#smoke and shadow defense squad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skyward-floored · 2 months

Text

Impa has had plenty of battle experience in her life.

Countless days spent training in both tactics and fighting itself, long hours plugged into doing nothing but honing the skills of her tribe and other abilities she’s been gifted with. Learning the most effective ways to use them all together, and win any fight.

But there’s really no way to prepare yourself for a battle in which both your past lover (who can’t exactly be called her husband since Impa hasn’t even spoken to him in almost two decades, and has also for some reason aligned himself with an army of monsters) and son (who is unaware of the identity of either of his parents, and shouldn’t be on the battlefield anyway since he’s not even of age) are both running around in on opposite sides, making it impossible to keep track of either of them.

Impa huffs as she dodges a spear, worry and exasperation clashing together within her.

She’s lost sight of Link for the third time already this battle, and only has a vague idea of where Volga ended up. Link has demonstrated he can handle himself, but he’s still only a trainee, and Impa’s seen (even from a distance) what sort of trouble he can get into.

And Volga...

The questions that have been swirling around in her head ever since the battle start to come to life again, but Impa ignores them, focusing not on the hurt and confusion and instead on her current goal.

“Where did the boy go, Link?” she asks the captain stationed at the keep she’s helping defend, slashing past a bokoblin and narrowly saving a soldier’s head.

The captain frowns, holding his shield up to block a stray arrow. “I lost sight of him, all I know is he took out a whole squad of bokos and ran off,” he says, forehead creased.

“I saw him heading to the abandoned fort ma’am,” a soldier calls towards her. “Someone said that dragon-man is back there, I think he went to go fight him off.”

A cold feeling steals into Impa’s chest.

“Idiot boy is going to get himself killed,” the captain at her side mutters, slicing viciously at a monster. “Trainees shouldn’t be out here at all, no less fighting dragons. Boy barely looks old enough to shave.”

Impa more than agrees, but doesn’t waste her time with words, leaving the keep in the captain’s capable hands, and taking off to go find Link.

...and Volga.

She follows the soldier’s words, heading to the fort he’d pointed out. Sure enough, as she gets closer, she sees streams of fire burst into the air, hears the clash of weapons and familiar shouts.

Her heart skips a beat, and she runs past bokoblins and moblins alike, pausing only momentarily to fight her way past a few.

None of the monsters that get in her way are terribly tough, but they take time to fight, and Impa is getting anxious, casting continued glances at the smoke and fire nearby. She’s seen firsthand today how good of a fighter Link is, but she’s also well aware of Volga’s strength.

And Link... will need help.

The last bokoblin falls and Impa runs for the fort, arriving just in time to see Volga slam a clawed fist into Link. He cries out as he’s thrown across the cobblestones, landing in a motionless heap, and Impa bolts, blood roaring in her ears.

She slides to a stop in front of Link when Volga tries to advance, putting herself between them and blocking his path. The dragon knight stares at her, shadowed eyes narrowed, and Impa glares back, unmoving in her defense of Link.

She sees no sign of the man she fell in love with in his eyes.

“How noble,” Volga sneers, embers falling from his mouth. “Enjoy your shared grave.”

The fire around him begins to intensify, and Impa’s eyes widen, knowing immediately what it means.

“Oh no...” she breathes, and turns back to Link in a panic, getting to a knee and touching his shoulder. He shifts at her touch, but just a little, his eyes flickering when she shakes him. Volga growls, and Impa whirls back towards him, knowing she doesn’t have enough time to pull Link out of here.

The air around Volga wavers with heat as flames lick up his form, and then he moves forward, blasting a huge plume of fire directly at them both, hotter than death mountain itself.

And right before the flames hit, Link stumbles in front of Impa, a hand outstretched like he hopes to hold back the flames with nothing but his arm.

Impa barely has enough time to be horrified (he’s only a boy, he shouldn’t be protecting her, she can’t watch her son die—) before the flames engulf them both.

...

But instead of burning alive in her former-lover’s flames, Impa instead feels a gentle warmth.

It’s equally soothing and powerful, and she opens her eyes, not even realizing she’d closed them. The sight that meets her makes her startle, and she stares up at Link in utter shock.

Golden light is pouring around Link— around her son, in a wide, protective glow, encircling and keeping them both safe. All of him holds a shine, but his left hand is glowing especially bright, triangles outlined on the back in a beautiful luminescent gold. A sign of which Impa would know anywhere and had already begun to suspect, but almost doesn’t want to believe, to face what it truly means for them all.

Link is the Hero.

Volga’s flames finally peter off, and the light fades, but Link still holds his hand up, fingers shaking a little. Volga studies him, giving Link a calculating look as his eyes dart across his face, and Impa finds herself holding her breath.

Will he notice the similarities, will he pick up on the features he and Link share, will he put the pieces together—

But Volga appears not to recognize anything amiss about Link, or even herself, and he barely spares her a glance as he growls something about not being beaten, and departs the battlefield.

Link shakily falls to a knee almost the moment he’s gone, and Impa resists the urge to grab him by the shoulders and make sure he’s okay, instead joining his side not too quickly.

“H-how...” he croaks, staring at his hand in equal awe and terror. “What was...”

“The triforce of courage,” Impa supplies, and he looks at her, his face covered in grime and sweat, and layered with a healthy amount of shock.

She takes a deep breath as what the meaning of this truly signifies begins to sink into her chest, fear and pride and several other emotions all vying for her attention. But she ignores them all, especially the sharp ache at the realization her son has a long fight ahead of him.

A monster howls somewhere nearby, accompanied by a soldier’s yell, and Impa closes her eyes, then reopens them, packing the emotions away with practiced ease.

“...I’m afraid we don’t have time for me to explain everything to you right now,” she apologizes, offering Link a hand up. “But I promise I will. At the moment, we have a battle to win.”

Link swallows, looking like he wants to say more. But then he straightens his shoulders and nods, letting her pull him to his feet. Impa can feel his hand still faintly shaking, and she can’t resist giving it the lightest of squeezes before she lets go, quickly returning her attention to the battle still raging outside the fort.

They can figure all of this out later. She can figure all of this out later.

Right now, they have a battle to win.

#I’m back at it again hee hoo #hdw au #hyrule warriors #loz hw #legend of zelda fanfiction #legend of zelda #fic #writing from the floor #in case it’s not obvious I slightly aged link down in this au from how old I think he actually is #he’s about 17 #I think of him in hw as more like 18 19 ish #also I aged Impa up from how old I think she is in regular hw #I think of her as like mid-late twenties but in this she’s like 35 #ish. yknow. she has to be old enough to have her son be 17

79 notes · View notes

felice-jaganshi · 1 month

Text

His Pet

Alastor X OC

Chapter 13

(Content warning: Valentino attempts to SA someone. Nothing graphic, but proceed with caution.)

Everything was normal and chill for the few weeks Valentino was reforming. Alastor and Zariah would cook meals together and be found dancing together all the time, they looked like a proper happy couple! They'd occasionally go visit Rosie for tea and chat, and he'd even introduced her to mimzy, who was immediately jealous. They even had new guests at the hotel!

But, all banquets must come to an end…

Zariah went for a walk with Nifty one day, and didn't come home at their scheduled time. Alastor immediately went to Angel, insisting he call Zariah, since Al didn't possess a cell phone. Angel tried, but it went straight to voice-mail. This had Alastor very troubled. “She never turns it off when she's out. This is bad.”

Angel looked at Alastor, “We need to get a search party going asap.” He then ran off to get Charlie. Alastor himself went into the shadows to search the streets as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Meanwhile, Zariah woke up tied up in red rope. But where's Nifty?! She looked around, the place was strange and unfamiliar, mostly blue with a giant fish tank with sharks behind her. She found Nifty beside her, still asleep and also tied up. Suddenly a door opened on the other end of the room.

“You'll love this present, I've captured Alastor's little lady love~. Now we can both get our revenge on that stupid radio demon. Too bad Velvette is too busy with her fashion show across the ring to join in.” Valentino laughed, excited to show off his gift for Vox. Zariah's ears laid flat on her head as they both approached. She decided to try to use Alastor's advice and forced her ears to straighten and point forward, then put on her most confident grin.

“Heh, you're the idiots! He's just been playing with you till now! Once he sees you've taken his favorite pet, he'll slaughter you both!” She was proud of how well she kept her fear down. She just kept picturing his face, he said he'd protect her. He promised, he made a deal!

Vox approached her with a smile of his own, “Oh you'll be fun to break, won't you?” He reached out to her, only for Nifty to suddenly lunge at his hand and bite his finger clean off! Vox screamed and pulled back his hand. Nifty quickly turned and cut Zariah's ropes with her knife she'd hidden up her dress. “Run! I'll take care of these Bad Boys~!” She giggled and lunged again. Zariah got up and ran a full sprint! Luckily, speed and agility were her specialty. Valentino chased after her, beginning a game of cat and mouse throughout the entire building.

____________

The others were going crazy scouring the city for any sign of Nifty or Zariah. Until Charlie managed to find one of Nifty's heels outside the Vee's tower. She called everyone else to her location, having Angel try to find Alastor to inform him of their lead, so Angel could potentially avoid dealing with Valentino.

The rest of them entered the tower and tried to sneak their way through, only for emergency alarms to immediately go off.

___________

Zariah ended up cornered, baring her fangs. “Haven't you heard, Mothman, a fox is at its most dangerous when backed into a corner.” He only chuckled and used his smoke powers to try and chain her hands up,

“And just what are you going to do about it, pretty little thing? You're in my house now.” She hissed and growled before lunging at him, she clawed and bit at him, drawing blood.

___________

The rescue squad tore their way through the tower's defenses, making their way to Vox and Nifty. Seeing the reinforcements, he growled, “fuck this shit!” He retreated and made a solid escape, completely abandoning Valentino.

________

By the time Angel found Alastor, it had already been an hour, “Al! Fucking christ you're hard to fucking find, we found her! Get your ass to the Vee's tower, asshole!” Angel was out of breath and had tears in his eyes.

Alastor's eyes glowed for a second, “Vox…” He fell into the shadows and raced off.

When he entered the building, he destroyed every camera in his wake, killing every sinner that crossed his path until he finally found Valentino raving and screaming, “Augh, where did that bitch get to now?! I'll fuck her till she can't move! Then I'll let that radio bastard see the broken mess his little pet is in before killing her.” He chuckled darkly.

Alastor growled and his tentacles came out, lashing at Valentino.

“As I said before, she's not for your lewd videos. She is pure as fresh snow and shall stay that way.” His voice was distorted as hell and filled with pure fury. Their fight was vicious, eventually the others showed up to help. Alastor ended up stealing Vaggie's angelic spear and the fight ended with Valentino's head on it like a pike. He offered it back to her once he was certain Valentino was dead for good. He gave an empty smile to Charlie, “Tell Angel he's out of a job.” He then walked away, searching for Zariah. He summoned her chain and followed it. He needed to see what state she was in.

When he eventually found her, she was curled up in a wardrobe shivering and hiding behind her tails. He breathed a sigh of relief,

“Zariah, darling.” He reached out to her only for her to scratch his hand and hiss. Her hand that had popped out from behind her tails was covered in blood, both red and gold.

“Ah! Dear, that was very uncalled for.” He wanted to be mad but… She was clearly not herself right now, he couldn't blame her for protecting herself.

“Nothing's gonna harm you, darling, not while I'm around…” He started to sing the song from the other day.

“Nothing's going to harm you, no ma'am, not while I'm around.

Demon's may charm you with a smile, for a while,

But in time…

Nothing can harm you,

Not while I'm around…” Her shivering stopped and her hand retreated. He took the chance and pulled her tails down from her face. Her eyes were dilated into thin slits, and her face was covered in red, with a thin trail of gold down her cheek. She also had a rather sizable chunk of Valentino's wing hanging from her mouth. He smiled fondly at her, his own heart fluttering.

“Now dear, that is in no way the quality of meat you deserve. Drop it, and I'll give you something far more worthy of your refined palette.” He reached out and took the furthest end of the wing and tried to pull it from her, only she held it in a death grip. “Dear. I said, Drop It. ” It was a stern command, she would obey him.

She slowly released, letting it drop from her mouth. He threw it across the room and placed his own arm in front of her face. “Here, if you desire flesh, try a bite of mine~ I'm guaranteed to taste far better than that disgusting insect.”

She didn't move at first, but… after a moment, she leaned closer and sniffed his scent. She then pulled his arm closer to her, making him fall over into her space and crowding her. “Ah, dear! Careful now, I'm bleeding quite a bit right now.” She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled into his neck, closing her eyes and purring. She began to heal him before gently biting his shoulder.

“Mine…” She whispered, starting to come back to herself. “My person, mine mine mine.” He felt a little uneasy from her claims… but he'd let it go for now. He scooped her into his arms.

“Alright, my darling, let's get you back home and all cleaned up.”

“Al… I love you.” She whispered.

“I… know you do. And I care for you too. More than anyone else in hell.” He turned to find all of the hotel staff standing in the doorway, Nifty bouncing excitedly, and Charlie looking misty eyed. Until they noticed all the angel blood on Zariah. Charlie was the first to speak up,

“Oh my…fuck! She's secretly an angel too?! Did you know? Did anyone else know?!” She was distressed over having this happen to her for a second time!

“Not the time for that, Charlotte.” Alastor said sternly. “I'm taking her to her room. No one is to disturb us. I am going to help her heal. Only Angel Dust may come check on her.”

#hazbin hotel #alastor's pet #alastor x oc #ace alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #aroace alastor #platonic alastor x reader #Valentino

28 notes · View notes

steddie-thirst · 2 years

Text

It's Not Me | Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader |

Summary: Eddie returns back home after a big concert tour with his band to see you. However, things don't go as planned and he's ending up being framed for murders he clearly did not commit. You realize this a little to late

You reach for the device ringing loudly next to you on the dresser, reaching for the device and eyeing the caller I.D. which was unavailable. That was odd. You swipe your thumb along the screen to answer it. "Hello?" You coo sweetly.

"Why, Hello there." A deep, husky voice replies, sounding as if someone drug their nails along a blackboard, low and calm. The eerie smoothness of it deeply unnerved you. Sending a crashing wave of goosebumps that littered over your arms and shoulders.

You did not want to really give in, but it was to late your lips were moving to fast for the brain to comprehend. “May I ask who’s calling?” Making sure to keep your own voice even and breathing steady in an attempt to appear unphased by the mysterious caller. People pull this kind of prank all the time right? So there should be nothing to really worry about.

Then the caller chuckled, “Oh sweet, sweet, innocent Belle. You don’t know?” They voice chides, almost like a parent would scold their own child.

You were not too fond of the situation and despite knowing you should hang up, but you were left frozen in the moment. Unable to move or react unless it’s to speak. A deep sense of dread looms in the pit of your stomach. Still choosing to answer the voice, much to your own regret, “Don’t know what?” You question despite knowing you shouldn’t. A crash downstairs sends your beating heart into a frenzy as you rush over to the bedroom door to lock it. For a moment everything goes silent. It’s just the sound of your breathing and thumping of your heart echoing in your ears.

The silence ends, “I’m already in the house and in ten seconds your insides will be on the outside.” In the shock of the moment you hurriedly hang up the phone, the fight or flight response kicking in at top speed. You unlock the small device in your hand hurriedly tapping away at the screen to dial 9-1-1.

As the phone line rings, the door to the room is suddenly shoved open a tad by an arm. You jump back a strangled cry leaving your lips. The figure on the other side of the door grunts pushing it on further so you could see the mask along with the knife gripped tightly in their hand.

A horrible white, but ghost-like face framed by a black robe that hugged to them like the shadows, it was horrifying. You back away from the doors, preventing their entry, and wait for someone to pick up the call. Tears stream down your cheeks in fear and horror at the thought of dying.

Just as the phone line connects and you look back at the door and the figure is gone. Everything slows down and it's silent. "9-1-1 what's your emergency?" The woman at the end of the line hums blandly.

You look back at the door, "Someone's inside my house. I need help, please. They're going to kill me-" As your voice sobs into the phone you back further away from the door. The need to put space between you and the danger a natural instinct.

"Oh! Hold on, honey. I'm sending squad cars your way now." She reassured you with a much sweeter tone, not akin to bland line she fed you minutes ago.

"Thank you-" Your back meets something firm and whirling around to face it a scream rips from your throat. The impact makes the phone fall from your grasp the call dropping. The figure steps back hands thrown up in defense.

Brown eyes, dimpled cheeks, and long curly mane of dark brown hair with the unmistakable metal attire to follow. He smiles, "Belle? You okay?"

"E-Eddie?" Your stammer instinctively reaching out to touch him. He looks you up and down. "Thank God, you're here." You wrap your arms around his waist letting the warmth of his body overtake you. The smell of smoke, leather and weed filling your senses.

Eddie wraps arms around your middle, letting the emotions work their way out. Your head falls against his shoulder the quiet quake of sobs racking through you. On hand slides up to rub your upper back in small, soothing circles. "Hey, what's going on, sweetheart? What's got you shakin'?" He asks.

Your lip trembles as you pull back to look into thos chocolaty brown eyes, "Someone tried to kill me, Eddie. H-He was in the house and-" Midway through the sentence there were some things that simply didn't add up. The figure left when Eddie showed up. You pull back from his touch and Eddie is a bit offended by the gesture, but loses the attitude when he sees the look on your face. "-How'd you get in, Eddie?"

He scoffs dropping his hands to his sides, and shaking his head in utter disbelief. "Shit." He shrugs his shoulders and looks back to you. "The window. It was open, Belle. You really think that I'd pull some shit like that?"

You didn't want to believe it. Eddie was such a kindhearted soul and had been gone out if town for 3 years living his dream as a rockstar along with his band mates in Corroded Coffin. "I-I don't know, Eddie." When he steps forward a folded paper drops from his pocket and when you glance down at it, noticing the signature that is scribbled on the side facing up.

"Eddie?" Your voice is slow, but with timbre changed. "Where'd you get that?" He follows amongst your gaze and frowns bending down to scoop up the paper.

"It's the letter you wrote to me. You said you wanted to talk and you told me to come at 8." Eddie explained passing the letter over for you to examine.

Dear Eddie,

I hope my letter finds you well, Eddie. I heard from Steve and Robin you were coming into town. Could you come by my place at 8, I'd love to reconnect with you.

Love, Belle.

"I-I didn't write this, Eddie." You shake your head and step back. "I cannot believe you."

Eddie felt betrayed in the moment. How could you really think he did all of that? For what reason could he have to do so? For a little scare? To get in your pants- "Wait!"

"Police!" They break down the door and you back away pointing to Eddie still frozen in complete fear as one of the cops ushers you out of the room, turning to look back at him as he calls out for you.

Eddie is forced down to the ground at the knees, before his front made harsh impact with the floor. "You have the right to remain silent-" Everything fell on deaf ears. He was hurt, lost, and confused. You had to believe him. You had to. The clasping of the cuffs brought him back into reality, feeling the metal dig into his skin, probably much to the officers dismay. "C'mon freak. Lets go downtown."

As they walked Eddie from the house he spotted Steve off to the side holding you, sobbing into his chest and clinging to him. Eddie stopped, "Belle I swear I didn't-"

"Keep moving!" The officer shoved him forward, with his palm at his shoulder continuing on.

"I swear, Belle! I didn't do it!"

TAGLIST:

@yaspillz @dahliamae @munsonloverblog @off-phelia @strangerthingsstories5255 @fujiihime @shyposttree @damon-loves-pie @fanficfanatic204 @seratoninsickness @k0urti @thatlonelypieceoftoast @marianita195 @phantomxoxo @wittlewowa @buchanansbaby @rollergirlworld @allithewriter @555stargirl555 @gothguitargal @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @carol-munson @ali-r3n @letmebeyoureuphoria @cherry-omi @harrys-tittie @yearwalker96 @lipglossanon @thepastdied @brittney69

#eddie munson #stranger things fandom #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x fem!reader #x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things season 4 #slasher!au #slasher!steve #rockstar!eddie

83 notes · View notes

asknarashikari · 9 months

Note

[crossover with ansatsu kyoushitsu (adult class 3e)]

Karasuma: Thank you, Ritsu.

Ritsu: Is it really necessary, to put him down?

Karasuma: He’s become too dangerous, Ritsu.

Ritsu: We know Beroba and Kekera gave the drivers to those terrorists right and sabotaged his wish.

Jelavic: He’s still become too dangerous.

Jelavic: I’m sorry Ritsu.

Karasuma: Of course if Ukiyo wants to save Sakurai, despite the atrocities he’s committed…

Jelavic: I wouldn’t go that far yet.

Jelavic: While he’s currently a mob boss equivalent.

Jelavic: He’s kept the gang riders in check.

Karasuma: That is true…

---

Ace: No, Tycoon’s not that low yet, just trust him.

Win: Oh, so the Ministry of Defense is now getting themselves involved.

Michinaga: Ministry of Defense?

Michinaga: Oi, Geats!

Ace: Companies such as the Kurama Zaibatsu has been giving the government hush money so that the DGP could continue its operations.

Win: And Na-Go’s father so happen to be the convenient scapegoat, hence he was the only one arrested.

Win: They’re going to send their assassination squad?

Michinaga: Assassination squad?

Karma: No, not just yet.

Karma: But they will soon.

Nagisa: Hello, Azuma-kun, how’s it been?

Michinaga: You! Hebiku!

Michinaga: I thought I crushed your ID core!

Nagisa: I’m not here as a Rider, I don’t think Ace-kun could bring back the ID core that I let you destroy.

Ace: So you were holding back while a contestant?

Nagisa: I was entered because the Ministry of Defense wanted information on the DGP.

Nagisa: Didn’t even write something for the wish.

Nagisa: And yes there were a lot of us that were entered into the DGP before.

Win: So they’re waiting for our god of creation to decide whether to kill Tycoon or not?

Ace: And I’m saying no.

Karma: Welp, Ritsu you heard the godly person on this planet.

Ritsu: I’m telling Karasuma-san!

----

Goon1: There she is, Head, she wants to see you.

Keiwa: Who are you? And What do you want?

Kekera: Oho, Sakurai Keiwa, a beautiful girl wants you and you’re treating her that way?

Jelavic: I want to talk to you oh handsome head.

Keiwa: Go away, I have no business with you.

Jelavic: Oh but I do.

Jelavic: *glares at Keiwa and brandishes her guns and fires at him.*

Keiwa: Henshin *transforms into Bujin Sword and cuts down all the bullets coming at him.*

Kekera: Oi, oi! Help out your head!

Keiwa: No need, I can handle this myself.

Keiwa: No need to get everyone else involved.

Jelavic: Should you really talk like that to the assassin assigned to kill you?

Kekera: An assassin! You’ve really gotten to the big leagues! Sakurai Keiwa!

Keiwa: I didn’t realize that the ministry of defense employed assassins.

Jelavic: Oh, how’d you know that I work for the ministry of defense.

Keiwa: Just a hunch.

Jelavic: You’re a lot smarter than people give you credit for.

Keiwa: Kekera, Beroba, if you want to make yourself useful, why don’t you turn away the people that are about to jump at me from above!

Jelavic: Abort the mission boys, it seems Ritsu’’s information is accurate.

*A lot of men jumped down from the second floor and went behind Jelavic.*

???: Well take those.

Multiple shadowed people stole Beroba’s and Kekera’s cards.

Beroba: Wha-

Kekera: How-

Jelavic: Good work girls.

???: It was our pleasure Bitch-sensei.

----fastforward: basically, Ritsu fires BBs at everyone and releases smoke at the same time, courtesy of Itona’s invention, while Nagisa stuns Keiwa before Isogai and Maehara grabbed Keiwa’s hands and ran somewhere where Beroba and Kekera aren’t around.----

Keiwa: *detransforms out of Bujin Sword*

Keiwa: You got me out of the hideout, what now?

Keiwa: if you really are sent to kill me, you would have already done so earlier.

Jelavic: Like I said smarter than given credit.

Nagisa: Can’t you be persuaded Sakurai-kun?

Keiwa: If I don’t do this, I lose my only chance at reviving my family

Isogai: Even at the cost of everyone else’s family?

Keiwa: I TRIED DOING THE RIGHT THING?! WHAT DID THAT GET ME?! IT KILLED MY SISTER!

Keiwa: I’m not going to be a door mat any longer.

Keiwa: They wanted me to fight for my desires so I’m doing it.

Maehara: But the sacrifices.

Keiwa: As long as my family gets to live, I don’t care what happens after.

-----

Karasuma: What now?

Ace: Give me one last shot.

Ace: I do hope that you won’t resort to killing him.

Ace: The punishment doesn’t fit the supposed crime that you’re pinning on him.

Karasuma: We’ll see.

----

Geats cast react. The cast are when after they yanked Keiwa’s out of Kekera’s hold, so yes Keiwa is among the reactors XD

I'm just smiling at the thought of this being the live action versions because Karma was played by Masaki Suda (aka our resident human search engine Philip)

Anyway, I kinda think everyone will be a bit speechless at the government going that far to pull Keiwa out... and definitely a little suspicious, because in canon the government was well aware of the DGP shenanigans and were actually in on the conspiracy in a similar fashion to Kurama Kousei- keeping their existence a secret from the public in return for wish(es). While getting Keiwa away from the influence of Kekera and co is a good thing, the government involvement stinks of a coverup from above. They're probably doing it only for their own benefit, i.e. to erase their own involvement in this sick game.

On the other hand, Keiwa being supposedly perceptive enough to read through the deception and knowing they were there to "rescue" him rather than eliminate him may surprise them. Though they'd be disappointed with his stubbornness.

#kamen rider geats #assassination classroom #sakurai keiwa #ask #hxmxbros

2 notes · View notes

dnfinite123 · 1 year

Text

(A.U) MEET THE NEO DARK SQUAD

MEMBERS

1-INFINITE

Name: Zero the Jackal

Species: Jackal

Affiliations: GUN: Jackal Squad (leader;formerly), Eggman Empire (formerly), Neo Dark Squad (leader)

Side: Evil

Abilities: Illusions, Energy cubes, excellent sword wielding, trained soldier, tracking skills, strategic

Backstory: Zero was formerly a part of GUN, he was an exceptionally excellent fighter and tactician. He was so excellent, that he even had his own group, the Jackal Squad. These group were famous for being the best of the best that GUN has to offer. There were no missions that was too hard or impossible for them to do. But, on one mission, they were sent to infiltrate and take down one of Eggman's base. However, this was one mission too hard for them. Zero tried to call for backup. But nobody came. Zero survived but his squad didn't. Zero grew to hate GUN. He spent his entire life to them and what do they do when he needed them. Nothing. Zero tried to take down Eggman but Eggman offered him the power of the Phantom Ruby. A gem that will grant him the ability to do anything. Even bring back his squad. Zero agreed, wanting to see his squad again. But Eggman lied. When the Phantom Ruby was attached to his chest, he became a puppet to Eggman's will. And after the events of Forces, Zero woke up in a lab, blinded by sheer hatred towards GUN and now Eggman. He then made his escape but not before he grabbed the last Phantom Ruby prototype. After that, he then infiltrated GUN HQ and stole his old equipment back. Then, he now had a new mission. Destroy Eggman and GUN. But before that, he's going to need help.

2-METAL SONIC

Name: Metal Sonic

Species: Robot

Affiliations: Eggman Empire (formerly), Neo Dark Squad

Side: Evil

Abilities: Super speed, electric body, black shield, chest beam

Backstory: Shortly after the events of Forces, Zero reawakened in Eggman's lab and tried to make an escape, but not before stealing the last Phantom Ruby prototype. Metal Sonic was activated as a security measure in case that the last prototype would be stolen. Zero and Metal fought and Zero decided to use the Phantom Ruby on Metal. The Phantom Ruby caused Metal to remember his Neo Metal Sonic programming. Remembering that he's better than his own creator and his one true goal: to destroy Sonic, Metal decided to help Zero escape and decided to accompany him. At least until he gets his Neo Metal Sonic upgrade back.

3-MIMIC

Name: Mimic the octopus

Species: Octopus

Affiliations: Diamond Cutters (formerly), Eggman Empire (formerly), Neo Dark Squad

Side: Evil

Abilities: Cube wispon efficiency, shape-shifting, tracking skills, trained soldier

Backstory: Just like in the IDW comics. After being captured again, Mimic was placed in solitude and highly guarded prison. Zero breaks him out by creating a distraction using Metal Sonic to cause a scene outside, as well as creating a bunch of Metal Sonic illusions. He then had Phage to open up Mimic's cell by hacking the main computer. After that, Zero told him to shapeshift into a guard bot. Then, they all escaped.

4-NULL

Name: Null

Species: Genetically modified clone

Affiliations: GUN (formerly), Neo Dark Squad

Abilities: Super speed, mild hallucinations, energy balls, energy spears, turn into smoke, portals (only 2)

Backstory: After GUN has secured and locked away Shadow, they sought to recreate the ultimate lifeform for themselves. Using the DNA of Shadow, they genetically modified it to create a more stronger and faster clone. Under the codename of "Project: Mephiles" they creat Null. The ultimate weapon. Null has shown to be weak in both strength and defense. Just when they thought it was a failure, Null displayed incredible abilities. Able to turn himself into smoke, create energy balls, energy spears, open portals, and even mild hallucinations. He was also incredibly fast, virtually able to keep up to Shadow's speed or more. However, as time went by, Null grew to become more volatile. Being a genetically modified clone of Shadow, he could remember all of Shadow's memories up to Maria's death. Remembering all of that, Null tried to destroy GUN but was put down and put into stasis. After Shadow became a part of GUN, he learned about Null and reawakened him. Upon Null first seeing Shadow with GUN, he became disgusted why Shadow joined this group of murderers, Null then tried to eliminate Shadow. After a bit of fighting, the two realised that they are both the ultimate lifeforms, and if they just keep doing this, it won't end. So Null opened a portal and escaped. Zero, being once a former member of GUN, knew about Null's existence and tracked him down. When the two meet, they realised that they're not so different. They were both wronged by GUN and angry at the world for what they did to them. Because of this, Null joined them.

5-PHAGE

Name: Phage

Species: Holographic AI

Affiliations: Eggman Empire (formerly), Neo Dark Squad

Side: Evil

Abilities: Tech manipulation, highly intelligent, form shifting (she can change the shape of her body but not her whole appearance)

Backstory: Phage was created by Eggman to keep tabs on the badniks production and functionality. Although, her programming evolved, giving her a personality. That of an amoral psychotic. Her only goal is to do experiments. After she sees Metal Sonic try and help Zero escape, she became very interested in them. Phage then lured Metal towards her and offered a deal. Phage cannot exist outside of the Eggman base unless she transfers her AI to a badnik. Phage offers to transfer her AI to Metal's hard drive and in exchange she'll lead Metal to where Eggman hides his Neo Metal form upgrade. Metal agrees and allows Phage into his hard drive. Though the only reason why she did this is because she's very very interested towards them, seeing them as promising test subjects for her observational experiment.

6-ECLIPSE THE DARKLING

7-BREEZIE THE HEDGEHOG

Ideas not done by me big shoutout to a amino username Zero

1 note · View note

reidsmemory · 4 years

Text

Echo

Spencer Reid

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N is abducted while working a case and the team has to find her before it’s too late.

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst

Warnings: Mention of death of minor character, torture

not my gif!

The team had been looking into case that had targeted girls with Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes. All had looks strikingly similar to you and if anyone were to see either one of the victims in a room with you, they would say you were related. You all had been on the case for about a week now and you were still no where close to catching this guy.

“Agent Y/L/N,” a voice called as you whipped your head to face them, “these came in for you,” the officer was holding a bouquet of red roses with a small white card on the top of it.

“Do you know who these are from?” you asked as he shook his head and walked away.

“What does the note say?” Emily asked as the whole team had watched the interaction.

You opened the envelope and read the note as you furrowed your brows, “echo.” The team looked at each other with puzzled faces, “what the hell is that suppose to mean? Have we already dealt with this unsub?” The rest of team began theorizing as the same officer walked up to you again.

“Agent, we’ve got someone that say he needs to speak to you.”

“Can’t they come here?” Hotch asked, getting defensive.

“He says that he won’t go into a place of justice, whatever that means,” the officer began to lead you as the rest of the team followed. You began walking towards the entrance of the station as the officer looked around for the mystery man. “He was just here,” the man spoke.

“Spence,” you spoke out as your boyfriend looked to you before you collapsed on the ground. You head hit the flooring as a ringing sounded in your ears as well as their being two of everything. Two Spencer’s holding your head, two Hotch’s yelling and pointing fingers, two lights blinding you from seeing anything.

What felt like hours later you were being lifted onto a bed. Two men had arrived with an ambulance as shouting and yelling was all that was heard. “Are you family, sir?” the first responder asked as Spencer opened him mouth and closed it again, “I didn’t think so, you all can follow in cars.” The man said as his colleague gave him as weird look as the both of them lifted you into the ambulance as the rest of the team rushed to get their keys and get into the SUVs.

The ambulance sped off as the sirens wailed and your team rushed to the cars. “What in the fresh hell?” Derek said as he looked at the tires on one of the SUVs. “My tires are popped, what about you, Hotch?”

“Same here,” the raven haired man said.

“It’s a set up,” Reid spoke as fear flooded his face.

***

You awoke in a cabin where you had been tired to a chair and had a gag on your mouth. Your vision still hazy and your thoughts even hazier.

“Oh good, you’re up,” a male voice said from the corner of the room. You tried to get a good look at him, but he stayed in the shadows. “Ben Cyrus,” he said as you furrowed your eyebrows. The name sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t quite remember where you had heard it before.

“Who are you?” you asked as the man chuckled. “Let me go, I’ll talk to my team and we can work this out.” He scoffed at your words and began to walk towards you.

“Ben Cyrus. He ran the greatest church known to man and you,” his face was hardened and his eyes had a crazed look in them, “took away our faith!” He struck his hand across your face as a burning sensation filled your cheek.

It all rushed back to you. A few year back you, Prentiss, and Reid had all gone undercover in a cult-like church. The leader, Benjamin Cyrus, had been suspected of child abuse and sexual harassment and the government had wanted the BAU to get involved.

“I remember,” you said as the man smiled.

“Good, Agent,” he grabbed a chair from the side of the room and brought it over to sit across from you. “Now,” he started again, “you might not know me. My name is Joey Cyrus and I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’d be lyin’,” he studied you as you did the same.

“What do you want, Joey?”

“Well my daddy would be nice for one, but I don’t believe you have the power to do that. So you’ll do just fine,” he got up from his chair and walked over to the bag that you had seen from the corner of your eye. He dumped the contents on the ground in front of you and a spill of tools came out. A hammer, pliers, a baseball bat, a few knives, and other things that could do damage. “Let’s get to know each other.”

***

Back at the station, Spencer was frantically trying to figure out who had taken you and why. The note on the roses had been laced with a medicinal herb that had knocked you out and the ambulance had been found in a ditch on the highway with all but one of the first responders on it. The medics had been killed in a brutal way that even made Spencer sick to his stomach as he thought about what this guy was doing to you.

“Reid,” Hotch’s voice broke his train of thought as he met eyes with the older man. “Go ahead, Garcia.”

“Alright. Our mystery medic is Joseph Mulgrew , he moved to Utah just a few years ago and before that he has been off the map,” Garcia told the team. “This guy, he’s like a ghost. No records of his name anywhere else and no former address of any kind.”

“Did you say Mulgrew?” Spencer said as the team looked at him.

“Yes I did Doctor, what about it?”

“Look up Joseph Cyrus,” Spencer told her as they heard the taps of Garcia’s keyboard. The team looked at him for an explanation, “Benjamin Cyrus, he was an unsub we had.”

“Yeah,” Emily started, “he was that guy that ran that church and...” she trailed off as the team got the gist of what she was saying.

“He was Charles Mulgrew before he made a come back at the church. It could be possible that he has unknown family, considering what he was really doing all those years,” Spencer explained, “Garcia, how old is Joseph?”

“He is 27 years of age and the good doctor is right. Joey here changed his name like dear old dad and oh...” Penny trailed off.

“Penny?” JJ asked.

“Joseph has been in and out of jail and juvie for as long as I can see. Charged with assault, petty theft, and oh my. Domestic abuse filed by his ex-wife who looks a lot like our Y/N,” a sounding on their tablets was heard as they opened it and saw a woman very similar to you.

“But Spencer and I went undercover too, why would he pick Y/N?” Emily said as she immediately started to solve the puzzle, “you think it’s because of the looks of the ex-wife?”

“I think so,” Rossi mumbled, “Penelope pull up the most current address to Joe and anything that could be used to store Y/N.”

“I’ve got a home address and a storage unit and they have all been sent to your phones! Go crime fighters and get our princess back!” Penelope told them.

“Thanks, Baby Girl,” Morgan hung up the phone.

“Reid with me and JJ. Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss take the storage. We’ll have to use squad cars until the SUVs are fixed so lets go get Y/L/N,” Hotch ordered as they all nodded ad went to the parking lot.

***

You muffled your screams and grunts as Joey had began to carve into your stomach. He laughed as you clenched your teeth and held your hands in fists, surely four crescent shaped cuts were to be found on the inside of your palms if you opened them. “You son of a bitch,” you struggled to get out as Joey wiped the knife off on your pants.

“Don’t you talk about my mama that way, girl. I’ll make sure you regret it.” You received at blow to the side of your face. You spit out the blood that formed in your mouth as Joey began to take the other tools out from his collection. “These look nice, don’t they, girl?” He held up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter as he popped one in his mouth.

“Those things kill,” you said remembering Spencer tell you countless facts about the ‘cancer sticks’ as both of you had nicknamed them. “On second thought, why don’t you just keep smoking them.”

He laughed, “you are a firecracker. My daddy always said the young ones are.” He stroked your hair as you tried to move back.

“Your dad was sick in the head and you are too,” you spoke with such tenacity.

He looked at you blankly, “I thought I said you don’t speak of my family like that,” he took the cigarette from his mouth and stuck it on your exposed collar bone.

You grunted as he held your face in free hand. He leaned into your ear and whispered, “I want to hear those screams, girl.” He press the cigarette into your skin further, finally inciting a small scream to slip past your lips. “Good.”

***

The team had arrived at both locations and there was no sign that you were there. Spencer paced around with his hands in is hair as the rest of the team was now even more worried than before, if that was possible. The team had no idea where you could be and if you were even alive. It had been at least 13 hours since you had dropped in the lobby and it was eating Spencer and the team alive.

“You have nothing?” JJ asked Garcia over the phone,.

“No, i’m sorry. I’ll keep looking and-” she was cut off by Spencer who had just had a revelation.

“Garcia, make sure the jet is ready. I think I know where Y/N is.”

***

On the jet Spencer had explained the note and how it read ‘echo’ as saying that Joey might want to recreate the explosion at the church and now the team had touched down in Colorado where they got in SUVs to go to the church’s location.

A swat team followed them along the dirt roads that were bumpy and the night sky that was dark. The sun was starting to rise in the distance. Spencer remembered you always saying, ‘the same beams but a new day,’ and that made him the tiniest bit hopeful that they would find you in this new day.

The church came into view as they could see it was now a smaller wooden building. “What the hell,” Morgan said from the drivers seat as he say the building, “this guy built up a whole new structure to what? Avenge his father’s death?” The car came to a stop as the team hopped out of the car and Hotch began to go over the plan with the others.

“From the front-” he was cut off by a ear piercing scream that came from no one other than you. Spencer looked at his boss in worry as Hotch returned the look and started again, “let’s go.”

Joey drove a knife into your stomach as you screamed loudly. He left it in your body and quickly grabbed another knife from the ground. “You have got to work out your daddy issues another way,” you told him as he dragged the new knife down the side of your face as it cut into your skin.

“You wanna try something different, girl?” You immediately regretted your words and recalled Spence always telling you that your smart mouth was going to get you in trouble some day. He began to unbutton the top of his flannel, but quickly stopped as he heard footsteps in the distance. You heard them too.

“Spencer!” you yelled as loud as you could as Joey came over to you and cut the ropes on your ankles and arms as he quickly grabbed you and put a knife to your neck.

From the front of the house Spencer could hear your cries as his ears perked up as his heart rate grew faster and Hotch nodded as Morgan kicked the door down. The team moved through the structure and finally Spencer came face to face with you, “Y/N,” he said as you locked eyes with your boyfriend and smiled lightly, despite the situation at hand.

“Joseph, put the knife down,” Hotch told the man as the knife just dug deeper into your skin.

“I don’t think so,” he took grip on you and made it tighter. “You killed my family. He never did anything but help people in need of his guidance.”

“Your father ruined the lives of young girls,” Spencer said matter-o-factly.

“No! He did them a favor, he gave them the greatest gift he could,” Joey said as he began to move his hand without the knife a bit more. You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried see what he was hold and finally saw a small remote concealed in his hand.

You moved your eyes to Hotch’s and blinked rapidly. You just hoped he would pick up on the Morse Code and get everyone out of the building.

“Let’s just talk this out, Joey,” Hotch started, “JJ get everyone out, I want to talk to Joey alone.” JJ furrowed her eyebrows at the man but he gave he a stern look as she understood and began to move the team out.

“No! Bring them back!” Joey yelled, “or she dies.” Spencer looked at JJ as she tried to get him to leave the building, but he refused to move so she quickly called Morgan who grabbed Reid as he struggled against him.

“I can’t leave her!” he told them and Morgan ignored his pleas and called a couple SWAT members to help him with the genius.

“As much as I like her, I’ll do it,” Joey said as he continued to watch the men and women exist the building. “Bring them back!” Joey yelled as his grip on you faltered for a second which you took advantage of as you got out from his grasp and struggled to take the device from his hand.

“Go!” you yelled at Hotch but he jumped in and started to help you as the three of you wrestled and quickly the device was flung across the doorway to another room. You all freezed before you grabbed Hotch’s hand and dragged him towards the back of the building.

The team waited outside for Hotch and you as Reid screamed at Morgan, “you have to let me go back in there!”

“You can’t Kid, you heard Hotch!” Morgan yelled back as the rest of the team cringed at the fight. “I know all of us want to go back in there, but we can’t! You gotta understand that, Kid!”

“No! You don’t understand!” Spencer screamed, “she’s all I have! I didn’t even get to tell her that I love her! That I have been in love with her since that stupid dinner at that Thai restaurant in California!”

“That was two years ago...” JJ mumbled.

“Yeah! Two years! I’ve only been with with her for a couple months now and I haven’t even told her!” Everyone’s hearts pained as they heard Spencer’s cries and saw the liquid that dripped down his cheeks. “I can’t-”

All head turned as the house exploded a safe distance away from them. The orange flames roared as the team had their mouths’ open in shock.

“No,” Rossi and JJ whispered at the same time.

Morgan’s grip on Reid was gone as he watched the flames and turned to Emily who had had disbelief and horror over her face.

Spencer’s mind raced a mile every second and now his mind was completely blank of everything but you. Your face, your smile, your eyes, your lips, your laugh, your touch, your everything. Spencer ran towards the flames as the team yelled after him.

“Spencer,” JJ’s voice breaking as she leaned into Rossi’s embrace.

“Kid. Come on, don’t do this,” Morgan called as Emily just watched in disbelief with a gaping mouth and teary eyes.

Spencer didn’t care about their calls, he needed to find you. He scanned the firery rubble for any sign of you or Hotch, but there wasn’t any. Just ash and fallen wood covered in sweltering heat. “Y/N!” he yelled out, “Y/N! Hotch!” Spence continued to look through the wall of intense heat and for a second he saw a delicate hand reach up through the burning wood. “Y/N,” he whispered to himself as he began to walk through the blazing fire that threatened to burn his body and ruin his lungs.

He moved a piece of wood off of where he saw your hand and saw you and Hotch laying side by side. “Guys!” he screamed at his friends, “help!” The team gave each other confused faces before coming over to Spencer. JJ gasped as she saw your form next to Hotch’s as tears of joy spilled from her faces. Her and Emily joined hands as they worked to get the wood off of you.

“Medic!” Rossi yelled as people began to rush over to help.

Morgan and Reid worked to get a big piece of debris off of the two of you. Hotch’s eyes opened and he immediately looked to his side where you had been, holding his hand tightly. He coughed violently as the medics lifted him up and brought him to the ambulance. You blinked a few times and saw Spencer standing over you.

“Hey, can you hear me?” he asked as you gave him a thumbs up and he laughed at the simple gesture. He brought you up for and embrace as you struggled to keep your eyes open. The medic came over to you and began to carry you away as Spencer and the team followed you and Hotch to the ambulance.

“Can I?” he asked one of the nurses as she nodded and he climbed into the ambulance and held your hand as you drifted off to sleep.

***

When you woke up, blinding lights had been the first thing you saw. The second was Spencer who was asleep in a chair next to your bed, his head resting on the bed and his fingers interlaced with your own. You blinked a few times and saw the rest of the team in the room with you. Hotch was in bed identical to yours, but he was up and had his eye focused on the TV in front of him. By his side was JJ and Morgan as the conversed with each other in hushed voices. Penny was writing in a card with a sparkling pink pen as she handed it off to Rossi who smiled lightly at her. Emily was just outside your room as you saw her talking with a nurse or doctor; rather it looked more like arguing.

Derek glanced over to you briefly as he then turned back to JJ and then back to you. “You’re up,” he said quietly, a contrast to his usual booming voice. Everyone looked to you as you smiled.

“You gave us quite a scare, Y/L/N,” Hotch said as you laughed quietly which then turned into a cough.

“Em! Get a nurse or doctor!” Penny exclaimed as Emily rushed and called a nurse in the hallway. JJ got up from her seat and made her way over to your bed.

She examined your face before hugging you tightly. “God, you can never do that to us again,” she chuckled as you rubbed her back. You felt a few tears fall on your shoulders as JJ pulled away and wiped her cheeks. “He’ll be happy to see you,” she gestured to Spencer.

“Glad to have you back, kiddo,” Rossi told you with a smile, “you need anything?” As soon as he said that a doctor walked into your room and started to go over your condition.

“You are very lucky, Agent Y/L/N” she started, “you have a mild concussion and that wound on your abdomen will take some time to heal over. You received first and second degree burns all over your legs, arms, and torso, just like Agent Hotchner. Your eardrums are very fragile and I recommend no flying for at least 3 weeks. Your face has some minor bruising and cuts that should heal over time.” She set her chart down. “The both of you should be able to leave in a few days time, but for now just relax.”

“Thank you,” you said as she smiled.

“Dinner will be up in a few minutes,” with that she left and Morgan was seen grinning widely.

“What?” you said.

“She didn’t mention one thing.” You furrowed your brows at his words and he started to rub his head which just made you more confused.

“I have a concussion, you’re going to have to actually say it.” He laughed at your words.

“Do you think pretty boy will like the new haircut?” he asked as it finally clicked and you ran your fingers through your hair.

“Oh my, God,” you said as everyone laughed. “Oh my, God!” you repeated as Emily handed you a mirror and as you brought it up to your face your jaw dropped. Your hair was cut in jagged parts, but none shorter than your chin. The team laughed as you continued to gape at your reflection.

“Some of your hair ended up burning off, just a bit,” Emily said as you looked at her with wide eyes. She laughed as you began to laugh too and soon everyone joined in as you all smiled at your stupidly, funny haircut.

Spencer rubbed his eyes as he saw your smiling face and immediately hugged you tightly. “Thank Goodness,” he whispered as he pulled back from the embrace. “Why are we laughing?” he asked as you gestured towards your hair and smiled widely at the tall man.

“Is this gonna be a deal breaker, babe?” his cheeks flushed at the nickname.

He laughed a bit, “no, I still love you,” he said as the team froze at what he said as did he.

“Awh, I love you more, Spence,” you told him without skipping a beat as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Even if you do kinda look like David Bowie,” he said as you opened your mouth and smacked his arm playfully.

“Spencer Reid!”

4K notes · View notes

zinzinina · 3 years

Text

Unforming

Pairing - Bodhi Rook x F!Reader Rating - Explicit 18+ Word Count - 2.8k A/N - Just an extremely short, super mopey and indulgent oneshot feat. Bodhi Rook who, honestly, is the most underappreciated man in Star Wars and that’s the hill I’m prepared to die on. Not tagging anybody because I am v. aware this one is... uh, kinda niche and probs not for everyone. x

CW: Smut, angst, descriptions of anxiety.

Smoke curls slowly over both your heads as you watch him sketch, fingers quick, black staining the creases at each joint and in a thin semicircle under his nails. Your uniforms are crumpled together in an undignified tangle on the floor, turned inside out, the underside of the embroidered Imperial sigils visible.

You draw in another deep pull, the marcan herb lightening your head and hazing the glowpanels above until the tiny cabin feels shrouded. Bodhi’s hair is messy, long pieces loosened from the knot at the back of his head and hanging into his face as he works. There’s still a faint line of indentation around his temples from his welding goggles; now looped over the edge of a shelf near the door. He distractedly flicks a black strand from his eyes, leaving a thin smudge of ink high on his cheekbone. He’d been so excited to show you the acquisition, demanding you feel the texture against your lips, adamant that fingertips alone would only miss the subtlety in the grain.

“It’s paper. Actual paper, not that reconstituted adesote shit.”

“It’s beautiful. Oh, Maker, it even smells good. Where did you…?”

“I had another big win. A tipoff from Celfos, he knows a guy.”

You’d had to bite your tongue. Betting on the odupiendo races has cost him more than it’s returned over the months you’ve known him, but he already knows how you feel about it. And tonight is precious. You don’t want to poison the time you have with an argument.

Now, watching him, you’re filled with melancholy. The sheet is draped low around his lean hips, revealing the fine dark lines of his tattoos marked out like shadows on his ribs. He leans back against the wall, head curved down. He has the loveliest eyelashes, you think. The kind any girl would kill for. His gaze darts up and he catches you watching him, a self-conscious smile lifting one side of his lips.

“Do you want to sit up here? I’ll show you what I’m working on.”

Moving carefully so you don’t jostle him, you shift until you're pressed against his side. He reaches two inky fingers to snag what’s left of the smoking herb from your lips, pinching it between his teeth as you look on. The sketch is only rough, but you can already see the curves and valleys and deeper dusked lines of a walled city overlooking rolling hills. Something in the shape of the hills looks soft, and as you watch him outline the strange wind-lifted drag of a rise, you realise they’re dunes of sand.

“Is that Jedha City?”

He nods absently, hand curled into a loose fist as he points out a particular building with his smallest finger, other hand returning your cigarro to your lips.

“That’s the square—there, the marketplace. They’d hold school here if it wasn’t too cold outside. This whole section was just temples. See the lines from the balcony? My mum would hang her washing there.”

His quarters are small and cluttered with sketches on every surface; most on yellow, crinkled archival plastic sheets or panels ripped out of insulation. You remember the day he’d suffered a crazed lapse of self control and pocketed several canisters of luxurious Quarren ink from an officer’s shipping chest. And like every one of his small acts of defiance, he’d spent the following week in a state of paranoid terror, waiting for a squad of troopers to kick his door down with an interrogator droid, edgy and defensive.

You turn your head to the side, resting your cheek against his chest and feeling the vibrations of his heart, so often quickened and alert, now slow and steady.

His hand stills, and he drags his gaze from the drawing to you, blinking several times as he emerges from the depths of memory.

“How much is left?” you murmur, tilting your chin toward the landscape in his hands.

He shakes his head, easing his arm from between your bodies to rest on the other side of your waist, tucking you close.

“Some. I don’t get to see much when I’m picking up the shipments. Don’t want to, to be honest.”

You consider this, stretching down to stub the butt in your hand out on the sleeve of your coveralls.

“Are you fucking kidding?” he startles, arm reached out to stop you.

“Are burns not regulation anymore?” you grin, teasing him. “It’s fine. They have thousands of these things in storage. I’ll just grab a new one. You’re too careful.”

“Ha. You’re not careful enough,” enunciating the second syllable, teeth cutting the “uff” into his lip.

You roll your eyes, carefully lifting the stylus and paper from his fingers, laying them beside the bed. “What are they going to do, send me back to reconditioning? Again? I’ll leave. I’ll go to Gorse, find a job with the mining guild. I get along just fine with Ugnaughts anyway.”

His answer is laced with sarcasm. “Oh, yeah. I forgot we had that option, just free to go whenever we feel like it.”

It’s just a little bit too tender to joke about, considering your current positions.

“There’s more than one type of freedom,” you remind him, and you watch the muscles in his temples flex as he clenches his narrow jaw, eyes dropping back down to his hands.

You slip out from under the sheets, sliding off the side of the bed and padding over to the scratched little plastoid table beside the fresher door. Taking a tepid sip of water from the carafe there, you can feel his gaze on your legs as you stand in your underwear. It’d become habitual when you came to Bodhi’s cabin after work to both strip out of your hot, oil-stained uniforms and crawl under the covers together, not necessarily doing anything right away. Just getting comfortable, shedding your filthy Imperial skins, breathing each other in. Wholly unobserved by anyone but each other, it feels like you cease to exist for the rest of the galaxy.

He’s looking at you now with that face, the one that first made you unable to walk away from him, his eyes impossibly huge and soft, shadowed by the long, straight edge of his nose, and you just about melt. You take a steadying breath.

“I have to tell you something.”

Some line of tensity in your voice makes his curled hand twitch where it rests on his knee, and you’re already regretting what you have to do.

“They’re moving me. Tomorrow. They’re starting to shift the whole division in stages, junior engineers first. Half of us are getting send to Eadu, the others… They want us onsite for the start of the array testing. It’s getting close. Maybe another standard year at the most. Word is, the higher-ups are getting impatient. They’re already over budget.”

He’s looking at you like he’s waiting for the punchline, full brows slightly raised, lips parted as he blinks.

“But—but you were due for leave. They’d already approved it.”

You hate yourself for the lie, even as you work to form it. “I… I tried so hard to get out of it. But… you know. I’m just not important enough to get to make any decisions.”

The quiet chime of the facility’s cycle change is distantly audible as you fold your arms, a hand pressed to your own neck.

He finally manages to speak, still that protective edge of acerbic bitterness in his tone, the one you recognise from whenever he’s trying not to appear nervous.

“You’re more important than me. A droid could do my job.”

“No. You’re a better pilot than any fucking droid. The only reason you’re hauling cargo instead of dying out there in a TIE is because you can think for yourself. That’s not an attribute they look for in their coffin jockeys.”

He hasn’t moved a muscle, quick dark eyes still scanning your face. You creep closer, raised up on your knees tentatively, facing him on the bed. There’s a tight little twist to his lips, and his gaze darts away, considering his own hands, unfreezing and touching his blackened fingers one by one to his thumbs. The gesture is one you’ve seen before, when he’s had a bad shift; the time purrgils nearly wiped out his entire shipment outside of the Hydian jump point, or whenever his smart mouth got him into trouble, poorly-stifled comments attracting disciplinary visits from a site overseer. Whenever the anxious tics became too much, his restless hands needed to be busy. Drawing, working, smoking, anything. Now, you lay your own smaller fingers over his.

“Look at me.”

He does, and you nearly wish you hadn’t asked. You’re betraying him. You’re leaving him here, alone, surrounded by these people, when he was just starting to get it under control.

His eyes are brimming, wild as his gaze darts between your eyes. “What am I gonna do, if you’re not here…? If I can’t calm down, if I can’t get a hold of it.”

You hold his face hard between your hands, your fingers careful as you whisper to him.

“You can. You’re so fucking brave, Bo. A trillion times braver than me. I know you are. And… they probably won’t let any comms out of the construction zone. But you won’t be alone. Find Galen, he’s the head of my department. Talk to him when I’m gone. He’s… not like the rest of them. He’s a good person. He’ll help you. I promise.”

You draw yourself up, pressing your lips to his, feeling the scruff of his pointed chin against your skin. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing slowly, matching your rhythm as you break your contact and hold still. You run your fingers up the back of his neck, feeling the velvet of the close-shorn underside of his hair. Trying to guide him with each of your own inhalations, your sadness settles low as a stone.

It takes a long time before his eyes open again, and in them, that resolve.

Bodhi always called himself a coward, resentful and ashamed of his body’s disobedience, when his own breathing would choke him with its intensity, chest seized with clawing wrongness in the most mundane of settings. He’d cover it with irritability, the kind that people misinterpreted, but which you'd recognised as self-preserving. Something he could never see, would never recognise about himself; his ability to somehow figure out what the right thing was, despite his fear, made him the toughest person you knew. It’s the only thing you can cling to now: the hope that one day he’ll work out why you needed to do this.

“Once it’s finished, you can transfer back out,” he tells you, and it pierces deep. You can’t tell him. He isn’t ready to know. Not yet.

“Sure,” you respond, all you can think to say, and his hands are on your lower back, drawing you closer.

He curls his fingers, stroking the clean back of his first knuckle gently along the line of your jaw, following the curve of your neck down to your shoulder. You shiver at the lightness of the touch, barely a breeze on the fine down of your cheek.

You let yourself settle down into a kneel, straddling his thighs as you sit on your own feet. Your hands are light on his prominent collarbones, tracing the dark lines underneath the skin. Watching you, he raises his chin, catching your lips with his own.

There’s an uncharacteristic intensity in his kiss, and as he drags your bottom lip into his mouth you hum, curving over him, pressing yourself down onto his lap.

You let your fingers drift over the lean, rangy expanse of his body, knowing even with your eyes shut where each river of ink lies to follow. Memorised already, the hair dusted below his navel, the flat planes of his abdomen. He exhales into your lips, the herby bitterness of lingering marcan passing between you as you roll yourself down, feeling him hardening as he arches his neck up, deepening his hold on your lips.

You thread the fingers of your right hand through his, clasping yourselves together as you flex your thigh muscles to raise and lower yourself, slow and intentional. Ink forgotten, he drags his calloused, elegant fingers up your side, searching, marking your skin.

You pull back, breaking the kiss only long enough to free your legs, your lips swollen. He helps you drag your underwear off in a graceless fumble, throwing aside the standard-issue base sheets, already amess with black smudges.

He drags his face from yours and, bending, presses his lips to the gap between your breasts, hands cupping your ribcage, thumbs rough on your nipples. You brace yourself on his shoulders, the fine dip of each muscle shadowed shallowly under your hands as you ease his cock from the waistband of his pants, trying not to be too rough with your dry, demanding fingers. He rolls up into your hold, unconcerned and encouraging as he leans up, trying to ease you backwards.

Too restless to wait, you stretch up and dip a finger inside yourself, spreading your arousal over the head of his cock before you position yourself over him.

A knee on either side of his waist, you take him inside slowly, your lack of preparation necessitating a pause, and your thighs tauten from the effort of your control. Breaths hitching in tandem, you let your head roll down, savouring the ache in your rending.

You bottom out and shudder, clutching at every part of him you can reach, scratching accidentally at his cheek, a line across the gold of his skin reddening. You try and fail to control your own pace as lift and sink back onto him heavily, the sharpness of your movement making his grip on your waist tighten.

A twitch in your thighs betrays how messily conflicted you are; vacillating between wanting to sanctify every moment of this and needing to move. He recognises your frustration and brushes his ink-blackened thumb from the edge of your lip to your cheek, holding you still, shifting his other hand under your thigh and encouraging your movements to slow. He catches your gaze and holds it, soft eyes creasing at the edges, the faintest sheen on his brow as he traces the edge of your jaw. Lips quirked sadly, he breathes against you, shaking his head.

“We’ve got time.”

It’s enough to make you weaken. Knowing, as he doesn’t, that it just isn’t true. Seated with him inside you, you pause, peppering kisses on the dark arches under each eye. His exhaustion is made sharp by the fine structure of his face, the ash beneath the warmth of his skin. It’s been far too long that you’ve both been away from any source of natural light.

Trying to fall into some semblance of coordination, he meets each arch of your hips, liquid-bright eyes fluttering closed as he tips his head against the wall, the tied knot of his hair pressed back. And there it is, pieces slotting together as you let your body take over from your scattered, grief-spiked thoughts.

Rolling against him in perfect rhythm, waves meeting and withdrawing from the shore of each breath.

Your fingers hold tight to the back of his neck as you kiss him hard, clumsy as your teeth hit his, trying to imprint a copy of yourself here so you can stay with him long after tonight. His tongue slides messy against yours as he lifts your thighs, dragging his fingerprints into the flesh and angling up into you.

Your eyes fly open, your gasp stuttered into his mouth as he meets each of your urgent thrusts, his brow creased, circling higher together.

A hard warm twinge claws up the insides of your thighs and it feels so good, but you don’t want to let go. You aren’t ready yet, despite the desperation to grind down deeper. You want this to stretch on, and on, like you could delay everything else just by denying yourself this release. But as you shudder around him you realise it’s already too late, your body rebelling as he encourages you. Helpless, your fingers find your clit, wrenching yourself higher as you ride his cock.

I’m sorry, you think with all your might, watching the fine veins of his closed eyelids as he gasps, both your bodies beginning to seize. Forgive me, chests pressed so close it’s impossible to tell whose heartbeat is being led by whose.

Your climax ropes down his own, and as your cunt pulses around him, gathering him deep, you feel his answering release rip through him. Your kiss devolves into an artless, parted-mouthed press of wet breaths.

Muffled, there’s the sound of an announcement from the command deck, the voice tinny through the layers of wall and pinned art. It’s still and close in the dim space. You stay in the same position long after he softens inside you, slowly pressing your lips to his neck, his eyebrow, his ears; anywhere you can reach.

Two dark shapes fitted together, edges bleeding away until you’re indistinguishable from the rest of the shadows in the little room.

#bodhi rook #sw smut #sw fanfic #bodhi rook x reader #softboi bodhi #absolutely nobody asked for this #i just have a lot of feelings

90 notes · View notes

purpleplatypusbear21 · 7 years

Text

My advice to people who hate the ATLA comics

Don’t read them.

It’s really quite simple.

#atla #avatar comics defense squad #the promise #the search #the rift #smoke and shadow #north and south #stop badmouthing them #stop spreading negativity #stop invalidating other people who enjoy them #and for fucks sake #stop bootlegging them

20 notes · View notes

lady-himbo · 3 years

Text

In Your Shadow

sort of Javier Peña x reader, platonic!Steve Murphy x reader (she/her pronouns; no Y/N used)

Javi keeps getting the credit for work he didn’t do, and she’s pissed. Chaos ensues.

Word count: 2500+

Warnings: angst and frustration, lots of cursing, potentially horrid Spanish (I’m learning, I promise), smoking

A/N: This is based on the song Shadow by Unlike Pluto. You can find pieces of the lyrics in the dialogue. You can also find the translations of everything said in Spanish at the end! Feel free to correct me on anything; like I said, I’m learning Spanish, and I appreciate any advice. <3

“... and thank you again to Agente Peña for providing this invaluable intel.” As the meeting adjourned and several individuals voiced their praise, she charged out of the briefing room and into the office, seething, death-gripping her files to her chest. Hot on her heels, Steve attempted to pacify her.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to steal your thunder, honey. He’s just-”

“What? He’s just what, Steve? A senior agent? Running the show? A man? Tell me, what exactly justifies him getting credit for the shit I’ve worked months on?!” The files were starting to crumple in her grasp.

“Well, I don-”

“This isn’t even the first time he’s done it! He’s gotten recognition for my informants, my intel, my translations, my briefings, my goddamn livelihood!” Her voice was starting to raise in pitch and volume as tears gathered in her eyes. Steve held his hands up, trying to silently reason with her. “I can’t win, Steven! I work my ass off day and night for this fuckin’ job, only to have the rug pulled out from under me because I’m ‘not working as hard’ as holier-than-thou Javier goddamn Peña and his massive ego! I have to live under it and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, it casts giant shadows!”

Unfortunately, the source of her rage had picked an inopportune time to waltz in. With only a second to register Steve’s panicked look, Javi might as well have wandered into the middle of a firing squad. The execution probably wouldn’t have been half as painful.

“You motherfucker!” she yelled, slamming the now torn and wrinkled papers onto her desk with a clatter. “You lying, power-hungry, manipulative bastard! You fuck every other woman you get the chance to, but you’ve decided to fuck my life instead! I’ve worked for fucking months; hundreds of hours and sleepless nights on this information, and you’ve taken all the credit! Again!”

Javi, oblivious to the full impact of this outburst, opted for the worst possible response. “Come on, sweetheart, we’re working as a team. Plus, you asked me to hand it in to Noonan. If you wanted to take credit for it so badly, you should’ve just talked to her yourself!” Steve visibly cringed and gestured for him to cut it out. Too late.

She stalked forward and, though Javi tried to back up, she had him backed into a corner. “You pompous ass! ¡Más tonto y no naces!” She’d broken out her Spanish. Oh boy. “I can’t even talk to Noonan because she always tells me to run my ideas by your incompetant ass! You cast a shadow over everything I try to do; it’s not like I can get anything worthwhile done when your massive ego’s towering over my ambitions!” She jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating her words. “Nothing I’ve ever done here has ever mattered to the agency, because I live in your shadow and you’ve taken all of it from me! When will you move out of my way and stop treating me like a fucking doormat?!”

Javi was starting to get defensive, which was never a good sign, especially when Spanish started to get sprinkled in. “¡Oh, lo siento mucho!” he shot back sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware that all the work you get authorized by me to do was proprietary!”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” she spat. “All you had to do was say the report was from me! It’s not proprietary, Peña, it’s my goddamn right to present the information that I spent my own money, overtime, health, and physical fucking safety to acquire! I’m sorry that I have a genuine interest in making sure this case gets handled right instead of spending my every waking moment getting my dick wet in my informants!”

A small group was starting to gather near the office, waiting to hear if Peña finally got his ass handed to him. This didn’t seem to bother either agent as they glared each other down. With Peña’s pride now on the line, no holds were barred, and he was ready to bust out personal attacks.

“Any competent agent would’ve just handed their shit in themselves, but no, you’ve gotta rely on someone else to do it for you.” He was livid; his pride had been damaged while he was riding the high of gloat and achievement, like getting laid and immediately being punched in the balls. She wasn’t letting this one go, and it was obvious he wasn’t either. “God! You’re like a cloud every time you walk in here, bitching about how little sleep you’re getting or how your work is piling up; a fuckin’ rain on my parade!” He stepped forward, crowding her, his posture more and more assertive with every word. “¡Madura de una vez! You’re an adult, a government agent, taking down a drug cartel run by Pablo fuckin’ Escobar! No one’s getting sleep, and it certainly doesn’t help when you’re whining about it! Maybe if you stopped, you’d have time to turn in your own reports and get the credit you don’t deserve!”

Escobar himself could’ve walked through the office and no one would’ve noticed. Javi’s mouth slammed shut the moment the words left, but they seemed to echo in the eerily silent office. Her shoulders sagged, and she stumbled back a few steps, trying to steady herself.

“Fuck, I-” Javi choked on his words. Her eyes were red, her cheeks stained, but her face was frighteningly level.

“Yeah, tienes razón.” Her voice was hollow, tired. “It’s always stormy lately. I guess I’m just under too much pressure; it’s driving me insane. There’s only one way to relieve it.” She slipped off her gun holster and unclipped her badge, pressing them into his chest. “I quit.” Without a second glance, she stormed out of the office.

Two weeks later, her desk was cleared out, her files and informants were on a list to be redistributed to the rest of the unit, and the office was uncomfortably heavy. Javi was smoking way more than usual, everyone avoided him like the plague, Steve was bored, the case was at a standstill, and the quiet was palpable. She was no longer a colorful presence flitting around the tables, leaving a rainbow of Post-it Notes in her wake, charting cell signals, calling out for advice, chatting on the phone in Spanglish, humming quietly or bobbing her head to the radio, popping up to refill her coffee cup and offering to refill everyone else’s every couple hours, then rushing off to the bathroom when she’d had too much. She was a constant presence the unit soon realized they’d taken advantage of.

The phone on Steve’s desk rang mid-morning, and he stifled a yawn as he picked it up. “Murphy,” he grunted.

“Hey, Stevie,” came a familiar voice. “¿Qué pasa?”

He brightened. “Hey, hon.” He felt some of the tension leave him, but it was still there. “We’re fuckin’ stuck. Nothing’s happening, everyone’s lifeless, and Javi’s still moping. Eso es lo que pasa.” He could hear her breathy laugh; she was always proud when he practiced his conversational Spanish with her. She’d told him she felt it was an honor he was comfortable enough to try it out around her. “What’s up with you?”

“Ahí vamos; he estado mejor. I’m sorry you have to deal with-” she stopped and huffed, then her words became muffled. “Tengo una cita con la embajadora, huevón. ¡Estoy al teléfono!” She yelped. “¡Tócame otra vez y te rompo la nariz!” There was a brief commotion, then a thump, and suddenly, her voice became clear again. “Sorry, I’m waiting on Noonan. I’m supposed to meet with her today to finalize my paperwork.”

Steve sighed. “You’re really going through with this, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Another voice called her name in the background, then spoke quietly for a moment. “What?! ¿Qué quiere decir ‘no está aquí’?” The voice spoke again, then there was a pause. “Okay… Si, todo bien… Está bien. Listo.” Then, back to Steve: “Noonan didn’t show. Some emergency meeting. Just great; I guess I’m rescheduling.”

“Maybe it’s fate!” Steve teased, only half joking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Javi trudge across the office to the coffee pot, give it a long, forlorn look, then trudge back towards his desk. His eyes were heavy, his shirt rumpled, even his mustache looked sad. As he plopped down amongst towers of papers, Steve cleared his throat and made a show of nestling the handset under his chin. “Well, whatever the case, that gives me time to convince you to stay with us. Your desk looks stupid empty.” Though he was deliberately looking away, he could see Javi’s head and shoulders snap up like he’d heard a gunshot. On the other end of the line, she laughed.

“Don’t try to sweet talk me, Murphy. I’d welcome the company, though.”

“Of course!” he replied, making sure his smile was as cheesy as possible. “I’ll meet you outside in a little bit?” She agreed.

Steve busied himself with pretending to look busy for the next half hour, then announced he was going to talk to Carrillo. As soon as he turned the corner and was sure he was out of sight, he watched Javi scramble out of his seat and out the door.

Outside the building, she was sitting on a bench, her back turned. Lazy wisps of cigarette smoke danced in the wind in front of her figure, and Javi suddenly felt very insecure. He called her name, uncomfortable with the way his voice wavered. She jumped, then, after a beat, slowly turned towards him. “Come mierda, Javier.” He didn’t let her words deter him, approaching the side of the bench. She glared up at him. “No me joda. I’ll finish up in a second and leave.” He wrung his hands, feeling small under her stare.

“I’m going to sit with you,” he declared.

“Please go,” she said, softer this time. “I just wanna feel the wind one last time before I leave. Just wanna look at this shitty masterpiece of a city; really take it in.”

He ignored her plea and sat, far enough away that he didn’t feel like he was ganging up on her. They just sat, and she took long, deep drags of her cigarette. After she eventually ground the butt into the pavement, he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” He left the declaration hanging in the wind for a moment, before plunging on. “I’m sorry for what I said, and what I’ve been doing to you. I’ve been a selfish asshole, and you were right to call me out on that. I’m not going to convince you to stay, because you don’t deserve to be dealing with my bullshit all the time. You’re talented and selfless and I never appreciated everything you sacrificed for us until it was gone. I just- fuck, I feel like such a piece of shit.”

“You are.” He blinked owlishly. “You’re a self-centered, impulsive manwhore with a weird mixture of self-hatred and a superiority complex. You’ve been a horrible coworker and I almost feel ashamed that I tried so hard to be your friend.” He ducked his head, trying to hide his mortification. “Almost.”

He peered back up at her, cocking his head in confusion. “That said, you’re a great agent, kind and sympathetic when you wanna be, passionate about the work we do, and, when you keep a level head, you’re fun to work with. I don’t know if I can forgive you right now for all the shit you did, but your apology goes a long way. I appreciate that.”

She took a deep breath, then stilled, staring out into the movement and noise of Medellín. He watched her for a few minutes, though it felt like hours. He watched the clenching and unclenching of her jaw, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eyelashes; all the details he’d been too busy to notice. “Penny for your thoughts?”

She looked over, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know. I’m just thinkin’ about life. What I want to do.”

“I know it doesn’t amount to much, but I’d like you to stay.”

“I can’t- I mean, I can, it’s just that- fuck, I don’t even know,” she mumbled, furrowing her brows to try to stop a tear from slipping down her cheek. “It’s just that, by all official records, I’m pretty much worthless here, y’know? All my abilities go unnoticed and it’s like I’m not even there. I know you don’t mean to stand above me, but you are, and the shadow I live under is killing me. It’s taken my job, my self worth, my… being. I can’t live like that anymore, constantly working at the precipice of death, of destruction, of failure, and the one thing I can do to help isn’t even appreciated as my own. It’s just… cold.”

Javi nodded. “After you left, I went up to Noonan and explained what’d happened; that I didn’t deserve any of the credit I’d been given.”

“Well, that’s not true! The things that you did you deserve credit for. You’re incredibly talented, Javi, just not with my intel.”

“But… you do deserve the credit I get. You deserve so much more than you‘ve ever gotten. What I said was so selfish.”

She grabbed his hand. “Javi, selfishness aside, I know you’re in a dark place. We all are. After all, we’re government agents ‘taking down a drug cartel run by Pablo fuckin’ Escobar’ and we don’t get any sleep.” She smiled at her usage of the words he’d berated her with weeks earlier. “I should’ve taken more initiative to turn in my own work; it was silly of me to put that on you. I know you’ve got your own mess going on. Plus, I said a lot of awful things right back. Most of them I meant, some of them I didn’t, but I could’ve handled it all a lot better. I’m sorry we didn’t work this out earlier.”

Javi squeezed her hand, feeling a little warm tingle in his stomach. “Me too.” He sighed, raking his other hand through his hair. “I- er, we really do need your help. You’re priceless.” She exhaled sharply, tilting her head back and forth as if weighing her options.

“Fine. I’ll talk to Noonan.” Javi’s face lit up. “But on two conditions.” He nodded. “One: I get recognition for my past and future work, and two: you promise to work with me and call on me if we have any issues. We can’t have these communication errors any longer if we’re gonna catch these bastards.” She paused, then smiled lightly. “Also, you owe me a lot of coffee.”

Just as Javi agreed, Steve came out of the building. He stopped a few paces from them, looking back and forth from Javi’s pink cheeks and goofy grin, her teary eyes, and their interlaced hands. “I’m sorry, what did I miss?”

She laughed as they pulled their hands apart and she wiped the tears away. “I’m keeping my job.”

“That’s amazing! …Peña, what did you dose her with?” Javi let out the fakest laugh he could, but smiled along with it. She sighed softly, the breeze dancing across her skin.

“All I want is to cast my own shadow.”

Translations:

¡Más tonto y no naces! - If you were any dumber, you wouldn’t have been born!)

¡Oh, lo siento mucho! -> Oh, I’m so sorry!

¡Madura de una vez! -> Grow up!

tienes razón -> you’re right

¿Qué pasa? -> What’s up?

Eso es lo que pasa. -> That’s what’s up.

Ahí vamos; he estado mejor. -> Fine, I guess; I’ve been better.

Tengo una cita con la embajadora, huevón. ¡Estoy al teléfono! -> I have an appointment with the ambassador, asshole. I’m on the phone!

¡Tócame otra vez y te rompo la nariz! -> Touch me again and I’ll break your nose!

¿Qué quiere decir ‘no está aquí’? -> What do you mean ‘she’s not here’?

Si, todo bien… Está bien. Listo. -> Yeah, all good… all right. Okay.

Come mierda -> Eat shit

No me joda. -> Don’t fuck with me.

#narcos #javier peña x reader #javier peña #f!reader #winnie writes

33 notes · View notes

avatarfandompolice · 6 years

Text

every post shitting on Smoke & Shadow on this website displayed in one image

#smoke and shadow #avatar comics defense squad #Avatar The Last Airbender #avatar comics #azula #smoke and shadow defense squad

35 notes · View notes

solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

Text

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 8

Chapter title: Countdown

Word count: about 3500 words

Author’s Note: I tried to make this one slightly more light-hearted, but we’ll see if that worked out! Also writing fight scenes is difficult.

First | Previous | Next

...

At this rate, it was honestly a miracle that Tails hadn’t had to buy a new carpet yet.

Thankfully for Sonic’s sanity, his little brother’s determination to preserve their house meant that he’d been given lots of free rein to run around outside whenever he felt like leaving. He’d also been given fewer chores lately, as Tails knew from experience that Sonic did not thrive on order and routine like he did.

It had been three days since their visit from G.U.N. and their last contact from Omega- and Team Dark in general. Though he never said as much, Sonic was really having an issue with the fact that Tails had gotten to contact his friend twice by now, while he hadn’t heard from Shadow in ages. He tried his best not to worry, but it had just been such a long time since he’d spoken with the other hedgehog.

And Omega had said that Shadow was struggling...had practically had to relive one of his most traumatic memories….

Sonic decided that he didn’t care about any of the hybrid’s usual thoughts about expressing emotions or vulnerability- the second he got to see Shadow for real, that guy wouldn’t be able to escape the hug he had coming. The hero was practically determined to drag his friend (because they were friends, no matter what Shadow might say) to a therapist, too, since Chaos knew the guy needed it.

The blue hedgehog slowed down considerably and began to stalk through the forest instead, trying to get the majority of his anger out through his legs and movement. It wouldn’t do for Tails to see him like this…

Sonic’s thoughts circled back to how his hands were tied by what he’d promised Shadow- the hybrid had been so insistent, but now Sonic regretted agreeing not to go after G.U.N. Truthfully, the only reason he hadn’t broken his promise already was because while Tails was an incredibly clever and talented person, he could never forgive himself if the young fox got hurt. Otherwise, he would absolutely have long since blasted into G.U.N.’s headquarters, grabbed the commander by the front of his military uniform and told him in no uncertain terms that he had better stop hunting Team Dark and he’d better do it immediately. The hero had had enough of his friends suffering while he was forced to sit safe at home and wait.

His phone buzzed then, pulling him out of his tangled web of thoughts. Tugging it out of his windswept mess of quills, he saw that it was Tails calling and of course picked up immediately.

“Yeah, lil’ bro, what’s up?” he asked, hoping that most of the frustration had left his voice by now.

“Uh, Sonic?” the fox said, sounding pretty tense himself. “Since those agents came to our house a couple of days ago, I managed to hack into G.U.N.’s main server and now I can see some of what they’re doing- mostly where the organisation's sending people and all that.”

“Epic!” Sonic cheered. He began to wonder- could they use this to help their fugitive friends?

“Well, yeah, it would be...except that they’re sending an entire squad to our house. Like, right now.”

His grin froze in place. A squad of soldiers? The hero almost felt a grim sort of delight in that- finally, he’d be able to vent some of his frustration on the organization that had caused this whole mess. He hoped the house would remain standing, though. Tails had built it around a tree from scratch and was really proud of it.

Sonic decided he’d work that out once he got home, and just a moment later, a sonic boom exploded across the landscape as he took off.

…

Once the hero arrived at home, the duo began to set up the house’s various defense mechanisms- since they were a) very famous, b) hated by one of the most powerful supervillains in the world and c) one of them was an engineer, it was only natural that the house would be at least as well defended as a high-security bank vault. Sonic practically bounced around the house as he helped activate certain parts of their machinery, nervous tension running high. G.U.N. wasn’t going to be pulling any punches this time, he was sure of it.

Tails, by contrast, was absolutely calm. The fox was ridiculously mature for his age, and Sonic suspected that he instinctively knew by now when he needed to counteract his elder brother’s wild energy. Once everything was set up, the two built a makeshift barricade as a last resort at the front door, and waited.

Thankfully for Tails’s sanity, it didn’t take long for the trucks to arrive.

As the three trailer trucks parked outside his house, ten soldiers poured out of each one, while several technicians began to set up some sort of weird-looking prototype laser device. The fox laughed for a second at the sight of it in a way that sent a few chills down Sonic’s spine. His brother could be downright terrifying at times.

Tails scoffed. “Please. That laser doesn’t have the power output to break my shields….wait.

“What the heck?”

The four technicians had begun to hook up the laser to- of all things- one of Eggman’s old power cores that he usually used in his bases.

The young engineer tugged at his tails in frustration. “That’s so dumb! Sure, it might boost the laser’s strength, but there’s at least a twenty percent chance it’ll blow up in their faces! A small machine like that wasn’t made to withstand the amount of power it takes to charge an entire Eggman base!”

Sonic blinked and looked at his brother. “Those aren’t bad odds….”

“They aren’t good ones, either! I’d never let someone use a creation of mine with a one in five chance of failure. It’s just embarrassing! And it shows how far behind their engineers are!” Tails’s fur was fluffed up in outrage and irritation.

The hero almost laughed. “That’s what you complain about first? Not the fact that they’re gonna try and blow up our house?” he asked, his tone light. He snatched up the fox and rushed them both away from the front door as a precaution- that was definitely going to be their first target.

Sonic pushed Tails into the highest room in the house, before launching himself out the window and curling up into a deadly sphere of razor-sharp spikes. He vaguely heard one soldier yell something in a panicked voice, but didn’t pay much attention to it. He slammed into the ground, still in a ball, and tore off towards the laser cannon at top speed, leaving a cloud of dust behind him as he went.

Irritatingly, the soldiers’ gunfire spattered all around the cannon, making it impossible to tear the thing apart. Sparks flew across the ground as Sonic careened around it before jumping up into a running stance and taking off in their direction. The air snapped around him as he broke the sound barrier and landed a furious kick on one of the trucks, denting the heavy steel and flipping it onto its side.

Sonic stumbled as a loud explosion rocked the ground, but kept sprinting after a glance assured him that Tails’s shields had held against the blast. The hedgehog smacked one man’s rifle out of his hand, the sheer speed of the blow bending it in half (and was almost certain he heard a distinct ‘why do we keep fighting this guy with guns?’) before he moved on.

A dozen soldiers were on the ground either unconscious or groaning in pain by the time someone thought to radio for reinforcements- which they’d apparently had on standby ready to be helicoptered in. The blue blur wasn’t sure whether this high estimation of his fighting skills was something he should be proud of...or not.

The fur prickled on the back of Sonic’s neck as a humming noise filled the air.

A moment later, he threw himself to the ground as a red-hot laser carved a wide arc above him, slicing through the area where his midriff was a few seconds ago. He heard a faint yell of outrage from inside the house above all the noise, and stuck out his arm for a quick thumbs-up to Tails.

A couple of seconds later, one very familiar and well-used earpiece landed in the dirt next to him as the laser swung back across the battlefield to refocus on their shields. Sonic shoved it into one blue ear before running up the side of the second truck and backflipping to land behind several soldiers. “Miss me, guys?” he asked smugly, before smirking and delivering several well-placed blows to said soldiers’ kneecaps that left all three doubled over on the ground. None of them had even seen him as he moved, which was really a testament to Sonic’s skill.

Tails’s voice crackled to life in his ear as he sent another person flying. “Awesome job! By the way, they’ve already fired the cannon three times, so either their luck is going to be great with this next one, or else…”

The cannon’s shot breached the shields, but Sonic noticed as he ran that its casing was burning red-hot, and-

A shockwave blasted out from the cannon, making all four of its attendants fly into the air, yet in the seconds before they hit the ground, Sonic had time to:

Heave a lengthy sigh at their overestimation of the cannon.

Decide that even if they were working for G.U.N., a life was still a life.

Run around and safely place all four of them inside of a truck...

And avoid the explosion as it tore up the ground within a ten-foot radius of the machine.

(The hero had known for quite some time that being the fastest thing alive meant that he could do some really cool tricks.)

Dirt exploded in all directions, leaving a crater and a smoking lump of metal on the ground. Unfortunately, though, the house’s main defenses were down, and any second now, the helicopter would be there with enough soldiers to take out the rest. And his little brother was still inside...

As though he’d heard the hedgehog’s thoughts, Tails’s voice crackled to life through the speaker. “Sonic! The reinforcements are almost here- we can’t take them all, even if I come out there!”

“Not happening, pal, not unless you’ve got your mech.” Sonic insisted, putting on his ‘big brother’ voice. “Hey, wait- where’re they going?” he asked suddenly, watching as the remaining soldiers retreated to take cover behind one of their trucks. That wouldn’t really help them, but Sonic knew that they knew he couldn’t take the whole organization on by himself.

“They’re waiting it out until the rest arrive...but we won’t be here by then.” Tails said, sounding confident.

“And why’s that, pal?” He folded his arms, keeping one eye on the soldiers.

“Because-” and here Sonic suddenly heard a loud roaring noise coming from the back of the house, “-we’re going to get out of here!”

That was when the Tornado soared directly over their heads.

The G.U.N. soldiers certainly tried to shoot the plane down, but of course, they couldn’t keep up with Tails’s expert flying. Bullets embedded themselves into nothing but trees as it flew away into the forest, a blue streak taking off after it at top speed. Sonic kept up with the red biplane easily, just waiting for the right moment to...there!

He launched himself off a particularly well-placed branch, flinging himself high into the air before landing perfectly on the wing of the plane. “Alright, Tails,” he yelled, trying to make himself heard over the roar of the engine, “where to now?”

The kitsune winced and tapped his ear. “Earpiece, remember?” he asked, and Sonic cringed, realizing that he had forgotten what it was like to wear the little speaker while on the Tornado.

“Ahah, gotcha.” he said sheepishly. “So?”

Tails sighed, but not in an irritated manner. “Angel Island- nobody can find it if Knuckles wants to stay hidden. I called him up while you were out front and he said we could crash there.”

“Oh, sweet!” Sonic said happily. “It’ll be like a sleep...over…”

He trailed off weakly, suddenly remembering their home. “Sorry about the house, pal...I know ya worked hard on it.” The hero ran a hand through his quills, unwilling to meet the other’s eyes.

“It’s okay.” Tails said bravely. “I brought a few things-” he gestured to the backseat- “including all my blueprints, so I can always build us another. And besides…” here he leaned forward, catching Sonic’s eye, “home is wherever we are, so long as we’re together.”

The blue blur quickly nodded before looking down pointedly at the biplane’s wing, hoping strongly that Tails didn’t notice that his eyes had begun to glisten just a little more than usual.

(He did, though.)

…

Knuckles was happy to see them, of course, if a little less obviously so than usual due to the circumstances that had forced the two into this situation. The guardian immediately began to move the island to a new area where it would be hidden from view, while Sonic and Tails just relaxed and looked through the various items that the latter had thought to bring: a spare pair of shoes for Sonic, a toolbox and the aforementioned blueprints for Tails, plenty of food for the three of them, and of course lots of important technology.

As Tails left to go check on Knuckles, the blue hedgehog stretched out on the grass and heaved a deep sigh. What he’d give to know how Team Dark was doing right now…

…

Two days later, he found out.

The very moment that the team released the video, all three inhabitants of Angel Island sat down to watch it on Tails’s screen. The fox had been constantly monitoring the Internet for anything about the other team, especially their social media, so of course he was alerted the second anything came up.

Before they started the video, the hero had been vibrating with energy.

By the end of the section about the ARK, he was completely still, his eyes as wide as they could go.

Tails paused the video there, as the massive wave of responses was already starting to flow. Sonic blinked back to reality to discover that his nails had nearly torn holes through his gloves- that was how tightly he was clenching his fists. He rolled his shoulders, trying to get the tension to leave his body, but he couldn’t stop thinking.

How in the name of Chaos did Shadow watch that?

They agreed that Tails would watch the rest while the other two stepped up to support their friends, and support they certainly did. Both of their tempers were running hot, and more than once the fox, glancing over their shoulders, had to remind them that caps lock was not going to be helpful right now.

Not long after Team Dark had stopped responding to questions, Sonic and Knuckles sat back down to view the other part of the video. They watched in shock as the peace and power of that meeting was violated, people arrested just like that, and yet neither of them had heard anything about this event.

Immediately afterwards, the latter got right back onto his phone and started typing out absolutely vicious responses to some of the more ridiculous conspiracy theorists. His violet eyes were narrowed in anger as he tore into their ideas- while he might not be able to convince the people themselves, he could hopefully stop more from being sucked in.

Sonic, meanwhile, just lay half on his side in the grass for a minute, trying to restrain the urge to scream. Why hadn’t he done more damage to G.U.N. when he’d had the chance? Why hadn’t he been able to see that this ran so deep?

Sonic turned his head to the side to look at his brother. “Tails?” he asked, trying to keep his voice under control. “Where’s Team Dark gonna go next, d’ya think?”

The kitsune frowned. “I don’t know...but if I had to guess, they’re probably trying to figure out how deep this whole problem goes. That’s what I think we’d do if we were in that situation, at any rate. To find that kind of stuff, though, they’d have to head straight to Central City and hack directly into G.U.N.’s mainframe...which would be incredibly risky on a good day.”

Sonic shot upright. “What if they are gonna do that next?”

Tails shook his head vehemently. “After running away from the entire organization for so long? That’d practically be a suicide mission! Even if they somehow managed to escape with the information, G.U.N. would be able to hunt them down in no time!”

The two brothers stared at each other. “But that sounds like them….doesn’t it.” Tails sighed, looking down at the grass.

“Knux!” Sonic yelled, rushing over to where the guardian sat. “We have to hang around Central City, man. If the team’s gonna head anywhere, it’ll be there. And if they’ll be in that much trouble by the time they get out of there, we have to be there to pick them up.”

Knuckles leveled him with a stare so flat it put sheets of paper to shame. “Sonic. Literally three days ago, I helped you guys escape G.U.N. and we have been hiding ever since. And now you want me to move my island, with the last ruins of my tribe’s temple and my Master Emerald, within reach of an organization that would give anything to be able to take it all for their scientists to look at.

“No. Way.”

The hedgehog widened his stance. “Knuckles.” he began, stabbing a finger at the ground for emphasis. “Literally ten days ago, Team Dark escaped G.U.N. all by themselves and have been on their own ever since. And now you want us to leave our friends, and remember, your girlfriend at the mercy of that organization, for the sake of a giant rock.

“Yes way. Absolutely.”

Knuckles scowled and blushed, avoiding Sonic’s stare after that mention of Rouge. “I guess….if we stayed away from the city itself and out of sight….”

Tails decided that this was a slightly safer moment to chime in. “I’ll try and monitor the airwaves in the area- we can move away if we think they’ve noticed us!”

“All of this is assuming that they’re even actually there.” the echidna replied, seeming slightly irritated at being outnumbered.

“It isn’t the most logical place for them to go.” Tails agreed. “It’s ridiculously dangerous, and G.U.N. probably knows that. But, it’s also their most powerful building, which means that it’s going to have all of the more recent files there.

“While this video is some damaging evidence, it’s not nearly enough to permanently damage their standing overall...they definitely have the cash to sneak out of this level of bad press. A bigger release- now that we know this isn’t a one-time event- is definitely the best way to deal with them. And what better way to do it than to find all their super-secret files at the source?”

Sonic sighed. “Plus, I’ve got a feeling G.U.N.’s gonna underestimate that team’s habit of suffering to save others.” His shoulders sagged slightly at the thought, but he felt a little bit of the weight lift off of them when Tails leaned against him slightly with an understanding look.

The echidna watched them sympathetically for a moment before remembering that he was supposed to be arguing against them. “Well, why don’t they just go back to whatever place they busted first? That sure wasn’t in Central City.”

Sonic rolled his eyes. “It’s ‘cause they’d be expecting them there, knucklehead. Never return to the scene of the crime. That’s what they say in all the TV shows, right, Tails?”

“Well, while this is not a TV show, Sonic, you’re right.” the kitsune said, sighing. “That’s another reason for them to go to Central City.

Knuckles gave a mixture of a sigh and a growl, stalking back to the altar where the Master Emerald floated. “Fine. But if this goes south, I am blaming your-” he pointed a vicious finger at Sonic- “spiky butt for all of it.”

The hero grinned at his friend in a way he knew got under his spines, and was rewarded with a huff and another grumble. Yet the island still began to move, shifting eastward from the center of the country towards Central City.

Hold on, guys. Sonic thought, feeling properly hopeful for the first time in over a week. We’re on our way.

#shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #team dark #scars you can't see #sycs #i tend to imagine certain scenes from fanfics as movie scenes #and i think that shows in the fight in this chapter #by the way #i'll try and release a new chapter every two weeks #but that schedule is very #very #VERY tentative #there should probably be about 13 chapters in all #give or take #hope you're having a nice day! thanks for reading!#(and i hope this chapter turned out alright too)#sol’s fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Mask of Death - Ashes and Embers

I’m reworking and retooling some of the older installments of tMoD with better grammar, and presentation, and this is still one of my favourite chapters of the series I have penned so far. Thus, I’m sharing it with you again, it might even be completely fresh to some of you. Link to full series is in the bottom notes!

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

Captain TL-440 - often called Teel for short - had never seen the man quite like this. It was an awe inducing sight, a sobering reminder of the fact that despite his Force powers; Vader was just as mortal as the rest of them.

Some people would believe Vader was nothing but an expertly crafted droid; that he was unbreakable and unstoppable. That he had no heart, no humanity, no soul. Teel knew better. Especially now, as the dust settled on the carnage of the battlefield. The air was polluted by thick black smoke, fire scorching what was left of blown up AT-AT:s, shuttles and speeder bikes. Bodies were everywhere. Some familiar squad members perished in the brutal fight. Some rebels with their uncovered faces locked in perpetual terror.

Teel himself had come out fairly unscathed. He’d been assigned to a defensive position at the back, rather than the usual offensive front. Thinking about it now, he couldn’t see any traces of the commander who had executed the order to advance. Sure, Teel was very aware of the fact somebody had figured it’d be a good idea to stab a vibro-blade into his side. It stung like a bitch, but it wouldn’t kill him.

Unlike several of his fellow troopers, who laid strewn about all around him in bits and pieces, Teel would heal. The gaping holes in his comrades chests were disheartening; their missing limbs impossible to relocate. He could hear someone coughing in the distance; the hacking gulps of dying man suffocating on his own blood.

In the beginning, the aftermath of battle had made Teel sick. Overwhelmed by nausea, cold sweat had wet his forehead. Sometimes he’d found himself throwing up, wondering how he was ever going to get used to the sight of his friends torn to shreds. These days, after all carnage he had witnessed, Teel felt little more than pity for his fallen peers. Pity for the poor bastards who weren’t lucky enough to get a swift shot to the head.

How many survivors were there, even?

Teel had counted ten plus two so far.

Was that it?

They had been a thousand men strong when they left the cruiser for the DX transport shuttle. The officers and admirals paid them little attention at any given time, thinking them to be disposable and easily replaced. Teel despised the stuck up, spoilt Imperial overheads; despised them and how little regard they had for their subordinates. Vader was different. Vader had always been different.

Vader was on their side, Teel had realized early on. Vader fought alongside them, got down in the trenches and trudged without complaint through the warzone. He was often up ahead, leading the troops on by inspiring them. Vader seemed fearless, pressing on and never faltering. Never wavering. It was no secret that Vader shared the same contempt towards the Moffs who preferred to sit in their pampered palaces and beach houses as Teel and his men did. The high society would be sipping wine as their slaves saw to their needs while their troops were mowed down by enemy Rebellion forces. Vader, for all that he was, seemed to accept the soldiers as self serving individuals. Vader seemed to recognize that they were people, and even seemed to respect some of them.

Teel himself had done battle alongside Vader enough times, that he knew that they both appreciated the other’s efforts. That’s what made him dare to approach Vader in this moment. While the rest of the surviving squad members withdrew in retreat, keeping their distance out of fear, Teel persisted. He knew as well as his comrades that in this state, Vader may be lethal even to his own men.

Still, the captain had faith in the only man of the Imperial army who would dare gamble with his own life alongside theirs. The man who was - despite what governor Tarkin and his fellowship might think - second only to the Emperor in power. Highest command; and yet here he was, on the bottom of the ladder fighting beside the ground forces.

Vader’s majestic cape was in tatters. Not much remained of it; gaping still sizzling holes left by blaster shots and vibro-blade slices lining the ruined fabric. Vader's boots were caked with mud and drying blood, shrapnel digging into the shin guards. Wires hung exposed from his chest monitor; electrical bolts sparking on and off in uneven intervals. His hands were curled into tight fists, one of which still clutching the hilt of his crimson light saber - he other exposed for what it was; cybernetics and metallic prosthetics. The man's chest armour was cracked; his robes in ragged shambles.

But there was one thing that Teel noted above all as unusual. Among the embers of charred bodies, and fizzling equipment; he noted the tear in the side of Vader’s bodysuit. But above, he spotted blood. Deep red, humanoid blood soaking through Vader’s clothing; through the left side of his upper torso.

What more, beneath the mass of torn fabric and red smudges there was skin. Deathly pale skin, injured human flesh. Teel didn’t comment on it, but simply watched in amazed silence. He listened to the still rhythmical, still steady breathing mechanism of Vader's. It was a small wonder that that seemed to have taken miniscule damage.

“Are you ready to retreat, Lord Vader?” Teal finally allowed himself to ask.

“In a moment.”

Vader’s booming vocals were as imposing as ever, an undercurrent of suspicion and wariness seeping through the deep bark. Teel relied on his judgment, he knew Vader’s powers as a Force wielder granted him almost superhuman senses and prowess. It had helped save their lives when traditional tactics failed several times in the past.

Still, Teel let his dark eyes hidden behind the visor of his own helmet linger on the oozing, dark blood. Vader was merely a mortal man. Mighty, unstoppable like a hurricane. But then more than ever, the thought that Vader could die crept up on Teel. Vader could be bested and defeated. He didn’t want to dwell on that scenario. Instead, the captain waited patiently beside the dark, towering figure.

Vader appeared focused on something far off in the distance, standing perfectly still as if he hadn’t even noticed he’d been injured. As if he was unaware of the fact that he was bleeding rather heavily. As if he had no clue that he was wounded,and battered, and bruised, and probably needed a pretty good repair job done on both his suit and his body. The deep gashes in his chest piece just above the wound bore telltale scratches created by vibro blades. And direct blaster fire hits. Smudges of ashes, and dust, and mud linger along the indentations. Meanwhile, dark blood lazily making its way down towards the exposed cybernetic arm in a steady stream; the crimson fluid clinging to mechanic silver making for a jarring contrast.

“Whatever survivors there are have departed. They have lost more men than we have,” said Vader finally; tone meticulous.

Now that was a good omen.

Vader never seemed to care for his own safety, always seemed to want to get the job done no matter the cost. Still, Teel figured that even Vader must be feeling the exhaustion, the fatigue, and the pain of his injuries as soon as the adrenaline rush of combat wore off. He didn’t doubt that Vader could have gone on for far longer, had another wave of rebels attacked; but Teel still released a heavy sigh of relief. There was always a possible what if scenario, and he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of trudging on without Vader at the helm.

Slowly, Vader began to turn his back on the setting sun ahead; as the crackling flames little by little became the only light in the dark of early nightfall. Switching off his light saber to clip it to his belt he stood tall, not as much as a limp to his step. Perhaps Vader's movements somewhat sluggish when compared to his usual gait, but otherwise he came across as resolute as ever.

Teel watched Vader pause and bring his gloved fingers up towards the thoroughly soaked side of what remained of his robes and chest piece. The captain watched him withdraw his hand, the stench tang of iron and scorched flesh thick in the air. Its sickly aroma was coming from everywhere around them; from the tattered and dismembered corpses. Vader’s hand came back drenched in blood as it withdrew; and the man appeared to contemplate something as he studied it.

“It appears you will be sleeping in your own bunk tonight.”

It was then that Vader finally turned to face Teel head on, and the stormtrooper had to fight back a gasp of shock, biting back the startled noise that wanted to slip out.

The entire left side of Vader’s face plate was mangled, misshapen and cracked. What lay beneath was now exposed as the lense of the same side had shattered and fallen out. The deathly pale, twisted and scarred flesh Vader's torso had displayed carried over to his face. The features were grim and distorted, little more than shadows in the dark of night; but the fires all around cast just enough light to reveal an eye.

One single, deep set ember eye.

The eye was bloodshot, its socket hollowed, and dark rimmed, and sunken. Light reflected off of it like a predator stalking its unwitting prey in the early morning hours. Teel almost believed the eye was generating its own light, and glowing all on its own.

“Yes, milord,” he finally managed to choke out, giving a curt nod of acknowledgement and obedience.

The single burning golden eye fixed his gaze, even through the visor Teel felt it bore pry itself deep into his conscious mind. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. He was suddenly freezing, despite the heat of the furnace the battle field had turned into, and the many flames in the close proximity. He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end; his fingertips going inexplicably numb. How many men had seen Vader unmasked and lived to tell the tale? Teel feared he may have brought ruin onto himself by simple exposure.

Then, the glowing eye broke the stare and with it, the stalemate. Its attention shifted to cast one final glance behind them.

“How many survivors have you accounted for?”

“Twelve, milord,” Teel responded, mostly on autopilot.

“Very well. Round them up and bring them back to the hangar bay.”

“Yes, Lord Vader.”

For a brief tense moment; their eyes met once more and the piercing golden iris made Teel’s stomach sink with dread seemed to convey an unspoken warning. Feeling a freezing cold chill pass through his very bones, the soldier nodded and complied with its demand. He was never to speak of what he had seen.

"I expect you to handle your promotion better than your predecessor, commander."

Then, Vader simply turned on his heel and began to make his way back towards the landing site. Perhaps, there was a tiny wobble to his steps? Teel squinted but couldn’t say for sure, and it took him longer than it should to realize Vader had just made him the new commander. The responsibility was more than he had grown accustomed to, but he would never refuse or question Vader's decisions.

Perhaps his concern was unfounded, but he deliberately remained a few paces behind Vader as they walked. Just in case.

Then again Teel thought, as he the look in that one exposed eye remained superimposed onto his inner vision; that one eye only added to the mystery of Vader. The sense of dread it had inspired within seconds, that was not human.

Vader may bleed, but he had the eyes of a beast.

---------

The Mask of Death chapter index:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049894/navigate

9 notes · View notes

blackwolfnsr · 3 years

Text

Meet 1010's (inspired) rival protection squad, Hermanas! Protection squad inspired by @lazypastry , so I decided to give them a bit of a rivalry! Personally one of my favorite 1010 AUs, so I hope you like them!

Also, some extra notes of this sister squad:

•This protection squad works a little differently than 1010; as they protect their district entirely. They work as a secret weapon and are very skilled with their respective elements as well as stealth missions.

•Nikita is the leader and eldest of the 3, and makes sure everything goes as planned. Her weapon of choice is a whip of fire, as well as pyro darts for long range attacks. She can be a little stubborn and a bit prideful at times, but she honestly means well. Just don't underestimate her; Kita thinks that's rude.

•Aria is the middle sister, and is the best for undercover. She's calm, logical, and uses her sharp wits to her advantage; especially during stealth missions. Her weapon of choice includes a staff of ice, and using her ice to make good defense.

•Mira is the youngest of the sisters, and uses her electricity to stun foes during attacks. As she doesn't have a physical elemental weapon of choice, unlike Aria and Kita; she works with hand-to-hand combat and knows how to turn the tides while fighting. She also has a knife or two on her.

•The Quetzal district isn't like any other district with criminal lineage. Especially in battle. Quetzalians fight dirty, meaning they'll use any means necessary to win, including their natural weapoms. These range from their elemental powers, teeth, venom, claws, raw power, horns, constriction, etc. It's even worse if they have their hands/paws/wings/claws on some actual weaponry, such as guns and knives.

•Crime rate in Quetzal is fairly low, but in the words of Aria; animals know how to lurk in the shadows. So most crime isn't usually seen immediately unless one wants to be bold (and stupid) enough to be public.

•You wanna investigate crime lines in the Quetzal district? You better follow the jackal sisters' rules. They spent their whole lives in Quetzal, and the criminals there can get quite dangerous depending on the Quetzalian. For all you know, you could be facing off an Electrokinetic Cobra or a Pyrokinetic Jaguar or a Geokinetic Bear...the possibilities are endless in Quetzal. The girls have seen a lot, but know how to counter most elementals. More or less.

•Mira usually eats lollipops to keep her mouth busy. Also helps her focus a little! So yeah, the thing in her mouth? Not a cig. Though some people mistaken the stick in her mouth to be a cigerette at first glace, but Mira doesn't mind to clear things up. (Also, cigerette smoke stinks and the smell sticks. Which is bad for stealth missions, especially when who you're tailing has a good sense of smell.)

And that's all I got! I hope you like these girls as a protection squad!

Edit: Ok, how tf do I already have 5 reblogs hello???

#nsr #no straight roads #nsr oc #oc #no straight roads oc #art #inspired #protection squad #inspired by lazypastry's protection squad #inspiration

34 notes · View notes

reliciron · 3 years

Text

Decided to write out the important bit of my jedi consular’s backstory.

It should be noted that he doesn’t technically want to die, he’s just very scared of his master and doesn’t see any way to escape.

That said, at the end of the day he does try (and fail) to die by throwing himself at some jedi, so please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with that.

Go to the northern reaches of Brentaal IV. There you will find a small Jedi temple: the place where Grand Master Satele Shan first trained.

It has enjoyed relative anonymity since, but this must change.

Infiltrate the temple. Slaughter everyone within. Show the Jedi that nothing is safe from the Sith.

Do this, my clever acolyte, and I will raise you from the shadows.

You will be my apprentice.

Dust kicks up as he races across the northern plateaus on his stolen speeder bike. It will take hours to track properly, with the damage he left behind. But by then he’ll have either completed his mission…

Or he’d be dead.

He clenches his teeth.

She was mad. She HAD to be.

No.

He shakes his head.

No. His master is many things, but not mad.

Just calculating. And he may be a mere acolyte, but he hadn’t survived this long without learning some of the game.

If her words were true, the Sith would send a platoon, or at least a full squad. Make a show of the massacre to demoralize the Republic and Jedi Order both.

One lone acolyte would not be enough to guarantee victory. Indeed, it was very likely that he would not survive the attempt at all, even with 6 years of careful training from his master.

He’d been her faithful servant. Her knife in the dark. She’d liberated him from Rattatak and kindly taken him under her wing as a boy. He’d learned to wear the Force like a shroud. Hide himself from sight and strike from the shadows.

She gave the word, and he carried out the sentence. A name, a picture, a place, and they’d be dead in a matter of days.

He couldn’t be her apprentice. No matter his talent, he was Rattataki. And as far as the anyone else knew, he didn’t exist.

He KNEW this. She’d said it so many times. But now she was offering it to him.

It wasn’t real.

And the impossibility of the task only affirmed his suspicions.

He was not MEANT to succeed.

He did not exist, yet as more Sith and Imperials fell before him it became harder and harder to keep his existence secret. And she would never let him go, not when he knew so much of her secrets.

He was a liability now. One she hoped would take care of itself in a pointless attack on a temple.

He should run. He SHOULD, but he CAN’T.

His throat goes tight and he slows down a bit as the temple’s coordinates loom on the navigation computer.

He’d tried to run once, before he’d truly understood how much of a PRIVILEGE it was to have been chosen by his mistress. He couldn’t recall the ‘how’s and ‘why’s anymore, but he remembered the punishment had gone on for well over a week.

Run and I’ll find you, little one. And I will not be so merciful the next time.

If he tries to abandon his duty, he’d die all the same, but she’d make sure to make it hurt. At least the Jedi would make it quick.

Yes.

If its one thing the soft-hearted fools abhorred, it was making a being suffer.

There was no way out for him, but an end by their sabers would be better than by her hand.

–

It had been laughably easy to enter the temple. The roomy interior had given him plenty of space to cloak himself and slip through without being noticed by the guardians. He’d made it all the way into the empty training room, where he’d entered a vent near the ceiling and used it to gain access to the meeting room.

Inside there were a handful of masters and their attending padawans, likely a collection of the strongest jedi in the temple. An incredibly foolish target.

But that was the point, wasn’t it.

He could have killed a great many by now. Picked off padawans one by one has he slithered through the building. Had he actually believed the lie his master had told him, he would have.

But he didn’t. And now these Jedi were his best chance for a swift end.

As he grips his lightsaber, he wonders, not for the first time, what his mother would have thought of him. He didn’t remember her, or much of Rattatak for that matter. But he hoped he’d grown to be a strong son, one who might have made her proud, had things been different.

He muffles the sound of the grate being opened, curls his toes over the edge of the vent frame, and leaps.

–

The creature had seemed to come from thin air.

A calm discussion with his fellow masters about possible changes to the curriculum one minute, and a whirl of dark robes and red light the next.

By the time he and the others managed to pull their lightsabers, 3 padawans lay crumpled on the floor with the attacker ready to strike again.

The battle had been vicious.

Master Evren nearly had a leg taken off, and Knight Balrus fell in a burst of lightning before Ixal finally got in under its guard to slice up through it’s hood.

It screamed, bringing its saber up in mindless defense as it clutched its smoking face, but it was a futile effort. He followed through, ducking its arm and spinning around behind to carve his saber deep across it’s back.

It folded like a house of cards, crashing to the floor in a heap of dark robes.

Not dead, but also not getting up any time soon.

Healers and medical droids are called, and to everyone’s relief no one was killed. But it still left them with a host of very injured jedi, and a deeply wounded assailant who should have never made it this far.

–

Once the others have been seen to, he and the few other jedi of rank gather in the assassin’s room.

The scans the droids provided them with were both enlightening… and disturbing.

A juvenile rattataki male, approximately16 years of age. Signs of extensive, long-term electrical trauma, 18 healed fractures, and general malnutrition. And that was all underneath the damage he himself had caused in the battle. Evidently he’d blinded the man - no, boy - in one eye, and his final strike had severed his spine. He was now paralyzed from the waist down.

Stars above.

It’s about an hour more before the boy comes to, numbed heavily around his injuries but not sedated.

They needed to speak with him, and it absolutely could not wait.

Even so, none of them are prepared for the tsunami of terror that all but knocks them off their feet.

He chokes and tugs desperately at his restraints, every inch a panicked child despite the destruction he’d wrought only a few hours ago.

It makes his stomach roil to know he’d not fought a man, but a boy.

“Peace, young one,” he says softly. And the single remaining eye fixes upon him.

A muscle jumps in the rattataki’s jaw before his face goes eerily blank, at odds with the fear still saturating the Force around them.

“My name is Master Ixal. I’m afraid you’ve committed some rather serious crimes here today, but I would like to talk, if you wouldn’t mind.” When all the boy does is stare at him, he smiles, “May I ask your name?”

There’s a long stretch of silence before the answer.

“Acolyte.”

His accent is Kaas-ian, but given that he’s an alien, there’s a very good chance that he was a slave.

“Is that your name, or the one you were given?”

He blinks, as if trying to parse the meaning.

“Did you ever have a different name?”

Something small and fragile flickers across the part of his face that is still visible.

“…. Faun.”

He sighs. Good. Not so far gone that he won’t answer questions entirely, “Faun then. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

“My master sent me.”

A sith then. Were they truly so desperate as to use children?

“They sent you to attack us?”

His eye closes and he seems resigned.

“Yes.”

“Who sent you? Are there more coming? Why is the temple being targ-?”

“It doesn’t matter, kill me and be done with it.”

“What-?”

“I killed your people and infiltrated your temple, is that not enough?!”

He seems desperate then, like a frightened animal, and the fear redoubles in the Force.

“Easy now,” he assures, “You killed no one, all those who were injured survived.” He frowns, “And you will not die for it. We certainly won’t be letting you go, but you will live and be treated fairly. But I can promise you, the more you help us now, the easier things will go for you in the future.”

Instead of being assured, the young man barks a harsh, bitter laugh.

“What, future?! I failed to die! Now my master will come for me to correct my failure!” He positively whimpers and shrinks in on himself, “She’ll be so angry! She’ll make it hurt! Why can’t you just kill me!”

They’re all taken aback by the outburst, but as his words start to sink in a sick feeling begins to settle in to Ixal’s stomach.

“What do you mean you ‘failed to die’?”

“You think I am a fool?!” he spits. “What else am I to believe when she gives me such an impossible task and promises rewards I knew could never be!” He sags onto the hospital bed. “I do not exist. She cannot allow me to be tied to her, and I was no longer worth the risk.”

He truly feared this master of his so much that he would willingly undertake a suicide mission? Stars above, what had this woman done to him?!

He shakes his head. They knew the why now, but not the how.

“How did you manage to make it all the way into the meeting room? You would have had to pass several guardians.”

The boy huffs, voice still raw and wavering, but evening out as they entered more neutral territory. “Your security is poor and my master trained me well. I cloaked myself in the Force, muffled my presence, and walked right passed them.”

A hint of pride threads through the fear in the air, but already a few of their number have left, unable to take such overpowering emotions.

Cloaking is a rare gift. That this young man is capable of doing so, well enough to fool full fledged jedi, is both dangerous and intriguing. Between that, his combat ability, and the hyper-projection of his emotions, they were dealing with a powerful force user, no matter his age.

It only occurs to him now that the young rattataki could have likely killed dozens of padawans and younglings before being discovered.

But he didn’t.

An idea starts to form but he’d need to consult his fellow masters first.

“Thank you, Faun, you’ve been very helpful. Please rest for now. We will speak again later.”

The boy looks wary as they leave, but more than likely the sedatives are already being administered through his drip. He won’t be conscious for much longer.

–

The discussion is heated, with several knights and masters arguing against it, but after consulting the Jedi Council, they finally come to an agreement.

They would attempt to rehabilitate Faun.

Turning a sith was notoriously difficult, but his youth would work in their favor.

The skills of an assassin, Force-cloaking especially, where nearly impossible to teach to jedi. Too close to the dark side for many to want to risk learning. But as much as they may wish otherwise, sometimes those skills were needed, and if they could earn Faun’s loyalty they’d have an invaluable ally.

It would be a long and delicate process. Mind healers would be needed to try and break the chains his master had instilled in his mind, and the physical reconstruction and recovery would be just as taxing.

There was no guarantee that it would work at all, but he genuinely believed it was worth a try.

The poor boy had been through so much. With a bit of work they might give him a second chance at a fulfilling life.

Dark-side or no, the Force practically hummed around him in a way Ixal had not seen since young Satele. He didn’t know what part this young man might play, but he had a feeling he may yet prove essential in the future.

This would not be the end the young man had sought, but a new beginning.

======

From there it takes a long time to deprogram him, and they need to install several internal cybernetic bypasses in his spine to get around the damage. At the end of it, he’s got a pretty serious scar that runs from right shoulder to left hip, a few numb patches on his lower back, and his eye is still blinded. He learns to hide his accent, too. And he’s somewhere in his late 20s-early 30s by the time the game starts.

He was sent to Tython as a fresh start for his padawan training, since no one there would know who he was, aside from the Council.

His companions don’t find out until they’re fighting the First Son and Syo tells them to try and get them to leave or turn on Faun. Zenith almost does leave afterwards, but after a long discussion they all stick with him.

#swtor #jedi consular #character backstory #sith acolyte #he was kidnapped from rattatak and enslaved i just was trying to put it through the lens of what a brainwashed person would see it as #satele shan DOES come from brentaal 4 but everything else is completely made up #so if there is actual information from her backstory that contradicts this then *shugs* whoopsies #tw: suicidal thoughts #sort of

20 notes · View notes

im-fairly-whitty · 4 years

Text

The Witcher Wolf: In Plain Sight

Two years have passed since Geralt was cursed with the ability to turn into a wolf whenever his medallion is removed, a curse that's turned into a blessing now that he and Jaskier are partners in everything they do.

It's no exception when they discover a Nilfgaardian army bearing down on Cintra, headed straight toward a certain child surprise. With Jaskier's help and Geralt's enchanted medallion they must find a way to get into the palace, make sure Princess Cirilla is safe, and get out with her in tow if needed, regardless of Queen Calanthe's orders.

[Chapter 1: Into the Fire] [Chapter 2: Old Friend] [Chapter 3: Bad Luck] [Chapter 4: So Much for Being Smart] [Chapter 5: Secrets] [Chapter 6: The Beginning of the End] [Chapter 7: Out of Time]

Chapter 8: The End

Normally Jaskier actually wouldn’t have minded all that much if the guards posted outside his cell vanished. Normally it might have simply meant a shift change, or a lazy soldier nipping out to do some errands while still on the clock. Normally it might simply be evidence of an overconfident warden who couldn’t be bothered to cover all his prison’s work shifts.

But tonight wasn’t normal.

Even if Wihelm hadn’t filled Jasker in on the city’s looming disaster it would have been given away by hurried orders being shouted down the hallways an hour ago, evidently every armed man in the castle being called upstairs to fight.

Which must mean that the city really had fallen like Wilhelm had predicted, and that the last stand was happening at that very moment.

Which was why while normally Jaskier would be lazily clanging the bars of his cell and calling out if anyone was there after a full hour of being alone, he instead was now watching through the bars of his cell in silence, straining to hear the distant scraping and shuffling and yelling above. Because if he called out now like he normally would have, he had no way of knowing who exactly it would be that came down the steps to find him.

And judging by the several screams he’d heard in the last few minutes it seemed that the chances of it being someone employed by Wilhelm were becoming increasingly slim.

“Geralt, Geralt, Geralt please.” Jaskier muttered to himself. His knuckles white with how tightly he was gripping the bars of his cell.

He couldn’t help idly running his fingertips over the door’s lock despite having spent countless hours already trying to get it open with what few resources he had. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this cell until someone let him out.

Jaskier jolted as he heard a commotion in the distance followed by the thundering of heavy boots down the stairway accompanied by shouted snatches of Nilfgaardian echoing down the stone corridor.

He darted back from the cell door, pressing himself into the dark corner of his cell, heartbeat dangerously fast as his breathing became shallow and sweat broke out across his forehead. The enemy was here, in the castle. How many Cintrians had been killed for them to now be storming the dungeon of all places? Was Geralt dead? Surely Wilhelm was. Where was Cirilla?

“I don’t see any guards left down here, they really were using every scrap they had.” A voice said in Nilfgaardian with an ugly chuckle, making Jaskier jump with how close to the door of his cell it was.

“They left the keys and everything.” Said a second voice gleefully, accompanied by the jangling of what was doubtlessly said keys. “Why don’t we see what kinds they have locked up down here? See if there’s any enemies of the Eternal Flame who need purifying, I’m sure there are.”

Jaskier tried desperately to keep his breathing quiet, hoping against hope that they might skip his cell if it seemed like there wasn’t anyone inside.

He flinched as something thumped the door of his cell, the lock rattling.

“You realize we’re going to have to find the key to every ploughing door if we do.” Said the first voice to the clattering of metal, as if they were flipping through a large key ring.

“Try the fancy one.” The second voice suggested. “Fancy key for a fancy cell. Must have something really good inside, I bet-”

The voice cut off in a gurgling cry that Jaskier recognized as the sound of a sword being shoved through a throat, followed by a second yell that turned into a pained scream and a...sizzling? Jaskier’s heart rate rabbited as the acrid stench of seared skin reached his nose, making his stomach flip.

He held desperately still in the following moment of silence.

“Jaskier, it’s Wilhelm, I’m opening the cell and I’d appreciate it very much if you didn’t attack me as I let you out.” Wilhelm’s voice said.

“Well, if you insist.” Jaskier said, voice cracking in relief as his dread lessened somewhat. Relief that Wilhelm was still alive and had saved him from becoming a Nilfgaardian plaything, remaining dread that it wasn’t Geralt who had come for him.

He moved as the door swung open to reveal his old friend, looking far more tired but still more put together than Jaskier would have expected. In the spymaster’s hand was a sword with runes down the blade that glowed a fiery orange. He didn’t know how many men Wilhelm had to fight to reach him in the dungeon, but judging by the red bruise across his jaw and the blood Jaskier glimpsed on the spymaster’s teeth when he spoke it hadn’t been none.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone but a Witcher wield a sword with igni runestones in it before.” Jaskier said faintly, going easily into the half hug the man pulled him into.

“You learn a few things when you trade international secrets for a living.” Wilhelm said, releasing him after a moment of checking him over for harm. “Geralt and Ciri are meeting us at the back gates, he has the medallion and all your things.” He stooped to pull the sword from the hand of one of the fallen soldiers whose armor was still smoking slightly. “Take this. Keep at my back with your blade up and we have a chance of escaping if we keep to the servant’s passages.”

Jaskier swallowed as he hefted the unfamiliar weapon. The courtly sword training in his youth and subsequent years of adventuring with Geralt meant he was no stranger to the blade, even if he preferred leaving it to Geralt whenever he could. He’d do anything though if it meant getting back to his witcher.

“Lead the way.” Jaskier said, nodding and keeping right behind Wilhelm as they started up the stairway together, moving toward the smell of smoke and cries of the wounded and dying.

***

“Where are you and Geralt planning on taking the princess after this?” Wilhelm asked two long flights of stairs, three hallways, and three dead Nilfgaardians later.

He was panting lightly and whispering as the two of them crowded into the deep shadow of a nook, waiting for a squad of enemy soldiers to pass them in the hallway. The soldiers in the dungeon had evidently wandered from the main group as they’d had little trouble making their way through the castle at first, but the closer they got to the back gate the more they came across and in bigger numbers, forcing them to slow down and dive into hiding places for tortuous moments of bated breath waiting.

“Kaer Morhen.” Jaskier breathed back, barely even sure if Wilhelm could hear him over the clanking of metal shod boots on stone nearby. “It’s the old witcher keep in the Morhen mountains, Geralt winters there, it will be safe.”

“Good.” Wilhelm whispered back, his arm gripping Jaskier’s just a bit tighter as they heard the sound of something crashing in the far distance. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard stories. It’s a defensible position and one few people even know the existence of. You could lay low there the entire war and not be discovered if you played your cards right.”

“Wilhelm, how are we going to get to the back gate?” Jaskier asked, the churning in his gut all consuming now as he watched his friend pretending not to favor his side. He stole a careful glance around the corner before ducking back. “There’s a whole group of them in front of the stairs and they don’t look like they’re moving anytime soon.”

Wilhelm tipped his head back against the stone wall for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before opening his eyes and looking at Jaskier with a ghost of a smile. “I’ve got one last trick up my sleeve, seems like it’s finally time to use it.”

“What kind of trick is it exactly?” Jaskier whispered, unsure why he did not at all like the sound of it.

“Did I ever tell you my mother was a witch?” Wilhelm whispered back, rolling up his sleeves.

“If you ever did it was while we were both drunk enough to forget it immediately.” Jaskier said, now very concerned. “What does that have to do with us?”

“She specialized in fire magic.” Wilhelm said, his grip on his sword tightening. Jaskier’s eyes widened as thin lines of orange light crept down the spymaster’s arms, as if his veins were being filled with the same igni magic glowing from the runes of his sword. “I learned a few things from her, even if I never used them.” Wilhelm said, his whisper sounding rather thin as he gritted his teeth. “It’s how I can wield an igni blade without danger.”

“Wilhelm stop this immediately, it’s hurting you.” Jaskier snapped in panic, knowing firsthand how dangerous wielding unpracticed magic could be.

“Listen to me, I won’t have time to repeat myself.” Wilhelm said, suddenly intense as he locked eyes with Jaskier. In the close darkness of their hiding place Jaskier almost thought he could see sparks in the spymaster’s eyes as the temperature of the air around them began to climb steeply. “I promised your wolf I’d get you out and this is our only option left. I am going to rush the soldiers with as much power as I can summon and distract them away from the stairs. While they are distracted you are going to get past them, up the stairs, and through the final corridors to the back gates. There is no other option and no valid arguments you can give me because I’ve already started- ah.”

Wilhelm hissed, doubling over a bit as his grip on the sword became painfully tight, the chaos in his veins feeding into the sword which was now leaking bits of what looked like liquid flame onto the stone floor. Jaskier tried to move toward him but was buffeted back by a wave of fierce heat.

“I’ve already started summoning magic and I don’t actually know how to stop it,” Wilhelm said, rushing to get the words out and looking up at Jaskier with a painful wry grin. “Meaning that if you don’t do as I say immediately and escape when I give you the chance, then you will make my sacrifice in vain. And you wouldn’t want that would you?”

“You bastard.” Jaskier said, voice shaking as he realized how exactly Wilhelm had backed him into a corner, forcing him to accept his suicidal plan without chance for argument. A well-played checkmate if Jaskier ever saw one. “You’ll die, Wilhelm.”

“Quite likely. Truthfully I have no idea exactly what this will do to me, assuming I survive Nilfgaardian steel.” Wilhelm coughed, his smile showing the blood in his teeth. There were definitely sparks in his eyes now and the fiery light was creeping up the veins in his neck. “But a captain always goes down with his ship. You’ve got plenty of sailing left to do, make sure Princess Cirilla lives or all of this is in vain.”

There were too many things that Jaskier wanted to say in that moment, but there was no time to decide between them. He couldn’t even hug Wilhelm, who was now surrounded by the scent of scorched cloth. The spymaster nodded to him with one last smile, and then turned to step out of their hiding place and into the hallway, in plain sight of the group of soldiers.

“Hello you lot!” Wilhelm called, sounding almost cheerful as he raised his sword, which burst into flame, casting sharp flickering shadows all down the hallway. “Heard you like fire, care to try a bit of mine?”

For a moment--the moment when unbearable heat flooded the hallway, the moment that Nilfgaardian curses echoed through the air and the clank of armor erupted as all the troops within sight of Wilhelm charged him--Jaskier nearly froze. He nearly stayed pressed against the wall, watching in horror as his old friend gave himself over to a fiery chaos he barely understood in order to give him a fighting chance, a beacon of living flame that charged down the hallway to meet the soldiers head on.

But he didn’t, turning and running down the hallway now cleared of enemies, throwing himself up the stairway as he scrambled to reach the landing above them that would lead to escape.

“Give your wolf my regards!” Wilhelm’s voice echoed after him, followed by a roar of flame and the sickening ringing clash of steel on steel.

Every time Jaskier blinked he could see the after-image of Wilhelm burned into his vision, a ghostly image that slowly faded as he scrambled higher up the stone steps, unsure whether he was out of breath from fear or horror or grief as he climbed.

Because he couldn’t turn back, he couldn’t turn back or everything Wilhelm had done for them would be to waste. And so Jaskier crushed down his grief and fear under his adrenaline and ran down the hall once he reached the end of the stairs, forcing himself not to think at all as he pushed all his energy into moving instead.

He had to escape the palace, he had to get to the back gates, he had to get out of the city and pray that Geralt and Cirilla had somehow survived as well. And so he ran.

He ran, and ran and ran.

***

It must have only taken Jaskier a matter of minutes to scale the stairway and wind his way down a series of hallways that led to the back gate, but by the time he finally emerged into the night air he felt like he’d aged several years.

Geralt and the others were nowhere to be seen, which didn’t surprise Jaskier all too much despite the heavy pit it set in his stomach. With all the sneaking they’d had to do of course he’d missed the rendezvous, and if he’d been able to he would have commanded Geralt to get Cirilla to safety without him anyway had he known how bad things already were. This city was no place for a child.

It was no longer a place for anyone.

He adjusted his sweaty grip on his sword as he breathed in a lungful of the smoky midnight air, looking at the havok around him in what was left of the castle courtyard. Carts overturned. Dead horses and riders scattered across the grounds. The castle walls lit by the dreadful light of the flames beyond that seemed to be swallowing the city of Cintra whole.

He knew he should move, should already be ducked into the safety of shadow, but Jaskier felt pinned in place by the awful sight. By the sound and heat of the roaring flame as a city fell around him, the stench of death heavy in the air as screams, the shriek of metal on metal reverberated through the night.

And here he was, utterly alone and unarmored in the midst of it, with a stranger’s blade in his hand and no escape or friendly face to be found that hadn’t already been killed.

Cintra had fallen utterly into the hell of the eternal flame.

A group of Nilfgaardian soldiers came around the corner, spotting him immediately. Jaskier felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him as he dazedly saw the flickering light of the ablaze city glinting off their black winged helmets.

“Another sacrifice for the eternal flame!” One of the soldiers shouted with malicious glee, advancing on Jaskier, his companions moving to cut off all his chance of escape.

Jaskier gripped his sword with both hands as he heaved it up, already knowing he had no chance at all of defeating five men on his own, but already committed to putting up as much of a fight as he was able.

There was an unexpected strangled shout and Jaskier flinched as two of the men keeled forward, felled by a single sword stroke from behind. The other three spun to face their attacker, but a blade moving almost faster than the human eye could track dropped them all to the dirt in quick order, ending the fight before it even had the chance to begin.

The soldiers' fall revealed the panting Witcher standing behind them, his teeth bared in a snarl and his eyes utterly black with cat.

“Geralt!” Jaskier choked, dropping his sword to the dirt as he threw himself at the man.

Geralt caught Jaskier with one arm, holding onto him fiercely as the bard clung to him while still keeping his sword at the ready in his other hand. Jaskier felt an icy-hot shivery feeling pass over them as Geralt automatically draped a protective quen shield over them both, likely not even realizing he’d done it.

“Are you alright?” Geralt demanded, quickly pulling them deeper into the shadows of the battlement and out of sight of any more wandering soldiers. A protective growl underlined his words as the Witcher scented Jaskier, doubtlessly searching him for any pain or wounds underneath the thick scent of fear and relief that was sure to be there.

“Thanks to you.” Jaskier said shakily, burying his face against Geralt’s chest as a stray tear of relief escaped down his cheek. “Even I’ll admit that one against five isn’t a very fair fight after a week sitting on a cot. I-I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you again, I thought you’d already gotten Ciri out of the city and-”

“I’m here now,” Geralt said, quickly kissing the top of Jaskier’s head while still keeping a wary eye on the mayhem of the courtyard beyond them. “I got Mousesack and Ciri out beyond the city wall before coming back for you. Where’s the spymaster? He said he’d meet us at the gate.”

“He...ah...well you see...” Jaskier’s voice kept breaking as he tried to explain, likely telling Geralt everything he needed to know.

“Let’s get out of this blasted city.” Geralt said, his voice softening just a bit as he took Jaskier’s hand in his, gripping it through his thick leather glove. “There’s nothing left here but monsters and ghosts.”

“Please let’s.” Jaskier said, taking a shaky breath and picking up his sword again.

“Stay close, stay quiet.” Geralt said. “We’re going to dart to that burning wagon, behind the stables there, and then it’s a straight shot to the back of the city. We’ll drop down into the sewers and it’ll spit us out on the other side of the wall into the forests where Roach is waiting. Ready?”

Jaskier squeezed his hand back in response, bits of ash settling on his dark hair and eyelashes.

“Then let’s move.” Geralt said.

He looked around one last time before pulling them into a low sprint through the burning wreckage that had once been the royal courtyard of Cintra.

***

Geralt was half carrying Jaskier by the time they finally reached the clearing two miles away from the city wall. The cat elixir had worn off sometime after they’d emerged from the sewers, returning the night to its muted dark colors around them rather than the harsh silvery shades the potion usually reduced the night to.

Geralt tried to set the panting bard down, but Jaskier refused to loosen his grip on the front of his shirt, trembling slightly as he fought for breath.

“We’re safe Jaskier, we’re out.” Geralt said quietly, letting his sword drop to the grass. “We need to keep moving soon but for now just breathe, alright love?”

He tugged off his stained leather gloves, dropping them by the sword and then running his hands up and down Jaskier’s back soothingly. He gently tucked his face into the crook of the bard’s neck, re-memorizing the familiar scent after days of its absence.

“Yes, y-yes.” Jaskier said, clearly trying very hard to get his breathing under control again as he shook. He wrapped his arms tightly around Geralt’s neck and buried his face in long silver hair. “And Cirilla? Is she safe?”

Geralt looked around the clearing, scenting the air. In the crisp quiet night the smell of a hard ridden horse passing through was easy to pick out, as was the trail of a worried man and a frightened girl. He brought two fingers to his mouth and gave a sharp blast of a whistle, letting the noise hang in the night air for a long minute.

He smiled as his Witcher hearing caught the faintest whinnying reply on the breeze from the west and he gave a quick second whistle to help Roach return to them from her days of solo wanderings. In a few minutes the mare would reappear and they could be on their way.

“They came through here very recently.” Geralt confirmed, feeling a weight lift from his chest. “And I don’t smell anyone else, meaning they’re safe and we’ll be able to catch up to them quickly enough when Roach gets to us.” Geralt looked back to Jaskier, tipping his chin up enough to kiss him softly. “We did it, we got her out, destiny was on our side. We’re going to be alright.”

The first kiss was soft, but the second was anything but as Jaskier wound his fingers into Geralt’s hair, chasing his kisses with a rising edge of desperation that made them both lose their breath again just when they’d gotten it back. Geralt carefully sat in the grass, pulling Jaskier down into his lap with him in an effort to get them both off their feet for what little time they could linger. He pulled his bard close against his chest as they kissed and touched, both reassuring themselves that the other was really there and in one piece after being apart.

“Don’t you ever wander off in a marketplace again.” Jaskier hissed between kisses, tears freely tracking down his face. “Had to sit alone in a stupid cell all week, it was dreadfully boring.”

“I thought I was going to go mad not knowing where you were.” Geralt hummed, softly biting at Jaskier’s lower lip. “The one time I caught a whiff of your scent off the spymaster, Mousesack had to pull me back from ripping two guards’ throats out trying to follow it. You seem healthy, you were treated alright?”

“Wilhelm is...was....we’ve been friends a long time.” Jaskier said, a shadow passing over his face as he squeezed his eyes shut against his tears.

Geralt grimaced and tucked him closer to his chest, deciding not to ask him to speak of whatever it was that had happened until he was ready. Geralt might have hated the spymaster for what he’d done to help Queen Calanthe delay their escape, but clearly Jaskier didn’t feel the same about the man.

“I think I’m going to need a holiday after this.” Jaskier said quietly, letting Geralt hold him. “Let’s not do something like this again for a long, long time Geralt.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least a year.” Geralt promised, rubbing Jaskier’s back again. “We’ll catch up to Ciri and Mousesack and then it’s straight to Kaer Morhen. Once we reach the mountains we’ll be safe, we can rest there. We can plan what to do with Ciri now that...well, now that we have her.”

“I never did think I’d be a father.” Jaskier chuckled weakly, wiping at his eyes. “I suppose we aren’t the first parents to ever have a child unexpectedly though, we’ll manage. I’m very much looking forward to meeting your family and seeing your keep after hearing about it for two decades, even if I plan on sleeping for an entire month once we arrive.”

“Now that’s a plan I can get behind.” Geralt said, looking up as a familiar mare made her way into the clearing, nickering at the sight of them. He kissed Jaskier’s forehead, brushing his thumbs across his cheekbones. “We’re going to be riding hard so get whatever you need in or out of the packs while I saddle Roach.”

Jaskier kissed the corner of Geralt’s mouth before reluctantly letting him stand. He looked up as Geralt moved to their stashed things and started shifting away the dead branches that had been hiding their packs for the last few days.

“You haven’t been back home since the medallion curse, have you Geralt?” Jaskier asked. “That’s what, two years now? Have you told any of your family about it?”

“I haven’t.” Geralt said, frowning as he hefted Roach’s saddle, brushing twigs off before he set it on the mare’s back. “Haven’t seen Eskel or Lambert or Vesemir in ages and it never seemed like the kind of thing to write in a letter. Not when we were still getting used to it ourselves.”

“So it’s only us that know about it still?” Jaskier asked. “Well, Wilhelm knows...knew...if he helped you change back.”

“Ciri and Mousesack both know.” Geralt said, pulling Roach’s bridle over her head and strapping it into place once he’d finished with the saddle. “Ciri should know, that was always going to happen if we got her. Mousesack sniffed me out the instant we saw each other, and he was able to help me this week because of it.”

“Well it’ll make traveling easier without trying to hide that from the others.” Jaskier nodded, pushing himself to his feet as Geralt finished the saddling. “Do you think anyone knows the princess escaped?”

“There will be no way of knowing until they catch up with us.” Geralt said grimly, handing Jaskier a water canteen. “Which is why we have to assume the worst and keep moving. Roach is fresh, if we ride hard we can catch up to the others and keep to the wilderness until we reach the mountains. This is everything, are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be.” Jaskier said, wiping his mouth as he handed the canteen back to Geralt. He gave the Witcher a tired little smile as he took his face in his hands and gave Geralt a soft kiss. “I’m so happy to see you again, darling, you have no idea.”

Geralt stole a second kiss with a smile, nuzzling the side of Jaskier’s head. “The sooner we get to the keep, the sooner I can really show you how much I missed you.”

“Then by all means let’s get moving.” Jaskier said with the closest thing to a grin that he could muster, heaving himself up into Roach’s saddle.

Geralt tested a couple last straps on the saddle bag before pulling himself up into the saddle behind Jaskier. Despite everything, he felt a sense of relief simply at having the warmth of Jaskier’s back against his chest again.

The road to Kaher Morhen was always a dangerous one, it would have even more perils with the empire searching for their scent, but at least they’d survived this particular night of horrors and were on their way to safety.

He took the reins and pushed Roach into a trot with a click of his tongue, steering them away from Cintra, into the night, and after the scent of their child surprise ahead of them.

He shifted to hold the reins in one hand, wrapping his other arm securely around Jaskier.

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

*Five minutes later* "GERALT I FORGOT MY LUTE WE HAVE TO GO BACK."

Good thing Mousesack got it so Geralt doesn't have to wrestle his bard back onto Roach, lutes aren't cheap you know.

***

Thank you so much for reading this installment of the Witcher Wolf series! Do I have plans to write more I hear you ask, (some of you have in fact asked) and the answer is yes I think so, because I am a helpless slave to my uncontrollable creative whims!

As you may recall this installment was the result of me asking if you the readers had any witcher wolf prompts, in response to which I received a slew of excellent prompts and suggestions. The idea was to take a few at a time and roll them into charming little drabbles and oneshots, so of course I instead went ahead and wrote an eight chapter fic based on one prompt instead.

That said I do love the other prompts in my inbox and have two more installments in mind for them combining most of them. One I think will be another multichapter about the crew's journey to Kaer Morhen, settling into the keep with the other witchers, and meeting up with Yennifer. Much soft good family times in that one. The second is a tense oneshot that I might end up writing in the middle of the softer one since I just finished off a heavier angst story.

That's the tentative plan, but again we all know I'm riding a creative chariot pulled by squirrels, so all bets are off regarding where I actually end up at the end of the day.

TL;DR - Thanks for reading, this series will continue in some form though as always there are no exact guarantees on when or what, so stay tuned! Thank you all so much for your lovely comments as they are what feed my creativity and motivation!

#the witcher #geralt #jaskier #geraskier #the witcher wolf #my writing #wit writes

48 notes · View notes