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st-clements-steps · 2 years

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“Sail the wrong way west lad, and you’ll sail into the folk’s waters.” Granda had told Fionn.

Once there had been a young man on the beach after Fionn had left Granda’s house, a young man watching the sea. Fionn had been kicking the pebbles of the beach as he walked and one had skittered into this young man. He had kicked it back to Fionn and returned to gazing at the sea.

“What are you looking at?” Fionn had asked in English.

When the young man did not reply Fionn asked again in his Granda’s tongue.

“Home,” the young man had said but there was nothing to see.

He was there again, months later, when Fionn had to hurry for the nights were fair drawing in, and the rain fell in cold fine sheets that burnt your skin.

“Are you still looking for home?” Fionn had asked.

The young man had laughed, his grin was almost wicked and Fionn might have ran from him but he didn’t.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“I’ll not give you that,” the young man said and he smirked again. “And don’t go giving your name to people like me.” His eyes were a sharp warning.

The next week Fionn had told Granda about him, and Granda had said, “that lad is folk, sure as anything.”

He didn’t see the young man for months and months, and when he did the young man grinned and looked no different than before.

“Are you folk?” Fionn had asked.

“Now he gets it.”

“Can you not sail the wrong way west?”

“Do I look as if I have a boat?” The young man held his arms wide.

Fionn shook his head. “Can you not make a home elsewhere?”

“I’ve had many but none of them have quite fit, not even that one, out there,” the young man nodded. He looked at Fionn then, Fionn saw the sharpness again. “How do you know of the sea-Realm?” he asked.

But Fionn did not understand the last word, not in Granda’s tongue, so he shrugged.

“The sea-Realm is the wildest of all the seven realms.”

“What about the others?”

“What about them?” The young man’s brows knit for a moment. “You know the folk have seven lands and they all lie on top of one another, not side by side as your lands do, but overtop and underneath?”

Fionn nodded as if he did know this.

“Tell me their names then?” Said the young man, there was snideness to his tone, like the boys at school with the latest trainers. “You do not know.” He shook his head before he began “The folk have seven realms, Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Beasts, Birds and Sea. And I know the Queens of each them, those that have Queens at least.”

“How?”

“Well the Queen of Winter, the Steel Queen, they call her, I grew up with her; and the Queen of Beasts, the Dragon Queen, they call her, my sister is her consort; the Queen of Spring, the River Queen, I was her hostage for a time, though she’s dead; there is no Queen in Autumn just now, nor in Summer, and the Birds are ruled by a boy, well I know him, though he’s no Queen.”

“What about the Queen in the sea?”

“The sea-Realm has no Queen, that’s why it’s wild. No Queen, but a thousand captains who each think themselves a king. A king as they whip men’s waves around them and drag them from their boats. A king as they tear men’s flesh from them, or thrall them to dance a thousand ceilidh, or gift them a thousand poems.” The young man smiled.

“Why would you want your home to be a place like that?

“Who says I would?” The young man asked, his grin wickeder than ever. “My uncle is there stirring up trouble anyhow.”

Fionn frowned.

“He’s definitely whipping up waves.” The young man said.

“Can you do that?

“No I’m air, I can still ships by swallowing the wind; I can tip ships, and throw them against the rocks well enough. I can pull up trees, and push on fires. But I’ve no power with the waves.” The young man looked sad.

“Do you wish you could?”

“I wonder if they’d have liked me better if I were water,” the young man said, “but we’ll not know now. My father’s dead anyhow.”

“Dead dead or not dead but still a captain like the Queen in,” Fionn faltered, “spring?”

“Dead dead and gone gone, thank every drop in the ocean."

“How can the spring-Queen still be Queen if she’s dead?”

“Well she can still walk and command things, and glare, she’s always had a good glare.”

“If you’ve no home why don’t you live with one of the Queens?” Fionn asked. “Why don’t you go and live in Winter with that Queen?”

“It’s cold there and I needs must remember terrible things I would rather forget.”

“Why don’t you live with your sister?”

“They must always be breaking the wheel and getting into fights.”

“Why don’t you live with the bird boy?”

“I tried to kill him once and saved him another time, I think we’re neck and neck now, but I wouldn’t like to check, in case I lost mine.”

“What about the other ones?"

“They’re rather chaotic, and I might lose my head, that happened once to a friend of mine, he has a wolf’s head now, and it’s really not the same, as heads go.”

“What happened to his head?”

“The river-ghasts have it, I suspect they are making fair enough use of it.”

“Would you like to come and live in my shed?” Fionn asked, “you could come watch the sea then, whenever.”

Fionn was fairly sure his mother wouldn’t notice, not if the young man really were folk.

And Fionn was right, she did not notice, not through that whole winter for through the spring that followed. At midsummer the young man went out in the morning with Fionn, and he never came back. Not once.

The time came that Fionn had gone away to uni and Granda had died and Fionn lived in one big city after another. And though these cities sat on the sea there was no sense you might sail west the wrong way from any of them. Fionn could only remember a few words of Granda’s tongue by then.

Still when Fionn had a daughter who asked for stories to lull her to sleep it was of the folk that he spoke.

“There was once a sea-Prince,” the story began.

“What’s a sea-Prince?” Fionn’s daughter would ask each time, a little private joke, “is he like a mermaid?”

“No,” Fionn would say, “he’s nothing like a mermaid.”

@theonsource

#theon greyjoy #game of thrones #gottheonweek #home #yes this is weird little fae fic #you say the boy’s name Finn #but I couldn’t resist

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crazyapplekiss · 1 year

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Out of all the Stars - part 1 (can be read standalone if you prefer)

Himiko’s heart was pounding in her chest as she slowly made her way through the darkened corridors, each room painting a gruesome sight and the thick heavy scent of blood filled her nose making her sway with every move. Despite their age, none of the floorboards seemed to creak or move oddly as they took her weight, something that should have made her happy. Instead, she found herself growing more and more anxious at the silence, the air around her, still, as if the entire building was holding its breath in anticipation.

It was only once she reached the end of the hall, that she finally realised she had also been holding her own, a shuddering anxious breath leaving her instantly, stirring the dust motes she could barely make out as they floated through the dim hall.

With all the windows either locked behind wooden shutters or covered in too much grime to see through, there was very little light that was filtering into the building. Even now that her eyes had adjusted as best they could, there was still little she could see, each rare ray of light filtering through, looking almost like a blade, cutting through the gloom that surrounded her.

Before her was a gruesome sight.

The walls and tatami mats were splattered in blood and ripped cloth along with the scattered remains of the people Himiko called friends. The looks of pure terror etched into their still faces were something she was sure to carry for a lifetime. The sickenly sweet smell of blood filled her nostrils and made the coil of hunger twist painfully in her belly.

In the middle of the carnage, was the man who caused this destruction. He was a client, she remembers, only a few weeks back. He’d reeked of sake and had a short temper that put her on edge every second she was forced to spend with him. By the morning he’d upset so many of the girls in the brothel they’d made an agreement to never let him set foot back there again.

It’s a pity they couldn't stop him this time.

He ripped the skin off what was once her comrade like it was nothing, his clothes splattered with blood. At his feet was the final remaining girl aside from herself. She was crying silently as he held her up by her hair.

He paused as she stood there drinking in the sight and a wicked grin crossed his face.

“Oh look at you!”he smiled, it felt like a glaring slap in the face greeting her that way, like he wasn’t standing among corpses”I didn’t think you’d survive!”

Himiko didn’t think so either. She had been thrown through the walls of the building and nearly ripped in two yet here she was without a mark dotting her skin. Distantly she could feel the air moving around her and she thought the room began darkening more than it already was or was it the fear and anger she was feeling that was messing up her perception of things.

The man pulled harshly at the girl’s hair, Yua she can vaguely remember talking with, and she cried out, the sound echoing loud in Himiko’s ears.

“How nice of you all to offer yourselves to me! It’s only fair I take what I want now isn’t it? After you so rudely cast me out. Especially this one with how good her blood smells. This is a feast!”

Something inside of Himiko clawed and scratched at the self imposed bindings within her, pacing angrily back and forth as it snarled and snapped its teeth. The rage was always present no matter what went on around her, but she was careful to never let it bubble up to the surface, even if the action was somewhat subconscious.

The man- no the creature before her smirked as he boasted loudly to those still present, waving his hand around carelessly as he yammered on as if he wasn’t holding the arm of her comrades in it. The girl he had taken hostage at his feet was crying, her small body trembling with raw terror as she remained trapped in the man's harsh grasp. For a moment, their eyes met, her expression tugging at something deep within Himiko’s soul.

There was a snap, the sound of something shattering deep within, and suddenly the beast lunged forward, teeth bared with a bloodthirsty snarl of rage.

The demon looked shocked at first when she lunged at him, claws out and teeth bared but in seconds he was throwing the girl aside and pounding Himiko in the wall.

She gasped, having the wind knocked out her. The doors weren’t strong enough to hold her weight when he threw her through them and she rolled to a stand still in the garden back aching and chest heaving. She didn’t have time to catch her breath because he was on her again happily pulling her limb from limb.

“Interesting, to think you could even hold a candle to me”he purred as he pulled her left arm off and ignoring her wails”someone as weak and worthless as you should have never even tried”

He crushed her right hand and she squirmed and cried trying to roll away and find purchase to push him off and he only laughed at her attempts staring at her hungrily.

“Let me have some fun with you until sunrise”

Himiko saw splinters of wood shatter behind his head as he remained still. The hungry manic look burned bright in his eyes as he turned to face the girl he discarded in the house.

“Oh oh oh! How lucky for me!”He screamed”I love it when my food fight’s back!”

He rushed to grab her as she took off to run and Himiko took this opportunity to force as much of her strength as she could into her legs and kick him into the walls of the brothel. She was panting hard as she tried desperately to grow back her limbs. It was no small feat with her being this weak and starting to become delirious from hunger.

The wooden beams and bricks went flying as he stood from the wreckage, the crazy smile falling from his face.

“I’d think you would have more sense”he growled”a demon and a human thinking they can take someone like me down?” He moved as quick as she could blink and she was pinned under his foot again, struggling to breathe as he pressed hard on her ribs. With a wave of his arm she felt multiple slashes across her face and neck nearly cutting her head clean off.

“This should keep a weakling like you busy while I catch my prey”he said clicking his teeth”killing you will do no good anyways. I’ll come back and throw you out when the sunrises”

She felt something snap when he used her body as a platform to push off of. She was gasping and bleeding and the hunger and weakness she was feeling grew tenfold. The smell of her blood and the blood coming from the house was strong and it was driving her crazy.

The demon’s footsteps and her friend’s cries grew closer again as he returned to the garden brandishing her like a prize.

“I’ll do you one last honor before I rip you to pieces bitch!”He laughed, utterly disgusting and monstrous”you get to watch me devour this girl bit by bit, how does that sound?”

There was so much pain and terror and hatred, so much hatred that filled Himiko at that moment when she pulled herself up on her shaking legs. Every one of her senses was going haywire, every cry Yua made was so loud it might as well been right beside her own ears and she wasn’t sure if the pulse that was drumming was hers or someone else’s but she could feel her blood pumping wildly under her skin with every breath and felt gushing from her neck and then swirling to take form, before blowing hole after hole through the demon’s torso.

The demon’s face had a look of total confusion; how could she do that? How dare she put a scratch on him? Before he could even get his bearings the flash of a blade took his head clean off in one smooth motion as if skimming water.

Himiko could feel her blood rushing back to her and slowly her body began to painstakingly put itself back together as she fell to her knees.

“Himiko!”

She felt Yua grab the shredded remains of her kimono as she held her. The wild beating of her heart made her mouth water but she fought it. She wouldn’t destroy what she had left further than it already was. She just couldn’t.

She saw two figures approach and they blurred as her eyes filled with tears.

Demons were never supposed to exist. They were supposed to be scary stories people told to scare people not to go out at night. How had it come to this? Now she was a monster.

“Have you come to kill me?”She asks not bothering to fight them, she saw them use the blade so effortlessly on the demon as if it was nothing. She’s weak enough already that only the hunger remains as Yua clutches her tighter. Their pulse beats strong and lively and she wonders how long till the sun rises. Anymore waiting like this is going to make her lose her control.

“That all depends on your next move”the man in the mismatched haori says with his hand on his blade

“Don’t kill Himiko! Please! She was trying to help me”Yua cries.

“Demons protecting humans? That sounds rather strange doesn’t it Tomioka-san?”The girl says sweetly with a smile on her face

“It’s not strange!”Yua glared at them raising her voice”Don’t you dare kill her!”

“Is there a way to fix this?”Himiko asks, staring up at the two people in front of her. They could kill her in a heartbeat like this, never mind Yua’s cries. She felt uneasy as they looked down at her like she was prey. The girl in the butterfly pattern haori smiles at her, her expression unchanging.

“I think you can help me with that”

#kimetsu no yaiba #Tomioka Giyuu #Kochou Shinobu #Original Characters #Himiko #Yua #Blood and Violence #Mild Gore #Angst #Hopeful Ending #writing #writing community

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alrightberries · 3 years

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Hi! So like what if Levi & F!Reader are like cuddling, and Levi over slept (maybe misses a meetings?) and Eren and his squad have to go find him and they see Reader and Levi all cuddly and stuffs. AND THEN Levi become super pissed bc they went into his quarters without permission and blah blah blah (you can decide the rest lolll) basically crack, fluff and humor lol. Please& thank uuu

the short end of the stick

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 3.3k

❈ summary: In which the 104th cadets were not prepared to find out that the terrifying and ever-intimidating Captain Levi... is a little spoon.

❈ trigger warnings: implied sex. brief mentions of blood and death. profanity

a/n: i made the reader gender neutral, hope y’all don’t mind. i had too much fun writing this and got kinda carried away. this is my first request ever and i’m glad that i finished it. enjoy!

Eren was shaking.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and his knuckles turned white from how hard he was clenching his fists, nails piercing his skin so harshly he swore it would draw blood. His heart angrily pumped inside his chest, every beat so strong he nearly anticipated for it to jump out of his ribcage at any given moment.

Fear.

He felt fear.

He puts a name to the feeling and it doesn’t make him feel any better. Ears ringing, lungs breathing rapidly as he tries to steady his fear-induced heart. He was hyperventilating. His eyebrows crease from his anxiousness and he feels his knees weaken, daring to give out beneath him. Was he actually shaking right now? He couldn’t even tell.

Vulnerable.

He felt vulnerable.

Eren had seen many horrors throughout his short lifetime. He saw the colossal titan rear its ugly head over Wall Maria as its foot smashed into the wall’s gates, debris flying throughout the district as a boulder crushed his home with his mother still inside. He saw his mother get snapped in half and eaten by a titan right before his very eyes at a tender age as he sat by and could do nothing but watch.

He was orphaned. Forced to grow up too soon, too fast just so he could say he survived. His entire district was left homeless, forced to become refugees as titans rampaged throughout the outer walls, forced plow the fields to combat the famine and hunger, forced to have 250,000 people go on what was essentually a suicide mission to appease the growing population.

He trained in the military. He trained for three gruesome years and had his physical and mental psyche crushed into dust beneath the boots of the commanding officer, only to be thrown into a battle—completely unprepared— with the titans once more before he could even graduate.

He saw his friends, his family, his brothers and sisters in arms get eaten. Killed. Murdered. Swatted away like flies by the very beasts he swore he’d kill.

And yet, nothing could prepare him for this.

Nothing could prepare him for the blood-pumping, adrenaline-induced terror at the mere thought of having to carry out his mission.

Nothing could prepare him for having to wake up Captain Levi from his nap.

Jean groaned. “Dammit, just fucking do it already.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie, suddenly reminded that he wasn’t alone. His fellow soldiers stood behind him.

“Well if you’re so brave then why don’t you do it, horse-face?” He grits back, turning around and clenching his fists at his side.

He glimpses around the hallway and his eyes loom over his teammates’ amused faces, each painted with a shit-eating grin. Everyone was relieved that they weren’t the ones tagged with waking up the Captain from his nap.

Rumor around the base is, the last person from his original squadron (may they rest in peace) who had to wake up Captain Levi almost had his ear sliced off. Levi wasn’t even carrying any gear or anywhere near a knife.

One look at Mikasa told Eren that even she was glad she didn’t get picked for this task, and he shudders at the thought of being the poor bastard who had to lose his ear just so the Captain wouldn’t be late for his meeting. He quite liked having both of his ears attached to his head, thank you very much.

“It’s your task.”

“Yeah but why is it my task?!”

“Because you drew the short end of the stick, genius.” Jean replies easily.

Oh. Right.

“There has to be something we can do! Another plan. One that doesn’t involve waking up Captain Levi.” His eyes are pleading as he looks at his fellow soldiers, yet none of them seem willing to switch places with him.

Dammit. They were really going to make him work for it.

All his dignity is thrown out the window as Eren quickly gets on his knees and starts begging his friends, the shit-eating grins on their faces turning into wicked smiles as they watch him beg for mercy.

“Mikasa? What about you? Are you seriously going to let them send me to my death?” He asks, but Mikasa simply turns her head the other way as she speaks.

“He won’t kill you. Just sever your ear.”

Eren’s eye twitches.

She looks at him once more. “I’ll pick up your ear and ask the medical unit to sew it back on you. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

As proof, she holds up a glass jar and some tweezers. She had gloves on her hands.

God, he was going to kill his teammates.

Jean, apparently fed up with Eren’s incessant whining, marches towards him and grabs him by the collar, forcing him to stand up.

“Yeager, you trained in the military for three years. You’re a goddam titan shifter. You got kidnapped and held hostage. Three times. Waking up a growth-stunted man won’t be the last of you.”

Jean’s words are reassuring but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. No, his eyes are still amused. Very amused.

Scratch that, he wasn’t going to kill all his comrades. Just Jean. Jean and his extremely punchable horse-face.

Before he could even reply, Eren is shoved inside the Captain’s office with a quick “Off you go!” and the door is quickly shut behind him.

Fear.

This was truly fear.

Captain Levi’s office is empty, Eren notices. It’s spotless as always and tall shelves line every wall, each filled to the brim with books and documents. A lone door sits at the far right wall.

The Captain’s bedroom.

Slowly, with bathed breaths, he forces his legs to walk closer to the door that held his fate. Briefly, Eren thinks about getting some protective ear covers (just in case) but he quickly shoves that idea aside when he realizes that Jean and Conny were likely blocking the door from the outside.

That, and he concludes that the Captain would just break another part of his body. Maybe his hands. He didn’t need ears for handling ODM gear but he did need his hands.

“Captain?” Eren’s voice is weak but clear as he knocks on the door. “Captain Levi, you’re late for your meeting.”

He holds his breath for a few seconds, and there’s no response. He tries once more.

“Captain,” he repeats, louder this time. “Captain, you really need to wake up. Commander Erwin says your attendance is required for the meeting to start.”

But there’s still no response.

His hands are shaky and he’s still extremely nervous, but he knew Captain Levi’s presence was urgent to the meeting. Classified, Commander Erwin had said when he asked what it was about.

The third time Eren repeats his fruitless endeavors, he realizes that Captain Levi really wasn’t waking up any time soon.

He runs back to the door he came in from.

“Let me out!” He yells, hands throttling the doorknob as he tries to pull the door open but just as he suspected, Jean and Conny are sealing the exit and pulling at the doorknob as well.

“Let me out, dammit! Captain Levi won’t wake up, I don’t wanna die— just let me out!”

His feet are pressed up against the wall at this point and he manages to yank the door open by a few mere inches. A quick glimpse outside confirms his worse fears: all his friends are holding onto the doorknob as well, trying to keep the door closed. Even Mikasa.

He’d never felt so betrayed.

“You got this Eren!” His eyes drift to the back of the group where Sasha was smiling at him with a cheeky grin. “I’m sure the Captain won’t hurt you too badly when you wake him up.”

“No, fuck that! He’ll murder me and say it was because I went ape shit in titan form. He won’t even get arrested!”

It was when he made eye contact with Mikasa when he realized what true betrayal felt like.

“Good luck, Eren.” “No, don’t—!” Mikasa yanks the door close with one strong pull and he falls to the floor, on his ass.

The room is quite once more (save for the cheeky giggles on the other side of the door) and Eren brushes himself off as he stands up. He eyes the door to the Captain’s bedroom and he breathes in deeply when he comes to terms with what he has to do to wake the Captain from his deep slumber. He has to go inside.

He finds himself in front of the door once again, and this time his knocks are a little louder, a little more unsure, as he speaks. “Captain? I don’t think you’re waking up soon. I’m coming in.”

Slowly, he tells himself. Slowly.

Eren wasn’t sure what to expect when he opened the door to Captain Levi’s quarters. Maybe a torture chamber. Maybe swords and skeletons on the wall. Maybe a book on How To Murder With One Glare on a coffee table. He didn’t know.

But oddly, he thinks as he glances around, the Captain’s bedroom is... normal. The room’s dark, with its curtains drawn and the candles unlit. Tall shelves holding an impressive collection of books still line a portion of the walls. A bed is pressed up against the wall opposite the door, and there are two lumps underneath the blankets—

Wait.

Two lumps.

Two.

Captain Levi’s in bed with someone?

“Captain Levi,” Eren quietly calls out. He wonders who the hell managed to catch the Captain’s attention... or if someone even caught his attention at all. Captain Levi could just be hugging a pillow, he reasons. But Eren’s curiosity overtakes his fears and his legs start to walk closer towards the bed. “Captain?”

The blanket was pulled over the two sleeping lumps, and Eren gently tugs it down to reveal their faces.

No way.

No fucking way.

Briefly, Eren is speechless. His words get caught in his throat, hand frozen mid-air as he marvels at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier cuddled up within the arms of his lover. His normally stoic face is gone, replaced by relaxed eyes and a slightly ajar mouth, one cheek puffed up as it’s squished into his lover’s chest and his head is nuzzled into the crook of their neck. His arms disappear underneath the blankets, but judging by the fact that his lover’s arms were around him, Eren surmised that the Captain’s arms were most likely wrapped around his lover as well.

He looked innocent— cute, almost, and if Eren didn’t have to train under him everyday he might have actually believed that the Captain’s innocent sleeping face could be taken at face value.

Eren recognizes you, as well. He’s seen you around the base with your own squadron, an elite soldier with your own team of other elite soldiers. You’re known around the base as the squad leader who works their team to the ground, training your members so hard that they genuinely considered going to Captain Levi for comfort. But it wasn’t for naught, of course. Your squad’s survived longer than Captain Levi’s (again, may they rest in peace), barely making it out complete when the fiasco with the Female Titan occurred.

“Oi, Eren.” A voice behind him speaks, and Eren is briefly caught off guard as he turns around and makes eye contact with his comrades. Most likely, they got impatient with waiting for him and decided to see if he’d been murdered already.

Great, so now they decide they weren’t scared of going inside the Captain’s room.

“What’s taking so long?” Jean asks.

Eren is still speechless, opting to instead shakily point his finger towards the bed where Levi lay wrapped in your arms.

“H-he’s... he’s—“ “He’s what?”

He gulps and sighs deeply, speaking out so quietly his friends almost didn’t hear, speaking out in a mere shaky whisper as he utters his words.

“He’s a little spoon.”

Chaos is what Eren would use to describe what happened next. His comrades immediately jumped to stand next to him and take a look at the sight on bed, crowding around them as if they were a soap opera.

“Oh my god, he looks so...” Sasha starts in awe, hands on her cheeks and stars in her eyes but unsure how to finish her words.

Eren nods his head, understanding her speechlessness. “Innocent.”

Silently, his friends nod as well. But he couldn’t just stand here and gawk at Captain Levi’s sleeping form, he came here with a mission. “We need to wake him up. He’s already really late.” He says, more to himself than to his friends. He doesn’t wait for his comrades to exit the room as he gently places a hand on the Captain’s shoulders to shake him awake.

“Captain Levi—“

Eren learns his mistake too late as Levi’s eyes immediately snap open, hand clamping down on Eren’s and twisting it behind his back to disarm him.

“Eren!” Mikasa yells behind him, making a move to free him from Levi’s iron clad grip. From the corner of his eyes, Eren sees the person lying down next to Levi quickly sit up and throw something silver, flying past his comrades and towards Mikasa’s head, embedding itself deep within the wood next to her face.

Eren stares at his friends, all silent, frozen with fear, and rooted to their spots as their mouths hang open.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Levi sneers, pushing down on Eren’s arm.

“C-captain, you’re late for the—“ “Holy shit, we’re late for the meeting.” You cut in, eyes wide in realization.

The Captain briefly glimpses at you and clicks his tongue as he releases Eren from his grip, the young soldier immediately slumping to the ground in relief. His arms and legs felt like jello and he could already feel himself melting into the wooden floor.

“Can someone explain to me why you brats thought it would be a good idea to enter my private quarters?” Levi glares. “Without my permission?”

Oh shit. They didn’t think this through.

A cold shiver runs down the soldier’s spines as they unanimously realize their mistake, something that Eren undoubtedly would’ve felt as well if he wasn’t too busy gawking at the realization that Captain Levi was shirtless (probably naked underneath the sheets), and you were shirtless as well (also probably naked underneath the sheets).

Levi catches Eren’s eyes staring at you, and he silently pulls the blanket over your chest and up to your collarbones without breaking his glare at the cadets.

Fuck. Eren thinks, eyes snapping to the ground as a blush creeps up his neck. Captain Levi’s definitely going to cut off both my ears now.

Conny, apparently already cracking under the pressure, flails his arms and yells as he tries to make a run for the door. Before anyone could even blink, another silver blur whizzes through the air, stabbing the wood directly in front of Conny as he freezes.

It was a knife. A fucking butter knife. Why the hell the Captain and his lover keep a butterknife next to them on the bed is something Eren doesn’t want to know.

“Since none of you lot have tongues,” Levi speaks. He’s not going to get an explanation soon. “We’ll discuss punishment later. For now,” He stands up, grabbing a still flustered Eren by the collar and dragging him towards the door, pushing out the rest of the team as well.

Eren doesn’t have time to be relieved about the fact that Captain Levi was not, for a fact, naked and was wearing black boxers. He was too busy getting pushed out the Captain’s bedroom and dragged through the office before finally getting thrown out into the hallway.

“For now, you leave me alone. I have a meeting to attend to.”

Levi slams the door shut at his awestruck soldiers, breathing in a frustrated sigh as he rests his hand on his forehead. He was getting a headache. He feels arms wrap around him from behind, hands resting on his chest. He sighs once more, this time in content, as he leans into your touch.

“Hey,” you kiss neck. “Thought you said you locked the door.”

“I did.” He turns around, still in your arms, and gently places his hands on your face as he kisses your nose. “Someone must’ve accidentally unlocked it when they were trying to grab onto something. Y’know, when they were getting fucked from behind.”

You chuckle. “Well, I’m sure that someone probably got sweet talked into getting fucked against the door.”

You break away from his arms after giving him a kiss, making your way back inside Levi’s bedroom, no doubt to get dressed for the meeting.

He stares at you as you walk, still naked and looking gorgeous. His face may be stoic but his heart was leaping, the gold ring on your left hand that matched his own glimmering in the light.

Your head peaks out from behind his bedroom door. “Round two before the meeting?” You ask cheekily.

Levi rolls his eyes as he makes his way to the bedroom as well, patting your bum as he passes by. “No. We’re already late.”

Eren clutches the pillow to his head, exhausted from the laps he’d done. He glances around the room, eyeing the tired faces of his comrades.

As punishment for invading your privacy, Captain Levi assigned them laps around the base until sundown plus two weeks of stable duty. As punishment for invading his privacy, Captain Levi deemed them unworthy of having their own private space and made the entire squadron bunk together in the small room beside his own.

Well, the entire squadron except for the Captain himself, at least.

Eren was pretty sure the room they were made to sleep in indefinitely was supposed to be a supply closet of some kind, but it fitted enough bunk beds for the entire team and was deemed a worthy location to carry out the rest of their punishment.

“How long do we have to sleep here?” Sasha asked dreadfully, hands covering her ears in attempts to block out the noises coming from the other room. The sound of a squeaky mattress and a wooden bed slamming against the adjacent wall continued.

“Until we learn our lesson,” Jean quotes the Captain. He himself looked extremely tired but he wasn’t trying to cover his ears like the rest of them were, undoubtedly because he’d already given up on getting a good night’s rest if the bags underneath his eyes were anything to go by.

“I don’t even care how long we have to sleep here anymore.” Conny interjects tiredly. “I just want to know when they’ll ever stop.”

As if to prove his point, a moan is heard through the walls. The soldiers flinch, still not accustomed to the sound. Mikasa silently runs her hands through Eren’s hair to calm him down.

“They’ve been at it for hours,” Jean whispers in horror. “How much stamina do those two have?”

Armin sighs, the bags under his eyes feeling heavier by the second. “They’re elite soldiers who’ve trained for years. They have more stamina than all of us combined.”

The whole room heaves out a collective groan, finally accepting that they weren’t getting any sleep tonight.

In the other room, Captain Levi bangs his fist against the shared wall. “Oi,” he calls out. “Shut up, you brats. We can hear you.”

Levi thrusts his hips, eyes glancing down at your pleasure-struck face as he grinds into you more. The action causes you to throw your head back and let out a desperate moan, finger nails scratch down his back. He grabs your hands to pin them to the sides of your head, leaning down to whisper “Not too harsh, darling. We don’t want you leaving marks now, do we?” He continues his pace, the bed’s wooden frame slamming against the wall as he once again speaks to his soldiers.

“We have thin walls, y’know.”

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terrorhqs · 3 years

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[tw: blood, major character death]

A week after the takeover, the Promethean is well on its way to finish its trek. Cutting through calm and complacent waters, the crew and guests note that the ice that had once held them hostage has dissipated overnight with the dark and the gloom. Perhaps the deaths of the soldier and the girl sated the beast, some whisper — it’s leaving us alone. No, their comrade scoffs. Too easy. You heard the French - the thing killed a boatload of them before it left them alone! Two people are nothing but crumbs to it. It’ll be back.

“You’re all buffoons”, another chimes in. “The Agathe? Mutineers all along. It’s as Estrada said. They killed their crew and are killing ours too.”

Amid the new tension borne of the mutiny, suspense heavy as wool hangs over the ship as it resumes its course. Lookouts are silent as they watch the ice, dread fraying their nerves, the same thought trawling across their conscience. Surely, it will reappear. After everything, it will come back.

But nothing parts the ocean, not even the breeze. An uneasy quiet descends upon the ship as those with an interest in completing the passage outnumber those who seek to return now that the waters promise an easy journey. An end to all of this is feasible — the only question remains: will all that’s been lost have been worth it? Is there any end that justifies the means?

It’ll be weeks, months yet before the Promethean reaches Hong Kong, but a call rings out in the midst of the morning. Wick and Bastien, high atop and on lookout, wave down wildly at the deckhands below.

“Land! Land ahead!”

A seaman relays the message, bursts into the captain’s quarters where Marcus waits, in covenant with Hugo. Both men snap their heads at once, when they see the rallied cry that’s being picked up among the ranks. Both men, yes, to the slack curl of their jaw, can hardly credit it. It cannot be, their dark eyes say, pupils flashing. Even down to their mannerism, they have begun to look the same.

“Land, sir. Lookout’s caught sight of land. Of a city - and its harbor!”

The vice-admiral-made-captain starts in his seat, brow furrowing, skeptical. “You’re joking. Even you must have looked at a map, we’ve got quite a way before even—”

“I swear it!” In his haste, he doesn’t mind his manners. As frantic as anyone’s ever seen, even Estrada cannot deny the truth from his eyes. “The lads are calling for you up-deck, Sir. The whole world is. A port awaits us.”

The rest of those onboard join the watch on the upper deck, curious clamoring seizing even those under the watchful eye of a musket barrel. There is no mistaking it - an oceanside city perched on low, rocky stone worn by lapping waves is clear through the spyglass. Slender, shimmering buildings of white spiral towards the sky in spires; others buildings are lower to the ground, and all are built with the same stone upon which the city sits and all are half-hidden behind a mist.

“Make plans to dock.”

—

“Don’t stand up, Dowling. It’s only me. I come bearing news.”

Silence. In the space between the bottom of the floor and the door, Malachy’s silhouette shifts.

“Too much of a coward to face me, Estrada?” Ragged voice tears through the air like a dagger, muffled through the door. “State your peace and leave.”

“Is that an order, captain?” A humorless, hollow laugh. “This is a gesture of goodwill, Dowling. I’d mind yourself until I’ve said what I’ve come to say.” He pauses. Perhaps to hide his own disbelief. Perhaps to spite Malachy. “We’ve fucking crossed it, Dowling. We think we’ve found the passage and we’ve found a way through. Hell, we might have already crossed it. We’ve got a city in sight and we’re making plans to dock in their harbor.”

A long pause. “No. No, that can’t be. It’s far too soon. A week, that’s not enough.”

“Say it as much as you want. By the time we lay anchor, you can come see for yourself. I reckon, see, that it won’t even be a day. As a truce, I’ll let you out—supervised, of course, and never too far from my sight. But freedom, Dowling. You’re to partake in it as well.”

“Thrilled, are you?” A soft thump on the other side of the door as Malachy leans against it. “How neatly this all transpires for you as soon as you seize the helm. Should’ve mutinied sooner, I bet you’re thinking.”

“Not here to question it. For your sake, I hope you don’t either.”

—

Up close, the mist that cloaks the city shifts with every step taken. Appearing transparent once, then cloudy with a thin, greenish film next, then shimmering with an opalescent, abalone sheen. It is cold, but not cold enough for the thick coats that have proven imperative for standing outside in the Arctic. A strange humidity permeates the air - it is thin and thick, at once, and one feels a shortness and a swelling in every inhale - not painful, nor is it natural. The luster visible from the sea is procured from shells embedded into the foundation of every building, in between the stone and plaster - old and weathered, they glint in the light that parts through the mist. Perhaps the first thing that can be glimpsed, like a maroon carpet of colour, is the red sands on the eastward beach. Ground to a fine point, blanketing uniformly around the village until the paved streets begin to stretch on, it resembles a carpet of leaves or clipped gems as much as a natural phenomenon.

No other ships are docked at the silent harbor. Cobblestone lines the path up the crumbling seawall and into the city where townsfolk mill about in the marketplaces and town square, a vast space eclipsed by grand, towering edifices - a spindly cathedral demarcated by an unfamiliar brass symbol of the very tallest of its spires; an ancient, squat tavern; an inn with patrons streaming in and out like shoals; a surfeit of various shops of every variety, marked not by words or names, but by images painted into the overhanging signs. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, one realizes there is an absence of gas lamps that dotted London in abundance. Instead, white wax candles spill over every ledge, every crook and cranny, their bases melted into the stone and bedrock and wood.

Townsfolk cast strange, curious glances at these newcomers, but their gazes never linger long before they carry on with their businesses. The accents are implacable, though they speak English - not even a mishmash of any known dialects, but entirely unfamiliar. Not even the Promethean’s most well-traveled guests can narrow their tongue or the origin of their accents down.

The shops and inns here refuse currency - one takes what they need, and they carry their debt with them until it's repaid, metaphorically or literally.

—

Malachy emerges from the boiler room a fragmented man, gaze trained on the multiple barrel ends that follow his every movement. Every breath he takes lifts his entire body in a heaving pulse-thrum. Hair unkempt and eyes wild with animal fury, his lips lift into a sneer as he finds Marcus in the crowd of muskets.

“Is this where I’m supposed to thank you for your mercy, Estrada?” He appraises the armed crew. “And your lackeys, for their restraint?”

“Chin up, Dowling.” The vice-admiral’s lips curl into a grimace. “Even you cannot deny this good fortune. Certainly this justifies some of the trouble.”

“It justifies nothing. If you’re wise, you’ll not let me out of your sight.”

No more is exchanged between the two men before Malachy is ushered up the main ladderway, up to the upper deck and onto the dock, one armed escort in front and behind him. The rest of the crew begin to disembark, all who aligned with Malachy closely followed by another who wasn’t.

The dock creaks beneath their feet, and the procession is slow, tentative, upon reaching this new port. Everything is familiar, and yet nothing is - not even the screech of a gull to announce their arrival.

Then, a scream, feral and hoarse.

Behind them, Jules takes advantage of the momentary awe and sweeps the legs of her captor, knocks them into the harbor waters. A musket fires. The narrow dock doesn’t allow much in the way of room, and those who have not yet made it out of the ship clamber back on. Captors shout for their captives to STAND STILL, MOVE BACK down into the lower deck, but the chaos and the overlapping shouts overpower them. Smaller squabbles break out as the rest milk the opportunity given to them by Jules’ commotion. Ahead of them all, Malachy slams himself into the guard in front of them, tackling them both to the ground. His second escort scrambles for a clear shot, musket trembling - only to lurch back, struck in the shoulder. Behind him, Ephraim had broken free and wrestled the gun from his warden, his aim true then and now as he holds it steady on Malachy’s escort, who wordlessly surrenders his own weapon to Malachy.

On the boat, chaos descends. Roi has easily overtaken his guard, pinning them to the side of the boat. Before he can hurl them into the water, Mariah throws himself onto his back, pinning the steward’s neck into the crook of his elbow. A flash of silver in his free palm - but then Laurents is on him, twisting their arm back until the knife drops to the ground with a clatter, and drives his fist into the mercenary’s gut, allowing Roi the chance to break free. Elias dives for the dagger and slashes at the ankles of Fahra’s guard, who had her wrists firmly in their grip. He cuts deep, cuts an unthinkable and irreparable gash over both calves; enough to maim, perhaps, if another one of Estrada’s hounds had not stepped in. The second man, bigger, wrangles the steward into a deathgrip. They both take the fall, tumbling several paces across the teak. In the somersault, the snowfall of movement and limbs, Ayla Dowling steps in with a lifeline. A physical rope, no time for metaphor, no time for anything but the hard gnashing of the present. The doe loops the rope around the guard’s neck, and, with a vicious tug that no one would’ve wagered on, pulls him off Elias and onto the planks. She waits no second before helping Elias up, and together they join Jack, the sergeant’s dagger blocking Violet’s aim on August.

Some paces away, Noemie leads the rest of the Agathe survivors through the skirmish and off the ship - they start down the docks, but Katja blocks their way, and it’s her musket to their none. She grabs Tristan by the arm, presses the musket to his stomach - if you want him alive, you’ll do as I say. A gun close by goes off, causing all of them to flinch. In that instant, Nyima breaks from the hostage group to lunge at Katja. The two scuffle, until Nyima gets a grip at the barrel of the musket, shoves it into the air - it goes off. Tristan tries to pin Katja down, and she hisses, points the gun at him - Nyima yanks the barrel back. It goes off again - whether by accident or as a result of the scuffle or by intention, it finds its mark.

A wail cuts through the air, and for a moment, the bedlam stills. Nyima clutches a weeping wound on her chest, collapsing into Tristan’s arms. Ever the protectress, she is restless still even with her grievous wound, tries to force herself before the rest of the Agathe survivors as they fall to her side. This is one of the last attempts, the last slingshots of action in her muscles and spirit: to interpose between her friends and Katja. The translator backs away, wide-eyed, but still in possession of her wits - weapon poised to fire again if they tried to seek retribution.

“Call Jonathan! Casimir! Help her!” Emma begs to no one in particular. She is quick to kneel, had already torn off half the scarves she was wearing, and is pressing dry palms, wet cloth, crimson sash to Nyima’s blooming chest. The petal spreads, swallows the entire front of the amulet’s dress. For all her time spent in gardens, for all that she turned stem and stalk to see the wonders of the world, this is a flower Emma cannot understand. Cannot weed out, or stall, or even conceive of. The blood flows, pours, goes over easy; a swell like the motion of waves, on what was once a ferocious, then a frozen, now an utterly becalmed sea. Nyima’s hand raises to Emma’s cheek, and, like the curl of a gentle claw, wraps around the jawline. Tristan falls to her other side. She whispers something to both of them, a voice that doesn’t carry, a wisp already flattened into velvet by the winds. Then she presses her own face into Tristan’s thigh. Her Judas, her Captain; it’s hardly appropriate, isn't’ it, that he’s the one that has been betrayed again—that he’s the one left behind. Perhaps this is why the cook smiles to him, last. To assure, as much as assuage. To promise there is another turn to this story, even as her own is already fading.

By now, Malachy and his officers and Marcus and his loyalists have found the source of commotion and gathered, wordlessly. Jonathan weaves through to reach Nyima - there’s shifting, the subtle sounds of men taking aim, and Ephraim immediately raises his gun to Marcus. It takes his own Captain’s voice to make him lower it, hip level, eyes murderous.

“Let them go. Let her…” Malachy pauses, swallowing through his hoarseness. There is no doubt as to the injury’s severity - the bleeding has not abetted, thick rivulets seeping through Emma’s fingers and pooling on the fallow ground. Malachy Dowling was a man of many wounds; some borne within, some hidden, but most of all witnessed. He knows what a death mark looks like. Nyima’s body is a canvass of carnage.

Not much for Jonathan to do, no, not much for anyone to do at all. Doing has led them here; the rough, loud, prideful fall of it. The impossible tally. The Captain, the former Captain, rises his voice once more. “Let them care for her in peace. You’ve had the upper hand, and now - now neither of us do.”

It’s Tristan’s cry that announces it; the death, the finality. Emma’s face is as white as the sky above them. Hands as rusty as the sands on this beach, on this strange place of salvation. Ayla and Noemie huddle closer to lift her up, lift her away from Nyima, but she won’t go. It seems no one is going anywhere, anymore — the whole possibility of it has been culled. Bones resting as slack as burlap; as unconscious as the flotsam left after a flood.

Behind him, Edward and Jaya usher those they knew to be aligned with the old command off the docks and into the city. Marcus watches, impenetrable, his own musket held limp at his side, unmoving, unspeaking.

Then he extends a hand to Katja, like a faraway tyrant, the stone hewn statue of one, calling home its acolytes. He waits until the thief, once-translator, now trembling toll paid in blood, comes into his shadow. Lays a hand on her shoulder, protective and proprietary all at once. Lays a gaze, then, like the snag of a chain; drags it over all of them that remained up deck. Only then he begins to speak.

“So that is how these things end: the pointless brutality of it. Man’s obsession to keep a code of honour that has long stopped serving. Has everyone seen it, looked their fill? Good. I am nothing if not prophetic, hm? Now. Now. Let us make sure no other prediction of mine will see the garrish, gruesome light of day. Have you all had enough of mutiny and cockfights? Are you ready to make something of your life?”

His body turns to the rest of the crew, a full recoil, almost a repose.

“Seems to me this is as good a place to start as any.”

To his own, Malachy offers his own words. Exhaustion permeates his words, weighs them heavy as lead - the fight is over, all there is left to do is rest. Regroup. Loss, they all know by now, regardless of their alignment, is consumptive. It eats and it steals and it offers nothing in return. “Let us not forget the dangers that have led us here. Betrayals. Mutinies. Guns at our heads as we lived and slept. A beast that knows not of compassion nor mercy. Just because we are alive does not mean we are safe - do not let your guard down. Rest, and we will regather. Salvation, whether it be here, or home, awaits us in unity.”

OOC: We hope you enjoyed today’s plot drop, lovely members and lurkers! The Promethean has landed in strange new lands where nothing is at it seems, with tension aboard boiling over into a chaotic climax. The crew has mostly dispersed into the city, with each side of the mutiny looking to gain their bearings and regain control.

A poll will be posted in the discord so that you can choose if your muses retreated with Malachy Dowling or stayed anchored with Marcus Estrada. Please remember that everyone who helped Mal/Jules stage the insurgency is no longer a crew member. However, if your character has motives for staying (a loved one, a status as double agent, suddenly undecided etc.) you are welcome to have them remain on the Promethean. Just be sure to keep us up to date if any major loyalties have shifted, and, as always, to have a blast writing & plotting through these little rats’s conflicts.

There is, of course, much to explore in this nameless port city, including NEW LOCATIONS, listed below, and new NPCs with which to interact as sideblogs. These will be ran by the admin team: K., Venli, and Rhi, and will be strangers to the rest of the crew, each bringing their own motives, mysteries, and intricacies into the interaction. Keep an eye out for the follow post within the next few days! More locations will also be added as the plot and exploration of the area progresses. As of now, THE CAPTAIN is an active muse and may interact with the rest of the characters. Have fun, and happy writing!

AT HANGMAN’S TRINKETS.

At the other end of the port, pushed far enough from the seaside that it almost looks like any other village, splays the tight, narrow venue of the store. If most buildings on the docks look comely, a peace that alludes to most corners of the world where the ocean laps the shore, this one has a marked touch to it. It draws the eye, the firm painted a gaudy russet, as red as the sands that litter the eastward beach. Despite its hue, the sign has been battered into something closer to dried blood by the gale, and the marks on it are illegible. Could be any human language, or not at all. Perhaps what makes the shop stand out even more is the absence resounding in the harbour. The maroon posts are entirely devoid of any other ship, not even small fishing vessels anchored at half-length on the wharf. It should make the Promethean loom, but instead it diminishes it; could be soothing, could be dangerous, the way the quiet waves knock it about, with very few inhabitants coming to stare at it, to help tie it to the pier, or even to barter. Yet there is plenty of bartering to be done further inland. The rest of the expanse might be barren, but the shop is bright and bundled up, like an old woman sat by the fire. A string of fairy lights are hung over it in a diagonal row, the sash of it lolling slack enough to catch a taller sailor’s head and dapple it with warmth. At the counter, a young, plucky clerk spreads their arms in welcome. Behind them, vials, jars, and tinkling bottles litter the entire front wall. It is such a kaleidoscope of size and color that any customer might be more dazzled than tempted to purchase. From camphor oil to whale teeth necklaces, from silk handkerchiefs to beads of black glass, everything seems ready to be displayed, bartered, and doubted. The clerk is nothing but exhilarated to have someone to talk to at last. Their bronze face is dappled with the hanging lights, and a nose ring stretches from their septum to their ear. That golden chain makes them look both older and younger at once — as they chuckle and lapse into chatter, already ready to soak up all the information visitors might bestow, it becomes more and more difficult to gauge their age. Or their intentions…. How much will you share?

HIGHWAYMAN’S REST.

Perhaps the most striking front belongs to the port’s hotel, a polished three-tiered complex that occupies the main street. Oddly enough, despite the fact that the port seems all but deserted, the building has the most upkeep in the area. The outer walls are painted olive green, in a stark contrast with the houses’ cream-colored front and the greyed, saltwind-bitten outstretches of wood along the pier. The double doors allow a glimmer of light to cross the threshold, since its glass panels are painted with scenes that resemble the stained glass on churches and temples all over the world. Once inside, the vista opens on a waiting room decked with paintings and sculptures, with works of art that don’t seem to resemble anyone in particular. In order to ring the receptionist’s bell, you have to wrangle your hand through a number of small statutes. One bust on the receptionist’s counter, reads king sylvester stuart. Another, an effigy that seemed carved in filigree, depicts josephine robespierre. On the usual, there is no one in the waiting room, and no noises pour from above. For all intents and purposes, it feels as if the entire establishment is deserted; or perhaps never used in the first place, simply spruced, polished, and displayed for the hollow beauty of it. On the fourth clanger of the bell, the receptionist finally walks into view. A door in the wall opens, and they step through with a merry gait, not allowing anything to be glimpsed behind them. At once, they are ready to sort the visitor with the best sets of chambers for their disposition. They try to strike up a conversation, one hand already on the ledger, and do not even presume to ask for money until after the end of the stay. Their demeanor might almost foster the sense of a homecoming; only their remarks, and the parental, proprietary style of their speech, makes it feel more like a transaction instead. For all the luxury that defines the hotel, a visitor may wonder if, in fact, they’re being sold something else underneath. However, after such a long journey of darkness and water, who can say no to even a few hours in an ivory bedroom—for a dalliance, a tumble into unconsciousness, or just to experience the decadent beauty of those who’ve had easier lives?

THE SIREN’S SORROW.

Coming up from the docks, the hard-teak stairs lead into a bulky tavern, a building more squat than inviting, which carries a barrack’s efficiency about it. The place’s foundation looks rooted into the scaffolding itself, the moldy, barnacled pillars somehow supporting the weight of the place. At the ground level, the dingy, round windows open up into the street, but it’s difficult to peer through the grime crusted over the glass pannels. At the upper level, which the two-storied construction seems to be bowled over, the blinds are drawn shut, their velvet dusted a bile-yellow even from afar. Yet through it all, what actually grabs the visitor’s by the throat, is the strange allure of the place. Not a disparaged charm, mind you—most of these sailors have spent their pay and day in shindigs far worse than this. It is not much, in way of grotesque, just as it is not much in way of poetry. But a certain shimmer permeates throughout, like mist gathering over the shingles, and it renders the place noble and faraway. One might almost expect to see a lighthouse cave around it. When the doors open, the interior is low-ceilinged and vast, the chambers burrowing further than the outside lets on. Depending on how the sunlight, which is still paltry further off the Arctic glare, the main room of the tavern looks both too hollow and too overcrowded, all at once. Truth be told, no one can be certain if it’s not the most beautiful place they’ve ever seen; if only because it peals out to a sense of humanity, a sense of being rooted down. It takes a while to realize that the humanity, for all its urgency, is slightly skewed at the corner. Takes a while to gather up the questions, rather than just gawk at a bar stool that isn’t nailed down into the ship’s timber floor; at a glass that isn’t canister, but actual earthenware, tangible and frail. When the questions do gather, the barkeep is there for the tending. Jaded, old, he seems to have borne both the glow and the gloom of the place, allowed it to mantle them from brow to navel. They seem, also, like the kind of man who has heard a story for every life the sailors wished upon, for every lie they cast over dice. What will you ask him?

#thqadmin #thqevent #make urself comfortable friends #its a chonky one!!#tw blood #tw death #tw major character death

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deathleadsarc · 3 years

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@flameleads sent: How perfectly their hands fit together, he mused to himself. Fingers interlaced as he held her hand in his, the other on the small of her back. Music, soft notes from a piano and strings, emitted from the radio nearby while they slowly swayed. Eyes closed, he focused on nothing but her warmth, how it felt to hold her against him. Complete, at peace---her love gave that to him, and he didn't want that feeling to fade. // unprompted

What Good Deeds had she accomplished to receive such treatment? What spark of a brilliantly white soul existed within the nearly blackened sanguine of her being to have created such a miracle? That she may bask in this goodness as if deserving. Be allowed to flourish within that warmth, extend the tendrils of vine from the rotting carcass of a caged human heart, flowing her love through each vein to wrap ‘round his person and squeeze until no else might tug him free from her clutches.

Wicked ! Vile Beast ! How could such evil be tamed by Man -- How simple. Only such flames were capable of eviscerating the bramble suffocating the cage. Even with hardly a sliver of light to peek through - oxygen still remains. Part of the proof that she is human. With oxygen, the Flames can live. Travel to that deep dark and leave her a-light with its warmth. She feels the fire even in the subtle movement of their feet, slowly trancing into submission to this love.

Then all at once, she has taken him hostage. All Hers. You are all Hers, forever, Roy Mustang.

Oh fool ! Sweet child of man who so willingly put his faith in this devil woman! Before you know it, will she not toss this weakened body into the jaws of her creatures? The darlings who came before him? Is it so foolish to believe, and trust in love ? This Woman presses firmly into his chest, with chin resting between shoulder and neck. A whisper to his ear. A begging. A pleading, to carry her up the stairs and into their bedroom.

Become a willing captive to his Love. Remain that willing captive to his Love.

#flameleads #answered #❥ Blooming in a garden of loneliness ; I see a flower that resembles you | HER KING ROY #ohhhh softness #🜎 Patiently Waiting | QUEUED PROGRESS #crying into my hANDS.......

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queenofthemoors · 3 years

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PART 4 -

He came at me again, with a flurry of attacks. His final strike knocked the sword out of my hand and he knocked me to the ground. It was in this moment the beast the men called Grendel was created. For Hrothgar took me in that moment, and crossed his seed with the baby already growing inside me. A moorian and a human had never crossed bred before. And it was this assault up me, Queen Elyria of the Moors by Hrothgar of Dane, that the monster Grendel was created.

And so the days passed, and we received no word from the border. The dwarves mobilized and secured the Northeastern border underneath the mountain, and the Moorians had covered the center border. No man would have been able to break through. Or so we thought.

After a cycle of the moon, we received word the King was set to return within four days. Along with that news, we had heard that some Moorian troops and dwarven troops were returning to their homes as well. That cursed day was a beautiful one. The day the King returned. He kissed me fiercely and held my stomach and prayed for his unborn child. The celebrations that night were of gigantic proportions. And so was the horror.

Off in the east, just on the night horizon, we saw the fires beginning to burn. The wood was aflame, and the fire was spreading wildly. With minimal troops, the King rallied the forces and quickly formed a defense against the oncoming men.

The fire was a mere diversion, for a full ambush party attacked from the south. Those wicked men, clad in steel with their weapons of steel, and war machines came and began slaughtering the likes of anyone they could.

The King tried to reform the ranks, but the home village was already overwhelmed and with half the forces at the far border, perhaps already slaughtered, there was no hope for anyone that night. It was this night that created the events that you have so often heard tell of.

In the midst of the slaughter, the King found me. He was drenched in the blood of his kin and wicked men. He took me by my hand and pulled me close as he cut down two Danes.

“We must flee!” He claimed.

“We can’t leave our people! We have to save them!” I cried.

“We can’t save them if they are dead! We will escape into the moors and send messages out in all directions. Anyone who survives this night will find us out in the moors, and we will return for our land.” He declared as he cut down another Dane. I agreed with him. For as I looked out across what I called my home, I could hardly recognize it. The flames had arrived at the edge of the wood and spewed it ash rain down across the once green grass. They had robbed us of our home.

As we began to flee toward the moors, the King met the leader of the Army. A man named Hrothgar. He was young, he was angry

“Your kind brought death to my people! Your Dragons nearly pushed humans to extinction. And now, we return the favor and will end you and all the creatures in this land.” Hrothgar exclaimed. Then, he and the King clashed blades. Steel rang and sparks flew and the two were locked in a fight to the death. Whoever emerged would hold the power over the land. I couldn’t bare the thought of losing my love, so I jumped on the one named Hrothgar to help my love strike him down, but it failed me.

Somehow Hrothgar spun me around and held me as a hostage. My love would not strike with my life in danger, nor the life of our unborn child.

“Drop your weapon King of the moors and I’ll let her go, or don’t and I’ll cut her throat” threatened Hrothgar, holding his bastard sword against my throat. And my love, the noble King, laid his sword down at his feet. Hrothgar let me go and I ran to my love’s arms. In that second, it felt like the world may have returned to normal. As I hid my face in my love’s chest, that feeling or normalcy was ripped from me as my noble King threw me to the side as Hrothgar’s sword missed me and impaled my love through the heart. I could do nothing but scream.

Hrothgar removed his sword from the king chest and let his body fall to the ground. I grabbed my love’s sword and swung at Hrothgar, cutting him across his arm. He was enraged and came at me with his sword. I blocked his first attack, and then his second. I quickly cut back, slicing him across his belly. He was bleeding.

“You pathetic moor woman! You’ll pay for striking me!” He cried.

Drazic, Marko. “The Legend of King Arthur Challenge#1.” Artstation, 2019, www.artstation.com/artwork/0XDEey.

Rodriguez, Sebastian. “Battle beneath the Wall.” Awoiaf.westeros.org, June 2018, awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/File:Sebastian_Rodriguezsavingthekingdom.png.

Draws, Ooki. “Not Defeated Yet.” Artstation, 2016, www.artstation.com/artwork/lydVJ.

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belladonnabear · 5 years

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BNHA Scenario: Your Villain Ex Tries To Get Back At You But You're Saved by Your Boyfriend

Scenario: A long time ago you dated a man you thought was sweet and had a heart of gold. Turns out you dated a criminal and end up revealing who he is to the police! He manages to get away but you end up finding new love with Yagi Toshinori, Shouta Aizawa or Hizashi Yamada. While on a date, your boyfriend gets distracted by a villain and tells you to run off to hide. That's when your ex seizes the moment to get his revenge on you!

Yagi Toshinori/ All Might

Toshi in your opinion was the perfect boyfriend. You had been dating him for almost two years now and everything felt perfect. He was a gentleman with you. Never made you uncomfortable, always knew how to make you smile and he made you feel important.

Trust was a big part of your relationship. The two of you opened to each other about things you never tell anyone. You knew he was All Might and swore to secrecy. And he knew about your past as well.

You two were on a date together when it happened. The sun was shining as you two were walking hand in hand in the park. You two came to this park often so you knew the best spots to see the flowers and animals.

He made a flower crown out of daisies when you were watching the bunnies run around. He carefully placed the flower crown on your head with a goofy smile on his face. At the romantic gesture, you kissed him on the cheek. Causing the poor man to cough up some blood out of surprise.

Then with your quirk, you made some aster flowers and formed them into a crown. You placed it on Toshi’s head and took a picture of how adorable he looked.

However, the romantic moment was cut short when a loud noise was heard. Toshi braced you as he checked the area. A large ten foot villain that resembled a rhino hybrid was rampaging in the park. Causing mothers to run away with their children in their arms and elderly people fleeing for their lives.

Toshi frowned and told you to go hide while he deals with this. You take off running as smoke erupts from Toshi.

You took a shortcut to a secret spot you and Toshi would meet up at. While running you texted him what you were doing.

I'm heading to the flower shop on 23rd North Avenue! I'll be in the alleyway waiting! Please be safe! Love you!

Just as you finally made it to the alleyway, a familiar voice spoke.

"Long time no see baby~!"

A cold chill went down your body as you turned around to see your ex. He had a smirk on his face wearing a costume.

"Y-You're a villain now?"

Shadows erupted from his body and wrapped around you. Since you were already exhausted from the running, you stood no chance. You tried to scream for help but your mouth was covered by the shadowy tendrils.

"Now, now, babycakes we don't want any of that now do we? I was hoping I would run into you or that scraggly looking boyfriend of yours! He looks like a weakling!"

He was snickering at the flower crown on your head. Now you really were scared. He was after you and Toshi? You knew your boyfriend was tough but you couldn't live with yourself if something happened to him.

"Did you ever tell him about us? How you left me because you didn't love me for who I truly was? Does he really love?"

You did tell Toshi about dating a former villain. You told him everything and he was very understanding of your situation. That's part of the reason you loved him so much.

The story goes that you were naive and believed in his lies that he was a lawyer with a busy schedule. Before, he was a charming man with a good sense of humor. Things changed after eight months of dating.

He stood up many dates and you came to the conclusion he was cheating on you. What you found was much worse though. You decided to catch him in the act and followed him.

He was at a warehouse with some suspicious looking men and you quietly began recording the ordeal. At this point, you knew something was off.

That was when your ex brutally murdered the men with his shadow quirk and laughed like a maniac at their corpses. From this horrific experience, you went to the police and showed them the video evidence of him killing these men and explained everything.

However, your ex had gotten word of you turning him over to the police and left. He was seen on the news a few times but you never saw him again until now.

The shadow that was covering your mouth moved. He wanted to hear your answer. With a harsh scowl you yelled aloud.

"DON'T EVER CALL TOSHI A WEAKLING! HE'S NOTHING LIKE YOU! I LEFT YOU BECAUSE I FOUND OUT THE TRUTH! THAT YOU ENJOYED KILLING PEOPLE WHO YOU THOUGHT WERE NOTHING! YOU'RE VILE TRASH! I'LL LOVE TOSHI TILL MY DYING BREATH! YOU'RE NOTHING-!"

The black shadows wrapped around your mouth again but this time they also went around your throat.

They began suffocating you.

You tried scratching at the black shadows some more and wiggled around trying to break free. Your screams were being muffled and your vision began fading. Your quirk was useless in this alleyway filled with no specks of grass anywhere in sight.

You saw the gaze your ex was giving you, as you were struggling to breath. His eyes were full of rage and vengeance.

"You stupid selfish little-!"

"DETROIT SMASH!!!"

A loud yell was heard as your ex was punched directly in the face. The force of the hit reminded you a powerful storm, as he was flung across the alleyway.

The shadows that were choking you vanished and you started coughing roughly. All Might leaned over with a worried look in his eyes.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry I didn't get here soon enough! Please forgive me!"

"N-Not...yo-your fault..."

Police eventually arrived and your ex was arrested for multiple felonies. You were escorted home by All Might and when you were alone at your apartment, he hugged you.

The rhino villain was a simple villain for All Might to take down. Once the villain was with the cops, he tried to call you but you didn't pick up. That signaled to All Might that something was wrong.

All Might left the villain to the police and bolted to your rescue.

He kept thinking about the worse case scenario when he raced to your rescue. If he was even a minute late, you would be dead. Murdered by your ex for revenge.

Toshi didn't sleep well that night. He held you the whole night out of fear that you would be gone if you left his sight.

Not that you could blame him. The situation frightened you, as well.

After this encounter, your relationship slowly began going back to normal. However, you changed a few things so Toshi didn't have to worry about you as much.

You texted each other more frequently. Having code words if you were in a hostage situation. He even taught you some self-defense as well but made sure you didn't get hurt.

However, your relationship was important and you wouldn't trade Toshi for anyone else. No matter which form he was in, he was your hero.

When you told him this, they man's face erupted red and he fell over.

Shouta Aizawa/ Eraserhead

Grumpy cat man loved you, even if he wasn't good at showing it. But that's part of the reason you two are still together. That and he loves you're a neko with a cat ears, a tail and even claws!

Part of him wonders why you're still with him but he doesn't complain. He's pretty happy you two are still together.

He knows how to calm you down if you're having a stressful day, his dry sense of humor does get some laughs out of you and he was reliable if you ever needed any help.

Which was really tested today.

The two of you were coming back from your favorite cat cafe. To an outsider Shouta might look impassive but you knew he was content with how the date was turning out.

You browsing at some handcrafted jewelry when a scream was heard. Both of you looked over to see a man snatching an elderly couples purse and he managed to snag another woman's purse as well.

The man was super fast as he kept stealing from more people. Shouta frowned at the situation as he recognized the villain from the news. The two of you nodded at each other and he took off with his scarf hovering around him.

Sirens began hollering as police went after the thief. People began running away panicking from the villain and you were about ready to join them when a pair of eyes caught your attention.

These eyes were feral and hungrilly began eyeing you like a piece of meat. It was another villain. However, you knew him better as your ex.

That's when you took off in a different direction to get away from him. You were panicking on what to do. Shouta was busy dealing with another villain and the police were going in the opposite direction you were heading.

Plus your ex had a Lycan Quirk, he could track you down his nose and follow you wherever you ran. He could only be in his true form when the moon was full but he was still stronger and faster than you were.

Just as you were about to grab your phone to call for the police, a heavy body slammed onto you. With a hiss of pain, the phone slid away from you.

Your ex showed off his white canine teeth with a wicked grin on his face. He truly looked like a beast, even without the full moon.

"Hey there pretty kitty, been awhile hasn't it?"

That nickname was always something you hated but he didn't seem to care. His grip on your wrists tightened and he snarled.

“If you scream for help, I’ll tear out your throat kitten.”

“What do you want?”

You two were together four years ago. He used to be a handsome polite man with a sassy personality.

However that changed after six months of dating. He was starting to act like a real jerk. With him losing his temper around you and treating you like a pet.

His possessive nature was driving you mad and you finally had enough once you two were on a date. Some guys began picking on his strange werewolf looks and he lost control. Blood spilled that night as he killed all of them. He devoured them like a ravenous animal with no control.

Taking a few photos, you took them to the police and an arrest warrant was set out for your ex but he was never found. Some police and heroes however were injured when they encountered him.

And now, he was here for revenge.

“I’m really disappointed in you. Unlike the other scum in my life, you didn’t judge me because of my quirk. Yet you were the one who ended up hurting me the most.”

He always did this to try and make you feel bad. And maybe you would have four years ago but things are different now.

“It’s hard being on the run from the law. But you seem perfectly fine, even though you betrayed my trust. You even ended up dating some other guy. Some homeless looking guy who apparently has a fetish for cat girls. Bet that’s the only reason he’s with someone as selfish as you.”

It was really hard trying to remain silent as he berated you. Then your cellphone’s ringer went off and your ex used one hand to wrap around your throat and the other to pick up your phone. You tried digging your nails into his arm but he was unbothered.

He smugly showed the caller ID and your heart froze.

It was Shouta.

Your ex answered the call as you heard Shouta’s voice.

“(Y/N)! Did you get away safely?”

Your ex put the phone on speaker.

“Don’t worry about thing dirtbag! Your girlfriend is doing just fine with me! We’re having a fantastic time, aren’t we kitten?”

He squeezed your throat tighter and you began coughing.

“Don’t hurt her! Let her go!”

Your ex laughed and howled with amusement. He leaned down closer to you mocking.

“But we’re having sooo much fun! Don’t worry about a thing! I’ll make her death painless!”

Fear rushed through your veins as your claws scratched your ex but this time you managed to get part of his eye.

He growled out in pain and you managed to slip away while running back to where Shouta might have been.

You could hear him behind you roaring in a fit of rage. That didn’t stop you as you kept running. Your cell phone wasn’t on you so you couldn’t call for help. You just kept sprinting and trying to get away from him.

You made it back to the abandoned jewelry stand you were at before. However, your ex was finally catching up to you and launched himself at you. Ready to tear you to shreds like those men.

But a scarf managed to wrap around him and he crashed onto the ground. Your tearful eyes saw Shouta looked furiously at your ex.

Your ex then tried to attack Shouta but with a mighty pull he missed his attack. Instead, your ex hit face first into the wall and was knocked out.

Once he made sure he was out, Shouta ran over to you with a look of concern in his eyes.

“Did he hurt you? Damn it! I’m so stupid! I’m sorry (Y/N)...”

The police eventually came and arrested your ex. After getting examined by a paramedic, you were free to go. With only bruises on your wrists and throat.

Shouta held onto you tightly as you made your way home and explained the situation. Apparently, while he was after the villain, he tried to steal Midnight’s purse. Which obviously backfired, since he didn’t recognize her in a civilian outfit.

He called to try and end your date normally since Midnight was going to take care of the villain but the phone call made him rush to save you from your ex.

You already told him about your history with your ex and made sure to keep an eye out in case your ex was around. But he ended up getting distracted by another villain and almost lost you.

You two got apps on your phones to keep tabs on each others location and called each other more often.

Shouta gave you some lessons to help defend yourself against a villain and for better usage on your quirk.

Keeps his eyes on you a lot more and holds you a little tighter every night. He also saw to it to make sure your ex got the maximum sentence.

Once things went along normally, the two of you settled down into your relationship once again.

While you began to trust him more, he began to cherish you much more. If his loving kisses are anything to go by, he’s happy you two are still here together.

Hizashi Yamada/ Present Mic

What an energetic man you have right here! He’s the man who helps you with anything you need.

Need something from the store? He’ll swing right by!

Want a back massage? Only if you give him one too!

Loose shoelace? He’ll just carry you everywhere so you won’t trip!

Hizashi was a man you adored deeply. He’s always been a ball of sunshine to you. Never failing to make you laugh or smile. He was your sweetheart.

Dating the pro hero wasn’t easy but you adjusted eventually. He really loved that about you.

Eventually, you revealed to him about the sticky situation with your ex but he always reassured your worries. He loved you and no stupid ex would get in between you two.

Until he came back to bite you.

You had been on a date with the cockatoo man when it happened. He took you to your favorite restaurant as a romantic gesture.

You slid down the railing as he caught you in his arms at the bottom. Kissing you and making suggestive comments about your appearance.

Your face turned red and you two kissed.

It was then interrupted by a few people running away screaming. Of course. It had to be a villain that would interrupt your date.

The villain looked like a naga looking creature. Sharp snake fangs with poison seeping out of them. He was holding a man hostage in his arms hissing angrily.

Yamada adjusted his glasses and motioned for you to leave. You took off running as the man went to go do his job.

After you began making your way back to the car, you freeze when you saw someone leaning on it smugly.

It was your ex. He was wearing his trenchcoat that was full of weapons probably.

You took off in the other direction but your ex began cackling at you. You activated your quirk and made yourself invisible, including your clothes.

Why was your ex here now? Of all the times for him to show up, why now? However, you saw a grenade roll towards you and you quickly tried to take cover.

But you ended up getting hit from part of the explosion and you were knocked up against some garbage cans.

Your quirk was deactivated after the hit. Your coat took most of the damage but your head was starting to bleed. Suddenly, a click noise caught your attention.

Your ex had a gun and it was pointed straight at your chest. You wanted to take off running again but you couldn’t feel your legs in this moment. Even if you did try to run, the blood from your head would give away where you were.

“Nice try doll but I’m always prepared for the worst.”

You just glared at him. Remembering how you two got to this point. Five years ago he was a smart but cocky man who was interested in weapons. His attitude was very upbeat. A relationship developed and it went fine for six months. He said he worked for an agency that helps make hero weapons.

What a lie that turned out to be. He sold them to the black market so that other villains could use them. You only saw this by sheer chance.

His attitude changed to a pretentious man child who thought he knew better than everyone else. Which made you wonder what was going on with him. And when you checked in to see him at his work, it turned out he was fired four months ago. Now you were suspicious.

When you went over to see him for a date, he left the living room to take an important call from ‘work’.

You heard a buzz go off in one of his jackets and were surprised to see some cheap looking flip phone. It had an address on it that lead to the docks with a single sentence attached.

Bring over the good stuff tomorrow night and we’ll give you the cash.

You thought he was smuggling drugs so you left the message as unread and pretend you didn’t see it. While leaving an anonymous tip to the police about what was happening.

Turns out on the news he was selling everything from illegal drugs, firearms and even explosions.

Your ex managed to escape and that scared you the most. You left the city after that and haven’t heard from your ex since then.

“Thought you could get away? Ruin my life and leave me like some stray dog?”

He kicked you in the stomach and you groaned in pain. He made a mocking noise and chuckled at your expression.

“It hurts, don’t it? Believe me, this pain is nothing compared to the last five years of hell you put me through!”

Another harsh kick was smashed into your stomach and you began coughing in pain.

“I was waiting for you to show up with your boyfriend so I could blow his brains out, then beat you as you see his corpse!”

He kicked you in the head and your vision started becoming blurry. More blood began dripping down as he laughed humorously.

“You should see yourself! A pathetic little girl who can’t save herself! You’ll wish you were dead by the time I’m done with you!”

With the small amount of strength you have, you managed to kick his gun away from him when he was gloating. The gun went down the storm drain as you kicked him in the face as well. Then you used your quirk again to take off running he threw another grenade in panic but he missed you this time.

You tried holding the side of your head so he couldn’t follow you when you were bleeding. You found Hizashi running towards your direction and you felt immense relief.

However, so did your ex and he threw another grenade and this one aimed towards Hizashi.

You quickly pulled Hizashi away and barely evaded the attack. Smoke covered the area but Hizasi recognized your perfume.

“Babe? Is that you?”

“Y-Yes.”

Your quirk deactivated. You were getting dizzy from the blood loss and couldn’t keep up your form.

He looked worried but focused his attention on your ex who was looking for you. Hizashi took this chance and used his quirk on your ex. The screech knocked your ex back and he was blown away by the force of the attack. His eardrums felt like they were exploding and they rang loudly. He crashed onto the ground, blood dripping from his form.

Hizashi called the police and an ambulance arrived to take you to the hospital. His voice comforts you while you were waiting for them.

“It’s okay baby. He’s not going to hurt you anymore. I’m here now. Please don’t cry. I’ll make this up to you. I swear it.”

Your ex was arrested and taken away and your injuries weren’t too severe considering what you went through.

Never before have you seen Hizashi so upset before. He was lucky the villain was just some punk who got into a fight with some men. He became worried when he saw his car was still there and you were nowhere in sight. The sounds of an explosion caught his attention and he went after it.

Hizashi helped you through your recovery and helped encouraging you to move forward in spite of what happened. If you’re not happy, neither is he.

He’ll text you more frequently, even though he did that enough before. Calls you to hear your beautiful voice.

One time Hizashi gave you the most heartfelt statement you’ve ever heard in your life.

“You’re a real hero, ya know? You were brave enough to tip the police off to stop your ex and you even saved me from him! No one’s braver than you are! I love you 3,000!”

You finally let out a small laugh and hugged him closely. This is why you love him so much!

I hope you enjoyed this! This is a special treat for all of you~! If you have any suggestions for me to write, let me know! FYI I might not do all suggestions. But if I get inspired by one, I might just have to write it! Thank you!

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mischiefs-hawk · 5 years

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Teacher, Nanny, Bride?

@theabsolutemagicpotato I hope you like it!!

At first, Gellert only hired Newton as a subtle threat to his older brother Theseus. Gellert had been in need of a teacher/nanny of sorts for Aurelius and Newton’s records showed a proclivity towards mothering. The thing with his case had made Gellert hesitant but the enchantments around it proved Aurelius to only not be able to enter the case without Newt nor any of the creatures’ escape.

Even so, according to Aurelius the beasts inside were all very nice. From Newton, the Magizoologist-to-be only said that his creatures were not dangerous.

It didn’t take very long however for the dynamic between the three of them to change, though. Aurelius had easily and quickly attached himself to Newt, likely seeing him as a mother that he’d never had before. Gellert, on the other hand, couldn’t explain his newfound attraction to the younger man.

Perhaps it was the way Newt had equally become attached to Aurelius, or the patience he showed the boy in all his lessons.

The most likely cause was either the damned clothes Newt wore or his fire. On some days, Newt wore these soft curve-hugging dresses. Nothing promiscuous or revealing but breath-taking in Gellert’s eyes. The scattering of freckles around Newt’s shoulders, the pale pink lips that so often contrasted with the blues, whites and sometimes greens that Newt wore. The smattering of scars, many years’ worth of working with dangerous beasts. All so he could study them!

Study them, how utterly bizarre. Though, Gellert had to admit people had thought gathering the three hallows was crazy too. Until he proved them wrong.

It was that, Gellert thought, that tied Newt so closely to him. Newt wanted to prove to anyone and everyone in the magical community and around the world how their lack of knowledge on magical creatures has been more detrimental as a while. If, Newt suggested, more people took an interest in magical beasts then they’d see they had just as much a right to live as any witch, wizard, or muggle.

The fire, the passion in Newt to defend his beasts was like a devastating incident- one you know you should look away from but can’t help but stare at it.

The issue then became, how best to tell Newt about all of it? He couldn’t very well just barge into Newt’s room and have his wicked way with him.

For the most part since “hiring” Newt, the young man spent much of his free time caring for his beasts or talking to his brother through firecalls. Not that Newt had much free time that is.

If Gellert were to ask plainly, it may come off as a threat. Newt was smart, after all. He knew he was also a hostage to keep Theseus in line.

How could he ask permission to court Newt, without Newt thinking it was a demand?

What Gellert didn’t know, however, was that Aurelius was much cleverer than people generally gave him credit for.

“Are you sure about this, Ari?” Newt asked, putting the dress in front of him- studying his appearance in the mirror. The little boy had brought a package with him that morning, oddly arriving to Newt’s room with a grin.

Usually, Newt went and picked up Ari for their lessons after he ate breakfast. Mr. Grindelwald, despite being exceedingly busy, always tried to share breakfast with Aurelius. The Magizoologist was well aware of why he was there and what kind of man Gellert Grindelwald was. The draconian laws he put into place and how he dealt with “rebel-rousers” and his own place as a hostage. He tried not to think about it.

It made his relationship with Aurelius’ father exceedingly more complicated. The fact that he didn’t really have a choice in being here made the possibility of a further connection exceedingly more complicated. It made the power dynamic incredibly unstable. Which wouldn’t be a good start.

Not that any of this was particularly good but that was especially not great.

“Uh-huh, Vati said it was for you.”

This wasn’t actually a lie, Gellert had told Aurelius he had purchased the dress for Newt with the intention of asking Newt if he was interested in being courted. Of course, Gellert hadn’t been ready to do it just then, and if he’d noticed that morning that the package, he’d been preparing was gone well…fortunately for Ari, Gellert had been much too preoccupied that morning.

The dress was rather beautiful, if Newt thought about it. The blue chiffon material was soft and smooth. It revealed much of his back and shoulders, the shoulders of the dress were a mix of materials. The top few inches were the same dark silk with the rest of the sleeve a sheer blue material that poured around his arms, pulled tighter around his wrists with a ribbon and strips of the cloth further criss-crossed to another bit of ribbon that curled around his pointer finger.

The top of the dress was held up by a kind of thick blue material around his neck, not unlike a collar, a bit of silver in the shape of a flower connecting the collar to the rest of the dress.

The silver matched around the waist and the tops of the sleeves where it became more sheer. Around those areas, silver filigree danced around it.

Newt couldn’t help but think about how much a flower crown would complement the look.

“Hmm, I hope you aren’t tricking me, Ari. Pickett would be very upset if he couldn’t see you because your father fired me, or you were grounded.”

Aurelius just grinned, looking as innocent as an angel.

Newt didn’t say anything for a moment, brushing his hands down the material once more before offering his hand to Aurelius. The child had perched himself on the bed to wait while Newt got dressed behind a screen.

Despite his status as a hostage, Mr. Grindelwald had never treated him unkindly. Sure, he was officially there to be Aurelius’ Nanny, but that didn’t mean he had to give Newt such a nice set of rooms. Including a sunroom of sorts for his calmer creatures. Initially, Newt had avoided Mr. Grindelwald, as per his brother’s tearful instructions.

But no, he couldn’t think about ‘Seus now. He usually ended up crying himself when he thought of his brother, the way Theseus had clung to him. Promising that he’d find a way to get Newt back.

The day he’d moved into Nurmengard had been terrifying.

Aurelius had initially been just as nervous around Newt as he’d been around the boy. Thankfully, it was Newt’s creatures that drew the boy in, his fascination with them enough to allow Newt into his life.

And, of course, it’d been touch-and-go at first but eventually they found a nice rhythm.

Mornings were spent in the library, learning the basics of English and French. As well as Arithmetic and history. Teaching Aurelius history had caused a bit of a disagreement with Mr. Grindelwald.

Grindelwald hadn’t wanted Aurelius to be taught anything of the muggle world, seeing it as useless nor much of the wizarding world before his reign began. Newt had put his foot down at this, though.

“I-if you want Aurelius to believe in your truth, h-he needs to know it! If you lie to him now, hide things now, when he grows up and learns the truth, he will never trust you or your rule a-again.”

Newt had been terrified when he said that to Grindelwald, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched and looking at the ground.

Grindelwald hadn’t said anything for a moment, and Newt was convinced he was about to die when the Dark Lord sighed.

“Fine.”

In the afternoons, Newt usually made lunch for Aurelius. This happened so Aurelius would not only become over-dependent on servants and house elves, but also so Aurelius would know a variety of recipes from a variety of cultures. After that, if Mr. Grindelwald didn’t take Aurelius for a magic lesson, or Mr. Nagel didn’t take Aurelius for a lesson on self-defense (actually hand-to-hand combat and basic swordplay which Newt had been very surprised about), then Newt would teach him about Magizoology.

That, initially, had been one of the reasons why Newt had been appealing as a nanny. He wasn’t the world’s only Magizoologist but apparently, he was the best.

Even if he stayed out of the limelight as much as possible, avoiding the fanatics and revolutionaries alike, Newt’s book had caught fire in terms of popularity.

Theseus had been very upset when Newt published his book, as it reminded the world that Theseus Scamander, an anti-anti-statute of secrecy advocate, had a baby brother.

Basically, Newt had put a giant target on his head.

Newt adored teaching Aurelius about his creatures though, mostly because he saw in Aurelius a lot of himself at that age. The same wonder and respect that had him dismembering Horklumps as a child.

Usually, Mr. Grindelwald would work late into the night so Newt ate dinner with Aurelius. If there was some kind of event going on, some sort of political thing or a celebration for Grindelwald’s victory, Aurelius would stay with Newt after making a short appearance. More often than not, they ended up in Newt’s case or the sunroom. If not, Newt would help bath Aurelius and take him to Grindelwald’s office to say goodnight.

Sometimes Mr. Grindelwald would take Aurelius to tuck him into bed, other times, Newt would do it.

As much as Grindelwald’s policies disgusted Newt, he couldn’t help the rush of emotion when he watched Grindelwald interact with his son. You could say whatever you wanted about Gellert Grindelwald, but it was obvious and undeniable that he adored his son.

The day Aurelius went behind his Father’s back to give Newt the gift early, they had stopped History a little early. Everything had become a bit too much for Aurelius, the discussion of the Wars scaring him a great deal. So, Newt thought it best if they end it there and go on with the day.

With Aurelius hand in his, Newt led the boy towards the kitchens when they ran into- almost literally- Grindelwald and an unfamiliar woman.

The huge floor to ceiling windows (enchanted so no little boys could fall out of or break) lit the hallways with bright sunlight. Reflecting off the Alps snowfall making everything almost blinding.

This blinding light bounced off the unfamiliar woman’s golden hair, her subdued pink dress and dark blue coat complemented each other very well. The woman was pure femininity, and for some reason, Newt felt a stab of fear looking at her. Fear and shame.

“Vati!” Immediately, Aurelius had run to Grindelwald, arms outstretched, clearly expecting his father to pick him up. Grindelwald grinned, picking up the boy and holding him against his hip. Despite Aurelius’ age, he was rather small and skinny. Grindelwald and Newt had worked together on making a diet that would make sure Aurelius stayed healthy.

Grindelwald said something in German, to which Aurelius quickly responded. German was both of theirs first language, but Newt had yet to grasp the unfamiliar tongue. The distant feeling that had been seeded from the appearance of the strange woman only increased at this.

“Ah, Newton this is Ms. Queenie Goldstein. I’ve hired her to take on some of the care for Aurelius. You see, there was some things I’d like to discuss with you privately…” Grindelwald continued on but none of it reached Newt.

He was being replaced.

This stranger was coming in and taking Aurelius away from him! And of course, why shouldn’t she? She’d make a much better mum- Nanny for Aurelius then Newt ever could. Newt was nothing.

He didn’t belong here. He was only here because of Theseus- Grindelwald didn’t care that Aurelius adored Newt and vice versa. He didn’t care about the hours they’d spent together going over Aurelius education, or quietly reading in the library long after Aurelius had gone to bed. Or any of it.

His heart was breaking. When he felt the slight sting of tears beginning to form, without another word, the Magizoologist spun on his heel and walked away.

He refused to let Aurelius see him cry, nor would he give Grindelwald and Goldstein the satisfaction of knowing they’d broken him.

Grindelwald felt like he’d been smacked in the face. Newt had walked away while he was in the middle of a sentence!

Even when they were arguing, Newt never had that look on his face. The utterly heartbroken one which didn’t even make sense to Gellert!

Why would he-?

“Vati? What’s wrong with Newt?”

“I’m not sure.”

To his right, Ms. Goldstein watched Newt walk away- an odd look in her eyes before a small “oh,” escaped her lips.

“He thinks I’m replacing him, that he’ll never get to see Aurelius again.”

“Was? Vati, aber es-!”

Before Aurelius said another word, Gellert gently put Aurelius down and promised he wasn’t sending Newt away.

“Remember, Kleiner? The dress? You stay with Ms. Goldstein and I’ll get everything sorted out.”

Gellert Grindelwald found Newt in the Solarium, idly brushing his demiguise’s fur. The small creature seemed to be trying to cheer Newt up as his tears dripped onto the silver coat.

The beast noticed Gellert first, his eyes flashing blue before slinking away and invisible. Newt, his back to Gellert, dropped his shoulders. Even without seeing the young man’s face, Gellert knew- could practically feel the emotional exhaustion radiating off him.

“Am I t-to return to my brother, then?”

“If that is what you wish.”

Newt glanced over his shoulder before curling into himself, his hand brushing away the evidence of tears.

“What is it you wish? Was I just something to play with until you found a socially accepted bride? Or was I really just that deluded and nothing that happened between us meant anything at all?”

Gellert gaped at him, looking completely gob smacked and confused.

“Liebling, let me explain” Gellert said coming to kneel before Newt. The German took Newt’s hands in his, the gentle action doing something to the Magizoologist’s heart.

“I hired Ms. Goldstein so you wouldn’t feel compelled to answer me one way or another. If you were under my employ, I feared you would feel pressured to answer how you think I would want.”

Newt felt the air in his lungs vanish, the room seeming to spin.

“I don’t understand.”

The German smiled, reaching over to brush a strand of Newt’s hair back. The red-gold hair as soft as silk in Gellert’s opinion.

“Liebling, I love you and I’d like to marry you. Aurelius already sees you as his mother and there are few people in this world who won’t just cower at my decisions. You have fire, mein Feuervogel, fire and love. Please let cherish you the way you deserve.”

The Magizoologist’s voice died in his throat and all he could do was nod.

Gellert had done awful tyrannical things to their world, but Newt couldn’t help it. He’d fallen for Gellert Grindelwald, but even more so with the family he’d found in Nurmengard.

#fantastic beasts #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beasts: the crimes of grindelwald #fbawft #fbtcog #fbcog #fb:tcog #fb:cog #newt scamander #gellert grindelwald #aurelius dumbledore #just go with it #newt x gellert #gellert x newt #grindelnewt #where's albus?#who knows #queenie goldstein

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samesongxox · 4 years

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Savior: Chapter 5 (There’s Something about Phyrra)

Summary: (Hellboy 2019) AKA Turning a New Leaf AKA Good Samaritans Need Love Too. The B.P.R.D is tasked to infiltrate a black market creature trafficking ring led by a powerful warlock. Hellboy rescues Phyrra who is found being held hostage, a slave for her magic. He must protect her as she is hunted by her master and his gang of monsters. (AU where Broom isn’t dead/Abe wasn’t found)

It will be rated M, it will include violence, swearing, smuttiness, all the good things in life.

Disclaimer: Hellboy belongs to Dark Horse Comics/Mike Mignola, I don’t own anything except the AU and my OC’s.

Phyrra sat cross-legged on the bed, enraptured as Binx animatedly retold her side of the story: how Phyrra had sent her away during her dealings with Elias, then the shock of the pixie being accosted by some woman on her way back to Phyrra’s room. Returning to a wild, bewildered Phyrra acting as if that Hellboy was the only one she wanted around her. Binx used her usual scathing descriptions of how she saw things.

“You were scandalous with him Phyrra! Not at all yourself! I had not seen you like that in many moons! I tried to get him away, but you would not allow it!”

Binx had spent decades protecting Phyrra from the men around: that nasty warlock being the bain of her existence. At least the beast’s attention towards Phyrra had not held any contempt or lascivious intentions, Binx couldn’t say the same for this demon.

Sure he had strode in and took Phyrra away from the wicked man that had held her friend, and by extension herself, for so many years. But the pixie had the unusual talent of reading things unsaid clearly, and she sensed great darkness in this Hellboy. Perhaps Binx was biased in her opinion, she owed everything to Phyrra. It didn’t stop the light that ever emanated from the elven girl.

No creature on earth would ever be worthy of Phyrra, in Binx’s eyes at least.

“But...He saved me Binx, saved us.”

“Yes, yes what a white knight he is.” Phyrra, her mind unwillingly placing a picture of Hellboy in her mind, she felt her face burn.

She was struck with the remembrance that in the last moments before her blankness, she had been in a towel, readying for a bath.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. She was in a robe now. Someone had changed her. Maybe it had been this woman? At Phyrra’s urgent question, Binx could only glance away, further prove of what Phyrra feared. “I will concede he was at least a gentleman about it all. Also at least stopped you from further harming that human.”

“Binx,” Phyrra desperate urging in her voice frightening the pixie. “I’m all fuzzy. I cannot remember much. It’s all coming in flashes.”

“What of our time before…” Binx hesitated, the reminder of her friend’s loss of memories stunning her. “What do you remember of your family?”

“Nothing, it’s all blank.” Binx, normally the fire-cracker, looked more fearful than Phyrra ever seen. Binx choked on her reply. She just couldn’t do it. Selfish as it was, Binx had no desire to open the old wounds of Phyrra’s past.

“It is not my place Phyrra. You must recall it yourself.” Phyrra looked at her friend with great confusion, Binx had the answers, but was refusing to give them. It was preposterous.

“Excuse me? Don’t be ridiculous Binx! Tell me!” Binx’s expression was hearty with gloom. Phyrra was already in a fragile state, Binx did not want to be the one to break her. Maybe in a week’s time, if all goes well. Binx rationalized to herself. On the outside, she smiled with great sadness towards Phyrra.

“I...I simply cannot.”

“You are really annoying me dilthen nad (little one).” Phyrra snapped, scooping the miniscule creature up into her hands. Holding her with the intent of not letting go until Binx gave her the justification for this unnecessary behaviour.

Binx decided the conversation was over, dictated by a burst of fire in Phyrra’s palms.

Letting her friend go, she scurried away on translucent wings. Figure it out herself? Phyrra was baffled. At the back of her mind, she could hear the Professor talking about the texts regarding all matters of subjects. Well, if she was to be responsible for returning her memories, that seemed to be the best place to start.

“Fine, have it your way Binx. We are taking a trip to that library,” Binx returned back to her companion, hesitant but firm in her Phyrra’s strength to see through this. Goddess knew the elf had spent many lonely nights of hard survival before Binx found her.

Using her internal clock, Phyrra had to have been talking to Binx for an hour or so. She was brought here last night, Hellboy had slept the whole night by her side. Now it was mid-morning.

Phyrra felt herself unthinkingly pondering over him. Perhaps she should go talk to him first? She needed to know what had happened, and what he had seen from her. He disconcerted her in a way Phyrra has never experienced, she hoped his answers to her questions would aleve that.

“Hey, brought you the clothes. I also ran into someone in the hallway.” Phyrra was halted in her determination as Sorah walked in with a hulking human male, dressed in a fine black suit. Phyrra only had to shift her gaze to the awful purple mottling along the male’s neck to know who this was. The man she had mauled. Had held in her grasp with intent to hurt, maybe even kill.

“Jason Hurse, ma’am.” He was smiling at her with quiet reserve, much too kind of a greeting for what she deserved.

“Call me Phyrra.” She felt her eyes sting, she was a monster. An absolute brute. He should he furious with her, too disgusted to even be here.

“It’s a pleasure, Phyrra.” Jason approached her bedside with ease, completely unafraid of her despite what had occured between them.

“Words can’t describe my guilt. I feel…. Ghastly.”

“Don’t. Hey, you were strapped onto this gurney in this new environment, you did what you had to do. Trust me this kind of danger comes with this job, and I’ve been through worse. I fully understand your reaction to that situation.”

Phyrra was astonished. This human was unbelievable in his humbleness. There was something Phyrra could obviously do to make up for it.

“You are a gracious man. Please, allow me to heal you.”

“Well I’m not gonna argue. It would save me trying to explain this to the missus,” Hurse said good-naturedly. Jason gave his consent as Phyrra requesting to touch the bruise. Both him and Sorah watched in awe as the tattoos on the elf’s body began to glow, the patterns floating off her skin onto Jason’s. After a few quiet moments, Phyrra removed her hand to Hurse’s usual pale toned neck, the injury was gone.

“Phyrra...That was amazing!” The elf shrugged under Sorah’s watch. She was used to being praised for her magic, although it had always been Elias. It left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Woah.” Hurse stood up and shook his arms. “Weird. I feel like I have so much energy.” Taking stock of how his body felt rejuvenated, he glanced at his watch. Cursing at the time, he explained that he was supposed to be meeting with S.W.A.T Team Two right now to discuss the Yeti den findings.

“Thank you Phyrra. I gotta get back to work, but it was great to meet you again, seriously. See you around!” The man bolted out of the room, already late. Sorah and Phyrra regarded each other laughing softly.

“Sorah, would it be possible for me to go to the library?”

“Of course! Your just gonna go to the elevator and hit the button that says 5C. In fact, I’ll walk you over there. It gets a little crazy around her at this time.”

There was much action happening around her when Sorah loaded Phyrra into the contraption: nurses dressed wounds and speaking with patients or each other. Phyrra thanked whoever was listening that no one seemed to pay her much mind, and as always having Binx by her side gave her strength.

Either they had been warned about her presence, or were still wary of her because of what she did to Jason… She would have to seek forgiveness from them all.

The elevator jerked to a stop. Phyrra looked up at the glowing red ‘4B’. Not her floor. The door slid open to reveal a young woman who looked in appearance around the same age, she was dressed very casually with a floppy hat and baggy pants. Her placid expression lit up at the surprising sight of Phyrra.

“Hey! Great to see you up and about. Back to normal yeah?” Phyrra was snapped out of her wallowing thoughts by the bright voice. The woman walked into the elevator and went to press the same button Sorah had not three minutes ago. Phyrra remained suspiciously silent, left so by this girl’s affectionate greeting.

“Right. Sorry. Forgot you woke up not remembering everyone,” The female extended her hand, “Alice, nice to meet ya’.”

“This is the girl that stopped me back at Elias’s. She reeks of death but is perfectly healthy. Quite a strange thing.” Shushing Binx’s harsh words, even though the taller girl could not understand the words, Phyrra accepted her hand.

“You are the one that found Binx?”

“Your little glowly friend? Yup that was me. Hey again.”

“She wasn’t rough with me, and is quite charming.” Binx couldn’t stop the humour entering her voice. If they were to be in contact with these mortal’s for now, she would try and find her amusement where she can.

“I must go around to you all and apologize for my actions, they are reprehensible.”

“Aw, not to worry! All is right as rain, as my mum used to say.” Phyrra found herself smiling at the easygoing, playful way Alice held herself.

“Okay Phyrra. I gave you your chastization, but please try and not beat yourself up too hard old girl.” The elf nodded at the pixie. She understood, at this moment she was going through a great change. Phyrra was in a place she didn’t have to watch what she said and could make her own decisions. The idea was daunting.

“Is she mad at us for bringing you here or something?”

“Of course not, Binx wants what is best for me,” Smiling at Alice, this cordial girl, Phyrra felt the burdens surrounding her ease.

“I believe this is what is best for me at the moment. Would you mind showing me around the library?”

Alice agreed wholeheartedly, even going as far as linking her arm with Phyrra in a show of camaraderie.

The door’s dinged open.

Phyrra could do this. Right now she was with good company, people she could trust. She felt she had a purpose, one that didn’t involve being someone’s pet. And once she recovered fully, she could decide if this ‘being a team member’ would work out.

A few hours later…..

Hellboy tossed the beer can into the growing pile detected.

He was a stranger to her now. Hellboy wished, no matter how he told himself not to, for the Phyrra he found to come back. She would wake up and once again only want him around.

Absently strumming his guitar, the memory of their time together haunted him: her first waking up, pinning him with her gaze, the choice she made to stay in his arms, mending his wounds, trusting him so explicitly. Now all he could think about was the disdain and fear she emitted as he tried to touch her. He reached for her fucking hand. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The last couple hours he spent asking the same mundane question to creature after creature: Where are you from? How were you abducted by Elias? How can we help you find your way home? At least it had made it so his mind was occupied. Now in the comfort of his room, he had nothing else but to wallow in his misery.

He knew she was one of the good ones. He was glad to find out her reactions had been some sort of animalistic sense of survival she had turned to.

Hellboy, during one of his breaks, had snuck into the security rooms, finding the feed of Phyrra’s room. He found the logs in which his father spoke with her. He knew he was being a coward, a worm. His finger hovered over the play button. Father had told him nothing but perfunctory information when he stopped by after talking with Phyrra: She was another prisoner of Elias’s, and seemed to be suffering from amnesia.

Hellboy wanted to hear it from her.

In the end, fate had answered the dilemma for him. Ben arrived on the scene, having been told where the cambion had slipped away; Hellboy whipped around with guilt like a teenage boy caught playing with himself. Ben was holding two sandwiches from the mess hall, wearing a smug grin.

“There you are, come on Hellboy.” The Major threw the wrapped one at Hellboy, forcing him to catch it. “I even asked them to cut the crust off for you.”

There was also the matter of Hurse.

On their way back, Hellboy heard his name being called. Turning around, he was met with the running form of Hurse, the man wasn’t winded when he reached them.

“Hey Hellboy, I just wanted to tell you. I met Phyrra, again.” Happily, he displayed his neck sans bruise. Hellboy knew he wasn’t doing it with any malice, just wanted to be a man showing good will. Hellboy knew Hurse to be happily married for 15 years. It didn’t stop the envy at the idea of Phyrra just healing anyone willy-nilly.

He knew first hand the penetrating, all consuming feeling when she used her ability.

“No hard feelings, she’s a real sweet kid.”

“Shit.” Hellboy realized he was playing the chords to ‘More Than Words’ and stopped immediately. He had to get a hold of himself for Christ sakes.

So he agreed with the fact she didn’t attack intentionally, obviously he knew he couldn’t be with enamoured with an evil being, Nimue crushed that idea. He did want her back to that way incidentally, if only to not have to be so foolish around her. He was getting very frustrated with the conflicted feelings surrounding her. He wasn’t a dealing with feelings kinda guy, he needed to go out, do some target practice, get into some trouble.

Maybe start a fight.

Hellboy stood up too fast, letting out a slurred ‘Woah!’ before balancing himself sloppily on his dresser. That was the first time he had risen in 30 minutes, those beers were hitting him.

Clumsy as shit, Hellboy stumbled about his room, until the telltale sound of light knocking reached him. Who the fuck was bothering him right now? It was the middle of the fucking night.

Hellboy lumbered over to the door, retching it open. A curse ready on his tongue.

It was Phyrra. Looking at him expectantly. Sorah had found her clothes, Hellboy thought belated. She was dressed in a black t shirt depicting the B.P.R.D logo, and pajama pants. It was quite a different sight from the robes that bundled her, or the slight towel she was draped in when he first saw her..

He was way too drunk for this.

What he wanted to say was, “Hey Phyrra. What brings you out here at this late hour?” Instead, what he got out was:

“Oh.”

Phyrra was taken aback by the stilted greeting, but only for a moment. It was quite a late hour, she cleared her throat and pressed on.

“Hello again, I could not stop thinking. At least not until I came to make amends.” Phyrra felt herself strangely nervous around him, sweat collected at the back of her neck but she felt chilled anyways.

After spending the last while in the library with Alice, finding comfort in the woman’s help and presence, Phyrra had found nothing to jog her memory. Phyrra could see the way Alice was struggling to keep her eyes open, she made the decision to call it a night, thanking the woman for her company and asking where Hellboy was. She was met with a wide grin from Alice with prompt directions to his room, before she flounced away in a girlish manner betraying her age.

Phyrra liked the B.P.R.D. It wasn’t hard to find these lodgings much more satisfactory than under Elias’s care, but it wasn’t just that. There was life in the B.P.R.D, agents and various government workers passing her in the hallway with kind looks, sometimes a ‘Hello,” Phyrra wasn’t used to most interactions, especially with mortals. They were quite an interesting kind of people. Her new friend’s Sorah and Alice molding her opinion.

She thought about all this on the way to Hellboy’s domain, now that she was here. Her tongue was undoubtedly tied in knots, she wanted an answer from him, but forcing herself to look up to continue eye contact, she was thoroughly intimidated.

“Thank you is not sufficient to extend my gratitude. I am forever indebted to you for-”

“Stop!” Both of them flinched at his sudden loud interruption.

“Sorry, I mean, you don’t need to do all this.” Hellboy scratched the back of his neck, bumbling the whole thing rather expertly. “I was just doing my job.”

“Okay, but still. I was told of the way I…. Behaved towards everyone here, and how you were there to stop me. That still requires my recognition.”

Fuck, she was so beautiful. There was no doubt about it, he couldn’t feel shame for thinking something so evident. She was like one of those paintings he saw the time werewolves got loose in the Met.

During the midst of the fight, Hellboy had stopped, strangely drawn to a specific one hung on the wall. Hellboy wasn’t some fine art connoisseur, that kind of frou-frou shit was more dad’s style, but he had to admit this was kinda cool. It was a young girl, tangled in what looked to him to be bandages or rope or something. The background had been dark colours made to look like some sort of forest. She was fighting against the binds, hands curled into fists and muscles flexed in tension, her face displaying the strain it was to break free.

She was a cutie, by 17th century standards, but it was her eyes that caught him most of all. They were a curious sort of calm, as if she knew without doubt that eventually she would succeed in her struggle. He could of stood there analyzing that painting the whole night, if he hadn’t of been tackled away from it by some smelly dog.

That girl in the painting reminded him of Phyrra. Many layers made her up. Fierce and wild at times, vulnerable and distant at others. This elf girl was an enigma. One that was currently looking at him with confusion.

He hadn’t said anything in response to her.

He had just been staring down at her like a creep.

“Well, good night then...” Phyrra scurried away from the entrance to his bedroom; well that did not go the way she wanted it to. She would first apologize, he would accept and she would get the chance to ask him what happened while they were alone.

Now away in her thoughts, she couldn’t just blame her own blundering. What had greeted her at his door had halted her, something was off about Hellboy. What was once full of nervous energy, was slothish and bumbling. He could barely get his words out.

No matter, she had cleared her conscience and now could leave him alone, he obviously didn’t care nor desire her apology.

Whatever happened between them could be completely forgotten about. Reliving what had just transpired on repeat as she escaped, Phyrra knew that was an utter lie.

Hellboy watched stunned as she walked away.

“Night…..Hey wait!” Hellboy took a step through the threshold, only to step on the tail-end of his jacket, spilling himself to the floor in quite a hilarious spectacular if anyone were around to witness it.

“Shit.”

#hellboy fanfiction #fanfiction #hellboy 2019 #hellboy #writing #hellboy oc

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k-e-monroe · 6 years

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SONG TITLE PROMPTS

3. How Do U Want It

(Requested By Alec)

About A Girl: “She comes to me, with all the caresses and in the softness I imagined, offering sweet promises and spice-kissed lips. Like a stone, the ache settles in my chest and I crave just a taste--sweat and ink, sex and musk. The epitome of beauty and unsound mind--she is the wilderness and I the bold adventurer. The more I explore, the more I learn the valleys that she harbors are deeply embedded with her secrets in the tapestry of her soul. The dips of her body, hot breasts above a shuddering rib cage and shapely, caramel thighs quick to part, are a miraculous sight to behold, but her mind no less a descent straight into chaos--a lost paradise . Where The Wild Things Are. All these territories of her blueprint remind me of charred ash and madness and the inability to say NO. She renders me powerless. And even though I know it’s only short-lived--the bliss between her thighs is worth a lifetime of lies.”

9. Personal Jesus

(Requested By Sorrow)

“Years spent living in black & white and under bible belt circumscription, mapped out a world all too confining. Child-like ardor and natural curiosity often denounced for the sake of a religious mob with puritanical mindsets was no less despairing and the spirit of innocence, playful possession trumped by ingrained doubt and fear, was entirely inspired by an omnipotent God eager to cast his judgment and execute punishment. So, I read the good book like a fable, anything to keep my tenacious curiosities and free spirit from being snuffed out by another’s truth. And so it was written, little girls should be seen and not heard. With a voice silenced and will dictated by an organized religion, freedom was just a concept understood, but not truly lived. Survival became imminent.

Little girls trapped by circumstance will breed tiny little monsters in the depths of their afflicted hearts.

Growing up in the Bible Belt and with a family of Evangelicals, everyday life gave way to nothing short of an illiberal upbringing. The majority of the time, I had nothing but my own thoughts, curiosities, and the boundless depths of my imagination to get me through the monotony of ‘church’ days and events. Maybe I was just born bad, like Eve in the Garden, succumbing to the want of all those earthly desires and sins my dear ole preacher would adamantly speak against. Or maybe it was some sort of rebellion or even reverse mind control against the doctrine. Whatever the case, I certainly wasn’t the good little Christian my adoptive parents prayed for nightly. I do remember the first time I realized just how wicked and far from grace I had fallen, and just how much I enjoyed my budding debauchery.

Church--being in The House of the Lord, it always did do funny things to me. Even when I was just a tiny, little thing, I found myself swept up in the spirit of it all. It was as if I was excited and incited by the Holy Spirit himself! He moved right through me. As I got older though, that feeling began to change into something less pure and the more fire and brimstone damnation the preacher preached, the more my thoughts would become corrupt. It might have been all of that poetry and scripture from the old testament about sinful women and the hazards of desire or the rants about some television broadcast depicting sado-masochistic perversions, and the burning of incense and the profanation of pagan altars, or maybe it was the atmosphere of the divine and Holy Spirit sweeping over the congregation, but less than Holy urges stirred within the apex of my sex and from the depths of loins I sang a praise chorus unlike any other.

I prayed, but not for forgiveness for my wickedness. I prayed for release. No scripture ever prepared me for such an experience--for this temptation. Oh Holy Holy! When it came time for communion, I walked the church floors, burdened by sinners before me and walls threaded by the grotesque images depicting a tortured and tormented Christ, his journey to the cross, the crucifixion, and lastly his resurrection and ascendancy. I gritted my teeth and clenched my thighs along the way--gospel riding my filthy tongue. HALLELUJAH! PRAISE BE HIS NAME! By the time I reached the altar, I was the one that had ascended. Down on my knees in reverence and quivering in bliss--my innocence lost between hymn and scripture. My virtue just a puddle in the fabric of my white cotton panties.”

11. Crazy In Love

(Requested By War King)

“When you walk into the room, I’m tongue tied and twisted in knots. Breathless with a racing heart, I can’t even convey the simplest of thoughts. Cast a glance in my direction, looking me over with those wanton eyes and that signature smirk, and I forget myself. Just a touch of your hand and a kiss of your lips, I’m left quivering at the knees and with dripping hips. THERE IS NOTHING I WOULDN’T DO FOR YOUR LOVE.”

Love, when pertaining to the heart and romance is a mysterious, unpredictable beast with a wicked design and when not solidified by a profound bond is more often than not fickle. For most people, they come up in life experiencing various degrees of heartfelt and romantic love. Beliefs and notions formed on their ideals of it just as much as said experiences in its regard. Some say that the need and want for companionship is intrinsic to the human condition therefore LOVE simply exists by default--a reason to explain away said needs and wants for companionship so people aren’t forced to confront the simple fact that loneliness breeds fear and most all are held hostage by carnal impulse.

LOVE wraps the truth in a pretty package so people can feel better about themselves and the fact that the fear inspires neediness and the carnal impulse spurs a hunger relentless in its efforts to be sated. LOVE paints the truth a pretty picture so people can feel better about the harsh reality just beneath the gossamer surface. Whatever the case, this isn’t meant to minimize love and the ideals and notions behind it nor is it meant to trivialize the belief in love, it is simply an honest opinion from the abstract mind of a young woman with the ability to see people and world logically, breaking it all down and compartmentalizing the bits and pieces of the construct whilst empathizing greatly to the plight of others. It’s simply a belief from a young woman yet to experience the intensity and impact of romantic love.

All her life, Kimber has been acutely aware of those around her, being both ridiculously perceptive and ‘unnaturally’ in tune with the energies catapulted into the proverbial ether. If anything, it gives one damn good reason that she is so skilled at her job thus successful for one so early on in a career as a Psychologist. However, surprisingly enough, it has not done her any favors when it comes to romance and love. If anything, it works against her and she has yet to find herself in its warm embrace, drowning in the euphoria of a fairytale and happy ever after. But it’s NOT a fairytale and a happy ending or even a Harlequin Romance that she desires much less needs. No--not in the slightest.

13. A Little Less Conversation

(Requested By Wayne)

“Eager from anticipation, I remember hanging on desperately to the breath caught between the part of my not so chaste pout as his calloused thumb traced the crest of my lips. He said, “You’re a bad habit but a tasty treat.” With a bawdy expression and trembling thighs, the world suddenly came to a halt and I was left at the mercy of his depravity--melting from my apex. “Please,” I murmured, the word softly echoing in the ether between us as his rough, commanding hands traveled the tender canvas of my taut flesh. With a firm grip around my delicate neck, senses were roused and words were undoubtedly lost in translation, but our bodies knew well the language in which we were speaking.”

#KimberEliseMonroe #KimberMonroe #BuiltForSin

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chemicalmongrel · 6 years

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Stay Outta Trouble!

Starter for @quantum-shatter

Chem-Barons--chief propagators of Zaun’s misery. They wove an alliance, of sorts, so as to maximize their profit margins. That way no one stepped on each other’s toes without meaning to. Each one had their grubby hands dipped in the market of profiting off others’ misfortune. They’re murderers, every last one, and they feed off the city like a child that treads through a shallow pond of leeches without knowing. But for all their power and influence, they still bled. And all who bleed weren’t untouchable. Whether it took a day or years, they’d find themselves on the receiving end of sorrow. Those who bled could never evade a bloodhound’s nose. Until their hands no longer held the key to the cage hostage, the Wrath of Zaun would never calm.

Slinking about the rooftops and traversing across the network of pipes was common for Warwick. Despite his bulky frame, the beast had an unnatural agility. It often diminished when giving chase, but he was never what you might call clumsy. It certainly didn’t hurt to have razor sharp claws on either hand, of which one was metallic. And after close to two decades of doing the same thing day-in and day-out, he’d gotten very good at it. Better than any runner. Even had more routes to take when crossing the city, attributed to his age. Unlike the last few days, though, he hadn’t an inkling as to what to do. Thus he was roaming like a vagabond searching for his next paycheck. He had an important informant of an infamous Chem-Baron backed into a corner, ready and rearing to spill everything just to live for a minute longer. But the hunger, it’d gotten the best of him then. The metallic tinge of blood tickling the back of his nose; the feeling of warm flesh against the palm of his hand; how his claws dug into the pale man’s worn skin; it was all too much after a day-long chase. As such, the only thing he got to spill was his guts. It irked Warwick to no end, imagining how close he was to picking up the next Baron’s trail. Suffice to say, he had some aggression to work out. And in Zaun, there was no shortage of punching bags. Then, a sound--his left ear perks up. Stopping in his tracks, the beast’s head pivoted. His snout rose up and smelt the air. The vile filth of the city’s wicked denizens assaulted his nostrils. Something akin to a scowl and a grin creased his features. He dashed off to follow the trail and find the source.

#🐺 Warning :: Possible Triggers Within 🐺#🐺 Disturbing Imagery 🐺#🐺 Graphic Descriptions 🐺#🐺 Graphic Depictions of Violence 🐺#🐺 Gore 🐺#🐺 Blood 🐺#🐺 Death 🐺#🐺 Firearms 🐺#🐺 Caught the Scent - RP 🐺#🐺 Hunter's Playground - League of Legends 🐺#🐺 Chemical Smog - Verse 🐺#🐺 Gnawing Hunger - IC 🐺#🕒 quantum-shatter 🕒#🕒 Pursuer of the Past - Ekko 🕒#🐺 The Beast - Warwick 🐺

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dfroza · 4 years

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A decision of whether or not to “believe...”

is seen in Today’s closing chapter of the book of Acts along with God’s “i love you” in the first chapter of Malachi, the closing book of the Old Testament that describes the first Covenant as given through Moses

and a New Covenant of grace is revealed in the New Testament writing, conserved as books and letters given for us in the here & now to decide whether or not to “believe...” in the eternal truth of Light and in Love (in the True illumination of the Son)

from the ancient writing of Malachi:

A Message. God’s Word to Israel through Malachi:

God said, “I love you.”

The Book of Malachi, Chapter 1:1-2 (The Message)

[Acts 28]

Once everyone was accounted for and we realized we had all made it, we learned that we were on the island of Malta. The natives went out of their way to be friendly to us. The day was rainy and cold and we were already soaked to the bone, but they built a huge bonfire and gathered us around it.

Paul pitched in and helped. He had gathered up a bundle of sticks, but when he put it on the fire, a venomous snake, roused from its torpor by the heat, struck his hand and held on. Seeing the snake hanging from Paul’s hand like that, the natives jumped to the conclusion that he was a murderer getting his just deserts. Paul shook the snake off into the fire, none the worse for wear. They kept expecting him to drop dead, but when it was obvious he wasn’t going to, they jumped to the conclusion that he was a god!

The head man in that part of the island was Publius. He took us into his home as his guests, drying us out and putting us up in fine style for the next three days. Publius’s father was sick at the time, down with a high fever and dysentery. Paul went to the old man’s room, and when he laid hands on him and prayed, the man was healed. Word of the healing got around fast, and soon everyone on the island who was sick came and got healed.

[Rome]

We spent a wonderful three months on Malta. They treated us royally, took care of all our needs and outfitted us for the rest of the journey. When an Egyptian ship that had wintered there in the harbor prepared to leave for Italy, we got on board. The ship had a carved Gemini for its figurehead: “the Heavenly Twins.”

We put in at Syracuse for three days and then went up the coast to Rhegium. Two days later, with the wind out of the south, we sailed into the Bay of Naples. We found Christian friends there and stayed with them for a week.

And then we came to Rome. Friends in Rome heard we were on the way and came out to meet us. One group got as far as Appian Court; another group met us at Three Taverns—emotion-packed meetings, as you can well imagine. Paul, brimming over with praise, led us in prayers of thanksgiving. When we actually entered Rome, they let Paul live in his own private quarters with a soldier who had been assigned to guard him.

Three days later, Paul called the Jewish leaders together for a meeting at his house. He said, “The Jews in Jerusalem arrested me on trumped-up charges, and I was taken into custody by the Romans. I assure you that I did absolutely nothing against Jewish laws or Jewish customs. After the Romans investigated the charges and found there was nothing to them, they wanted to set me free, but the Jews objected so fiercely that I was forced to appeal to Caesar. I did this not to accuse them of any wrongdoing or to get our people in trouble with Rome. We’ve had enough trouble through the years that way. I did it for Israel. I asked you to come and listen to me today to make it clear that I’m on Israel’s side, not against her. I’m a hostage here for hope, not doom.”

They said, “Nobody wrote warning us about you. And no one has shown up saying anything bad about you. But we would like very much to hear more. The only thing we know about this Christian sect is that nobody seems to have anything good to say about it.”

They agreed on a time. When the day arrived, they came back to his home with a number of their friends. Paul talked to them all day, from morning to evening, explaining everything involved in the kingdom of God, and trying to persuade them all about Jesus by pointing out what Moses and the prophets had written about him.

Some of them were persuaded by what he said, but others refused to believe a word of it. When the unbelievers got cantankerous and started bickering with each other, Paul interrupted: “I have just one more thing to say to you. The Holy Spirit sure knew what he was talking about when he addressed our ancestors through Isaiah the prophet:

Go to this people and tell them this:

“You’re going to listen with your ears,

but you won’t hear a word;

You’re going to stare with your eyes,

but you won’t see a thing.

These people are blockheads!

They stick their fingers in their ears

so they won’t have to listen;

They screw their eyes shut

so they won’t have to look,

so they won’t have to deal with me face-to-face

and let me heal them.”

“You’ve had your chance. The non-Jewish outsiders are next on the list. And believe me, they’re going to receive it with open arms!”

Paul lived for two years in his rented house. He welcomed everyone who came to visit. He urgently presented all matters of the kingdom of God. He explained everything about Jesus Christ. His door was always open.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 28 (The Message)

A pairing of chapters from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s reading of the Psalms and Proverbs for january 24 of 2020 (Psalm 24 and Proverbs 24) as well as Psalm 35 for the 35th day of Winter

[Psalm 24]

A song of David.

The earth and all that’s upon it belong to the Eternal.

The world is His, with every living creature on it.

With seas as foundations and rivers as boundaries,

He shaped the continents, fashioned the earth.

Who can possibly ascend the mountain of the Eternal?

Who can stand before Him in sacred spaces?

Only those whose hands have been washed and hearts made pure,

men and women who are not given to lies or deception.

The Eternal will stand close to them with blessing and mercy at hand,

and the God who redeems will right what has been wrong.

These are the people who chase after Him;

[like Jacob, they look for the face of God].

[pause]

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal who is powerful

and mightily equipped for battle.

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal, Commander of heaven’s army,

He is the glorious King.

[pause]

The Book of Psalms, Poem 24 (The Voice)

[Psalm 35]

Rescue Me

A poetic song, by King David

[Part One – David, a Warrior]

O Lord, fight for me! Harass the hecklers, accuse my accusers.

Fight those who fight against me.

Put on your armor, Lord; take up your shield and protect me.

Rise up, mighty God! Grab your weapons of war

and block the way of the wicked who come to fight me.

Stand for me when they stand against me!

Speak over my soul: “I am your strong Savior!”

Humiliate those who seek my harm. Defeat them all!

Frustrate their plans to defeat me and drive them back.

Disgrace them all as they have devised their plans to disgrace me.

Blow them away like dust in the wind,

with the Angel of Almighty God driving them back!

Make the road in front of them nothing but slippery darkness,

with the Angel of the Lord behind them, chasing them away!

For though I did nothing wrong to them, they set a trap for me,

wanting me to fall and fail.

Surprise them with your ambush, Lord,

and catch them in the very trap they set for me.

Let them be the ones to fail and fall into destruction!

Then my fears will dissolve into limitless joy;

my whole being will overflow with gladness

because of your mighty deliverance.

Everything inside of me will shout it out:

“There’s no one like you, Lord!”

For look at how you protect the weak and helpless

from the strong and heartless who oppress them.

[Part Two – David, a Witness]

They are malicious men, hostile witnesses of wrong.

They rise up against me, accusers appearing out of nowhere.

When I show them mercy, they bring me misery.

I’m forsaken and forlorn, like a motherless child.

I even prayed over them when they were sick.

I was burdened and bowed low with fasting

and interceded for their healing,

and I didn’t stop praying.

I grieved for them, heavyhearted,

as though they were my dearest family members

or my good friends who were sick,

nearing death, needing prayer.

But when I was the one who tripped up and stumbled,

they came together to slander me,

rejoicing in my time of trouble, tearing me to shreds

with their lies and betrayal.

These nameless ruffians,

mocking me like godless fools at a feast—

how they delight in throwing mud on my name.

God, how long can you just stand there doing nothing?

Now is the time to act.

Rescue me from these brutal men,

for I am being torn to shreds by these beasts

who are out to get me.

Save me from their rage, their cruel grasp.

Then I will praise you wherever I go.

And when everyone gathers for worship,

I will lift up your praise with a shout

in front of the largest crowd I can find!

[Part Three – David, a Worshiper]

Don’t let those who fight me for no reason be victorious.

Don’t let them succeed, these heartless haters

who come against me with their gloating sneers.

They are the ones who would never seek peace as friends,

for they are ever devising deceit against the innocent ones

who mind their own business.

They open their mouths with ugly grins,

gloating with glee over my every fault.

“Look,” they say, “we caught him red-handed!

We saw him fall with our own eyes!”

But my caring God, you have been there all along.

You have seen their hypocrisy.

God, don’t let them get away with this.

Don’t walk away without doing something.

Now is the time to awake! Rise up, Lord!

Vindicate me, my Lord and my God!

You have every right to judge me, Lord,

according to your righteousness,

but don’t let them rejoice over me when I stumble.

Let them all be ashamed of themselves,

humiliated when they rejoice over my every blunder.

Shame them, Lord, when they say, “We saw what he did.

Now we have him right where we want him.

Let’s get him while he’s down!”

Make them look ridiculous when they exalt themselves over me.

May they all be disgraced and dishonored!

But let all my true friends shout for joy,

all those who know and love what I do for you.

Let them all say, “The Lord is great,

and he delights in the prosperity of his servant.”

Then I won’t be able to hold it in—

everyone will hear my joyous praises all day long!

Your righteousness will be the theme of my glory-song of praise!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 35 (The Passion Translation)

[Proverbs 24]

Don’t envy the wealth of the wicked or crave their company.

For they’re obsessed with causing trouble

and their conversations are corrupt.

Wise people are builders—

they build families, businesses, communities.

And through intelligence and insight

their enterprises are established and endure.

Because of their skilled leadership

the hearts of people are filled with the treasures of wisdom

and the pleasures of spiritual wealth.

Wisdom can make anyone into a mighty warrior,

and revelation-knowledge increases strength.

Wise strategy is necessary to wage war,

and with many astute advisers

you’ll see the path to victory more clearly.

Wisdom is a treasure too lofty for a quarreling fool—

he’ll have nothing to say when leaders gather together.

There is one who makes plans to do evil—

Master Schemer is his name.

If you plan to do evil, it’s as wrong as doing it.

And everyone detests a troublemaker.

If you faint when under pressure,

you have need of courage.

Go and rescue the perishing! Be their savior!

Why would you stand back and watch them stagger to their death?

And why would you say, “But it’s none of my business”?

The one who knows you completely and judges your every motive

is also the keeper of souls—and not just yours!

He sees through your excuses and holds you responsible

for failing to help those whose lives are threatened.

Revelation-knowledge is a delicacy,

sweet like flowing honey that melts in your mouth.

Eat as much of it as you can, my friend!

For then you will perceive what is true wisdom,

your future will be bright,

and this hope living within will never disappoint you.

Listen up, you wicked, irreverent ones—

don’t harass the lovers of God

and don’t invade their resting place.

For the lovers of God may suffer adversity

and stumble seven times,

but they will continue to rise over and over again.

But the unrighteous are brought down by just one calamity

and will never be able to rise again.

Never gloat when your enemy meets disaster

and don’t be quick to rejoice if he falls.

For the Lord, who sees your heart,

will be displeased with you and will pity your foe.

Don’t be angrily offended over evildoers or be agitated by them.

For the wicked have no life and no future—

their light of life will die out.

My child, stand in awe of the Lord Jehovah!

Give counsel to others,

but don’t mingle with those who are rebellious.

For sudden destruction will fall upon them

and their lives will be ruined in a moment.

And who knows what retribution they will face!

[Revelation from the Wise]

Those enlightened with wisdom have spoken these proverbs:

Judgment must be impartial,

for it is always wrong to be swayed by a person’s status.

If you say to the guilty, “You are innocent,”

the nation will curse you and the people will revile you.

But when you convict the guilty,

the people will thank you and reward you with favor.

Speaking honestly is a sign of true friendship.

Go ahead, build your career and give yourself to your work.

But if you put me first, you’ll see your family built up!

Why would you be a false accuser and slander with your words?

Don’t ever spitefully say, “I’ll get even with him!

I’ll do to him what he did to me!”

One day I passed by the field of a lazy man

and I noticed the vineyards of a slacker.

I observed nothing but thorns, weeds, and broken-down walls.

So I considered their lack of wisdom,

and I pondered the lessons I could learn from this:

Professional work habits prevent poverty from becoming

your permanent business partner. And:

If you put off until tomorrow the work you could do today,

tomorrow never seems to come.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 24 (The Passion Translation)

“An honest answer is like a warm hug.”

“A straight answer is as precious as a kiss on the lips.”

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 24:26 (The Message / The Voice)

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rudra-writes · 5 years

Text

Pellurin: Ambush (Part 7)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. During a journey with other draenei, Pallas and Telurin become separated when orcs attack.

Telurin dispatches the orc captain with brutal, even shocking efficiency. Motaanos breathes a long sigh of relief when he falls, knowing his own exhaustion could have created a dangerous situation without the tireless Ebon Blade aiding him. The battle dies down, the other orcs abandoning their fallen captain now that they have seen that the death knight is truly something to be feared.

Mot takes a moment to catch his breath, leaning on his mace, then approaches Telurin without yet seeing what the undead draenei is doing. “That was well done--”

The vindicator falls back in horror when he sees what Telurin has done to the fallen orc. “What is the meaning of this?!” Being an Auchenai, it’s even more apparent to him that the death knight has manipulated a soul into remaining inside the corpse. Granted, it’s the soul of a foe who would have killed them without hesitation, but to an Auchenai, it’s nothing short of blasphemous.

“Peace, Commander, I don’t intend to keep it. Do you want your Soulpriest back or not?” Telurin doesn’t look back at Motaanos, his attention still remains with the newly risen ghoul, and it’s to the newly undead that he directs his next words. “Speak, I have given you voice. Tell me what you have done with the draenei you captured yesterday. Your Master wills it.”

Motaanos presses his lips together and holds his peace, despite the fact that the freshly-dead orc captain is disturbing to his senses as a ghoul.

After a beat, the orc ghoul speaks in a low, quavering drone. His lips form the words slowly around his tusks. “...Braxen…Gorereaper... wanted them... Draenei blood… Summons… powerful demons… Or so he... claims.” There is a sense that the chieftain didn’t understand the specifics. Motaanos goes pale in the background. “...Weak slaves… They had… no other use...”

The orc ghoul slowly raises his left hand to point at a path in the woods that winds a short distance out of the encampment. There is a sense of dread that lingers over the path. The grasses and plants there are dead, and the trees are twisted, as if something in the soil had poisoned them.

Telurin, satisfied with the answer, pulls the necromantic magics pinning the soul of the orc to his body with a vicious twist, and the body drops as if it were a puppet with its strings cut. The tie between a death knight and their ghouls left no room for lies; the orc had divulged all he’d known, as well as the layout of the cave they’d find the hostages in and what he had known of this Braxen Gorereaper. Sugarfoot comes back around without being told and Telurin mounts in one smooth motion, already pulling the horse’s nose in the direction the orc had pointed.

“Keep up or be left behind, they are close!” He calls back to Motaanos right as he digs his heels into Sugarfoot’s side.

Sugarfoot thunders down the fel-tainted path in the early morning. From what Telurin had been able to glean from the mind of the orc chieftain, this Gorereaper is without doubt a practitioner of the warlock arts, having often been seen in the company of demonic beasts he kept under his sway. It was not a common talent for fel orcs, suggesting that the warlock himself was not tainted to the same extent they had been, or perhaps not at all.

What is apparent is that he was prolific in his studies. Sugarfoot soon reaches a terminus in the path: A grave altar carved out of dark stone, decorated with skulls, bones, and the dried stains of dark indigo draenei blood. The gruesome sight of the remains of sacrificial victims can be seen. Many appear to have been devoured by something horrible afterward, their remains nearly unrecognizable in the foul greenish light that glows from cracks in the rocky ground. The twisted trees complete the scene: Awful mockeries of themselves, scorched black.

There is no sign of the warlock himself, nor of his minions. Assuming he was one of the more intelligent orcs, he likely departed the camp as soon as there was a disturbance.

Not far from the blood-spattered altar, there is a line of iron cages trimmed with wicked metal thorns. Inside the cages, a cruel sight meets Telurin's eyes: Several draenei bodies, in varying states of nauseating violation. Some are chained, some gutted for their blood.

The air is heavy with the stench of death. But Telurin's senses would tell him that one of the cages held a glimmer of life.

Telurin had seen worse, done worse under the Lich King’s thrall, but the amount of death, comprised of solely his own people, sets his anger burning all over again. He promises to himself that when Pallas is safe, he will return and raze this place to the ground. Surrounded by death, the point of Light-touched life in the last cage is bright to his senses, and he yanks Sugarfoot’s head toward it, sliding off of the big horse nearly on top of the cage.

“Watch and guard.” He says to the still keyed up horse, one hand on Sugarfoot’s neck as he approaches the cage, the reins looped loosely onto the pommel to give the horse freedom of movement. He tries to temper some of his anger as he turns his attention to the occupants of the cage, knowing it won’t be useful here. He draws his sword and sets it to the chain holding the door shut, trusting the runed blade against the strength of whatever poor metal the orcs had used in the chain’s construction.

It gives easily, and Telurin gets his first unobstructed view of what lay inside.

Motaanos comes up quietly behind Telurin, his face ashen. Although he had grown up surrounded by death as an Auchenai, the sense of wrongness of the corruption of fel, to him, felt a violation of the worst kind.

He turns his attention to the inside of the cage the death knight has cut the lock from, then falls to his knees with a cry of agony. Pallas is there, laying unconscious on the filthy, blood-spattered bottom of the cage, his Anchorite's robes reduced to shreds. His body is covered in bruises, whip welts and the punctures of bites. Wrapped around the smaller priest, holding him as if to protect him, is the bony body of Grigore, his skin deeply lashed and coated blue from his own blood. Even his tail is wrapped tightly around Pallas's.

Motaanos is beside himself, his eyes wide with grief. He chokes out, "Grigore..." before reaching towards the soul priest with a gauntleted hand.

Telurin’s own anguish is quiet, but the sight of the two Anchorites sets his jaw and strengthens his resolve to slaughter the rest of this clan for what they’ve done. With Motaanos in the doorway, Telurin lets the vindicator be the one to assess the damage, knowing he will be able to help in this case more than he.

“Neither of them will be able to ride.” Telurin says, and it’s blunt and harsh but it’s true, and it’s a problem Telurin can work on right now, how to get them out of the orc camp and back to the nearest Alliance settlement. “There was a cart back at the camp, it will have to do. Can you stay with them while I retrieve it? Be on your guard, stabilize them as much as you can while I am gone. I will be quick.” He almost turns back toward Sugarfoot before Motaanos answers, but he waits, needing to be sure the Commander can work through his grief, set it aside for now. They’re in unsecured enemy territory, alone, and he needs them both to stay sharp and battle ready until it’s safe to do otherwise.

Motaanos's expression changes as he gleans from both Telurin's words and closer examination that both of the priests are, in fact, alive. He regains control of his emotions, and becomes steadfast, nodding as he crouches next to the two unconscious draenei inside the cage. "I have enough energy left to provide some healing; they'll be stabilized at the very least."

The Vindicator gingerly places a hand on Pallas's shoulder, and his opposite hand on Grigore's. He begins to channel the Light. It's a faint, quiet presence in this fel place, turning the cage floor around the three draenei a soft, calming gold. Mot looks back at Telurin with trust in his eyes for the first time.

#draenei #Pallas #Telurin #Grigore #Motaanos

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thewitchandthebeasthimself · 7 years

Text

The Witch and The Beast Himself: Chapter 10

Seeing something as incredible as Celty and her neighing motorcycle, plus knowing that I was about to ride with her to my apartment was absolutely dreamlike.

I followed her out of the apartment and watched as she looked up towards her unit. I looked up with her as her black motorcycle raced down the side of the apartment from the top with lightning speed and stopped in front of her to give her a short, otherworldly snort.

[This is my horse, Shooter] she typed to me.

[He's disguised as a motorcycle so that we can be able to get around in a modern way]

“That is so cool, Celty!” I said excitedly. “Thank you so much again for taking me to my apartment.”

She seemed to look at me for a second, then typed into her phone:

[Not a problem at all, (your name)]

[I like you, and I wouldn’t mind to help out when you need it since you’re Shizuo’s girlfriend]

I smiled. “Thanks a lot.”

I truly am thank that most of the people I’ve met here so far have been so nice to me and willing to help out. It does give me some hope that this thing with Izaya won't turn out so bad, especially now that I know that I don’t have to deal with it on my own.

[So where are we going?] she asked. I gave her the address to my apartment.

[I know where that is] she typed.

[Let’s get going]

Celty held out her hand, formed a helmet that looked just like hers but in all black and handed it to me. I put the helmet on my head, and climbed onto the back of her horse with her. Once I was on she wrapped shadows around my waist to keep me secure, then took off down the street with speed and somewhat, grace. I couldn't help but feel that besides my time with Shizuo this would have to top my list of exciting things I've done since I’ve moved here.

About halfway back to my apartment I felt a sudden dark energy gaining on us. I focused on this energy for a minute until I caught sight of a group of Blood Diamonds in a red van, armed to the teeth and bobbing through traffic in attempt to catch up to us.

I groaned then warned Celty, “We have Blood Diamonds gaining on us!”

She summoned her phone, typed into it with one hand, then showed it to me: [Are you serious?!]

Suddenly I felt the energy of one of them preparing to fire a gun at us.

Fuck!

I breathed in, imagining a energetic shield covering us from behind, then breathed out, allowing the energetic shield to take form behind us, shielding us from the gunshots.

“I’ll try to get them off our ass!” I yelled to Celty as she swerved through traffic. I knew that my shield wouldn’t be able to cover us for long, so I needed to come up with something to get them off of us quickly. I turned sideways and held out my left hand towards the van. I form a finger gun with my hand and took a deep breath in, imagining electricity zipping up through my body and focusing it into my formed hand, directly into my pointer finger and middle finger. I aimed my hand at one of the front tires of the van. Finally, on the exhale, I fired and released the zapping, electric energy from the tips of my fingers. I watched as the shot broke through my shield, causing it to disintegrate, and crashed into the front tire of the van. The tire I shot at popped, making the van spin out and crash into the side of a brick wall across the street as Celty and I sped further and further away.

Holy shit, I just did that! I thought in excitement and somewhat alarmed by my own actions.

Celty stopped in the middle of the street, nudged me to look at her and held her phone up to me: [Why the hell did you do that?!]

[Now the cops will be all over us!]

“Shit Celty, what was I supposed to do?! The Blood Diamonds were chasing after us with guns! At least I didn’t kill any of them!”

[We could’ve gotten away from them on our own if you could’ve kept your shield up a little longer!]

“It wouldn't have been able to hold for that long!”

We suddenly heard the sound of police sirens coming into our direction. I felt Celty freeze up somewhat in fear, then quickly put her hands on the handlebars and sped off down the street, Shooter neighing and revving like an engine. For the first time I was actually able to sense something from her. Not energy, but emotion. She was absolutely terrified of the cops. As they gained on us I could understand why; they emitted an energy much darker and terrifying than a group of Blood Diamonds could. It almost felt… evil.

She typed with one hand into phone then showed it to me: [I’ll have Shooter take some of the back roads so that we can evade the cops.]

[Hang on tight and let me handle this.]

“Fine,” I held up my hands as if to surrender to her. “Do your thing.”

We sped through the streets, weaved through traffic, and passed through alleyways all across Ikebukuro to avoid the cops. But somehow they continued to stay on our tail, popping out in front of us on the street as we passed through alleys and following us on police motorbikes.

“This is Officer Furutani, I have the Black Rider and it’s passenger in sight! I need the fastest units to respond asap, over!” I heard one yell into their walkie-talkie as we passed them.

“Come in, come in! This is Officer Kano, the headless rider and it’s passenger are heading westbound on Yurakucho Line, I need the fastest units to respond asap, over!”

Eventually we got on a freeway bridge called the Yurakucho Line to the Shinjuku district in attempt to put distance between us and them. As we entered the bridge, one cop that we kept bumping into gained on us on a motorbike. He had very oddly distinctive facial features and an energy that stuck out amongst the other cops that chased us; he wore a cop uniform but included a red ascot. He had an upside-down, cross-shaped scar on his cheek, and a huge malicious smile plastered on his face. His energy was also absolutely the most terrifying; his energy felt about the same as Shizuo’s energy felt when he’s angry, but this energy seemed to be focused on entirely one thing. It felt as if he was the direct one that fueled all of the other cops’ raging dedication to their police force.

He sped up to our side in an attempt to spin us out, but missed. He swerved a little before regaining control of his bike and catching back up on our side.

“Your days of running around this city without any consequences are over, monster!” the cop yelled at Celty. In an almost wicked tone, he added, “Who’s the hostage you have there, is it some innocent girl that you’re bringing to that gang you’re involved in?!”

“No I’m not!” I yelled at him in Celty’s defense. “Leave us alone, we haven’t done anything!”

The cop laughed. “If you haven’t done anything then why are you running?! What kind of involvement do you HAVE with that thing?!”

I felt Celty nudge my arm to get my attention. I then looked up and ahead of her to find that at the end of bridge into Shinjuku our path was blocked off by cop cars and road block hurdles. A few cops stood in front of the roadblock as if they were expecting us.

“I’ve got you now, monster.” sneered the cop behind us as we neared it. He then pulled up his walkie- talkie and spoke into it. “All units, this is Officer Kuzuhara. We have the black rider and it’s passenger cordoned off of Shinjuku freeway. I repeat, we have the black rider and it’s passenger cordoned off of Shinjuku freeway, over.”

“This is Chief Akiyama. Understood, good work, Kuzuhara, over.” a voice buzzed in over the walkie talkie. The cop let out a soft smirk at his accomplishment. I felt myself becoming petrified. Celty slowed down as we got closer and closer to the roadblock.

This can’t be happening , I thought. I’ve never been to jail before, not even in the states. And Celty’s allowing us to get busted. Fuck, what am I going to tell Shizuo? What would he do one he finds out we were busted by cops on the way to get some shit from my apartment?! And on top of this they’re gonna catch me because they’re also looking for me. This is fucked, absolutely fucked.

I felt Celty unwrap her shadows from my waist. Then unexpectedly, Celty revved Shooter up and sped up to the roadblock. I gripped onto her waist to keep myself from flying off the horse bike. The speed also caused her helmet to pop off, revealing her severed neck and the black smoky shadows coming from it.

“What are you doing?!” I yelled at her. She said nothing as she sped up to the roadblock and had Shooter jump completely over them. Their cars and the other cops attempted to shoot tasers at us as we jumped over them, missing every shot they took at us.

Holy shit, we’re gonna get away from them! I thought to myself as I realized what she was doing.

As we passed over the road block and landed on the ground to speed away, I took a deep breath in and prepared to make a road block of my own to keep the cops from following us. I visualized frigid ice coursing through my veins. Celty wrapped her shadows back around my waist as if she understood what I was about to do. I took a minute to allow the freezing energy to move up and collect into my hands. I turned around and held the palms of my hands up to the cop cars behind us. On the exhale, I forced the cold energy from my palms and my fingers and raised an icy wall along the back of the cop cars, the ice gripping onto the railings on both sides of the one way freeway and completely blocking them from following us.

“They shouldn't be able to follow us now!” I yelled to Celty.

She typed into her phone: [Okay, good. We're gonna take a few alleyways underneath the freeway back to Ikebukuro so the cops can't find us.] As her horse revved up and turned around to take the alleyways underneath the freeway, she typed to me again:

[Man, those cops really freak me out. I hope we don't run into them again.]

“I hope we don't either,” I agreed. “I'd really hate to be arrested here.” I also shuddered at the thought of them wanting to find me for questioning because of the video of me on the news.

“That was crazy!” I said aloud as I processed what just happened. Celty said nothing to me in response as we made our way back to Ikebukuro.

Once we got back to Ikebukuro we began taking the main roads again, thinking that the cops were no longer going to be on our tail unless we did something drastic to attract them. Finally, once we reached my apartment, Celty stopped along the side of the street and unwrapped her shadows off of my waist to let me off of Shooter. She formed a new helmet in her hand and covered up her neck with it in place of her old helmet that was knocked off during our encounter with the cops. Her actions reminded me to remove my own helmet, which vanished from my hands after removing it.

[I'll wait out here.] Celty typed to me.

“Okay, I won't be too long.” I hopped off of Shooter and ran up the stairs to unlock my apartment door. Along the way I looked at the apartment door next to mine.

I wonder what Anri’s been up to? I thought as i looked at her apartment door. I never see her outside of her apartment when I'm here. After this blows over I'm gonna do something nice for her since she brought me cookies on my first day here.

Once I unlocked my door and stepped inside, I immediately sensed a familiar cunning and manipulative energy… INSIDE my apartment. The energy came from directly behind me, and felt as if it planned to attack me as soon as I stepped inside.

Goddammit, what is he doing here?! I sighed. This is actually getting very annoying . I took a deep breath in, and passed flaming energy throughout my body. Once I gathered enough energy into my left hand to form a ball of fire, I spun around and tried to shove it on him in attempt to scorch him with it. He quickly jumped out of the way and into my kitchen. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small flick blade, pointing it at me.

“Ya know, you should learn how to supress your energy, especially if you're going to attack in me in my own home.” I said aloud to him in English. “Now get the hell out of my apartment before I burn your ass.”

“And then risk burning down your own home and having the cops find you? You really don't want to do that.” Izaya replied in English with a smile on his face.

“I don't give a shit, I'll do what I have to to protect myself.”

We stared at each other for a minute, preparing to fight in my once nice and cozy little apartment.

#drrr #drrrx2 #durarara #durarara fanfiction #durarara shizuo #shizuo heiwajima #shizuo #izaya orihara #celty sturluson #shizuo x reader #x reader #reader #cop chase #fight scene #fanfic #fanfiction #durarara izaya

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semestakatarsis · 7 years

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the adventure of pirate mika and dragon rider taehyung: the treasure in lonely castle

pt. 1

Mika pulled and pushed the iron door with all her might. For the countless time, it did nothing but rumbled loudly, sending dust and debris to the air and down her hair. A loud groan followed every clatter it made, resonated ghostly around the high ceiling of the tower. It sounded so much like a beast was disturbed by the rowdy noise of iron clashing with rocks. Perhaps there was actually a beast napping somewhere inside this glamorous yet abandoned castle. Well, that wouldn't be surprising. It just occurred to her that there must be some kind of beast inhabiting this place as this is the famous Lonely Castle, stood bold and tall in the only island there was in the vast ocean of the Depraved Sea. The island wasn't big; rumour had it that it took only thirty minutes to walk around the whole rugged shoreline. It was the only shelter Mika could find after the wild weather of the area almost wrecked her ship. The Depraved Sea was as dangerous as the legends had told. It was well-known for its monstrous underwater creatures and deadly storms that occur on a daily basis. Mika had no choice but to make her weary ship stranded at the sloppy side of the island. She decided to venture out a bit while her ship took some rest. She didn't expect to get herself trapped in the Lonely Castle, which at first she thought was empty and deserted as its name would probably live up to. Apparently, no one had ever told her that some beast would probably have made this place their temporal home.

However, a beast couldn't become her main concern at the moment, for she was mysteriously trapped in a barred round room up high in the tallest tower of the castle. No food, no water. The only way out was the square window on the opposite side of where she stood, yet it would be too hard to survive three hundred meters jump to rocky water. And yes, the tower was that tall. On a side note, Mika had no idea about who had locked her up here. She remembered entering the main hall, but even before she managed to say "Hello?", she was attacked from behind. The world went dark instantly--she didn't even remember collapsing to the dirty marble floor. A few hours later, she woke up to realize she was being held prisoner. Her dagger was taken, her pocket--used to be jingling with a handful pieces of gold--was empty. Soon she realized that only beings with some sense of intelligence would disarm and rob a hostage, but "beings with some sense of intelligence" might refer not only to humans, but also human-like, half-human, and somehow-still-human beings, like, say, vampires? Cyclops? Orcs?

Engulfed by anger instead of fear, Mika shook the iron door violently. "HEY!!!!!!"

As expected, the beast groaned, a little louder than before like it was getting impatient and probably saying, "Stop making noises, finbutt! Someone's trying to get a good sleep down here!"

"YES, YOU, NASTY SHITSHARK CENTIPEDE!!!!!!" Mika screamed at the top of her lungs. "Let me out of here and let's fight!!!!!!"

Mika spent the rest of the day yelling and screaming curses. She was trying to provoke whomever lived in this castle. She had been through a similar circumstance before and she had learned that provocation was quicker than crying for pity. She was a pirate, after all. Pirates didn't plead for freedom. Pirates fought their way out with their swords and handguns. Mika wasn't too confident without her dagger though, and the idea of hand-to-hand combat had never interested her. But she put the thought aside and decided that there would never be a combat if her enemy had no guts to show up.

"OH, COME ON!!!!!!" Mika kicked the door. "Are you waiting for me to get tired?! Well! I'll never get tired of cursing at you, Mr. or Mrs. Coward! I love cursing! Cursing is fun! Cursing at you is even more fun!"

The rustle of wind filled the air. Even the beast had stopped responding. The color of the sky was divided like a half-rotten tangerine. Orange on the west, dark grey on the east. The surface of the sea imitated the colors, yet its natural blue darkened them a little.

Mika was panting. Beads of sweat rolled down her face. She silently admitted that she was actually getting tired of screaming. At last, after one final kick and "Tell me when you finally find some courage to show your shitshark butt!", Mika stormed to the other side of the room--which didn't take long because the room only held such a small space--and sat on the floor.

It was infuriating, but Mika told herself to calm down. Now that her anger had subsided a little, her brain provided a room for clear thoughts. She leaned back, resting her head against the wall, and closed her eyes. Everything that had happened in the village seemed to find its way to play a rerun behind her closed eyelids. The village that used to be her home, villagers that once were her best friends and family. Mika left them at the age of twelve to follow her brother Taeyong, the only blood-related family she had, who decided to join a crew of sailors that worked for a cargo ship. The ship transported cargos and goods around the world. Taeyong wouldn't even let her come to the harbor at first; there was no way he would let his little sister see him on board for he knew she always followed him around and copied everything he did. But Mika overheard his supposedly secret conversation with the headman the night before and was pretty much convinced that he would be leaving with a group of people at noon, and Mika thought he couldn't just leave without telling Mika what he was actually up to. So after lunch, when Taeyong was diligently washing dishes, Mika sneaked out of the house and ran to the harbor. Eventually, Taeyong found her already on board. To his surprise, somehow Mika managed to persuade the captain to let a little girl join his crew. They had one of their biggest fights afterward and it became a show for people in the harbor.

"You have to stop following me!" Taeyong yelled.

Being the bold kid she was, Mika yelled back, "Why do I have to stop following you? You're my brother!"

"This is not a pretend game, Mika! I'm not pretending to be a sailor! I'm going to be a real sailor, in a real ship! And the sea is real too, and the real sea is dangerous! There are so many monsters out there that could eat you!"

"You can protect me!" Mika insisted, already bawling. "I want to go anywhere with you! I want to be a real sailor, too! I'm not afraid of monsters!"

"You don't understand!"

"No! You don't understand!"

"You're too young, Mika! You're only twelve!"

"You're too young, too! You're only fourteen!"

Unlike his crew that were pretty much entertained and reminded of their family they left in their hometowns, the captain was starting to get tired of watching the seemingly endless fighting. Fortunately, before he considered the thought of setting off without them, the headman came and reconciled them. It was decided that Mika might join the crew and sail with them for a few weeks until the ship returned to the village to drop goods. Taeyong halfheartedly accepted the resolution, but the headman reassured him. That moment, life felt like it just had a new beginning. An adventure to the world beyond the sea, new islands, new people. Mika was looking forward to meeting magical creatures more diverse than fairies and naiads that inhabitat the forest area of her home island. Ah, and more monsters, too. Mika had been secretly growing interest in monster hunting, and her home island was too small for bigger monsters than the boring herbivores aptonoths, moofahs, and kelbis--though Mika was kind of proud of the kelbis for it was a rare species inhabiting only several islands in the world and that should've made her island special--or so the headman said.

Well, years later, who knew she would end up becoming a female pirate?

And the last time she visited her village, which was three days ago, the villagers didn't seem to like her new identity. They attempted two vicious things, so evil Mika couldn't believe she would come to question the loyalty of her own people: burn her at the stake and destroy her ship. At this thought, the images played in her brain started to blur and fade out. It faded in a moment later in a picture of her brother getting beaten up on a deck of a luxury cruise ship by some wicked-looking pirates. He was curling on the floor, one hand protecting his head and the other covering his stomach. The wicked-looking pirates were laughing while kicking him and hitting him with wooden sticks. The cruise ship seemed to be on fire. Pirates were running around chasing passengers and ravaging everything they could put their hands on. The scenes were so miserable that a sudden realization hit Mika so hard it sent chills down her spine and jolted her awake.

Her eyes snapped open.

That was that; it had always been the reason why people despise pirates.

That also should be the reason why her own people in her own village tried to tie her up at a stake and light a fire on her feet, as if they'd turned blind on her.

But Taeyong was the reason Mika chose this path.

Suddenly, Mika realized it was night time and her surrounding had changed. Shadows swayed on the floor. Someone had ignited the torches on the wall. A dark figure loomed in front of her door. Mika tensed.

"Finally," she said, trying hard not to freak out. "You came."

"I'm not the one you'd been calling names earlier," a voice of a man replied. He took a step forward and the light of the torches illuminated his face, a face so human so dashing Mika forgot how to blink. "I'm a prisoner, too, but I've been quieter than you."

1722 words / 170425 / monster reference: monster hunter

#series #pirate mika #x #bts scenario #nct scenario #bts fanfic #nct fanfic #taeyong fanfic #taehyung fanfic

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