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crystalgirl259 · 3 years

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The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 28

Chapter 28: The Letter

Blood smeared the knuckles when they made contact with the thick wood of the thickest tree trunk. The Sorcerer hissed and hollered as he banged his hands furiously against the tree. His entire body shook with rage at the evidence his newest spy brought him. He waited too long. He pulled himself away from the free and covered his face with his hand. Now it was only a matter of time before Kai gave into Cole's seduction. He banged the tree again, then composed himself and pulled the hood of his cloak over his raven hair.

He watched the cut of his hand swell and bubble until perfectly healed skin was revealed.

He waited too long. The second he suspected the teen had Occulti blood he should have acted! His growl morphed into a roar.

"Damn to the depths of my lust and pride!" He bellowed. He had known he had taken a heavy gamble when he decided to change his strategy, but it was too difficult to resist such a tempting specimen, especially since if his seduction proved a success it would devastate the Dragon Lord more than a thousand of the most vicious monsters. Now, his miscalculation had caused him a major setback. It was worse when it became clear exactly who this mysterious specimen was.

It had been easy to ignore the first instance as merely a single occurrence.

It wasn't uncommon for humans to discover untapped abilities in traumatic or near-death situations. Many people held biological connections to magical ancestors. The religions might have changed, but the blood certainly didn't, he himself was proof of that. Still, many lines had become so thinned by mundane human blood any inherited power could only be tapped through stress or shock and usually only once. But the skills used to defeat his monsters and the premonitions were too much to be a coincidence.

That Occulti whore was dead and she continued to be a thorn in his side.

A wicked smile curled across his lips as he approached the road. The raven sat immobile like a statue on his shoulder awaiting instructions. It didn't matter now. She failed then and she will fail now.

"I'm running out of time, and I'll be damned if I let some Occulti whore destroy over one hundred years of patience and hard work!" He thundered and looked to the crow. It shot up and waited for orders. "Watch them, if they do anything together, inform me immediately; I don't have much time to carry out the next stage of my plan." He commanded. The crow bowed its head and flapped away into the night. The Sorcerer's grin widened as he chuckled then burst out laughing when he came to the main road.

He turned around taking one last look at the castle in the distance.

"Enjoy your concubine while it lasts, prince." He smirked recalling the conversations his spies had recorded. Episodes of the life the boy had forsaken to appease the dragon's wishes. Memories of a high-ranking man who fancied him. Of the childhood instances experienced in Ignacia. Of the siblings he had sacrificed himself for, who were no doubt still terrified for their brother's safety. He may have feelings for the dragon, but Kai was like any other human when it came to sacrificing.

As the Sorcerer walked along the forgotten path, he noticed a cold stream still flowing and an evil idea formed in his mind.

He dunked his hands into the freezing liquid and used his magic to create a small ball of water.

"Enough talking, time for some screaming." He cackled as he blew into the bubble turning it into an ice ball. He then shook the ball violently before throwing it into the air. He smirked as it broke apart and a grey, shimmering mist blew through the wind towards the castle. That should buy him some time...

****************

Nya hollered and roared in rage as she slamming the door to her house shut. It screamed in protest as it suffered the force of his anger. The only thing the village idiots were good for was gossip and apparently, Morro's dismissal of Kai's fate had spread faster than an infectious plague. So much now even other towns were mocking them. No matter where she went to who she begged to help her, she was simply laughed at. One of them even suggested she join her brothers and started to believe in children's stories.

A frustrated hand ripped at Nya's raven bangs.

The only one who seemed remotely worried was the librarian, Dr. Saunders, but he was just one old man. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't go wandering through the dark forest, let alone take on a dragon-hybrid monster. She stormed into the kitchen, her angry steps echoing loudly in the empty room. Nya growled and started grabbing whatever her furious mind thought she would need and stuffed them into a bag she already had set up on the kitchen table.

If no one will help her, she would find that castle and get him back herself.

She stuffed the bag with food, maps, and anything else. She strapped it tight and threw it over her shoulders, donned her thickest coat to keep out the freezing winter air, her cloak, and her heaviest boots. Once she was secure, she turned to the staircase.

"Lloyd, I spoke with Mrs. Grumbmiller, you're gonna stay with her until I get back, is that alright?" She called loudly. Her words echoed through the house, and she braced herself for her younger brother's protests. Instead, she found only silence and she started to panic. She quickly realizing Lloyd hadn't run downstairs when she came inside. He didn't come crying and begging to know if anyone would help them like he had done every time she came home over the last two months.

When their previous attempts had failed.

After two months of trying, Nya and Lloyd returned home only to discover the town was debating what to do with their house and shop now that they were gone. It was only because of Nya's fury that the town would act so irresponsibly. Nya refused to leave their home unattended. Despite Lloyd's protest, Nya left him behind to protect the shop under Mrs. Grumbmiller's care during the lonely nights. Panic started to rush through Nya's entire being.

She bolted from the stairs, checking each room on the ground floor, painstakingly for her younger brother.

When her search failed she thundered up the old steps. Her eyes scanned every room, meticulously for any sign of the young boy. Nya's eyes widened when she entered her own room. Lloyd had been known to sleep there some nights when his worry became too much. Again she found it all empty, even missing a few things. The realization made her sick as she bolted upstairs, heading straight towards Lloyd's bedroom. She panicked and threw the door open but her heart sank into her stomach.

The room was empty, but dressers were left open, empty of clothes.

Her thick winter cloak was missing from the hanger as well as Lloyd's thickest pair of boots. The only evidence that the boy had been there at all was a note left on the bed. She grabbed it with haste and read it as fast as she could. Her eyes bulged with horror and fear as she read over each word, filled with tears.

Nya,

If you're reading this then I'm already gone. I'm sorry I didn't wait until you came back but no one is going to help us, I know that now. I can't leave our big brother to suffer in that horrible place. He's only there to protect me, so I've decided I'm going to go back to that castle, and no matter what I must do I will free our big brother. No matter what. I've already taken more than enough remedy so I won't choke, so don't worry about me.

Please don't come after me, Nya.

I know you and what you're planning. You'll try and switch places with Kai and I can't let that happen. That dumb duke is right about one thing, you two have sacrificed everything for me, now it's my turn to help you.

I love you, Ny-Ny.

Nya screamed and cursed, crushing the little note in her hand, cursing her baby brother's foolishness. Her hands clenched the window as she looked outside. Though Winter was fading quickly, new frost still encased the ground. Winter was still dangerous and it was the most hazardous time of year for someone with Lloyd's condition. She could also swear that those dark clouds rolling in were the signs of an incoming blizzard. A bad one at that.

Snow was already falling and getting heavier with every passing second.

She screeched as she tied on her boots and hopped down the hall, before finally falling over and stormed out the front door. If Lloyd died, she was going to murder him. As soon as she was ready, Nya bolted down the street and towards the woods for any sign of Lloyd as she vanished into the night. She was in such as rush that she didn't notice or hearing the hammer of footsteps approaching the now-empty home. The snow-covered any evidence of her footprints within seconds, masking her trail in the process.

Seconds after Nya left, Morro and Bansha arrived with Noble's collection wagon.

"Nya! Lloyd! Kai!" Morro hollered as he shoved the door to the dark house open, not even bothering with chivalry as Bansha stepped inside behind him. As soon as they entered, they saw that the house was vacant of light and life. The lamps had burnt out, the doors were locked, and no sound echoed through the rooms.

"Where are they? I thought Nya would be back by now!" The duke screeched like an angry owl.

"They're not here, Morro." She quirked, not wishing to be on the wrong side of the Duke's anger.

"This is ridiculous! How long do they plan on being gone? It's been four months!" He bellowed throughout the house. He hissed in a furious rage when no one answered him.

"Morro, you don't think... maybe..." Bansha trailed off nervously. She nervously rubbed her arms and flinched and looked at the floor when Morro's heated glare turned to her.

"If you are going to say what I think you're going to say, I don't want to hear it! There is no such thing as dragons or castles or any of this nonsense! It was a lie! A trick of their little minds!"

"But Morro, think of it!" She protested. "Kai's been gone for almost four months, and ever since his disappearance Nya has been going around town and asking anyone to help her, and Lloyd's been doing the same thing, swearing on their lives that he's been kidnapped and taken hostage by this dragon; they've even gone so far as to seek help from other towns! Why would they keep this story of a 'dragon' kidnapping Kai going if it wasn't true? What if Kai really was kidnapped?"

Morro glared at the girl and opened his mouth to protest but found he could not.

Instead, he stormed back through the door scowling.

"Alright, say this 'dragon' does exist and their story is true? Why would Kai stay with such a monstrosity?" He chuckled darkly.

"Well as you said, Morro, he would do anything to protect his family correct? Maybe, he was forced?" She suggested.

"Excuse me, duke." A smooth voice interrupted Morro as he was about to scream again. The two of them turned around and saw a tall man dressed in vibrant red and purple colors that made him glow in the darkness of the storm approached them. His hood shadowed his face and eyes and only pale streaks of black hair were visible.

"Forgive my forward intrusion, but I'm afraid I couldn't help but overhearing your plight, the plight of your town, and I think I may know what has befallen this unfortunate family." He said with the best fake saddest look he could muster. The pair exchanged equal bewildered glances until Morro's gaze hardened and he returned his glare to the man.

"And who are you?"

"My name of no importance to one of such caliber as yourself, sir." He bowed respectfully. Morro soaked the flattery up like a sponge, but Bansha shivered, catching the sinister smile crossing the man's face.

"Know only that I wish to aid you, I have traveled much in my lifetime, seeking wisdom and the destruction of injustice; if this creature is who I fear we must act quickly or I fear this boy, your fiancé's fate, may already be sealed."

"What are you talking about? What will happen to my Kai?" Morro demanded.

"My entire life, my lady, has been devoted to the destruction of a terrible beast who is responsible for the downfall of my ancestors." The man began. "A hundred years ago they ruled these lands until they were brutally betrayed by this creature, as punishment he was cursed to become a dragon and since then I have hunted him down in hopes of avenging my family's senseless destruction and it seems I have finally found him." He spoke with the passion of a tragic hero but remained focused on their reactions.

He could see they were both skeptical but there was fear evident in their eyes.

Fear that he knew was the perfect fuel for creating an angry mob or a rebellion or an army to obey one's will if it would promise the return of their safety.

"What does your personal crusade have to do with my fiancé?" Morro demanded again as Bansha's hands found his arm and squeezed it tightly, shivering at the frightening presence the man radiated.

"As I said, sir, the dragon is a monster." He spat. "He seeks an end to his curse, and unfortunately, that freedom includes the seduction of a beautiful and talented mortal, and apparently he's settled for this boy you've fallen for, so just you watch; he will descend his destruction on the entire town if given the chance!" The man spoke, emphasizing the destruction of the town and the word seduction.

"No!" Morro screamed and thrashed in fury and rage. "Kill him! Destroy him! Slice off his head!"

"Calm yourself, my lord." The stranger soothed in a sophisticated voice that commanded obedience. "There is still time to save the boy and his family, but I need your help, yours and this town's if you are willing to help me?" He asked as his eyes were soft and his voice pleading. "My only request is that you let me kill the monster, all I ask is to avenge my family, your land shall be yours once more and whatever riches are in the castle, I'm wealthy enough that I do not need such trivial things, all I seek is to avenge my family."

"Of course," Morro announced, throwing his cloak over his shoulder and howling in his delight. "We must get to the town hall immediately! Bansha, go and gather my council, tell them to rally the people, we have to rescue my fiancé!" He ordered, leaving no room for argument. Bansha shivered and nodded mutely, before rushing down the street desperate to get away from the man.

"By the way, who should I say you are when I explain you to the city?" The duke turned to the man as he hauled after his maid. He was shocked, however, to find the man had vanished into thin air. The only difference to before was the thundering of the incoming snowstorm clouds...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #ninjago #ninjago morro #ninjago nya #ninjago lloyd #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #lavashipping

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revengeisalwaysanoption · 4 years

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Fic: Io non ci credo, alle giraffe (FINAL CHAPTER)

So, you can find this chapter on AO3 as well (together with the sappiest epilogue you could ever imagine) and I do hope it lives up to your expectations. It mostly did, to mine. I agonized over writing this fic, but I nearly cried now that it’s over.

This wasn't quite what he had in mind, when he had tried to picture the afterlife. The few times he did that, whilst attending the funerals of some old relative, Martino had conjured up a field of barley. An eternal sunset. A light breeze.

Loved ones, lost too early, ready to show him the ropes and teach him how to haunt his friends for the rest of their lives.

"Boohoo! Poor Marti wanted a welcoming committee in a lovely bucolic setting…" said a grating voice in a harsh and judgemental tone.

Where did it come from? Who was speaking? There was nothing around him. No one.

Only darkness.

"Instead of you've got me. This." The stranger continued. "Because we've got to be predictable, don't we? Unimaginative. But do you know what? Screw you, man. I can do better."

Then he heard a loud, snapping sound and had to shield his eyes from a bright blinding light.

"Are you still there?" Marti asked to his unknown companion.

They didn't sound like a particularly pleasant person, but… Anyone, even Marco - Emma's brutish brother - would do...

'Beggars can't be choosers' as his dad used to say.

"Unbelievable!! You're still quoting him. As if that man ever said anything worth repeating…"

Uhh, this guy sure had some serious beef with his father… and could read his thoughts, apparently? No wonder why the stranger was so grumpy, given that he had been bombarded by flashes of Marti kissing Nico for the last… day?

Week? It was hard to keep track of time when they only thing that existed was you, and your immense loneliness.

"No!! That's not my division, you've got somebody else covering that. I'm in charge of rage, disdain, frustration, resent and pettiness. Yeah, yeah. I do most of the work around here." The more Marti listened to him talking, the less sense he made.

Where were they? Who was he? Where was he hiding?

"I'm not hiding. I'm right behind you."

What? How was that possible? He must have been joking, because Marti would have noticed if… Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. A hand that was too familiar in weight and texture. He turned, finally, to face himself.

He looked battered, exhausted, dishevelled. His eyes were red, and teary. His shoulders hunched, as though he had been carrying the weight of the word for quite some time. Wow. It was a lot to take in. Did he really-

"Let me stop you there. Yes, this is how you sound to other people and how they see you. They are used to it, by the way, so they don't find it as unpleasant as you do. Next? Are you alive? Yes? No? How should I know, when I am literally something you made up?"

So, basically, Martino could only hope that he wasn't stuck here, with the worst of himself, forever.

"The worst, huh? Wait until fear, jealousy and paranoia show up... Not to mention the good old self-preservation instinct, aka what you usually refer to as 'common sense', who's gonna bore y-"

"Okay, okay. I get it. No need to get so defensive." Damn, someone here was a bit too sensitive to criticism!

Okay, alright. Perhaps this guy wasn't the bottom of the barrel, maybe some people even found his fiery disposition and charming, but…. it couldn't be all that his friends - and Nico; his sweet gentle dorky Nico - saw in Martino.

He had plenty of good, in him… so where was it?

"Ooh! That's the attitude you need to get out of here… Know your worth! Fight for it!" Anger goaded him on, suddenly mellowing out and becoming a lot more amiable.

"Lend an ear to your heart, be true to yourself…" Martino rebuked, not quite as sarcastic as he would have been a couple of days before.

"... and when you do, you'll hold the key to open all doors, yeah. Starting from that one" his grumpy companion said, pointing at the portal that just appeared out of nowhere.

"Don't. Save it. We are nowhere, therefore…" Marti shushed him, rolling his eyes and smiling. It was kind of endearing to realise how predictable he could be. Comforting.

"Stop stalling and go through that damn door. Someone's waiting for you."

Who? Could it be… ? Well there was only one way to find out.

As he stepped over the threshold, everything changed.

He could have sworn that the air was filled with the smell of his mother's freshly baked cinnamon rolls, which she hadn't been making for nearly a decade. The sun shine brightly in a cloudless blue sky, but it didn't burn skin. A pleasant warmth was spreading through him, while Marti relieved the bone crushing hugs, the forehead kisses, the most gentle touch upon his own lips and all those casual loving gestures he had taken for granted for far too long.

He knew where he was. The Emerald Fields, and idyllic place on the outskirts of Eterna. A city 'where all wishes come true', according to legends. His father - merchant for a living, myth-buster for 'the greater good, the improvement of society as a whole' - had proved them to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors… Quite ironic that a man so obsessed with honesty and transparency had the guts to… No. Forget it.

It was unacceptable: he wouldn't any unresolved issues he had with his dad spoil this memory.

Of the last time it truly felt invincible, invaluable. Unique, in all his untapped potential. Carefree.

He didn't mind being alone, here… not that he was. Obviously, he wasn't. Deer and and fawns had materialise beside him, stubbornly nudging Martino towards the lake.

Playfully splashing water with his feet, with a flower crown in his auburn hair, sat the person who had been waiting for him. Not Niccolò, unfortunately. Or Gio.

"I suppose you'll have to settle for me." He said, silently asking Marti to sit next to him with an eloquent look. Welcoming, rather than threatening.

There was an aura of 'now tell me all about your troubles, my friend… share the weight with me and maybe they won't seem half as bad..' surrounding him, which normally Martino would've labelled as patronising - unless it came from Giovanni. Normally.

FlowerBoy tapped the plank on his right, for emphasis, thanking Marti when you finally took a seat on the creek.

"I'm glad you two parted on good terms. He got us through some awful times, you know? You call him 'anger', but he is 'pride'. Which, in itself, is not so bad. Life has hardened him, made him constantly ready for a fight, but… what you see as a flaw, indeed, is one of your biggest strengths. Loyalty. Perseverance. Spite… I can't take the credit for those - especially the latter, which has repeatedly spurred you into action. It comes from loving yourself, sure, but with a slight disdain for others and their shitty opinions."

Woah. Martino hadn't being ready for the lecture on his own negative feelings from… His hippie self?

"You seem nicer, though." Clean-shaven, soft-spoken, well-rested and well-dressed.

A stark contrast from the guy he had met first.

"I generally am. Enough to make people stay, most of the time. Draw them in, however? Avoiding to wax lyrical on how the universe now revolves around them, and keeping a shred of dignity as if I wouldn't gladly have them on every available surface?" Huh? Were they still talking about his family and friends?

"Sorry, I got a bit carried away. The most recent developments with Ni… That's all very new to me. Never had I experienced something so intense. It's exciting and scary. Fascinating and confusing. Anyway, the point is: I'm cheesy. Sappy. Shamelessly so. He gives us an edge, turning mushiness into good-natured banter."

An interesting take, undoubtedly, but… kind of pointless? It did offer a new perspective on parts of himself he hadn't been overly fond of, still… In the grand scheme of things, what was the purpose of these talks? Where was the conflict, and the revelation that came with it?

"Not every tale needs to feature a dragon's slayer, or a fearless knight battling orcs. Lessons can be learnt without suffering."

All he needed to do was listen, basically? Could it be that easy? Wasn't it such a cop out?

"Easy, you say. And yet you haven't been able to achieve such an easy task in all these years. You refuse to. Shut up. You weren't talking? Well, you were thinking. Given them - dreaded common sense, fear and self-pity - too much attention."

Empty your mind. Find the sound that resonates within your soul. Amplify it. That's your spark.

Martino had never progressed past that stage, at the Academy, much to the Mentors' bafflement. He'd supposed they couldn't believe what they were seeing… that an individual with no magic at all co-

"SHUT UP!!"

Right. Right. No more thoughts. Hear the waves sloshing against the creek? The breeze blowing through the grass? The pitter-patter of deer hooves? Great. Cancel them out. Your breath is deafening, now, isn't it? It's all you can hear, and that's not particularly interesting…

"Don't give up, Marti please." Whose voice was it? His mom's?

"Come on, man. Wake up." Gio's?

"Going from sleep deprived to lethargic? Really? Since when are you the 'go big or go home' kind of guy?" Eva's?

"Are you trying to impress someone, hun? You don't need to. One would think you hung the stars and moon from the way he looks at you…" Filo's?

"Marti, you can't go without seeing Luca's latest master-" Oh, how he had missed Elia's laughter. "masterpiece, yeah, that you've inspired."

"Don't fret. It doesn't matter how long it takes, but come back to me when it's over, okay? I'll be waiting. I'll always be waiting." Nico's.

Wait. How could that be possible. Shouldn't he… No, no, no. Marti, no. Don't get lost, don't let logical reasoning lure you in. Take care of that later, okay? Okay.

Silence, please… There. You have it. The complete absence of s-

"LET ME OUT!!" A young boy yelled, thumping repeatedly from under the thick ice layer it was now covering the lake.

Was it some kind of ruse, a deceit it was supposed to ignore to reach a higher level of consciousness?

"HELP ME!!!" Thud. Thud. Thud. "PLEASE!!!" Thud. Thud. Thud.

Screw it. Too bad if he wasn't supposed to intervene: he was going to, regardless of the consequences.

Deprived of any tool that could help him with the rescue, it soon became clear that's the only way he could smash the ice was by jumping on it. And once he inevitably plunged into the freezing water, it would be just a matter of minutes before hypothermia kicked in and killed them both.

It didn't matter.

"HOLD ON!!!" Jump. Jump. Jump. "I'M GONNA GET YOU HOME. GONNA GET BOTH OF US HOME!!! "Jump. Jump. Jump. "ALIVE!!!"

Crack. He did it!

Seize the kid and get out. Survive.

"Thanks. I'm sorry I cursed you." The boy said, creating a bubble around them. "I… I didn't mean… It backfired… I…"

"... didn’t want to be alone anymore. You aren’t, you understand? I’m the one who’s sorry. You just wanted to be heard. Acknowledged. Remembered.” Martino couldn't recall the last time I took in the world around him with wonder, grateful to be alive and getting to see a rainbow. The first snow. The low tide. Shooting stars. The dancing curtains. Sunrises and sunsets. Niccolò.

"You really like him, don't you? Me too… He's cool… and he was the first one who saw me. Saw all of us, really… and still chose to stay."

Enough with the chit chat. The promises he'd only made, all that he had never allowed himself to be… No more words were needed to reconcile.

Much better to embrace them. Swim back to the surface. Rise.

********************************** Messy black curls. Full, red, pouty lips. Insanely long lashes. Lithe fingers, adorned with huge rings. More beautiful than Martino ever recalled. “You look like shit.” He mumbled, lazily stroking his hair. “And you’re heavy. Doze off somewhere else, please.” “Marti?” Oi! He had no business breaking his heart with that note of desperation in his voice. Or with the tears in his eyes. He shouldn’t be allowed to cry. Not on his watch.

“Marti, Marti, Marti…” He didn’t seem able to say or do anything else, for a while. Only kiss him, and repeat his name like a mantra. Eventually, he calmed down. “Look who’s talking, by the way.” Niccolò retorted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t accept criticism from ‘Mr. Death-Warmed-Over’, sorry.” “And from whom would you accept it, huh? Your husband?” Marti teased, hoping he wasn’t being too cheeky. “Mh. Maybe. I wouldn’t say yes to a proposal that came from a bedside, when he’s still hazy from a long sleep and doesn’t quite know what he’s saying.” Niccolò answered, kissing his knuckles reverently. “I do know…” Martino huffed, taking comfort in the fact that Nico hadn’t utterly turned him down. “... nonetheless, you deserve a better proposal. I get it. And you’ll have it. I’ll ride a giraffe, if that’s what is required for you to say yes, okay?” “Okay. I’ll be waiting for it, then.” He leaned down, resting his forehead against Martino’s. “Choose my wedding dress, in the meantime. Unless you’d want me to wear a suit.” “You could wear a gunny sack and I wouldn’t dream to complain, Ni.” “What if I showed up naked, then?” Niccolò moved to the side, brushing his lips against his ear and neck. “Well, it’s not a sight I’m really so willing to share with everyone out there, but I suppose that if that’s what makes you happy…” “Forget it, then. We should be both happy on that day. We’ll be.” And they were. Living fully - though not always happily - ever after.

#skam italia #my writing #fairy tale au #nicotino

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justsomelarryfics · 5 years

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Here are the fics that I read in the month of March, 2019, that I finished and enjoyed. I will first shows fics from this month, and then older ones.

Sorted by length

New this month

Do You Wanna Ride by @phd-mama - When Liam's attractive new business partner wins riding lessons with Harry, hilarity ensues. (one shot, 4k)

Tell Me I’m Punk by @tiniinbookland - ""How punk do I seem?"" The one were Harry wants to be a punk but Louis loves him just like he is. (one shot, 4k)

Just Go With It by @rainbowsandlovehl - “Brett, there’s something I need to tell you,” he started, inwardly cringing at his choice of words before taking in a deep breath. Brett seemed curious, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “The reason I haven’t been texting you back is that...” “Harry, they were all out of organic guacamole,” a raspy, unfamiliar male voice interrupted, startling him into silence. “So I got us the normal one. Hope that’s alright?” Harry has no idea how to escape awkward situation but luckily for him, Louis swoops in to help. (one shot, 6k)

Only One at the Finish Line by @horsegirlharry for @1dgayboficfest - “What don’t I know?!” Louis shouts, and then Harry is rounding on him, close enough that he can feel the heat of his body, the rage and the glory and the pain of it so close that it blinds him.“I want to be another alpha’s omega,” is what he says, and it comes out like something reckless, something wild. Like he doesn't care anymore if Louis hates him or not, if Louis understands, he just needs to speak his truth aloud to darkness, to the slender pines that surround them like a jury panel. (one shot, 9k)

fall in love with the moon (and everything beautiful) by @microlouis - “It’s adorable that you think you can compromise with me on this,” Louis says. He places his hands on his hips and tries his best to look intimidating. “But I am not budging on this. Every book pun you say will result in one quarter in the jar.” “What jar?” Harry asks. He furrows his eyebrows together. Louis rolls his eyes. “Like a swear jar, but now I’m going to make yours ‘Harry’s dumbass pun jar.’ Maybe I’ll have you put a quarter in for every pun you say, not just the ones about books. Niall was right - you tell the worst jokes.” “One time Niall told me I’d never said a funny joke in my life,” Harry says casually. “Funny. He told me that too.” or, louis and harry work in a bookstore together and harry tells dumb jokes and they fall in love (one shot, 10k)

Naked Attraction - Naked Attraction: a gameshow where the contestant views 6 naked possible partners and narrows them down based off of pure attraction. Harry was not a fan of the shallow gameshow, so he decided to mix it up a little. Louis Tomlinson was the only gay and unfortunate staff member chosen to step in for one of the six possible partners when someone drops out. He hated working there, and he definitely didn't want to agree, but it was too good of an offer to be turned down. Nothing would come out of it, surely, and they even agreed to keep his identity a secret.That all changed when famous singer Harry Styles walked out. Louis had no idea who he was, and Harry liked that about him.. . .Or the one based off a British TV show called Naked Attraction that I found hilarious. (one shot, 12k)

All I Want Is To Fall With You by @2tiedships2 - The pair looked at each other for a few moments before Harry moved forward and gathered Louis in an unexpected hug. It was nice, but why the fuck was an unknown alpha hugging him? Maybe an even better question would be why did Louis feel so secure in this stranger's arms? Harry quickly let go and Louis felt something pull at him."Sorry," Harry said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Shit, um, that just seemed a natural response for some reason. I’m so sorry." Louis smiled up at the alpha. "It's okay. Thanks again, Harry." "You're welcome. I know it's horrible weather, and less than optimal circumstances, but this was a brilliant meet-cute." What the fuck was a meet-cute? Or the weekend ski trip where omega Louis discovers that he can’t change a tire and his skiing skills are debatable but still manages to find the alpha who will change his life. (one shot, 16k)

the act of making noise by @suspendrs - “Oh,” Harry frowns, waving him off. “No, I could never. I respect myself too much to sing for a living.”It feels like a slap across the face, but Louis does his best not to stiffen, blinking once and then frowning. “What?” “Those people are always so miserable, you know?” Harry says, hopping down off his stool and straightening his sweater. “There’s so much pressure on them, and they have to work so hard to keep up appearances, I can’t even imagine how difficult that is. I can’t even stand to listen to pop music today, let alone watch TV or read the magazines. It makes me so sad, thinking that those people, you know, the ones who actually went into it with heart, they only ever just wanted to make music and instead they got turned into things on leashes being paraded around to make money for other people,” he says. “Anyway, you can have the stool.” Or, Louis's famous, Harry has no idea who he is, and they get snowed in together at a ski lodge in Vermont. (chaptered, may be continued, 22k)

Take Me Down Slow (Don’t Let Me Go) by @jacaranda-bloom for @1dgayboficfest - Louis has always felt different. Not necessarily on the outer realm of societal norms, but pretty damn close to the edge. As an Omega, he’s supposed to want certain things; to want to raise a family, to want to build a life with a partner, and to want that partner to be an Alpha.Well, two out of three ain’t bad.OR the one where Louis wants to find the right kind of partner to love, Niall hates snowboarding, Liam wants to settle down, Harry is really good with his hands, and mother nature could be the thing that changes everything. (chaptered, complete, 26k)

Steady Eddie - “We’re bringing in a guy.” Ben said. Eddie stared at him.“You’re what?” Ben shrugged. “Apparently the gay market is grossly untapped,” he commented. “We stand to make a fortune. We have it on good authority that the gays love you. Of course,” he added with a dirty smirk. “Your size and all…” “Of course,” Eddie replied drily; something smarting in his chest. “I’ve been asking for a guy for the last two years…” “Well, now you’re getting one,” Ben smiled. (chaptered, complete, 84k, locked, read tags for a better understanding of what this fic is about)

Older fics

sweet, sweet fate by @bottomlinsons for @1dshortficfest - Harry’s lived with a NSFW soulmark for almost twenty-five years now. When he finally meets the man responsible, he gives him a little piece of his mind. (one shot, 1k, feb. 2019)

Say It With Flowers by @reminiscingintherain - From the prompt: Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?” (one shot, 2k, jan. 2019)

Got Me an Appetite by @flamboyantdaddy for @1dgayboficfest - So it's something, and Louis isn't sure how to approach it. She doesn't want to sound ungrateful. The past few months have been heaven, and she doesn't want to make Harry feel like Louis doesn't worship the ground she walks on (ok, a bit over dramatic, but sometimes it feels like that). She just wants to make her girlfriend come. (one shot, 8k, feb. 2019)

All Hearts Come Home For Christmas by @itsprobablylarry - Gemma, who the fuck is that?” Louis hisses as he watches her wave back with a big smile. Her brows furrow for a second as she looks at Louis. “What? That’s my brother, you dork. Told you he’d pick us up, didn’t I?” Well fuck. Apparently, Mr. Handsome over there is Gemma’s brother. And Louis is spending a week with him. Pretending to be his sister’s boyfriend. Shit. (Basically: Gemma brings ‘her boyfriend’, Louis, home for Christmas and her brother is really hot.) (one shot, 8k, 2015, I also recommend the sequel)

You’re home now kitten by @thesedumbboys - “But, I'm just a stray” Louis looks so broken, sad, disappointed almost. Not even daring to look up from the floor, fumbling with his hands, ears down submissively. The sight almost makes Harry, known to everyone for his soft heart, tear up. “Nope, followed me here, this is your home now.” Harry smiles, speaking confidently, surprised himself that his voice didn’t come out shaky with emotion. “That’s the rule” He shrugs.... Louis is a stray and he follows Harry home. Harry likes him too much and makes him stay and Louis ends up quite liking it. (one shot, 9k, feb. 2019)

Your Touch Is The Only Thing I Feel by @2tiedships2 - Liam. Liam was finally here. Louis kept his eyes closed and cuddled farther into Liam’s side, revelling in the pheromones Louis’ body desperately needed. He wasn’t sure how long Liam had been holding him, but Louis figured it had to have been at least an hour by the way his body had loosened. The need of an alpha’s touch seemed to have been temporarily lifted from his mind. Louis listened to the sounds of the pub around him. It was louder than before he had fallen asleep and he briefly wondered why Liam hadn’t just woken him to go back to their flat.“Who the fuck are you?” Louis’ eyes flew open at the sound of Niall’s voice, and the arm that had been around Louis shoulders lifted in the same instant. He missed the warmth immediately. Louis looked from Niall’s stormy face over to the person who was definitely not Liam. The alpha Liam impersonator, who smelled a lot better than the actual Liam now that Louis was alert, looked back at Louis with wide eyes and familiar furrowed brows. Or the one where Louis refuses to settle for just any alpha despite intense touch deprivation. Fortunately Harry isn't just any alpha. (one shot, 15k, 2018)

bring out feelings in me i never show by @tomorrows - “I really think you should stop reading,” Liam says, having moved to hover behind Louis’ back at some point. “I can already see the cogs turning in your head, Louis, and I don’t like this.” “Shut up,” Louis waves him off and continues reading. I can do these things, at your request: openly hit on other female guests while you act like you don’t notice; start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion; propose to you in front of everyone; pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry I don’t drink, but I used to); start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see. [Louis accidentally hires a felon to be his fake boyfriend for Thanksgiving. Or, the fake boyfriends au no one asked for, inspired by this.] (chaptered, complete, 24k, locked)

don’t tell the gods (we left a mess) by @bottomlinsons - After a misunderstanding with Liam’s mother, Louis agrees to accompany his best friend to a family wedding and pretend to be the world’s best boyfriend. But their simple plan goes awry when he learns that Harry, ex-boyfriend/ex-love of Louis’ life, will also be in attendance. (aka: fake!boyfriends with a twist ft. bromance, romance and cake.) (chaptered, complete, 71k, (I know, I also can’t believe I only just read this fic, as you can tell I was just really into fake relationships this month))

#monthly fic rec #larry #Larry Stylinson #larry fanfiction #larry fic #larry fic recs #one direction fanfiction #louis and harry #fanfic #fic rec

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unapologeticallyjaylos · 5 years

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jaylos prompt

Anon asked: Ik people talk about Jay having untapped magic and I always think of it coming out in melody. He's (secretly) a very good singer and has a little rhyme in Arabic that he sings to Carlos when he's getting nightmares, he always finds that when he writes songs that people are drawn to the melodies and he's very skilled at picking up instruments. When Mal witnesses one of his songs putting Carlos to sleep she's like "that's fucking magic dude" despite the fact that Jay never realized...

I absolutely loved this prompt. It turned out pretty poetic, but that seems fitting. Note: the lyrics to the song should be Arabic, but I didn’t feel confident enough to translate it properly so I kept it in English

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“Sleep, baby, sleep.

I’ll be there when you wake.”

Jay didn’t remember his mother, but he did remember her songs.

Her voice, her rhymes, her melodies. They had always begun in the darkness, at the edge of those black Isle nights, lit only by the flickering of a candle on the table. Sometimes, Jay could sometimes manage to call up the image of a shadowy woman sitting by his little rug, dark hair falling like his around her shoulders. But her face was lost to history, lost to him, lost among all those lost on the island who no longer breathed the smoggy air. If not for her lullabies, she would have faded away entirely - simply dust blowing in the wind or shifting through the sea.

“Sleep, oh, precious darling, sleep

I’ll watch over till dawn’s break.”

And maybe it was better that way.

Jay didn’t have time for music or songs anymore. His stomach coiled in tight knots of hunger, and days and nights were no longer separated. They were just hours - dark or light - that he could fill with work. The more stuff he brought in, the more likely he was to sleep on that rug, under those shelves, where his mother used sing him to sleep. His father never could be satisfied with the junk, the garbage, the brokenness of the island’s offerings… along with the son who brought them home.

“Sweetest one, don’t fear the dark.

My voice will guide the way.”

As the years went on, the songs faded into the background for the most part, pushed away to the dark recesses of his mind. They only managed to appear when the walls broke down and the chains crumbled away. The melodies resurfaced when his cheek stung with his father’s fists, and his heart hurt with the words he’d never spoken, and his eyes stung with the tears he hadn’t let fall since he was small enough to have the lullabies sung to him. Then, and only then, would the soft words escape past his lips and he’d hum, gently, softly, to keep himself from shattering.

“Baby boy, you’re all I have.

I won’t let you slip away.”

The soft crooning of a faraway mother in their beautiful language wove his self control together, kept his mind clear, cut through the pain and loneliness and frustration and anger. The silly, stupid little rhymes were - unknowingly - becoming his foundation, his center, his grounding in the face of the red-hazed storm. His father hated it. He hated the way Jay’s lips moved subconsciously when he didn’t know anyone was looking; he hated the way he caught his son whistling or humming in the late night hours on the street corner; most of all he hated the melodies, her melodies, that soared and soothed and washed over the world like honey. And so he sought to cut out every hint of that beautiful, lust-filled mistake that had ever crossed their threshold.

“There’s something fierce about your smile.

And the way you breathe beside me.”

Jay’s mother’s Arabic was nothing like his father’s. His mother’s was rich and smooth and comforting; it had spun out of her mouth like a waterfall when she was alive, sparkling like the most precious of metals that Jay had longed for then and longed for still. Jafar’s didn’t sparkle like hers did; his purr was that of a panther’s waiting to pounce, raising to a gruff shout, and always, always ending the same way. Be it words or fists, his father never ended without pain. Even the rare moments of pride were tinged with greed and lust and anger. The very same anger he sometimes felt within himself, growing and building and breaking deep, deep inside his chest; the red hot rage boiling underneath that he tried to quell with the cool comfort of his mother’s songs.

“Don’t cry so hard, my darling boy.

Someday we’ll both be free.”

And then, one day, he blinked and his world had opened. Lying close to the places where his mother’s song touched, he now had a purple-haired fae, a blue-locked enchantress, and a little freckled genius to hide away, to protect, to save. They were his, and for some reason that his father would never understand - and maybe Jay wouldn’t either - they were more precious than gold or jewels or power. Mal, with her flashing eyes and orders and protection; Evie and her darling laugh, her terrifying hiss; and Carlos, with his eyebrows that narrowed when he focused and tongue that grazed his lips when he concentrated. His. They were his.

“Sleep, sweetheart, sleep.

It’s time to sleep, my love.”

When Mal discovered that she had magic, something stirred deep inside Jay’s gut. Not jealousy, not anger, but fear. Shifting, turning, fear that stayed embedded under his skin and formed an itch that even he couldn’t wriggle out of. Evie had power, too, with her long, slender fingers that could mix up death in a potion stronger than her mother’s would ever be. Magic. Passed on from their parents, harnessed by their children, and formed into something stronger, something bigger, something darker.

“When morning comes, you will be strong.

With wonders you have dreamed of.”

Sometimes, on the rare occasions that he still slept on his rug, Jay would lie awake and listen to his father moving around in the dark, cursing and sputtering. The thief had heard the stories; stories about the power, the fear, the dark and wild magic that his father had wielded. And now, when he felt the rage, felt like hurting somebody, breaking something, screaming in the streets, the pit of fear in his stomach whispered to him what he already knew: anger. His magic would be rooted in anger, geared for destruction, perfectly poised to rip apart the world when he lost control. So he couldn’t lose control. And if he couldn’t lose control, and he couldn’t punch, and he couldn’t stab and he couldn’t cry and he couldn’t ever use his magic - it left him only one other thing to do. Jay sang.

“You are my darling, you are my life.

And even when I fade.”

When the barrier opened, when they were allowed to leave, Jay faltered. Beyond the barrier, beyond the suffocating, damning wall of power that kept them all trapped on the floating chunk of rock, he could see the magic waiting for him. The magic waiting to take hold of him, to change him, to excite him into smashing apart the only life he’d ever known. The only lives any of them had ever known. And when it happened? When he became just like his father, the man everyone said he resembled in the height of his glory? The dust would settle, the rage would fade, and he’d be left just like the old grand vizier now sitting in the darkness, counting coins with no value: alone.

“Baby, I promise you, I swear it.

These moments I’ll not trade.”

They were older. They were wiser. They smiled and they laughed and they marched with a purpose, but their armor was strengthened by light, by eyes, by expectations. When the darkness set in, when the day turned to night, when the room got quiet, their chinks began to show. And the freckled genius, his Carlos, who was so bright and quick under the sun’s watchful eyes that reminded him of his mother’s, fell apart in his dreams. Sometimes, he would wake, and others, he would just cry out in that fitful state between dreams and consciousness, between nightmares and consciousness. And in that darkness, with the boy sobbing and sweating in his arms, when the words were already playing on his lips, Jay would sing - softly, gently, her words in his mouth. And the soft tune would soothe the troubled, wonderful boy in his bed back to a calmer sleep.

“Sweetest child, most wonderful boy.

Your struggles may be long.”

It became more regular than Jay would’ve liked to admit - the singing; the soft, Arabic words being spoken to another person for the first time in many, many years. The songs that had quieted his own fear, and then later his anger and frustration, calmed the boy that Jay wanted to protect, to hold, to comfort.

“But once you’re past, the clouds will break.

You’ll get there, dear; you’re strong.”

It was a dark, winter day when Mal finally heard. The four of them gathered, huddled, safety in numbers, as the rain fell down outside. The drops slid down the windows, pounded on the roof, and soaked through the memories of rain-drenched nights on the island of their origin. It was that day that Carlos started whimpering, moving, his eyes darting behind his lids, his hands reaching out to protect his body against a mother that was not there. And without thinking, Jay had pulled him close, whispered in his ear, and sung the words that were no longer locked away in his mind, but resting beneath the surface of his skin and thoughts. Magic, Mal had said as she watched the tension drain from Carlos’ desperate body. That’s magic, Jay.

“Nothing’ll be too hard, my boy.

No pain will break your spirit.”

At those words, at that realization, the fear in Jay’s gut lifted. His magic, his power, his abilities weren’t supplied by anger. They didn’t come from his rage or his frustration, but from worry. From concern. From something else that had begun to nestle so deeply inside his soul that he worried he might never understand how to get it out. Love, Jay, Mal had whispered. It’s love.

“Because you, sweetheart, are not alone.

You’re mine, love. Don’t forget it.”

#jaylos #writing #descendants #jay #my writing #carlos de vil #singing #fanfiction #enjoy #magic #jay x carlos de vil

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one-that-had-to · 6 years

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Unkind Encounters

Tygan opens the stasis suit recovered from the clinic to a woman in civilian clothes whom Bradford has never seen before. His heart drops to learn that they did not recover the Commander, but nevertheless he orders for the chip in her head to be removed. If nothing else, she is one more person freed from ADVENT’s control.

He can hardly wait for the Spokesman to contact again so he could hopefully find some answers.

“To the best of my knowledge, the asset kept in that facility was integral to the alien’s plans,” the Spokesman replies. “I had no reason to believe it was not the Commander.”

Bradford glares at the screen as he leans back in the chair, though he knows no good will come of it.”What are we supposed to do now? We have an even larger target on our backs now and no commander” he snaps. “Why would they have a civilian, of all people?”

The Spokesman looks down at him, and though he can’t see his face Bradford gets the feeling he is considering his words carefully. “There were a number of names on the shortlist for the commander position. The man ultimately chosen was perhaps not the best suited,” he explains.

“You couldn’t have mentioned this years ago?”

“Central,” Tygan’s voice crackles to life in his ear. “The woman is awake again and far more cognizant this time.”

He glances up at the Spokesman, then presses a finger to his comms. “Bring her up to the quarters, we might be able to get answers yet.:

The argument with the Spokesman is put on hold for the few minutes it takes for Tygan to escort the woman up through the Avenger. He almost regrets asking for her the moment she arrives.

She tugs herself out of Tygan’s supportive grip to stalk into the room, still slightly unbalanced from surgery and sleep. “Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” she hisses, narrowing her anger in on Bradford.

“Ah, Ms Mercier,” the Spokesman says the second she steps into view of the terminal. There is no relief in his voice, but at the same time no anger, instead keeping himself perfectly neutral. “I thought we would have spoken again in 2011. It’s been too long.”

She snaps her attention to the terminal and immediately her burning range cools into something so much more dangerous. Bradford can only hope that she is restrained enough to not turn her anger on him again. “You burned that bridge, sir,” she retorts.

“So you two’ve already met?” Bradford asks, stepping in between them slightly. He looks towards the Spokesman again, trying to figure out just what was going on. “She had nothing on her that spoke to being military.”

“I haven’t been part of the army in years,” she answers quickly. She takes a deep breath then offers him her hand. “Tatiana Mercier.”

He gives her hand a shake, but it does not answer any questions.

“Ms Mercier was one of the better snipers in the US Army, mostly for her ability to coordinate anyone under her scope. She was, at the time, considered to have untapped strategic genius, and as such was to be placed on the shortlist of XCOM personnel,” the Spokesman explains.

It helps but it still doesn’t quite make sense. “So what happened?” he asks, looking towards Tatiana. “The army doesn’t tend to let high value assets get away so easily.”

She gestures at the terminal. “This asshole did nothing while I was being accused in my damn interview,” she snaps.

“There was nothing I could have done, you know that. Van Doorn had photos that your direct superiors weren’t going to forget because I told them so.”

“You could have done something other than just sit there!”

Bradford waves a hand between them just to break up the fight before it can get off the ground. “Someone fill me in before you start going for each others’ necks.”

Tatiana snaps her gaze to him, bright burning anger behind her eyes. “I was interviewed for an at the time unknown promotion with him and my superiors. This was in 2004, mind you. That coward Van Doorn was jealous, had me followed, and then passed on photos of me and my then girlfriend to my superiors. I was discharged without a chance to defend myself,” she explains, barely concealed contempt in her voice. She turns her attention back to the terminal, and once again he thinks she might lunge at the screen to get to the Spokesman. “Ruined my career, nearly ruined my entire life, and sent me on a downward spiral just because you couldn’t speak up.”

Bradford stares between the two of them in disbelief.

“You would have had the right to reenlist once Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed,” the Spokesman offers quietly.

She scoffs. “I was happy at that point. I righted my life again, I had a regular job, Amelia and I were married. I wasn’t going to get rid of that.”

The two seem to come to a momentary impasse, one that Bradford could not be more thankful for. He needed a drink the moment this was resolved. He rubs the bridge of his nose, still trying to sort out everything in his head. “You said Van Doorn,” he says after a moment, glancing up at the Spokesman once more. “As in Commander Van Doorn?”

“Unfortunately,” he replies. “He felt Ms Mercier was not adequate for the position.”

“So when you said he might not have been the most suited —”

“Ms Mercier likely should have been Commander.”

Bradford takes a deep breath. He felt more lost than he did when they opened the stasis suit initially, though now he had entirely different questions to be answered.

Tatiana takes a few steps back to lean against one of the sofas in the room. With her rage slightly tempered, the exhaustion of surgery and whatever the aliens had done to her was catching up again. “Now that you’ve sorted out who I am, can someone please explain to me where the hell I am? I’d like to find Amelia and go home.”

An edge of desperation works its way into her voice, and the sound of it only makes his stomach turn.

“I will leave this to you, Central,” the Spokesman says. The screen promptly goes dark before anyone can object.

Bradford sighs and steps around to the sofas, motioning for her to take a seat as well. “What do you remember from before you woke up?” he asks.

She leans back and thinks — or at least tries to, as she winces as though it were physically painful. “There was an attack,” she says at last. “We were heading home together, and San Francisco was attacked. I was trying to get Amelia out to safety and I took a hit from behind.”

Tatiana falls silent for a moment, reality finally starting to set in.

“San Francisco doesn’t exist anymore, does it?”

“No, not like you remember it,” he answers sadly. Finding the words to explain that twenty years had passed is harder than he expected. “The invasion happened in 2015 and it’s currently 2035.”

She shakes her head. “No, that can’t be. How can my last proper memories be from twenty years ago?”

The panic in her voice makes the explanation so much harder. “We found you in a stasis suit in an ADVENT facility. Based on intel the Spokesman had gathered, we knew that whoever was being kept in it was important to the aliens. We had assumed it would be the Commander.”

“Van Doorn,” she says flatly.

“When I knew him, he seemed good, not like —” He trails off and waves his hand weakly, as though that could explain the pain he’d apparently put her through.

She scoffs, but does not pick a fight.

“The world’s changed a lot in twenty years. All of the city centers are controlled by ADVENT, the aliens’ puppet government. If you stepped foot in one of the you’d almost certainly be carted off back to another stasis suit,” he continues.

“So what are my other options?” Tatiana asks, crossing her arms and leaning back. “Stay here with you lot and be reminded of how my life nearly ended daily?”

“We can drop you off at a haven, outside of the alien’s grasp. It won’t be comfortable, but you’d at least be free to do whatever you like.”

“Please.”

He nods and helps her back to the infirmary.

#xcom #amelia au #one shot #sendtoarchives #i originally wrote this literally like a year ago #whoops #tatiana mercier #bradford #the spokesman

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rinskiroo · 7 years

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Uncanny SWTOR prompts: Person A has a job/assignment in the creepy Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas for Jasati and/or Theron :3

This got a bit wordy. Thanks for the prompt, and Happy Hallowe’en!

“I think being a disavowed rogueagent has actually made him lose the rest of his marbles,” Kira hissed at her fellow Jedi as theyskulked through the Temple grounds in the dead of night. “They won’t kill us if they find us, youknow. Just decades of the most horrifictorture you can imagine. Like beingforced to watch overly cute children’s holovids.”

Jasquickly motioned for Kira to hide behind one of the large stones that litteredthe large area in front of Dromund Kaas’Sith Temple as a guard passed by. Theycrouched and pressed themselves behind the stone and waited for the footstepscrunching on dried leaves and grass to fade away. There were few guards wandering the area—andthat was the best descriptor either of them could think of. They seemed to move without purpose, slow andunfocused. It was rather unnerving howonce they were sure they had been spotted, but a dead-eyed guard paid them nomind.

“He says it’s a big Revanite meetand greet,” Jas whispered. “If we take down some of these major players,we could stop this whole mess right now.”

“Dromund Kaas. Sith Temple.” Kira reiterated the great peril they were in, as if Jas couldforget. “Can’t save the galaxy if we’redead, Master.”

TheTwi’lek’s shoulders shruggedslightly. It was a true enoughstatement, but they had to take the chance. She trusted Theron’s intel, and knew the risks he would take if hethought they could be successful. Theymoved again, quickly towards the opening carved into the front of theTemple. There was a strange green glowemanating from inside, though once they were across the threshold, it was hardto tell where it was coming from. Theair seemed to hum with a haunting whine—the Force itself was charged withterror and sorrow and pure rage.

“I have a—”

“Bad feeling. Really bad feeling,” Jas agreed, but it was too late to turn backnow.

Therewere slaves inside, still working at whatever they were doing. Like the guards outside, they seemed to justmeander around the Temple, not really accomplishing anything. They were hunched over to the side as theylumbered about and took no notice of the two Jedi that had walked into theplace they certainly shouldn’t havebeen. They did, of course, take care tonot announce themselves as Jedi—taking a public transport under falseidentities, wearing clothing more suitable to tomb raiders, and putting all oftheir Force-masking skills to the test.

“Do you think there’s a significancewith the statues’ bowed heads?” Jasasked as she looked on at the wide open Temple interior. There were several large statues ofman-shape, all standing tall, but with their faces towards the ground. A singular statue stood at the back, perhapsthe source of the ominous green glow: a Sith Pureblood flexing its arms widewith its face turned towards the sky.

“Uh, yeah. But we’rehere for the evil cult, not art history.” Kira prodded Jas forward until they made it to the steps in the backleading up to the second level. “Lovechild said they’re meeting upstairs, second alcove on the right side.”

Theypressed up against the wall at the sound of footfalls above them, slowly makingtheir way downward, one step at a time. Both had the hilts of their sabers gripped in their hands. A confrontation now would be too soon—theenemy would be alerted to their presence and they’dhave to fight their way back to the extraction point. Chances of surviving the mission went downsignificantly if they had to engage anything other than their intended targets.

Itwas a Zabrak woman, girl really. Barelyeven a teenager, but with broken, rusted shackles still around her ankles andwrists. She walked as the other slaveshad—slouched with seemingly no purpose. Jas’ pulse fluttered as she felt Kirawrap her hand around her wrist. Theycouldn’t afford to try and save anyone here. They didn’t have the time, or the resources, and making the attempt wasanother thing that would greatly reduce their chance of survival.

Herheart ached for every poor being stuck in this Temple, on this world, in thisEmpire. She was keenly aware that hadthe circumstances of her birth been even slightly different, she could haveeasily ended up in a similar situation, or worse. Jas glanced at Kira, someone who did know worse circumstances. She let out a sigh as she accepted that todaywasn’t the day she could liberate thesepeople.

TheZabrak girl had made it past them and was nearly out of view when the longexhale left the Jedi. The girl stopped,and turned. It wasn’t her body that turned, just her head, craning at anunnatural angle to look behind her and stare at the two women trying to hide inthe shadows. Her eyes glowed with thesame ghastly bloom as the Sith statue.

Kira’s fingers squeezed tighter around her wrist. Both swallowed their breath and held it. A wall crept up in front of them—a barrier inthe Force that they could hide behind, where their brilliance could be hiddenfrom the Darkness around them.

Itas an agonizingly long minute, but the young slave’s head realigned with her body and she continued her waydown the steps. When Kira opened hermouth to let out another obvious and sarcastic comment, Jas twisted her wristout of her grip and shook her head. Theyneeded to get back on task.

Asthey got closer to the room where the meeting was supposed to take place, theycould hear hushed voices.

“Can you understand what they’resaying?” Jas whispered.

“No, but…” Kira trailed off like she was thinking, butnot liking where her thoughts ended up. “I’mnot hearing them with my ears…”

Therewas a cold chill that ran up Jas’spine at Kira’s words. She had felt it,too. The whispers weren’t in the roomthey were seeking, but off in the corner of her mind. It was in a language she almost understood,but just couldn’t quite—

Kiranudged her and moved from where she had been trying to peer into the room. Wordlessly, they exchanged places and Jasglanced inside. What she expected to seewas a group of possibly cloaked figures planning out their little clandestineaffair to overthrow both the Empire and Republic and resurrect a ghost.

Thewhispers definitely were not coming from in that room.

Savefor the intricately carved pillars encircling the room, the creepy glowing urnon a stone altar, and the numerous bones scattered around, the area was empty.

“Do you think wrong Temple or wrongdate?”

Jasdidn’t respond, just stared at the emptychamber. But it wasn’t empty… There wasno Death, just the Force. The spirits ofthe dead swirled around the Temple. Allthe souls that had passed through here and had never left still churned throughthe air. They had died in agony andterror, unfulfilled. There were slaveswithout choice or hope and acolytes without enough fear or good sense.

“They came for something…” Jas murmured, mostly to herself. Slowly, her feet took tentative steps intothe room. “A boon from their gods? Knowledge?”

Thewhispers were getting louder. Sheunderstood a few words now. Power. Freedom. Victory. Not just words, but emotions. Pure, strong, intoxicating emotions. Things bottled up and pushed away so as notto overwhelm, but now here, raw and untapped.

“This doesn’t look like the cultistshindig you promised me.”

Herfingers had been mere centimeters away from the urn—she hadn’t even realized she’d been reaching for it when the voicepierced her ears. Jas turned towards thehooded figure coming through the side door they hadn’t noticed before. The cloaked figure was an oddity in theTemple. Its own little pocket ofabsence—a void in the Force, if such a thing were possible. It wasn’t until he pushed the hood backrevealing a familiar plume of stiff, dark hair and the telltale cyberneticscurved around his left eye.

“Hey, you’re the one who invited usto the creepy compound of death.” Kiracarefully stepped around the bone piles towards Jas. “You okay there, Master?”

“No…” Theron said as he also moved closer into thecenter of the room, towards the two women. “You sent me a message about the Revanites meeting here. I told you not to come, that I’d take care ofit.”

Jasglanced down at her hand. It wasstrange; she didn’t remember walking this far intothe room, or reaching for the urn, but here she was with her handoutstretched. Self-consciously, shepulled it back and wiped it on her jacket. “That’s troubling. And yes, I’mfine, Kira. Since it seems we were allmisled, perhaps we should leave.”

“Don’t you think we should find outwhy? And by who?” Theron asked. To him, it was now an interesting puzzle to solve that may offer moreclues about those they were after, but there was a jagged spike of fearsettling in her stomach and warnings bouncing around in her skull.

“A little mystery keeps thingsinteresting,” Jas said, hoping theimpudent comment masked her fear.

Aroundthem, the ground rattled. Aground-quake, maybe—

“I’m with you, Master. I’m much happier not knowing what brought ushere.”

Oneof the skulls on the ground rotated. That damned green glow leaking out of the cracks and holes. It faced the three of them and began skitteringto the side to find a reassembling spinal column. A femur rolled across the floor along with acouple radiuses and a full set of phalanges.

“Quick vote then,” Theron said as he started reaching for hisblaster. “I say run.”

“Aye.”

“Aye!”

“Ayes have it.”

Theronlet the cloak fall to the ground and pulled out both his blasters. The sound of two sabers igniting filled theroom as the hum of energy around them grew stronger. Kira twisted her saber around and slicedthrough the forming skeleton, scattering its bones once more. Several more sets of bones started rattlingaround them and rolling across the ground to reconstitute. From the door leading out to the main part ofthe Temple, the lurching slaves started to pour in. One and two at a time, sometimes gettingwedged together when more than two would try to squeeze through the opening.

“This way!” Theron shouted and lead them towards the sideentrance he had come from.

Itwas a cramped stairwell winding downward to the back of the temple. Jas took the lead with Kira covering theirretreat. Once they were out of thebone-room, Kira collapsed the doorway behind them in the hopes that would stopany of the skeletons or possessed slaves from chasing after.

“Do you two have a way out of Impspace?” Theron asked as he trailedbehind Jas, blaster trained over her shoulder to catch anything that might popout in front of them.

“You told us you had an extractionplan,” Jas told him, saber raiseddefensively in front of her as they took the steps two and three at a timedown.

“I didn’t send the message,” he reiterated.

“I know that now!”

“Good thing I didn’t follow the planin the message you sent. I’vegot a shuttle hidden out in the forest.”

“Our hero,” Kira said dryly. “Hopefully we make it out of this temple ofhorrors to get to that shuttle.”

“Inc—!” Theron barely got the word out of his mouthbefore Jas leapt forward and landed with her saber slicing through a fleshymonstrosity that used to be a person—twisted and corrupted by the Dark Side.

Theyhad made it to the bottom of the steps and the small alcove just before theback entrance where several more of the creatures were waiting for them. Theron fired several blasts from both of hisweapons while Kira used the Force to throw them backwards, away from theirparty. Jas leapt from creature tocreature like bouncing ball of vengeance, cutting down the ghoulish monsters.

“Go go go!” Theron shouted, propelling them out into thedarkness and away from the Temple.

[Uncanny SWTOR Prompts] [Masterlist]

#swtor #fanfiction #kira carsen #theron shan #jedi knight #spooky fic #jasati #theron x jas #not really but that's how i sort my tags #uncanny swtor prompts #gerdavonrinnlingen

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