, now I want to make walls. How can I make a more building-type structure without loosing the weird base shape? I can make the roof shape weird. But what can I actually put on the roof? A garden! It's lacking color, how do I fix it? Color dome. Wait, how do I get up there? Adds vines and loops.

Even on a more decorative build, I like considering usability and accessibility. It helps keep you from making things too over-wrought, but it also puts you in the habit of thinking "how can I use this space" or "how will I even get into this space", both of which are important Minecraft questions. If something goes wrong and you don't have your preferred method of upwards travel (elytra, trident, ender pearl), you should still be able to get through your builds!

If you notice the stairs waterlogged in some pictures but dry in others, it's because I thought the waterlogged stair were making the sound of running water, which drives me crazy. I've done that pattern before and its quiet, so I though maybe it was just MC being weird again and dried out the stairs. Turns out, I had punched a hole through the roof with one of my farm canals.

(ノへ￣、)

#minecraft #on the one hand glass is a pain to work with. on the other hand: COLOR

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Glass Beetle

Based on a prompt by 2fruity4u for the Phic Phight! Might be sort of... fragmentary, in parts.

Danny frowned at his hand as it flickered in the evening's fading sunlight. He'd been having trouble with his invisibility lately. Nothing so obvious, for the most part, but both Sam and Tucker had noticed him 'blurring' or 'fading' around the edges this past week. He'd been able to correct himself so far, pull himself back into focus, so to speak, but, if that flicker was any sign, this was getting worse, not better.

He wondered if a new power was coming in. Sometimes his other powers acted weird when that happened. He hadn't noticed anything like that, though.

Either way, there wasn't all that much he could do about this. It wasn't as if he could just ask anyone what was wrong with his ghost powers.

Actually, that wasn't quite true. He did have a few ghostly allies. Sadly, they all lived (resided?) in lairs that took hours and hours to get to from the Fenton Portal. Lairs that also moved. He didn't really have the time to go find them.

Honestly, with all the schoolwork that had been heaped on him and his friends, he didn't have time to go do anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. Including sleep. He would give a lot to just be able to go to bed now, rather than whenever he finished his math homework. His extra math homework, assigned in lieu of detention. But, no, Skulker had to show up again, this time with ghostly hunting dogs, and completely waste Danny's afternoon.

But maybe that was the real reason he was having trouble with his invisibility. Exhaustion. And embarrassment. The two seemed to go hand in hand.

Just that week... Ugh, he didn't want to think about it.

He perched in a tree in the park, resting, and, inevitably, thought about it.

He really hated the people at his school sometimes. Dash for dumping glitter all over him and calling him a fairy... as if that insult wasn't so old it was fossilized... all the other people in his class for staring at him... Mrs. Hall for calling him out for 'disturbing the class'... the inevitable interruption of said class by ghosts... the detention... and everyone staring at him and giggling behind their hands.

Not to mention the toilet paper and what Dash and his cronies had done to his locker. Carrying his waterlogged books around and trying to explain to the teachers had been... painful.

In other words, the A-list had been in a bullying mood this week. No wonder he wanted to be invisible.

He sighed and drifted out of the tree. He had his breath back, as much as he had it as a ghost, and it was time to go home and do math.

Of course, to put a cherry on top of this already horrible week, he was immediately shot. He tumbled head over heels, and instinct took over. He went invisible, hard, erasing his light even in the infrared and ultraviolet parts of the spectrum, the chill of the power washing over him. He didn't know what had hit him, after all. A lot of ghost hunters had special goggles for seeing ghosts only transparent in the visible spectrum. Ghosts could often see through invisibility.

He reoriented himself, scanning the area for his attacker, one hand on the thermos.

Valerie. Very confused Valerie, judging by how she was whipping her head back and forth, scanning the ground and the skies.

Danny didn't want to deal with her. He hid himself behind a tree and went human in order to confuse any ectosignature tracing equipment she might have. He never knew what she'd get from Vlad, the jerk, but he probably wouldn't have included anything capable of tracking a half-ghost in human form.

He let out a breath as Valerie flew away. Now it was really time to get home.

He let go of his invisibility.

The cool feeling on his skin didn't go away. He looked down. Still invisible.

He let go of his invisibility.

Still, he only saw a faint outline of his limbs, visible only to his eyes.

Oh, this was going to be bad.

Danny had snuck into his house while invisible before, but usually he had a choice about it. He couldn't just walk through the walls, because his parents had coated most of the ground floor with something that blocked phasing a couple months ago (and was also a truly hideous orange), and he couldn't climb through his bedroom window because they had rigged it with a special anti-ghost alarm after noticing an ectoplasm stain on his windowsill.

He decided to go around to the back door, so no one would notice the front door opening and closing on its own. From there, he'd go to the lab and use the portal. Hours of flying and missing his math homework were preferable to being stuck invisible indefinitely. If only his parents had invented something to counteract invisibility... But, no, they were too focused on making things that hurt.

Yeah, maybe he was a bit bitter about that.

Okay, the coast was clear. Good. He padded down the back hall, unwilling to go ghost to fly. The security system was set to ignore him in human form, but sometimes it still picked up his ghost.

He turned the corner into the kitchen and froze as he heard the hateful beep of the Fenton Finder. His father's head snapped up, away from his plate of (unsanctioned by his diet) fudge.

"There is a ghost ten feet in front of you."

Jack leaped from his seat, and slammed the button to activate the Fenton Anti-Creep System. Lights strobed, some of them green with ectoenergy. Danny yelped and dodged a laser, then a laser sword, then a metal-backed cutout of his dad's face.

He ran.

By the time he got out of Fentonworks (the deathtrap) he was out of breath, slightly singed, and definitely bruised. He also felt, weirdly, more invisible.

He frowned. Was he diving deeper into invisibility without realizing it? Why? Because he'd been startled?

He turned to Sam's house.

"Okay," said Jazz, over the speaker on Sam's phone, after he had explained his current predicament. "It sounds like a confidence problem. Just, tell yourself you want to be seen- No. You have to want to be seen."

"I do want to be seen," said Danny. "I've been over this with Sam and Tucker. I don't want to be invisible."

"You know that," said Jazz, "but do you feel it?"

"Trust me," said Danny. "I feel it. Can you not get them out of the house for a bit so I can sneak in?"

"Afraid not," said Jazz. "They've put us on lockdown until they find, well, you. Or tomorrow morning."

Danny groaned. He'd already called them to say he was staying over at Tucker's. He'd wondered at the time why they were so happy about that.

He hadn't managed even a flicker of visibility by midnight. Even his transformation rings, usually blindingly bright, went unseen. Stuff he picked up turned invisible, too. Anything he wore turned invisible.

Also, the constant invisibility was draining him. Ghost powers took energy, especially when he was in human form. He was exhausted.

Maybe he would spend all his energy and wake up visible. He could hope. In the meantime, he'd sleep in one of the Manson's guest rooms.

He did not wake up visible. He woke up just as exhausted and unable to so much as see his own outline anymore. That was new. Before, he'd always been able to see himself while invisible.

He had to ask Sam to call Jazz, because he couldn't hold and see the phone at the same time.

"It should be safe to come home, now," said Jazz. "I turned off the security system, and Mom and Dad are off chasing ectopuses near the mall."

"Oh, good," said Danny, sluggishly transforming. "I'll be there in a few."

He took the same route in as before, but, this time, only Jazz was waiting for him in the kitchen.

Since he was a younger brother, he snuck up on her and poked the back of her neck. She jumped about a foot, and glared at a bit of air several inches above his eyes.

"Danny," she said, "would it kill you to take things seriously for once?"

"It already did," said Danny. "And, honestly, you sort of walked into that one."

Jazz rolled her eyes, and pushed open the door to the lab. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked. "We can take the Specter Speeder."

"Better not," said Danny. "I should be fine. None of my enemies are going to be able to see me, after all."

"Well," said Jazz, as they stopped in front of the portal. She looked over a foot to his left as she said, "Be safe, Danny."

"I will," he said, and launched himself into the Ghost Zone.

"Your sister thought you had a what?" asked Frostbite, amused. He, also, wasn't looking quite where Danny was. In fact, Danny kept having to dodge out of the larger ghost's way.

"A confidence problem," said Danny. His voice sounded weirdly quiet, even to himself, and he wondered if his voice would also be affect by whatever this was.

The large ghost suppressed a toothy smile. "While your current condition may respond to your emotional state, great one, and your powers are linked to your emotions, they are not the cause."

"Then what is?"

"You have a parasite," said Frostbite.

Danny didn't say anything for a moment, half-convinced Frostbite was joking.

"A what?" he squeaked.

"A parasite. Don't be concerned, it is relatively harmless." Frostbite paused. "For ghosts. I have never heard of a human or half-ghost getting one."

That was comforting. Not. "What kind of parasite?" asked Danny. "What does it do? I mean, other than force you to be invisible."

"Well," said Frostbite. He turned to face the dizzying array of screens and other technology embedded in the icy wall of the cave. He brought up a image that made Danny blanch.

"It's that big?" he asked, one hand kneading his stomach, as if he could thereby force the many-legged thing out.

"Yes. Actually, it's a rather small example of this species. This must be its first breeding cycle."

Danny's eye twitched. "Breeding cycle?" he asked, feeling even sicker.

"Yes," said Frostbite. "The malaperas eraro is very sensitive to light during its breeding cycle, but they are also very weak ghosts, unable to become invisible for long periods of time. So they find a host and use their host's abilities. Once the breeding cycle is complete, all of the parasites will leave the host, and symptoms will stop almost immediately."

"And how long does this take, exactly?" asked Danny, voice cracking.

"Ah, it varies, great one," said Frostbite. "From the point that the ghost is unable to become visible, no longer than a week, depending on the strength of the host ghost."

"I can't be invisible for a week!" said Danny, alarmed. "I have school! My parents will notice I'm gone! I'm already exhausted from being invisible for this long. I can't take a week of this!"

"Ah, yes. The fatigue," said Frostbite. His eyes flicked from side to side. "That is, actually, the reason for the variable time. The malaperas eraro cannot finish breeding while the host is awake. It waits for the forced invisibility to drain the host and drop them into a sort of hibernation. It takes longer for stronger ghosts to reach that point."

"Oh," said Danny. "Great."

"We will be more than happy to have you stay with us while you recover. We will provide everything you need, and keep close track of your condition. This is more of an inconvenience to most ghosts than anything else. Similar to, say, the common cold or chicken pox for humans. It is difficult to be reinfected."

That was something, at least. He didn't want to do this again. "You're sure it will be safe for me? I mean, I'm not normal. Maybe we should just... take it out?" He mimed pulling, even though Frostbite couldn't see him.

"That is a matter to consider," agreed Frostbite. "Due to your unique physiology there may be... unforeseen complications. That is another reason for you to stay here, where we can monitor you. If it becomes necessary, we can remove the parasite, but doing so is an invasive and rather dangerous procedure."

Danny briefly considered flying to Clockwork, who could probably do something about the time problem, but exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders. "Okay. Fine, I guess. Just- Could you- If it isn't too much- take a message to my sister for me?"

The room was cozier and warmer than the norm for the Far Frozen, in deference to Danny's smaller stature and warm-blooded human form. There were also a number of nice, safe nooks and crannies that were attractive from a ghostly perspective, and a large number of paper-wrapped items.

"What?" asked Danny, leaning back into Frosbite's fluffy fur. On the way over, they had come to a compromise regarding how not to run Danny over. It involved Danny holding onto Frostbite (teenage pride required that he refuse Frostbite's offer to carry him) and Danny had enjoyed the contact more than he wanted to admit.

"Ah, gifts from your admirers, great one. We all wish for you to recover swiftly."

"So I don't freeze everyone again and leave quickly?" joked Danny.

Frostbite chuckled. "Nothing like that. We enjoy having you here, great one. It is an honor."

Danny hummed and let Frostbite guide him to the nest-like bed.

Danny felt like he was sleepwalking the past couple of... whatevers. Honestly, he didn't know how long he'd been in the Far Frozen anymore. It was all sort of blurring together, and Danny found it difficult to focus on anything.

Frostbite was doing another body-scan on him today, to check where the parasite was and what it was doing. Danny wasn't enthusiastic. The table for the scanner had been built for someone much larger than him and was distinctly uncomfortable.

Right now, Danny was sitting in a chair across the room, a blanket wrapped around him, waiting for Frostbite to wave him over. It was useful, he had found, to announce where he was going to be and then stay there. People wouldn't trip over him as much, if he was where he was expected to be.

"Alright, great one," said Frostbite. "We are ready to take your scan."

"Okay," mumbled Danny. He stood up, walked halfway to the table, and then collapsed under a wave of dizziness and fatigue.

"Great one?"

Danny only managed to make a pathetic sort of mewling sound. His vision was all grey around the edges, but he could still watch Frostbite grope along the floor, searching for him, and hissed when Frostbite bumped into him a little too roughly for comfort.

After that, Frostbite picked him up, and Danny stopped forcing his eyes open.

He woke up cocooned in sadly invisible blankets. There were voices. Deep, rhythmic ones. He sighed and tucked his chin down against his chest. He was safe here.

He woke up again, hungry and grumbling. He complained until he got food and went back to sleep.

When was the last time he opened his eyes? It was dark.

"... have finished?" said the voices.

"... reconsider the surgery..."

"... preparations..."

Danny woke up.

He could see his nose. Huh. He'd never really noticed how visible his nose was before he'd been stuck invisible. Really. It was right there.

He went back to sleep.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

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inkwell1013 · 3 years

Text

Never Again - Good Omens

Pairing: Crowley & Warlock (familial), Crowley & OC (platonic)

Genre: Angst, One Shot, Hurt/Comfort (I guess)

Word count: 1046

Warnings: Be warned, this fic deals with some heavier subjects, including nightmares, sickness, death, grief and loss. If that could be triggering to you, please tread carefully. Also there’s a natural disaster (biblical flood). And I bash God a bit.

Summary: The flood were like nothing humanity had seen before. It brought such great destruction and the loss was uncountable. Crowley was there for it and remembers very clearly one person. A small boy who didn’t deserve to die.

Notes: I’m thinking of whipping up a masterlist. Would anyone be interested in that? And maybe a taglist.

- - - - -

The rain was torrential now. Yesterday, when it had started, it was light. In the last few minutes, the water level had gone up a good few inches. People were beginning to catch onto their own demise, and the general mood was frantic. All the doors on the street were blocked up as people tried (and failed) to escape the rising water. His heart broke for all these innocent people who were dying for the sins of the few. It wasn’t right. But there was nothing he could do.

He couldn’t save any of them.

Not too far away from him was a crying child. Crowley wondered why he was still in the streets. He was young – maybe eight or nine years old – and just as alone as Crowley felt in that moment. His brown skin was coated in damp sand, and his robes were in tatters. Two neat tracks of tears ran down his cheeks and he was thin and sickly.

“Where is your family?” asked Crowley, crouching next to the boy. “Shouldn’t you be with them right now?�� He knew as he asked the question, what the answer would be.

The boy gave him a sceptical look, wide brown eyes appearing from underneath his long, dark hair. “I don’t have one...” he said at last, staring down at the waterlogged sand at his feet.

“Are you okay?” asked Crowley. It was a stupid question – how could anyone be okay in this situation? - but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I’m scared,” whispered the boy. “We’ve never had storms this bad before and everyone is so frightened. They say we’re all going to drown. I don’t want to die.”

Crowley didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he mumbled, taking the child in his arms, and holding him close to his chest.

The boy screwed up his face in confusion. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled.

Crowley shook his head. “I’m so sorry. There was nothing I could do.”

They cried in each other’s arms – the boy out of fear and Crowley out of guilt. Was he so useless he couldn’t even save one life?

“I’m tired,” muttered the boy, with a shiver. “It’s so cold, and I’m so tired.”

Even if Crowley tried to help him – to take him to higher ground or find him a safe place to hide - he would only be able to prolong the inevitable. The child would succumb to the same fate as everyone else.

God was cruel like that.

But there was something he could do ease the pain a little and lessen the boy’s suffering.

“I’m going to do a special trick for you,” he said, choking back his tears. “It might feel weird for a second but don’t be scared.”

Pulling upon the last shreds of his angelic power, he managed to conjure up one last miracle.

Ever since he fell, his more angelic qualities had been wasting away. If he were lucky, he would have just enough left for this.

He snapped his fingers and hoped it would work. He felt a shiver of something run down his spine and let out a small sigh of relief.

“You should be feeling warmer now,” he said. It was a weak miracle all the same, but his demonic powers wouldn’t have worked for this. They could only be used to hurt instead of help.

The child’s eyes widened. “Are you magical?” he said, barely above a whisper. It was like he had been let in on a huge secret. Which he had, in a way. The boy wouldn’t live long enough to tell anyone. No one here would.

“I am,” Crowley admitted with a fake smile. “Isn’t that cool?”

“Yes!” the kid said excitedly, but his voice was weaker just as Crowley expected. The boy was sick and clearly had been for a while, possibly even for months. He didn’t have long left.

Then he realised that he didn’t know the child’s name. “Hey kid, what’s your…" he began, trailing off halfway through.

He was being quiet. Too quiet, Crowley realised. “Are you awake?” he asked.

There was silence.

In that moment, even the rain had stopped its oppressive noise.

Crowley reached for the child’s wrist, checking his pulse. There was nothing. Not even the slightest stammer of a heartbeat.

He was dead.

It all happened so quickly. Just seconds ago, he had been alive. Just moments ago, he had been okay. Not great, not even good, but okay. Now he was gone.

Crowley was left cradling the boy’s body, which was as limp and lifeless as a ragdoll. Just another toy for God to play with and then cast out once she grew tired of it. Just like Crowley and the other demons and all of humanity.

He wanted to scream, to yell up to the heavens at the God who didn’t care about them. “Look what you’ve done! Is this what you wanted?”

But he was too numb to speak. He held the child to his chest, tears rolling down his face.

Damn all of it!

He never even learned his name.

Crowley was startled awake by someone shaking his shoulder. He shot up and it took him a few moments to figure out where he was. Eventually, he realised that he was in his bedroom at the Dowling household, complete with the peeling wallpaper and beige carpet. So mundane and strangely comforting to see right after his nightmare.

Warlock was still shaking his shoulder. “Are you okay Nanny?” he asked. “You were crying.”

Crowley wiped the tears from his face. “I’m okay pumpkin. It was just a bad dream.”

Understatement of the year right there.

“Would a hug make you feel better?” asked Warlock “They always make me feel better.”

Crowley had lost count of how many times he’s hugged Warlock after the kid had a nightmare. It comforted Warlock greatly and Crowley got to show his charge just how much he really cared.

“I’d love a hug.”

“I’m never going to let anything bad happen to you,” thought Crowley as he hugged Warlock tightly. “I will keep you safe no matter what. I’m never going to let what happened that day happen again.

“Never again.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #crowley & warlock #crowley & oc #oneshot #angst #flood tw #god bashing #death tw #grief tw #nightmares tw #sickness tw #loss tw #natural disaster tw #major character death #inkwell writes

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out-of-jams · 5 years

Text

Airplane Mode | Track 02: Daydream | jhs

Summary: In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death. So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language?

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem Character

Word Count: 3.2k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Explicit language.

Warnings: This chapter contains swearing.

Previous | Next | Track List | Masterlist |

The soft click of a laptop closing reminded Eunjae of the top of a casket being nailed shut. Stretching her short legs out from their criss-crossed position, she slid the laptop from her lap to the mattress of the unmade bed.

She’d just finished sending out emails to her college professors to explain that she would not be in class for a few days. Well, at least she hoped it would only be a few days. Eunjae certainly couldn’t go out in public with three-fourths of her face bruised to hell and back. Seeing as how the bruises of First Touch remained on the skin until the touch of a soulmate healed the marks, Eunjae wasn’t exactly sure when she’d be able to show her face. Literally.

She didn’t know a whole lot about the biological side of how soulmates worked, but somehow the touch of the other not only provided sustenance, but it had healing properties too. Everyone, at least from what Eunjae had experienced with the public school system growing up, were taught the very basics of soulmate science.

Those who found their soulmate were automatically graced with a longer lifespan. The longest soulmate pair ever recorded had made it to the ripe old age of 210 years old. Since the touch of a soulmate provided the exact vitamins and nutrients that the body required to stay healthy, it also doubled to prevent sickness and disease. It was rumored to even be able to take away the feeling of pain as well.

That’s a perk, at least. Eunjae thought as she examined the backs of her hands. Miles’ apartment was quiet. He’d left not too long after talking her down from the panic attack she’d had in his bathroom, to run to the bodega two blocks down to pick up breakfast.

“You gotta eat good while you can.” He’d said as he tied up the laces of his shoes. “And it doesn’t get any better than a bacon, egg and cheese on an everything bagel. ”

He hadn’t been gone long, but Eunjae already felt empty without his warmth. Back sliding down the wooden headboard, she buried herself into his fluffy comforter, letting the calming scent of him wash over her. The silk sheets that she’d convinced him to splurge half a paycheck on tickled the skin exposed at the bottom of her rolled up sweatpants.

Eunjae and Miles had been pretty much inseparable ever since they’d met in second grade. She could remember that day almost perfectly. Eunjae had been surprisingly shy as a child, but Miles had shoved himself into the chair next to hers and declared them as friends. From that day on, they longest they’d ever spent away from each other had been when his family had forced him on a vacation to Florida for a whole summer.

So much for inseparable, huh? Eunjae clenched her jaw around the sob threatening to escape her throat. Now we’ll be a literal world’s apart.

The fear of being abandoned by her best friend turned the tears on her tongue to ashes.

Jung Hoseok’s attention wavered from Sejin’s disappearing back, to the doorway as he swiveled back and forth in his leather chair. Fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the hardwood surface of the table in front of him, he pursed his heart-shaped lips. The rest of his members sat scattered around the long table of their hotel’s conference room.

Perched in his own chair next to him, Namjoon scrolled through the phone clutched in one of his hands. His rectangular glasses reflected the dim light of the screen as his eyes examined whatever webcomic it was that he was reading. Yoongi lounged back in his seat across from Hoseok, the green straw of an iced Americano from the Starbucks downstairs pressed between his lips. His catlike eyes were closed in exhaustion, long eyelashes brushing his pale cheeks. Hoseok wasn’t sure if the strong grip that Yoongi had on the plastic cup was to keep himself awake or to prevent a bratty Jungkook from stealing it.

Squishing himself between the elder rapper and Taehyung, Jungkook rested his chin on the singer’s arm to peer over his shoulder. Taehyung’s long fingers tapped vigorously across the screen of his phone, the sounds of some game they were taking turns playing echoing through the room. Seokjin and Jimin had left with their other manager, Hobeom, some time ago to find somewhere to scavenge breakfast from. Food, however, was the last thing on Jung Hoseok’s mind.

Hands spreading out on the surface of the table, palm up, Hoseok’s thoughts were racing. He’d woken up this morning to find his hands completely covered in bruises. The center of his palms were an ugly, dark fuschia and spread out into a greenish-yellow color around the heels of his hands and the tips of his fingers.

Hoseok had thought nothing of it at first, simply chalking it up to the results of a rough dance practice. It wasn’t totally uncommon for the man to come back from rehearsal with a few bruises after some vigorous floorwork. It took him a minute after waking up, however, to remember where exactly he was. Sometimes they traveled so much in such a short period of time that he couldn’t keep up with their schedule. It wasn’t until he’d glanced out the window of his hotel room and saw the spire of the Empire State building that he remembered where he was.

It was here that Hoseok realized that it’d been a few days since the last dance practice.

He’d been confused after that. Maybe he’d fallen at some point and just couldn’t remember? His body was so wracked with exhaustion that it wouldn’t have even surprised him. They were all worn-out from preparing for their upcoming comeback, and were still in the midst of promotion. So something as simple as accidentally bruising himself would be just a tiny blimp on his radar.

Taehyung was still asleep in his own bed, his soft snores cutting out as Hoseok shut the bathroom door. He’d pushed the thought from his mind as he stepped under the warm spray of the shower. The tired, aching muscles of his body relaxed under the steam and he took his time to enjoy a rare moment alone.

Hoseok loved what he did: making music, traveling, performing in front of an audience--his fans. If someone hit a redo button on his life, he knew that he wouldn’t change anything about it. With the adrenaline rush of being on stage and having a platform to spread love and positivity; Hoseok was living the dream.

However, once he stepped out of the foggy bathroom dressed only in a pair of whitewashed jeans, he got brought down into a harsh reality.

“Hyung, what are those bruises from?” Taehyung’s deep voice pulled Hoseok’s attention away from his grumbling stomach. Running a soft towel through his drenched hair, Hoseok squinted at Taehyung through waterlogged lashes.

“What?” He attributed his slow brain to the fact that he was still half asleep and therefore not as energetic as usual.

Taehyung shuffled away from his open duffle bag on the room’s table and over to Hoseok, blond hair a birds nest atop his head. Gesturing to the rapper’s hands holding the towel, he answered, “on your hands.”

Hoseok blinked in confusion and draped the damp towel around his shoulders. He held his hands in front of his face, exhausted brain taking a moment to process what was going on.

“Oh.” He shrugged before dropping to sit on the edge of his bed. Crossing one leg over the other, he waved his hands around. “I think I fell or something. I woke up with them like this.”

“Those look a lot like something I’ve seen before.” Taehyung fished one of the rapper’s hands out of the air to examine it more closely. He spoke like what he’d just said was not at all cryptic.

Letting out a laugh, Hoseok wiggled his trapped fingers playfully. He was used to Taehyung’s sometimes odd way of speaking, so he wasn’t at all phased. “With the rate that Namjoonie hurts himself, I’m not surprised. He’s always covered in bruises.”

“No, no.” Taehyung pressed, delicately poking a finger to the palm of Hoseok’s hand. “Online.”

“You look up bruises online often?” Hoseok asked in amusement.

Ignoring the rapper’s words, the corners of V’s lips turned up as he nodded to himself at whatever thought was going through his head. Brow raising in curiosity, Hoseok watched as his donsaeng’s eyes lit up.

“Hyung,” a sudden boxy smile spread across his face, voice raising slightly in pitch with excitement. “I’ve seen pictures of bruises like this online before. They’re not normal. It’s from First Touch.”

Hoseok’s stomach dropped in shock at the words, eyes widening and lips parting. He could vaguely remember reading a couple of news articles with that same phrase. Whatever leftover jetlag that he’d been feeling evaporated into the steamy air billowing out from the bathroom. One of the dimples in his cheek popped into existence as a smile slowly stretched across his face.

“Are you saying that--”

“I think you met your soulmate, hyung!”

The sound of a door opening snapped Hoseok out of his thoughts, bringing the present back into focus. Looking up from the spot on the table that he’d apparently been staring at while he zoned out, the rapper watched as Jimin strode through the open doorway. The handles of two large paper bags were held between his ringed fingers and Hoseok’s stomach rumbled when the smell of pancakes filled the air.

“Finally!” Jungkook groaned, throwing his head back against his leather chair in relief. “It took you long enough.”

“Yah,” Seokjin berated humorously as he entered the room behind Jimin. He waved around one of the drink trays held in his hands. “Get it yourself next time if you want quicker service.”

Yoongi snorted, deeming the moment important enough to open his eyes. He stirred the combination of melting ice cubes and bitter espresso in his plastic cup as he eyed the food being placed on the table hungrily. “Maybe if we starve him, he’ll finally contribute to buying.”

“Good idea.” Seokjin hummed as he seated himself in the open chair next to Hoseok. He watched as Jungkook ignored them to dig into the steaming bags of food. “It’s been how long since he’s actually paid for something?”

The elder didn’t wait for a response before turning in his chair to examine Hoseok. “How you holding up?”

“I don’t know about you,” Jimin interrupted before the rapper could answer, dropping into the seat next to Yoongi. His chair rolled back on the carpet, knocking into Yoongi mid-sip. That earned him a sleepy glare, which he ignored. “But I’m kind of excited. What do you think she’s like?”

“Why do you assume it’s a girl?” Yoongi questioned, using the sleeve of his black hoodie to wipe up the tiny drops of spilled coffee from the table.

“Well assuming that he met them at the fanmeet,” Namjoon finally spoke up without pulling his attention from whatever he was reading on his phone. “The likelihood of it being a girl are greater. There were some fanboys there yesterday, but not a whole lot.”

Giving up on beating Jungkook’s highscore, Taehyung dropped his phone onto the table and finally tuned into the conversation. Chin propped in his hands, he asked a very important question. “Well hyung, how many people did you touch yesterday?”

“That makes it sound dirty.” Hoseok huffed a laugh before leaning back in his chair. He hummed in thought, brow pinched as he thought back. Fanmeets tended to all blend into one another until the faces of each fan blurred around the edges. Sigh leaving his lips, he shrugged. “I don’t know. I touched a lot of fans yesterday.”

Jungkook snorted around the giant forkful of pancakes he stuffed into his mouth. Seokjin wrinkled his nose in disgust at the syrup dripping carelessly onto the table. “Wow hyung, so dirty.”

Rolling his eyes, Hoseok playfully kicked the maknae’s shin from underneath the table. Judging by the lack or response though, it must not have been hard enough.

“Sejin still on the phone with Bang PD-nim?” Jimin asked as he stabbed a straw through his to-go cup of coke. The earrings dangling from his pierced lobes tapped against his cheeks as he leaned forward to take a sip.

Namjoon nodded his head towards the door at the far end of the room. That one lead to a smaller, more private room that the manager had disappeared into almost an hour ago. “He’s still in there.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to find them?”

All eyes turned to a serious looking Taehyung. He stared down unblinkingly at the plastic container of food in front of him, fork hanging limply between his fingers. As if feeling all eyes on him, he looked up and spoke the words that had been at the back of each of their minds. “What if we can’t?”

“We’ll find them.” Namjoon reassured as he finally locked his phone. “Besides, we have plenty of time. It takes weeks for the side effects of First Touch to even kick in.”

“What about that one case, though?” Jimin questioned, blinking as attention focused on him. “The one a few years ago where that girl almost starved to death after just three days?”

The sudden silence in the room was thick.

Letting out a chuckle that sounded half-hearted to everyone in the room, Hoeseok attempted to diffuse the tension. “We’d better find her fast then.”

“So you assume it’s a girl too, then?” Ever the perceptionist, Seokjin cracked a joke to assist. He was rewarded with a roll of Yoongi’s eyes and a smile teasing the edge of Taehyung’s lips.

The door at the far side of the room opened, and out stepped a flustered Sejin. Attention focused on the phone he was slipping into the pocket of his pants, he stopped in his tracks when he looked up to see seven pairs of eyes staring back.

“How did it go?” Namjoon questioned, the anticipation in the room skyrocketing.

Sejin ran a hand through his black hair before straightening, staring back at the members through the lenses of his rounded glasses. He let the silence linger for a beat longer than necessary before a warm smile spread across his face. That was all it took for the tense postures in the room to relax.

“Good news.” His eyes met Hoseok’s worried gaze. “We found her.”

The room exploded in cheers and each of the members stretched around to slap a grinning Hoseok in congratulations. The rapper couldn’t help the bubbling anticipation and nerves mixing a cocktail in his stomach. He was relieved that the possibility of either of them starving to death was eliminated. Not only that, but he was elated at the thought of meeting the one person in the whole world that was destined for him. However, one nervous thought kept playing on a loop in his head.

I hope she likes me.

“I knew it was a girl!” Jimin slammed his fists against the table in victory. Yoongi rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed when the silver haired singer stuck his tongue out at him playfully. But the gummy smile on the rapper’s face gave himself away.

“Do you know her name?” Hoseok couldn’t help but ask.

“Wait a second.” Jungkook interrupted before Sejin could answer, raising his hand in the air like he was a kid in class waiting to be called on.

“Yes, Kook-ah?” Seokjin played along, waving his plastic fork at the maknae.

“If she met hyung at a fanmeet here in America, do you think she speaks Korean?”

The room descended into silence once again, each of them shocked at the fact that they hadn’t even thought of that. Mouth parting in surprise, Hoseok felt his eyes widen.

“That could be a problem.”

“If I move, I’ll die.” Eunjae groaned, limbs starfished on the shag carpet of Miles’ living room. Empty styrofoam containers littered the coffee table, crumbs spilling out onto the floor. Miles was spread out on the couch, one leg thrown over the back in a position that looked very uncomfortable.

“I think that was the best meal I’ve ever eaten.”

“You really shouldn’t have bought so much.” Eunjae mumbled, throwing an arm over her face to try and quell the nausea. After stuffing her face with two giant bacon, egg and cheese bagels and one can of Arizona tea, she felt ready to explode.

Miles had returned shortly after leaving, only to find Eunjae breaking down under the covers of his bed. He’d ended up dragging her out of bed and gently wiping the water from her cheeks, claiming that he had the perfect cure for her tears: breakfast. Eunjae had always found a strange comfort in greasy food, so she’d latched onto the distraction readily.

Now, however, she was starting to have some regrets.

“Don’t act all high and mighty.” Miles shot back, dangling an arm off the couch to knock into her shoulder. “You ate that food like a woman on death row.”

“Well,” Eunjae gave a small, sad smile that he wasn’t able to see. “I just might be one.”

Grunting with effort, Miles rolled onto his side so that he could stare down at her seriously. “Don’t even joke like that.”

“I’m sorry.” And she was. Eunjae wasn’t the type of person to let the sad thoughts that sometimes plagued her mind to show. But at moments like those, it was difficult. “I’ll stop.”

The sound of a phone vibrating cut through the tense atmosphere threatening to drown her, and Eunjae floundered for her cellphone with a feeling of relief. Her hand skimmed the carpet a few times before finally feeling the glossy phone case under her fingers. Bringing the vibrating phone to her face, Eunjae’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the unknown number on the screen. Shrugging, she hit the reject button before dropping it back to the carpet.

“What are you doing?” Miles all but screamed in her ear. Wincing, Eunjae turned her head to glare up at him.

“Why are you yelling?”

“Why did you reject the call?”

Brows raised, she scoffed. “Who actually answers calls from unknown numbers?”

“You idiot!” The boy smacked her on the arm at her stupidity. “That could have been him! Or his management. Or something! And you just rejected the call!”

Eunjae’s eyes widened at the realization and she smacked herself on the forehead. She vaguely remembered having to fill out her contact information on the virtual ticket she entered into the fanmeet lottery. “Oh my, God. I didn’t even think about that.”

“Obviously, you--” The phone went off again, vibrations jolting her ribs from where it lay face down on the carpet. Hand snatching it up, she scanned the number calling.

“It’s the same number.” She whispered, eyes still trained on the glass screen.

“Answer it!” Miles screeched.

Rushing to obey, Eunjae took a deep breath before pressing the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

#bts #bts soulmate au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #hoseok

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jarienn972 · 4 years

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Weathering the Storm - Part Two

When I posted Part 1 of this story several weeks ago, I hadn’t planned on spending nearly a month in a depression-induced haze. I finally managed to convince my head that writing could be good therapy and delved back into the angsty lives of fictional characters.

When we left off, Killian had passed out in pain on Zelena's sofa. In this chapter, I gave a little background into what Emma was up to before jumping back to the present. The forecast is still very stormy... You can catch back up by reading Part 1 here or you can find both chapters on AO3 and FF.net.

"C'mon, kid!" Emma shouted while holding open the front door to the Sheriff's station with her foot as she clung to her pretty much useless umbrella with both hands. She and Henry had gotten caught by the downpour while walking back from the clothing shop several blocks down Main Street from the station. They'd remembered to bring umbrellas with them as heavy rain was forecast but the strong accompanying wind rendered the accessories worthless. Mother and son were both drenched and he hadn't kept up. "Hurry up! Let's get out of this rain and try to dry off."

"I'm coming…," he mumbled as he picked up his pace, hurrying past his mother into the darkened station. Emma followed, waving her hand to magically switch on the squad room lights as she tugged the door closed behind them. "You know, you could have just poofed us over here from the shop so we wouldn't have gotten soaked…" Henry teased.

"Where's the fun in that?" Emma laughed as she closed her wet umbrella and tossed it onto the tile floor to the right of the door, somewhat surprised that Killian hadn't returned from Zelena's place yet.

"Fun?" he scowled as he shook the excess rainwater off his own umbrella before folding it up. He then shed his waterlogged jacket, hanging it on the back of an empty chair to dry out. "Can I go grab a snack from your office?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Dinner will probably be a little late tonight anyway."

"Okay, thanks. You want anything?"

"A cup of coffee to warm my insides," she mused as she shrugged off her saturated crimson leather jacket, draping it on over the back of another unoccupied squad room chair. "And I need to figure out where Killian might be… I can't imagine he's still out at Zelena's place. He left here almost two hours ago."

"That was before this rain started," Henry reminded her. "Maybe he decided to wait out the storm?"

"What? With Zelena? I don't know about that…" Emma leaned over the nearest desk and picked up the handset of the outdated telephone. She pressed a button on the console to open a line but frowned when she heard no dial tone. "Well, phone's out. We really need to work on upgrading the ancient lines around here…. Let's see if I can get a cell signal…" Withdrawing her iPhone from her jeans pocket, she tried Killian's phone first, then Zelena's number, getting a message that both mobile numbers were out of range. "We also clearly need to add another cell tower."

"Is there a way to magically boost the range?" Henry wondered as he returned to the squad room after raiding Emma's snack drawer, crunching a peanut butter granola bar.

"I wish I could. I mean, I suppose I could magically conjure up another cell tower, but there's no guarantee that their phones would even connect to it. It is something that Regina and I do need to discuss. The infrastructure of this town certainly needs some upgrades but magic isn't always the answer. You should know that considering you just spent hours trying on different suits, shirts and shoes when you easily could have had either of your mothers whip up the perfect outfit in a second."

"Point taken," he replied with a shrug. "I suppose that means you aren't going to magically upgrade our router at the house then?"

"Probably not." She shook her head and then chuckled at the sight of the almost sarcastic frown crossing his face. Still grinning, she strolled past her son into the station's break room, pressing the red button atop the coffee maker to get a fresh pot brewing before returning to her office to see if perhaps Killian had left a message on the station's antiquated answering machine. It was yet another on the long list of items in need of replacement. This thing wasn't even digital and no one sold the stupid little cassette tapes anymore. It needed to go to the dumpster as soon as she could find a digital one but for the time being, she'd have to make due. She unfortunately discovered that the machine wasn't flashing any indicator for new messages.

Henry noticed his mother's furrowed brow as she stepped out of her office then paused just outside of the doorframe as a rumble of thunder rattled the windows. Her plan to fetch coffee was momentarily forgotten as she stared blankly at the raindrops pelting the glass.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" Henry queried, hoping his blunt question wouldn't be too upsetting.

"A little, I guess," she admitted with a reluctant shrug. "Hopefully, he's somewhere safe or he's at least taking his time driving back to town in these conditions. He's only had his license for a few months and we had a pretty dry summer…"

"If he's still in the car, you could try reaching him on the radio, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose I could...Why didn't I think of that?" she scolded herself as she ducked back into the office and snatched the microphone from one of the station's other ancient relics - the old citizens band radio. Pressing the button on the side of the microphone, she brought it closer to her mouth. "Killian, are you there? Over." She'd taught her husband some basic radio etiquette in the event that they needed to contact other emergency services but they tended to be a bit more casual when using Storybrooke's local bandwidth. She allowed a few seconds of static awaiting a response before repeating the message but each time, there was nothing but crackling coming through the speaker.

"Guess he isn't in the car," Henry stated.

"Doesn't seem like it." She was trying very hard to remain upbeat for Henry's sake, but her gut was telling her something might not be right. Maybe Killian was driving like the old man he was and chose not to respond to the radio while he was concentrating on the road. Maybe Zelena had offered for him to wait out the storm at the farmhouse, at least until the worst had passed. Cell service at that old house was practically nonexistent…

Mother and son both hopped in surprise as a brilliant flash of lighting and the accompanying thunder clap startled them just as the power blinked off.

"Well, so much for the WiFi," Henry grumbled.

"The generator should kick on in a minute with emergency lights," Emma reminded him. "Let me go check on it…" She was actually happy to see a couple of the overhead spotlights immediately flickering on, indicating that the backup generator was functioning as it should. "Well, there you go."

"Still no WiFi though," the teen lamented. "I'm going to go sit in the break room and try texting Violet…"

"That's fine. Let me fill my coffee mug and I'll get out of your way." She picked up the stainless steel travel mug from her desk, absentmindedly filling it to the brim while her mind wandered elsewhere. There was little more she could do until the weather let up. She entertained the thought of poofing herself to Killian's location but she dismissed the idea, fearful that she'd startle her husband too much and likely cause him to wreck the cruiser.

She knew Killian was smart. He was a seasoned mariner who had centuries of experience weathering storms and he wouldn't do anything reckless. Why was she so worried?

**********

As much as she tried not to stare, Zelena's gaze kept drifting over to the injured, unplanned houseguest sleeping on her sofa. He wasn't exactly resting easily, his limbs twitching, trembling and even shivering as he fought through intermittent waves of pain. Her drafty living room wasn't helping matters much either, especially after a particularly fierce gust of wind had nearly blown the tarp from the broken window. The covering had remained intact but it was starting to droop, billowing even more as it was pummeled by the storm. If it failed, it was going to be quite difficult to keep the house warm.

Aside from the wind whistling around the tarp and the crackle of the fire, she was grateful for a brief moment of peace. Robin had finally settled while her mother rocked her, her tearful tantrums fading as she gave in to sleep in mere minutes. Zelena dragged the play yard from the kitchen into the warmer living room and lowered the drowsy toddler into it before she collapsed onto her worn velour upholstered wingback chair. She'd hopefully have about an hour of quiet as her child snoozed, thunderstorm temporarily and blissfully forgotten.

She didn't sit still for long though. She soon found herself needing something to busy herself so she decided it was time to take the stained towels and Jones' mud-caked jeans into the bath to try to soak the blood and muck out of them. She dropped the stopper into the drain of her claw foot tub and turned on the faucet before tossing the towels into the basin.

As she watched the water instantly take on a pinkish tint, she found herself oddly transfixed by the crimson swirls. She'd been no stranger to violent outbursts. She'd never denied that she'd killed many in her quest for vengeance against her sister and anyone else she'd felt had wronged her, but then, she'd always had magic to fix her problems for her. She'd been able to wave away whatever impeded her. Not anymore. Now, for some strange reason, the sight of blood filling her bathtub came as a somber, unexpected reminder of all she'd given up and all of the promises that she'd made to her daughter.

She'd always be wicked but she wasn't going to allow darkness to taint her heart any longer. She'd promised Robin that she'd do the right thing - to just be Zelena Mills, not the Wicked Witch anymore. Staring at the blood staining her tub was proof that she was making small but deliberate strides towards righting many wrongs.

She shook off the sting of the memories before adding Jones' blue jeans to the nearly full bathtub, making sure to remove his wallet from his pocket. She was tempted to take a peek inside to see what the pirate was carrying but she resisted the urge, instead shoving the garment beneath the water's surface. Chunks of dirt and gravel sunk to the bottom as she turned off the tap. It was going to take a lot of scrubbing to get the porcelain tub clean again. Maybe she could convince someone with magic to help her with this mess too?

No matter, she thought to herself as she left everything to soak, turning her attention to the sink so she could wash away the lingering blood stains and mud from her hands. After patting them dry, she returned to the living room, checking on her sleeping daughter while her ears perked up at the sound of an anguished moan. A quick glance over to the sofa revealed that her guest was seemingly regaining consciousness. She noticed that his facial features were contorted in obvious discomfort as he pressed his arm tightly into his wounded side. She didn't witness him actually opening his eyes but she definitely heard him gulp down an uneasy breath before yelping in pain as he made a futile attempt to sit up.

"Easy...," she warned, crossing the room swiftly to press his shoulders back down into the pillow. "You don't want to be doing that just yet…"

A weary, disoriented Killian Jones eyed the blurry face that hovered above him with a mix of confusion and suspicion. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear and for recognition to set in but as he regained his coherency, the tension in his limbs relaxed and he sunk back into the cushions.

"Where am I?" he mumbled, eyes blankly scanning the room in search of familiar surroundings. Only the former witch's face was recognizable but he didn't have the foggiest idea why he was looking at her.

"My place," Zelena replied softly. "You showed up at my door over an hour ago, soaking wet with a bloody hole in your side." She gave the briefest synopsis she could to fill in some of the blanks in his memory.

"Is that what that is?" he grimaced, squeezing his eyes closed. "Hurts like the bloody dickens…"

"I'm sure it does. I don't have much here that I can get you to help with the pain either. Everything I have on hand is definitely geared toward toddlers."

"'Could use a fifth of rum…" Killian grumbled as he tried to shift his weight to a less painful position.

"Not hardly," she scoffed. "Let me see what I can muster up... Maybe some children's ibuprofen?" She hurried out of his sight for a moment, returning to the bathroom and throwing open her medicine cabinet. Inside, amongst cosmetics and assorted personal items, she located the bottle of pinkish liquid she'd last used when Robin was cutting a new tooth a few weeks back. She squinted trying to read the dosage instructions in the dim light. It was all determined by a child's age and weight. "Let's see...math was never really my strongest subject… How many teaspoons would make up an adult dose if it's one teaspoon for children twenty to thirty pounds? Oh, bloody hell - here! Just open up and take a swig..."

She grasped his bottom jaw and eased his mouth open, bringing the bottle to his lips. In too much pain to argue, Killian raised his head enough to swallow the sickeningly sweet medicine as she poured it onto his tongue. It took nearly all of his strength not to retch it right back up.

"What the devil is that awful concoction?!"

"It's called bubble gum. I really haven't the faintest idea what it's supposed to be but Robin seems to tolerate it."

"Bloody poison, that's what it is," he sputtered, cringing and hissing as his movements aggravated his wound. "Damn, that hurts…"

"Sorry. It's the best I can do until I can reach your wife."

"Emma doesn't know?"

"Not yet," she reminded him. "These nasty thunderstorms took out the power and the phones. I'll keep trying though."

"She'll be worried…"

"I'm sure she'll be looking for you if she doesn't hear from us soon. For now, just try to rest, especially while the little one's asleep."

"Thank you…"

Those two words were ones that Zelena still wasn't accustomed to hearing. She almost didn't know how to reply. "You're welcome…," she stammered after a moment of awkward silence that Killian didn't even register. "Rest up now."

#cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan #killian whump #whump fic #although this part is more angst #weathering the storm

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majorxmaggiexboy · 4 years

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had a dream last night that a Mrs. Potato Head found a Nose in the snow and ran off in search of her husband while a younger Potato Head wailed “Is he dead? Is he DEAD?” and i was very confused as to whether this is what Toy Story is all about but then it cut to Mr. Potato Head searching around a frozen area and eventually finding his son buried in the snow so he set up a little campsite, a campfire to thaw out the frozen potato that was his son and i had concerns because, potatoes, fire, not good, and anyway at first the Potato Son looked like a little snowman but eventually started to melt until you could see most of the potato, but it still had a little snowman head. Eventually that melted too and Mr. Potato brought Kid!Potato back home to the other two and the other younger!Potato was all excited to see them back home okay except then the rescued!potato turned into a deflated, slightly waterlogged and icy balloon, which i went to put into the washing machine with a load of laundry for. some reason.

and then i was being told to swim around underwater for some reason and there was a strangely-proportioned shark and some kind of underwater house as well but i was like “forget this the shark is so cute but uhhhhh i don’t like to in the ocean” and was trying to swim to the surface and it was really dark but not dark enough to not be able to see the shark and no matter how close i swam to the surface i couldn’t actually break it and instead of panic there was more a sense of annoyance and profound consternation.

and then i went into a takeout place to correct an order i’d made (they’d given me the wrong item) but had somehow forgotten my handy-dandy facecovering scarf and was like, “Oh No, I Did Not Do This On Purpose I Am Not Trying To Be Defiant, Heck” and the cashier was like “nono that’s fine, here, use this” and handed me a gas mask and when i put it on my vision momentarily flipped and changed into some sort of HUD and instead of proceeding with correcting the order, i wheezed my way back to the car and found that this exchange had actually taken almost an hour

there was also a thing involving a weird, seemingly haunted area out in the woods with a long lane stretching between blocks of what looked like burnt-out house frames, and there were sort of cardboard cutouts of people in each one but in the middle of the lane there was an actual human person who was “shouldn’t be here. you’re gonna die” and i was like “but it’s daytime tho” and he was like “......................................no” and i asked him if, if i shouldn’t be there, wasn’t he in any hurry to get out either? and he was like “what are we going to do, rappel down?” and then after he said something about it taking too long to find a way out and that ‘they’ would be here soon i pointed out this ridiculously long zipline a short ways away, used it, and was suddenly back in my house but then the dude showed up again, seeming annoyed. he aggressively did five consecutive squats and then i woke up.

#dreams tag

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theundercovermarvelfan · 5 years

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(Trying to get back in to writing by catching up with the Whumptober Challenge for @whumptober2019!)

Day Nineteen - Asphyxiation

“Status!”

“Stark and I have successfully infiltrated and captured the ringleader,” Natasha reported. “Stark is working on shutting down the security and then the rest of you slackers can get in here and start cleaning house.”

“Funny,” Steve said dryly, slightly out of breath. As it had turned out, getting into the facility had been the easy part. Once the rest of the Avengers split up and provided distractions at various points around the facility, their mark had immediately panicked sent his entire army of henchmen outside in order to confront them. “Thor, Barton?”

“These men were no match for me,” Thor boasted triumphantly. “I was honestly hoping for more of a challenge.”

“Could use some help over here then!” Clint gasped into his comm. as he ducked a blow and rammed his combat knife into the man’s gut, remaining crouched and using the now corpse as a shield to give himself a precious few seconds to catch a breath.

“Barton?” Steve prompted.

Clint shoved the body into the next man who ran to confront him. “Perch was compromised,” he said as he whirled, tearing the knife from the dead man’s gut and throwing it another another. “Getting a bit overrun over here.”

Of course the bulk of the army would end up on his side of the facility after he lost his advantage of distance.

“I’m on my way!” Steve promised. “Thor, head for Barton’s location!”

“On it!” Thor assured as thunder rumbled. “Barton, I will be there shortly, just hang on.”

Clint knew how big the compound was and he knew that he had several minutes before even Thor would be able to reach him. He took down two more henchmen, but as he turned to take on a third that was coming at him, he could glimpse nine more men appearing from the direction of the facility.

“Goddamnit,” Clint breathed. He was good, but taking on ten armed henchmen after thirty minutes of hard, close combat fighting was pushing him to his limit.

Clint desperately needed distance. He took just a fraction of a second to visually assess his surroundings. There was a good-sized truss bridge about forty feet behind and to his left, spanning the ravine and the white-watered river below.

Clint blocked a heavy punch with both his forearms, pressing the man back and using the momentum to send himself back several steps as well, forcing space between them. A gunshot buzzed passed his ear as the reinforcements came within range and Clint lunged, already knowing more bullets were coming after that miss. He took the opportunity to make a break for the bridge as the bullets continued to fly. His odds were better as a moving target.

As if to personally spite him, a bullet clipped his hip.

“Son of a bitch,” Clint hissed. But he didn’t dare break stride.

As he hit the bridge, the wooden base creaked ominously, feeling soft and unsteady under his feet. That wasn’t a good sign, but it was too late to change his strategy now.

Clint spun around, an arrow already nocked and he let it fly as he immediately drew three more, nocking and firing one at a time in rapid fire. One down, twothreefour down. He took a couple steps back and to the side as he drew another three arrows, rapid firing them as well. Fivesixseven down. And then again, ignoring his protesting muscles. Seveneightnine down.

So close. He came so damn close to coming out victorious. If there had been one less man in pursuit, Clint would have been fine. After he let that ninth arrow fly, he had time to draw the tenth, but he didn’t have time to nock it onto his bow. The final man launched himself over the victim of that ninth arrow, bodily crashing into Clint and sending him stumbling backward as he struggled to keep his feet under him. The man slammed Clint into the support of the bridge and Clint’s head snapped back against the wooden bar so hard that his vision momentarily whited out. But his hands worked on instinct alone, and he managed to bring the final arrow around and bury it viciously in the man’s neck.

Clint could hear the cracking of the barrier behind him as the man’s sudden dead weight sagged against him. Without thinking, he pushed the man away, and the leverage needed for that action caused a loud SNAP. Clint had practically inhuman balance from his time at the circus, but even he didn’t have enough time to compensate for the sudden lack of anything between him and the drop behind him.

Before Clint could form a complete thought, he was in freefall.

There was a flurry of shouting in his comms. but he was far too preoccupied to even begin to comprehend what was being said. As he struggled to turn himself in midair in order to hit the water below feet first, he had enough time to think Oh shit three and a half frantic times in quick succession, which would have given him a better sense of the distance he had fallen if his head hadn’t already been so foggy. The barrier hit the water first, quite possibly saving his life as it broke the surface of the water before he hit it.

He must have blacked out because he didn’t remember the impact. One minute he was falling, wind whistling past him, and the next he was completely submerged in frigid water. Had he been conscious when he entered the water he had the survival instincts to handle the situation. But he was violently aware that there was water already in his lungs and all logic left him.

He no longer had any conscious control over his lungs. They were spasming painfully, desperately trying to expel the water and take in vital oxygen. He logically knew that this would only kill him faster, but that small voice in his head was completely lost to the blind panic. His chest screamed, burning him from the inside out. Clint knew that he had precious few seconds left and he clawed at the water around him, but suddenly he realized he didn’t know up from down.

He wasn’t sure how long he was trapped in that state. A few seconds? A few minutes? Several hours? His limbs felt heavy and weren’t quite responding like they should. The fog in his head was getting thicker, weighing down any thoughts of trying to survive this. The world was drifting away, the pain was fading.

Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the end.

And then, all at once, the pain returned full force, rocketing to an even more agonizing level. His lungs were twisting in a vice and it took him a long time to realize that he was coughing. It took even longer to realize that in order to cough… there needed to be air.

He heaved the precious air into his lungs and choked water out, all while his chest was screaming painfully. He reached a hand out blindly, trying to force his fogged brain to catch up with the turn of events. His left hand jammed hard into solid ground next to his right shoulder. His right hand was pinned awkwardly underneath him. As he finally pried his eyes open, he realized that he was lying on his right side, someone’s hand braced firmly on his left shoulder in order to keep him steady and leaning him forward slightly in order to accommodate the water he was still choking up.

He tried to push the ground away, instincts screaming at him to sit up and take in the situation around him to determine whether or not he was still in danger. But the hand on his shoulder held him firm, and though some small logical voice in the back of his head told him it was because his lungs were still desperately trying to clear all the water from them, he felt fresh panic bubbling under the surface.

“Easy, easy, you’re okay, you’re going to be okay. Get it all up.”

Finally, a low and comforting voice filtered into waterlogged ears. Clint could feel his panic beginning to wane. Maybe he wasn’t dying after all.

He heaved in a wheezing breath and finally exhaled without any water. Several raspy breaths later and to his immense relief, the pressure on his shoulder finally lessened. He pushed himself over onto his back, blinking water from his eyes as he tried to focus on was what was going on around him. Steve’s face came into focus first as he knelt over Clint. He looked shockingly pale and Clint could still see the edge of fear in his eyes. Clint shifted his gaze and saw Thor hovering just behind Steve, his own features also betraying worry and a hint of fear. Also, Clint belatedly realized that Thor was dripping wet.

“Clint?” Steve said.

Clint waved a hand weakly. “S’ill h’re.”

Steve heaved a sigh. Then he put one hand to his ear, shifting his gaze away slightly. “Yeah, yeah, he’s already, he came back around.” He paused and a ghost of a smile passed his lips for just a split second. “Romanoff says that if you do that to her again, she’s going to kill you herself.”

Clint choked on a painful laugh, grimacing as his chest protested profusely at the action. He put a hand to his sternum, suddenly wondering vaguely if he had needed CPR. It would certainly explain why it felt like there was a weight collapsing in on his lungs.

“Just hang in there,” Steve said. “Romanoff and Stark are bringing around the Quinjet and we’ll get you out of here.” He paused, staring at Clint as if he were afraid to look away. “Damn, Clint, you scared the shit out of us,” he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, huffing a humorless laugh.

Clint felt a smirk pulling at his lips. “Jus’ tryin’ to keep things in’eres’ing, Cap.”

#whumptober2019 #fanfic #fanfiction #no.19 #clint barton #hawkeye #Steve Rogers #captain america #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #thor #whump

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some-cookie-crumbz · 5 years

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Roll the Dice

Roll the Dice - Kidge Month Day 15 and Day 17 Prompt Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: Combining Day 15 and 17 since they were going to be connected either way. Just some fin involving games and Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Days of travel had left all of them worn to the bone and ready for a bit of rest. She wasn’t normally one to complain about the idea of having to rough it in the woods, but even she had her limits. The need for a comfortable shelter only became more apparent as fat, dark clouds loomed over them ominously. When they reached the top of the path leading them along, the distant flickering of town lights felt so comforting that she would have wept. Beside her, she could feel Faylinn trembling with giddiness, the other young woman clearly just as giddy. “Oh, please tell me this town is on the map,” Block pleaded, reaching into one of the many pockets of his robes. He spread the map out and squealed. “Praise the ancients, it is!”

“What town is it?” Pike asked, peering over the other man’s shoulder.

“Alezxan,”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that place before,” Jiro chimed in. A small smile turned up on his lips. “They say it’s a well-known merchant’s town, with plenty of goods necessary for guilds.”

“I just can’t wait until I have a chance to rest,” Faylinn commented, carefully reach out for her long silver ponytail. Her fingers stroked mournfully over the very edges, which were charred black as night. “I need a night where I don’t smell like sulfur and stomach acid, and have a chance to fix this damage.”

“Such are the risks when dealing with dragons,” Jiro said with a small chuckle.

She pinned him with a fierce glare over her shoulder. “Which was why Block and I suggested we take on the escort assignment,” she groused. She then indicated the young caster with a nod of her head. “And have you seen what that beast did to his staff?”

His staff had a huge chunk taken out of the fine wood, with jagged claw and smaller scorch marks decorating what remained of the curve at the end. “Yeah, still not happy about that,” he commented quietly, rolling the map back up and tucking it away.

“But the dragon mission ended up paying out way better,” she herself chimed in with a sly grin.

“Greedy little dwarf,” Faylinn muttered under her breath.

“Meklavar’s right, though! With how much of a profit we turned on besting that overgrown lizard, you can buy a new staff! A better staff!” Pike encouraged.

“I liked my old staff,” he grumbled with a small huff.

“But I’m sure you’d like a new staff with, say, a Gulonian crystal in it a whole lot too, right?” Meklavar suggested with a sly grin.

That gave Block pause. “Well, if it had a Gulonian crystal, I guess I could like a staff like that,”

“We could all use new equipment, honestly,” Jiro commented, casting a glance at the hilt of his sword, strung along his back. The leather of it was tattered and frayed, sticking out in various places. Inside its sheath, his sword was also rather beaten down from the battle, receiving a sizeable chink on one side. “Which, considering where we are, sounds like the perfect place to do that.”

“See, there ya go!” Pike hummed before a shudder coursed through him, causing his tail to fluff up. He stole a fervent glance up at the plump storm clouds before starting to hurry along the path, ears flattened against his head. “But for now, let’s get somewhere warm and dry before the storm starts up.”

“Aw, poor little kitty doesn’t like the idea of getting his feet wet?” Meklavar teased.

He scowled at her, tail lashing. “Oh, so you mean to tell me you actually want to spend a night waterlogged?” When her only answer was the faltering of her grin, his pout turned into an amused grin. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

With Pike taking the lead, they rushed down along the path and into town proper. They were able to find a reasonably priced inn just as the first few droplets of water fell, paying for two rooms and five meals. As they headed off to the bar attached to the inn, though, Meklavar noticed the young lady working the front desk cast a frantic glance out the window as the downpour really started up. She cast it off as perhaps her being worried about making the trek home in less than desirable conditions and followed her group along.

The meal was good not in taste, but simply in the fact that it was hot and fresh. They all had themselves a little too much ale, with Block and Jiro partaking so much they made complete fools of themselves. They danced and sang atop the tables, spurned on further by the cheers of the other bar patrons. When the festivities for the night ended, Pike and Meklavar had to lug a wobbling, babbling Block back up to their room, while Faylinn carried Jiro over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Once the settled the boys in their own room, she and Faylinn headed back to their own. They took turns using the adjacent washroom to clean up before bed, and as Meklavar slipped under the cover5s for the night, she stole a glance at her own axe, propped against the wall beside her bed. The blunt side of her axe was barely holding up the now-dulled blade, ready to give way and completely splinter from the weight at a moment’s notice. It would only last an incredibly small, incredibly simple mission, if she were lucky.

This, honestly, was the exact opposite of what they needed with their Guild just starting to develop a name for itself.

After their first grand adventure as a team, they decided to continue collaborating to assist one another with their aims. The most effective way, obviously, was to form a Guild and take on assignments as necessary. So, Sky Lion Guild was formed with the path of funding their respective missions as well. Thus far, their reputation was growing well, known for being rather skilled and successful for a tin class Guild. After that mission with the dragon, they’d been promoted to cinder class, which was a great honor, but came with its own host of new expectations. They would all need to step up their game, improve their skills and, obviously, replace their damaged equipment with ones of better quality.

She flopped over on her side, dozing off to the debate of what kind of mineral she’d like best in a new axe blade.

The next morning, Block and Jiro were slow and unpleasant to wake, feeling the backlash of their festive evening full force. They did perk up a bit when it was pointed out that they could hit the market and see what kind of wares the merchants had to offer. When they reached the lobby, however, they were greeted by the rain continuing on. The clerk informed them that, given the weather, it was unlikely any merchants would have set up shop in the bazaar, worried about the rain water ruining the quality of their goods. They waved it off, deciding they’d simply go the next morning, once the rain had let up, and instead headed to get themselves breakfast.

But the rain continued on the next day. And the day after that. And the day after. And the day after that.

“This is ridiculous,” Faylinn complained, arms crossed and pressed as far back against her seat at their table as she could get. “This weather is becoming rather bothersome.”

“Bothersome seems like a bit of an understatement. It’s keeping us from being able to purchase the goods we need,” Block chimed in before taking a small sip of his water-filled mug. After the theatrics of the other night, he had sworn of the ale cold turkey. “Plus, being trapped her is draining our funds much faster than we planned.”

“Well, why don’t we just move along to the next town, then? Surely they would have some merchants looking to sell,” Faylinn suggested.

“Can’t. The only logged path from here to the next town is through a road that cuts along the mountains, but it’s been closed down due to the risk of landslides. We could try to cut through the mountains outside of the designated path, but then we run the risk of getting lost without a guide. Also, our weapons aren’t in much of a state to defend us from much more than a disgruntled kitten,” Meklavar sighed.

“Well, it’s not like we can do anything about the weather,” Pike snorted, reclined in his own seat as if he owned the joint. His feet were propped up and crossed at the ankles atop the table, arms crossed behind his head to work as a makeshift pillow, and eyes closed as if he were merely napping. He peeked one open, the blue seeming brighter in his excitement, to look at their caster. “Unless you have some kind of trick up your sleeve that could help dispel this, pal?”

“With the state my staff is in? Hard pass,” he answered, shaking his head. Pike’s ears drooped and he heaved a loud sigh. “I mean, I could try, but it would most likely end with the spell backfiring directly on all of us. Which would be less than ideal.”

“Besides, we shouldn’t be using Block’s magic to resolve issues as mundane as some unfortunate weather,” Jiro added.

“Unless this is more than just a simple storm,” Meklavar pointed out, leaning in closer to her associates.

Block, Faylinn and Jiro all perked up and leaned closer as well, catching on to what she was hinting at. Pike, however, remained in his position, reclined and seemingly at ease. His ears, however, sat straight upright and his eyes were open just a slit, monitoring those around them for any suspicious behavior. “You think there’s more going on in this town that what it seems?” Faylinn asked quietly.

She nodded. “Do you remember the young woman who checked us in for our rooms? Something about her reaction to the storm seemed strange. It seemed as if she was afraid of the rain itself,” she explained.

“Ah, I noticed that. Broke my heart to see such a lovely young woman seem so unnerved,” Pike lamented lightly.

They all silently agreed to ignore his input and continue on.

“Couldn’t it just be a matter of storms being uncommon around here?” Block suggested.

“I considered that, but the reaction and what we know of this place don’t add up to that. I mean, if they rarely get storms,” she said, “then wouldn’t they be excited about the coming rains? To replenish their crops and water stores and such? Additionally, this place is a renowned trading hub! This implies they have to have a decent enough supply of foods and goods to warrant people stopping by, which wouldn’t make sense if they didn’t get enough storms to maintain their crops well enough to allow as many visitors as they undoubtedly see.”

“Maybe they bring in their crops using the money they make?”

“Then why would they have signs posted informing people of which farms can be located where along the edges of town?” Silence followed her last point, their whole group exchanging looks. “I don’t have any damning proof of what I think is happening, but the idea that something else is causing this weather seems rather plausible.”

“You think they’ve had some kind of hex laid upon them?” Jiro asked.

“Maybe. Like I said, I’m not completely sure, but it seems plausible. We need more information from someone in town, though,”

Pike swept his legs of the table and let out a small sigh, pushing himself to stand. “Well, I guess I’ll go do some investigating then. It’s the same woman at the front today as when we first arrived. I’m sure that I can get her to let me know what’s going on with a little finesse,” he hummed, stretching and arching his back until he got a little pop.

“Pike,” Jiro trailed off strictly.

“Just… Be careful. The last thing we need is for your incredibly involved approach to interrogations getting us kicked out of a town,” Faylinn trailed, fists clenched on the tabletop, “again.”

He tensed a bit. “That was a fluke! And a learning experience! Now I know to only use a small fraction of my full charisma on the unsuspecting beauties of the world,” He said.

“That or at least be the one who actually takes it on the chin when your ‘unsuspecting beauty’ turns out to have a very angry ogre husband,” Jiro grumbled.

“In my defense, he didn’t tell me he had a husband! I would never flirt with someone who’s spoken for, regardless of how magnificent,” And, with that, he headed out of the bar and back towards the main lobby.

While they waited, they chatted about this or that, stories from their past and their goals for the future. At one point, Jiro and Faylinn broke off to play a rousing game of throwing knives with a few of the other patrons. She spent the time trying to sharpen her axe to a respectable cut, only to be sorely disappointed. The sooner the rain let up, the better.

It took far too long to be reasonable before Pike returned.

His headband and hair were disheveled, face screwed up in a look of goofy satisfaction. He fell into his seat with a contented sigh, tossing one arm along the back while the other dangled in the air beside him. For a moment he just stared at all of them. “Well?” Block asked after Pike said nothing immediately.

“Meklavar was right; the town’s been cursed,” he said loftily.

“Okay, but by what?” she asked with a small huff. She had to resist the urge to grab her axe and knock the legs out from under his chair. He was holding up their progress with his lax behavior.

“I guess there’s some crotchety old mage who lives in a tower up on the mountain,” he said, indicating out the window with a tip of his head. It was hard to see through the pouring rain and dark clouds, but she thought she could just make out the shape of a building far in the distance. “He came down to try and pedal some of his cursed goods in the bazaar a few days before we got here. When they turned him away, he threw a temper tantrum and said they’d pay, that he ruined their whole town for anyone who visited it. Pretty typical for those finicky caster types, though.”

“Hey!” Block squawked.

“You’re not a finicky caster type, dude!”

“That’s still rude of you to say!”

“Oh, whatever! You guys should just be grateful I was able to convince the mayor that our guild could handle it!” He huffed.

And, with that, Meklavar finally turned her axe around to slam the blunt side right against the leg, sending him toppling over in a graceless heap with an equally graceless yowl. “You’re a complete moron!” she shrieked.

“What part of you, exactly, thought signing us up for another mission was a good idea?” Faylinn joined in, slamming her hands down on the table and standing.

“Seriously, dude? That warlock will take us down in, like, two seconds flat! Did you forget about the sad state all of our equipment is in?” Block pointed out as well.

“Which is why I was able to negotiation the terms of our agreement with them, geez!” Pike snapped back as he hoisted himself back on to his feet. He dusted himself off as well. “You guys act like I have no idea what I’m doing here! In agreement for taking on the assignment without a formal request being submitted, they’re going to have us given the best equipment available to complete the task! They’ve also agreed that, assuming we succeed, they’ll refund us for two of the nights we stayed at the inn!”

“Not a full refund?” Meklavar commented.

Pike side-eyed her skeptically. “Greedy little dwarf,”

Jiro let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Anyway, those negotiations are all well and good, but are they going to allow us passage through the blocked path? Or provide us with a guide who can?”

The other stopped at that, ears tipping downward. “Uh, no. See, the rain is coming down a lot worse closer to where the mage lives. Most likely as some kind of defense from any potential attacks by the village. As a result, the whole path is bogged down by mud and tree branches and such. No way we can get around that,”

“So we have no safe way of getting up there?” Block asked worriedly.

“Not quite, young warriors,” An old, withered voice chimed in. They were greeted by the sight of a well-dressed man with a long, braided beard and little reading glasses. His hair was mostly snow white, though there were traces of a fading orange hue to a few patches. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rocan, the mayor of this fine town.”

Jiro rose and bowed politely. “It’s a great privilege to meet you, sir,” he began, “but I am afraid our friend may have agreed to your terms too hastily. Our equipment is far too damaged to take on such a task, and none of us are familiar with the terrain leading up to where the cruel mage rests.”

“The equipment matter is one we have offered to fix,” he answered, “and while I cannot guarantee it, there may be someone who can get you up to the mage’s keep.”

Faylinn and Meklavar exchanged glances. “What do you mean by that, exactly, sir?” Faylinn ponder cautiously.

“There is one who lives outside our village, on the first peak of the mountain range to the east,” he said. “He has lived there many years, living off the land and traveling how he sees fit. No one else in this area will know the uncharted paths anywhere near as well as he. If you can convince him to assist your brigade, I have no doubt he’ll be able to show you the way.”

“There’s a lot of ‘ifs’ in that statement,” Meklavar pointed out.

“He is a bit of a hermit, despite his young age. He rarely ever visits town, and when he does it is typically very briefly,”

“So he’s a recluse,” Jiro said.

“Meaning the likelihood of him helping is slim,” Block agreed.

“Well, it’s better than nothing!” Pike insisted. He then tossed his head back a bit, flashing them one of his smoldering grins. “And, if need be, I can always put some of the old charm to use.”

“Do us all a favor and don’t,” Meklavar scoffed, rising fully from her seat. “Though, I will admit that Pike has a point; we don’t know if they’ll help us unless we try asking.”

Faylinn nodded before looking over at the mayor again. “We will go seek them out once we have the equipment necessary, then,” she agreed.

They were guided through the wet, muddy streets of town up to town hall, where a few of the most prominent merchants in town were gathered. They were given a bit of time to test out a few options, select the ones they found most agreeable, and then they headed out. They had to take their time and be careful, even though the rain was just a bit less severe in the direction they were going. It was still a rather steep climb, but after a good few hours of travel, they could see the hermit’s lodge not too far off in the distance.

But that was when they heard the first cry of a lone wolf not far off in the distance.

Faylinn paused, slipping one hand up to carefully grab one of the silver-tipped arrows from her quiver. “You all heard how close that was, right?” There was a pause between her words, in which a responding howl echoed from somewhere behind them. She whipped around, pulling her arrow back partially in preparation.

“But the question then becomes is it just the two, or is there a whole pack waiting to strike?” Jiro whispered back, hand clenched tight around the hilt of his new sword.

“Or, there’s also the risk they’re more than just normal wolves, but shifters,” Meklavar agreed, hefting her axe up to rest partially against her shoulder.

“Why can’t it ever be easy?” Block lamented quietly, the Gulonian crystal in the center of his new staff beginning to glow dimly, charging up some of his magic in preparation for an attack.

“Because that would be bo-! Ack!” Pike yowled before a large form slammed right into him. He growled, rummaging to get one of the paralysis balls he’d gotten, only for whatever was on top of him to jump back with a snarl. It hopped back until it stood beside another looming shape covered in a dark pelt. “Looks like it’s a shifter, guys!”

“Who are you mistaking for a shifter, miserable cat?” The larger figure spat, reaching up to carefully push back what seemed to be their head. Which, if they were, in fact, a shifter they shouldn’t have been able to do. When the hood slumped back, they were greeted by a pale face sporting two burgundy red marks along their cheeks, dark eyes with gleaming yellow pupils, and pointed ears.

A gasp left Faylinn. “A dark elf?”

“Half,” He answered brusquely. He paused to stare at each of them in turn. “Who are you, and what are you doing so close to my abode?”

“Your abode? So you’re the hermit of the hill?” Meklavar asked.

He scoffed. “Is that how they’re choosing to call me now? How impolite,” he then reached up to pull his hood back up. “My name is Yorak. And this is my companion, Gévaudan.”

The wolf beside his let out a small huff.

“No! Wait! Hold up!” Lance suddenly squawked, standing up and holding his arms up in an X in front of his chest.

Keith let out an annoyed look. “What’s your damage?”

“We aren’t seriously going to let your dog have a character in this, are we?” he asked, casting a glance at Coran.

The old Altean merely toyed with the end of his mustache thoughtfully. “Well, if no one else has a problem with it, and he can roll in situations... I don’t see why not,”

“I’m cool with it,” Pidge herself shrugged.

“Indeed. Keith seems rather adept at translating Kosmo’s desires, so it should be fine,” Allura agreed.

“Plus, look at this face! Such a sweet, lovable little guy!” Hunk crooned, gently smooshing the wolf’s fluffy face and booping his nose with his own.

Shiro sighed and shook his head. “Look, so long as Kosmo doesn’t get wild, it should be fun. But can we please get back to the game?”

Lance harrumped while Keith smirked at him, holding the dice out to the others. “Who wants to roll to see if you can coerce me into your group?” he teased.

Pidge smirked and took them from him. “Get ready to be our little slave, dweebo emo,”

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Kidgemas #MonthofKidge #MonthofKidge2019 #KidgeaPalooza #KidgeaPalooza2019 #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics

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