#{The Ruby Shining Inside The Abyss} | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tidekissed · 4 months

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u can tell me abt ur genshin s/i if you'd like!!!

HI I AM SORRY IM SO LATE TO THIS. I WAS DRAWING THIS STUPID MEME TO GO WITH THIS. @scroldie i think you wanted to see this too!

UHHH general warning for blood/murder/war crimes (kind of)/general fantasy violence.

I'll start this off by pasting a few of her character stories. In Genshin characters get several plus one that explains how they got their vision. This is Zale's Vision story.

Zale was only 15, but she carried the weight of centuries of suffering in her eyes that had already lost their shine as she slipped out of her house in the dead of night a few weeks after Ajax's disappearance. With a portable alchemy kit in hand, she carefully unearthed something stealthily marked with a trowel, digging until the snow and ice finally revealed a perfectly preserved dragon.

With shaking hands, Zale plunged her fist into the chest cavity, extracting the bleeding and still beating heart from the carcass. She squeezed it in her fist, the organ spurting blood onto her clothes from her show of force, and with a new resolve she set to work collecting the ruby red liquid in a beaker directly from the source.

She didn’t add much—just some slime jelly and powder from the dragon’s tooth—before she put the concoction over a small flame and called it done. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, before throwing her head back and downing the entire beaker in one go, frightened tears streaming down her face as she flirted with death.

Fire, red and noxious, spilled from her lips as she cried out in agony, clutching at her chest as if she felt she was being consumed from the inside. In her last moment of clarity, she ripped a scale from the dragon’s body and sliced herself down the middle of her chest, using the pain as a forceful anesthetic as the snow at her feet turned pink and red with her blood.

A Vision, red as the fire and blood, materialized in the fist still clutching the dragon’s heart."

So, essentially, Zale is born a few years before Ajax in Morepesok, Snezhnaya. Childhood buddies with him and my bestie @shimichazukes's insert Piper. Ajax is a little bit of a jokey jokester and gets himself almost killed falling into Abyss, aka a really fucking bad place to be. This makes everyone's lives explode. Zale, being the oldest and the one always yearning for adventure that egged young Ajax to take more risks, feels partly responsible for his disappearance. She grew up pretty sickly and wanted to go into academia, but Snezhnaya values the strong and not necessarily the bookish yet adventurous.

Due to feeling responsible for Ajax's disappearance and feeling helpless as Piper takes the fall for supposedly luring Ajax into it (his parents suck by the way), Zale gets desperate and decides to try something really fucking stupid—eat a dragon's preserved heart. She found said dragon preserved in Snezhnaya's endless ice and snow, marking it for herself for later study without telling anyone. This almost kills her, but she is granted a Vision and ends up pretty...scary. Zale changes dramatically, Ajax comes back but to the left, and Piper is left looking like

So long story short we all get drafted into the military. Piper enlists first because if you're an orphan in Snezhnaya and you make trouble you get sent to, in their words, "gay baby jail," aka the House of the Hearth. Ajax's parents want to get rid of him so he gets scouted second, quickly rising to Harbinger #11, Tartaglia/Childe. Zale is absolutely consumed with guilt and rage and is pressured more and more by the whispers of her parents/the other townspeople saying she's a monster and would do better being useful for her nation, so when the Fatui start playing the typical death cult card of making the very vulnerable and lonely person feel like they're part of a "family" she completely folds and joins as well.

Consuming dragon remains made Zale a little fucked up, to put it mildly. She's essentially superhuman, but due to being human FIRST really pushing herself hurts her. A lot. This is not helped by the fact that once some annoying officer of hers eggs her on to try and kill an Archon (aka a god), which happens to be Morax/Zhongli, and she nearly SUCCEEDS, she is promoted to Harbinger as well and dubbed #0, The Deceiver, or Covielle. (Harbingers are ranked by power, with a smaller number indicating higher power). Her main assignment? Murder of minor gods. She builds up quite a lot of what Genshin lore calls "god residue," and her pain is incredibly bad as a result. For anyone familiar, this is what Xiao deals with. Piper is infected with something similar later. Zale is so willing to carry out these murders because she feels cheated. Aren't gods supposed to protect or at least assist their subjects? If so, why have they forsaken her loved ones? If gods are so willing to abuse their power, she feels she should just take it away from them.

Eventually, she catches on to the fact that something is amiss with the Fatui. She realizes how badly Tartaglia is treated and how his unhealthy habit of viewing himself as simply a weapon is fed into by being used as one, sees Piper fall ill with Tatarigami poisoning as an intelligence officer, and sees how the other Harbingers seem hellbent on making sure she doesn't know the full extent of their plans, intentionally left in the dark and only used as some sort of goon to do the dirty work.

Thus, she leaves without giving anyone prior notice. This is described in another of her character stories.

She thought she was going to die. Fighting so many of her old coworkers all at once was the most taxing thing she had ever done, and she had fought gods for the Tsaritsa. Her Vision, rendered useless by something, hung grey at her side, her Electro Delusion shining a lurid purple as she fought relentlessly to keep from being apprehended. Scaramouche was particularly merciless—she was certain most if not all of the blood streaming down her face and arms was his fault. At least Ajax, her best friend, stood still, making no move to help or hurt her.

She certainly could have picked a better time to turn in her two weeks’ notice. But, of course, everyone was home and awaiting their next assignment when she chose to cut ties. To cut ties as a Harbinger meant your life was to be cut short as well, but Zale had never played by the rules.

For the first time in her life, the Iron Dragon ran. She stumbled through the snow, staining the countryside red with blood and lightning as she made for the border. She would not cause any more suffering. She would not be the reason for any more pain and loss. The gods were wrong, but so too was the Tsaritsa a god. Zale would be taken in by her ruse no longer.

She wasn’t sure how, but she managed to board a ship heading Archons knew where, desperately clinging to life as she lied through her teeth to the captain and said it was an Abyss Order attack that had her in such a state. The boat docked many hours later in some foreign port, and she fell to her knees on the shores of what she would later realize was Liyue.

All she remembered was someone calling to her before her body finally gave up and fainted.

She was battered, bruised, and bleeding, but those angry sparks in her eyes had dulled to cinders, her Vision grey and empty at her breast as she stumbled from the ship and slid to the floor with her back to a stone wall. Her wounds were grave, and she looked as though she were going to pass away quietly at the docks, but that familiar brown coat from years before hauled her to her feet, asking quietly where she wanted to go.

She woke in a home that was not hers to a voice calling her that most certainly was not hers. It belonged to a man who was kind and warm, the polar opposite of the chill back home in Snezhnaya that had nothing to do with the climate. He was saying something —something about needing to take pills—while he dressed Zale’s wounds, and in her bruised and battered state Zale could have cried at how gentle the man was with her. She could not endanger someone so kind with her presence that tainted everything it touched.

Zale slipped out of the house in the dead of night, leaving naught but a note to say thank you and to not come looking for her again…lest trouble follow.

Far more alert, she marched on, away from Liyue and then away from the city of freedom whose freedom her very presence could endanger. She wasn’t stupid. She had seen the Fatui agents the city was crawling with, and she knew there would be a warrant out for her head. If she wanted to survive, her place was not among others. Dragonspine Mountain—cold, lonely, and unforgiving—felt like a fitting place for her. She ascended to the summit, clearing out monsters, braving unusually strong gales, and setting up a makeshift home sheltered by what looked to be an enormous nail.

As she curled into her fur cape, the familiar kiss of the frigid wind lulled her into her first deep sleep in a long, long time.

So, essentially, she hightails it to Liyue, gets nursed back to health by Zhongli and is given god residue management pills that he also gives to Xiao, and then hoofs it to Mondstadt and climbs Dragonspine to live out the rest of her days.

Aaaand then the Traveler shows up. She doesn't particularly want to be their bodyguard, but she also sort of wants a chance to start over and see the world...and maybe learn a little bit more about herself. So, she accepts, and then her story is more intertwined with the plot of the main game. There are some big plot beats that diverge a little bit from what Genshin actually does, namely the Golden House fight and the battle against the Shogun in Inazuma, but this is already long winded enough.

Oh, and one last thing.

That dragon she ate?

She'll eventually learn its identity, and it's an important one. TFW you accidentally complete a burial rite for the king of dragons and end up with an ancient god's power essentially eating you from the inside and telling your body to either adapt and become less human or die. Fun stuff. Never needed that stupid Vision and Delusion after all and the Fatui were just keeping your identity a secret so they could drip feed you Abyssal energy to corrupt you from the inside out so that you would do their bidding!

If you managed to get this far I love you.

#tidepool chats #my god im so sorry i went OFF off

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mercmenagerie · 1 month

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Imagine your muse(s) had to play as different classes for one day. Which class would they choose and would they be good at it?

↳ ❝ [ @infernalpursuit ] ¡ sent an ask ! ❞

Because this got very long very quickly they will be put under a read more! Soldier -> Spy Medic -> Engineer Heavy -> Soldier Spy -> Sniper Engineer -> Pyro

The heft or lack thereof of the knife in his scarred hands is vaguely familiar. Some memory stirred within the ragged-edged abyss of Snuffy's mind, like a predator's eyes shining from the midnight darkness of a jungle. There had been no preamble to this abrupt shuffling of classes; he was simply a soldier one moment and a spy the next. Body feeling much lighter without that familiar weight of ammo belts, flack vest, thick canvas uniform, his launcher, even the shotgun is absent from his kit. Half a thought floats through Snuffy's mind about who might now be drowning beneath all that weight. It brought a smirk to his lips.

Yet, that nagging sense that he's been here before will not abate. Absently flicking the folding knife open, he notes the mean Sharktooth serration near the tang before testing the sharpness against the pad of his thumb. Noting a bright ruby-red droplet of blood that wells up immediately at the press of the blade, Snuffy hums appreciatively. Sharper than sin. Inspecting the blade further, his attention drifts for just a moment to the navy blue pinstripe suit, which is finely tailored to the broad width of the soldier's body. While the man would drop dead before ever admitting it to the Spy's face, it was an extremely nice get-up.

Would he still be a Spy, though? With the shuffling? Was he still a Soldier? Many soldiers had done covert operations behind enemy lines, including espionage, and they were still dubbed just as much a soldier as the next jarhead. That unfamiliar shock of anxiety which had gripped his chest with that thought brought an equally strong wash of anger with it. Only ten minutes in this damn suit without his gear on, and he's already going soft. He needed something to kill. With a grunt, the soldier shrugs out of the expensive suit and undoes the cufflinks before rolling up the sleeves of his thick forearms. Readjusting the grip on the knife, he flicks it closed before depositing the slim blade into the pocket of his slacks.

As the loudest member on the team next to Scout, Snuffy had a visceral kind of glee from thinking about the look on the other team's face right before he slid that blade into their ribs.

This must be a joke of some kind, a joke that Detrick clearly does not understand the punchline to. Gone were the comforting layers of surgical coat and smock, long sleeves to hide the splotches of puckered burn scars he'd tried to get respawn to erase time and time again without success. A slightly crazed laugh bubbles up from the medic as he stares at the wrench in his hands, that tenuous hold he has on his sanity slipping by inches.

"Very funny, you got me! Now give me back my coat." His sharp baritone echoes in the empty respawn chamber, flat, almost patronizing murmurs bouncing back at him. Forcing another chuckle, irritation bleeding into his voice, the medic looks around, trying to find a camera or Scout hiding to spring the prank and tell him it's a ruse. Ears beginning to whine, and Detrick can feel his heart battering the inside of his ribs. In a vaguely detached clinical way, his mind blandly informs him he's beginning to panic.

"Alright, joke is over. Come out now and return my things; I am not--" The word sticks in Detrick's dry throat like a bitter pill. He can't say it. After nearly thirty-three years, Detrick can barely acknowledge the time before he'd begun pursuing his medical profession. He still woke drenched in a cold sweat with the acrid stench of burning oil and charred flesh thick in his nostrils. Ragged broken glass memories remind him of what it felt like to lay in that stinking mud chewed up by their tank treads and realize that nothing in this world mattered. A fundamental part of the man fractured at that moment under the raging cold rain, a distant explosion of tank shells trembling the mud soaking into his wounds.

He'd been young when war came knocking on Belgium's door. Yet, old enough to understand that the constant reports from the radio and civil wars breaking out across the world were only adding to the tensions. Two years later, skirmishes only worsened; by then, Detrick had lost both parents to typhoid and become the sole provider for four younger brothers. War brewed, and when it finally explosively boiled over, his second brother, who had elbowed into an impatient and rowdy adulthood, joined the war effort immediately. Twenty-two and watching as his brothers, one by one, slipped their leashes and chased the conflict, he too finally followed when the youngest had turned sixteen. The blitz began less than a year later and reduced Detrick's entire village to a smoking hole in the ground, taking his youngest brother with it.

Detrick had initially enlisted as a medic in some vain, childish hope that perhaps he would be able to see his brothers again. Or, at the very least, confirm their deaths and snuff out that panicked flutter in his chest that didn't know if they were okay. Yet when there were more dead than injured, he'd been reallocated as an engineer on a tanker crew with the first armoured division near the front lines. He'd been vaguely reassured that he might not see direct combat, but it was a bold lie. She was a Hotchkiss H35 dubbed "Stevig" stalwart—a resolute and unmoving force against the advancing war machine. Detrick was not an engineer by any stretch, only having ever worked on the stray car in his father's mechanic shop.

Stevig and her crew had already won several skirmishes, proudly displaying scars and battle tags. He'd been grafted in like a bad organ. Their last engineer had defected to the enemy's embrace, and how they were given a soft-bodied medic just past his twenty-fourth birthday, who'd barely cut his teeth in the surgical wards. Detrick had scarcely any blood on his hands, while Stevig was steeped in the horrors of war.

Not that this mattered. Stevig had old fuel lines, kept together mostly by tape and epoxy. It had been a god-awful storm when the Belgian armoured division rolled into that killing pit. Detrick should have tried to replace the lines; they'd been rotting like cancer within the tank for months, but they had no funding or spare parts. He should have done more, tried to patch them better, done anything more than what he'd thought would be enough at the time. But he wasn't an engineer. And when the incendiary shell struck the broad side of the tank, it turned into an inferno in the blink of an eye. Detrick felt the flesh boil off his arms, heard the screams curdling into gargles of death, felt a hand pulling him out of his harness and throwing him bodily out of the destroyed tank.

Landing hard in the cold mud, he could barely see through the tears streaming from burning eyes, but it was enough to see the charring body of their driver lying in the dirt next to him smoking. All his meagre medical training had accomplished nothing. He couldn't save anybody in that tank except for himself; even then, there are nights when the cold concrete darkness presses the doctor into his mattress, and he isn't sure if he's alive at all. His whole life after that was just an oxygen-starved hallucination of his brain in its death throes.

Detrick had been transferred back to the medical facility he'd been dismissed from, to begin with. Near constant chronic pain made him cruel, regret bitter, and hearing of his brother's deaths made him numb to everything else. Once all the tiny facets of humanity were chipped away, Detrick had metamorphosized into a monster. He's aware of all these facts, embraces them even. But standing there beneath the stark white fluorescents with nothing but the buzzing from the lights and the ringing in his ears, he gazes down at the wrench in his hand.

"I am not an engineer."

"You look like your father." Misha could feel the warm weight of his mother's hands smoothing down the lapels of his uniform. The knobby knuckles of those hands which had held the man who now dwarfed her each day of his life now brushed a stubbled cheek. Such a small gesture stoked a fierce love in Misha's chest, which is saved only for those whose absence would shatter one's entire world. There is a sadness in her eyes, which the woman tries hard to hide from her son, but he sees it nonetheless as he memorizes the smile lines and crow's feet around those kind eyes so he may never forget them. Misha is leaving, and he doesn't have the words to reassure his mother that he will be okay, so instead, he takes her fragile hands in his own and summons what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

Standing in the stark respawn chamber, hands raised and clasping nothing but empty air, Misha feels cold. A bone-deep chill bites into him like a knife, twisting and pulling apart all the soft parts of him he's hidden well beneath years of callouses and mental walls. Yet, the warm safety of his mother's hands is being carved from him one breath of fridged air at a time. He barely remembers her voice anymore. Misha has to keep telling himself that it is for their safety that he does not visit often and that he does not give up the location of their home to any enemies who may still want to hurt him. Of which there are plenty.

"You look just like your father" It had been a point of pride for the young man to look like someone whom he idolized at the time. Before his father turned into a coward and put their family in jeopardy, he put Misha in the gulag and had his sisters and mother hunted like animals. Now, he would rather spend more years in that Siberian hellscape than ever be compared to that mongrel. He had known that enlistment was coming, the country in turmoil, and he being the oldest and only son, it was only a matter of time. Once that draft letter and uniform had come to their home he'd been ready for it, but he hadn't been ready for that sadness in his mother's face.

He was then thrown into the churning bloody teeth of war. To become a soldier like his father, and his father before him. Generations of conflict, generations of soldiers that would continue with Misha. Fists wrapping around the rocket launched he knows in his head that he is the product of hundreds of soldiers before him and would carry their strength.

When one spends so much time being other people, changes in the base self are glaringly apparent. Maxime notices almost immediately when he respawns without the familiar shift of a well-tailored suit to accompany his movements. Open air caresses the uncovered contours of his sharply angled face, and it's then that a lance of panic stabs through the Frenchman. Looking down, he would nearly laugh if not for the horrifying notion that someone knows this much about his past. Once he'd left the war, he'd meticulously erased this man from existence. It was for both of their good.

A slightly faded crimson uniform hung awkwardly off Maxime's thin frame, having lost some of the muscle definition he'd had then. Leaning on the bench, a bolt-action Lebel 1886 rifle waited expectantly, its dulled gun metal grey bolt catching the harsh overhead light. The sight of his old weapon surprised him, and stepping forward, Maxime reached reflexively behind his ear and found the cigarette waiting there as if the last thirty years had never even passed. Picking up the rifle, he goes through the motions of checking and sighting, which came as naturally as breathing.

Maxime had always been what they call a "single asset" in the military world. Voluntarily enlisting and making it to the "1er Bataillon de Fusiliers Marins Commandos", he'd been thrust immediately into wetworks. He'd been told repeatedly that if missions failed, then the country would deny all affiliations or responsibility to save face from the black book work he'd been doing. Essentially dubbing him as a rogue countryman in the event anything happened. To the orphan who sought purpose in the war, this sounded just fine. Maxime had hungered voraciously to prove he needed nothing and nobody, and clandestine black work would serve him perfectly.

Rifle and close-quarter combat expertise quickly rose to the forefront as skills he'd had a forte in. One must have respect for their rifle or knife, or else it would jam or lose its killing edge. Maxime always kept that edge sharp. But as his covers became deeper, more covert missions, layer upon layer of lives he'd never lived, people he'd never been and faces that were never his made it difficult to grasp who he was or had ever been. He'd only remembered his name was Maxime from a faded picture of a sickly, sallow-faced young man with a haughty flavour of hatred in his slate grey eyes standing in front of Madame Besson's Home for Young Boys. Scrawled across the bottom of this photograph in thin slanting script is Maxime 1931.

He tries not to dwell too long on that picture. Looking to it only when the neatly excised memories of a past better left forgotten rattled the drawers of the morgue he'd stuffed it into in the back of his mind. One did not need to know who they were to end another man's life. He did not need a face, a name, anything. Maxime only needed a weapon.

Three steps toward the door to respawn with that damned Sniper's face bright in his mind, Murphy notices something is wrong. Glancing around the cold clinical space there was a silence save for that constant insectile buzz of overhead lights. Attention is turned inward after deeming his surroundings are not the source of his disquiet. Sweeping eyes over himself, Murphy feels his heart thunder to a complete stop.

A long-necked modified acetylene torch is gripped tightly in the hand, expecting a wrench. Instead, usual thick gloves are traded for grease-stained welding gloves that reach nearly up to the man's biceps. Those thick black stains soaked into all the places that Murphy remembers. Ghostly and just on the edges of perception, that horrible acrid stench of a house ablaze floods Murphy's nose. Squeezing his eyes shut against the memories, the engineer physically cringes away from each sensation, trying to shove them back where they'd been banished too. He wasn't that man anymore. That man had died then and there. Yet, that particular corpse sometimes would crawl out at the worst times.

Welding is an inherently dangerous profession, and if one were to adjust the nozzles and injector valves of his gas tanks, a more significant flame could be produced with relative ease. It made welding large pieces of metal easier for him and made Murphy a sought-after asset in his field. Yet, the dangers were many, lugging around a modified backpack full of highly flammable and explosive gasses while operating an extremely high heat torch. It was a miracle he was alive at all. But Murphy enjoyed it nonetheless, and it was ultimately how he met Lola.

She'd been a waitress at one of the few twenty-four-hour diners that Murphy frequented after long, gruelling shifts at the industrial plant. He was a welder for the aircraft wings being shipped off elsewhere, and the town of Pepperdine had sprung up around the grey beast of a manufacturing plant as the war economy boomed in this small corner of Texas.

Lola had moved there with a now ex-boyfriend, who she alluded got put away in jail for one thing or another. Soft dark hair and sharp honey-brown eyes, she was the flame, and he the moth who wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by the fire. It didn't take them long to move in with one another, and nearly two years later, Murphy had proposed with a thin silver band he'd made himself. Their initials burned into the gleaming metal. They'd been planning the wedding, talking about children, maybe even moving out of Pepperdine to Houston or Dallas. Murphy kissed Lola on that sunny August afternoon two weeks before their wedding, and she told him there would be cherry pie waiting for him after dinner.

Nothing had seemed amiss at first when Murphy came home that evening, not until he found Lola dead on their kitchen floor, slumped in a still-seeping pool of crimson. The acrid smell of a burning pie in the oven filled the room over that metallic iron stink of blood. Panicked and shaking, he called 911 as his mind screamed that this was a dream, it was a nightmare, his Lola was still alive, he was taking a nap in the backroom somewhere, and he'd kiss her later and tell her how much he loved her.

Now planning a funeral instead of their wedding, Murphy floated in a numb haze through life, every day bleeding together as grief hollowed him out. What finally broke through that miasma was finding out they had detained the man who killed his fiancee. The ex-boyfriend whom Lola spoke about all those years ago had been released several days before the attack, and his fingerprints had been found all over the scene. Murphy's grief was the perfect kindling for a rage so hot it nearly made the man blind. Once hearing that the bastard had gotten off on an insanity plea and was instead under house arrest, Murphy's last fraying edges of rational thought had gone up in smoke.

It took a week or so of learning the rotations of police around the ex's house, knowing the gaps, the laziness, and the complacency surrounding this scum. Years of carrying around welding equipment made it even easier to break into the house with it strapped to his back. Easy to bash the other man across the face with the neck of his heavy torch. So very easy to focus the beam of that torch to cut straight through each kneecap to prevent him from running away. Murphy knelt to stare straight into the eyes of the last man to see his wife alive and saw no regret, no fear, only a hatred that reflected Murphy's own. The house had gone up in an inferno, several cans of gasoline making an excellent accelerant. The police found Murphy sitting at Lola's grave with his torch equipment, sitting next to him when they came to arrest him.

Holding that torch again, Murphy felt no regret or fear. Only that old growing flame of hatred that had finally been fed oxygen after so many years of careful banking. Now Murphy was ready to feed it again.

#¡ we have captured the enemy intelligence ! answered ❞#you can very clearly tell who my favorites are just by the damn length of the stuff #Detrick and Murphy my boys #¡ cracking smiles and twisting knives ! blu soldier ❞#¡ hoping to hit you somewhere vital ! blu medic ❞#¡ no more mistakes for them to make me ! red heavy ❞#¡ i gave an inch you took a life ! blu engie ❞#¡ alive here among the dead ! red spy ❞

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cxnvicts · 1 year

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╰ * unprompted ask from 「 @venenumroses ー crystal slevant 」

White sands build mountains, where beauty lingers at the start ends up in a mist and fog where thunder is the reign of the skies. The femme heard known whispers in the darkness residing in the brain, treachery, bloodshed, malice ... all feared equally, especially by those who have been graced by the high till their feet couldn't touch the ground. Mistrust exists and has persisted, easily predicted for this diplomacy lies in nothing but a mask for motives that grow ever darker. A tentative peace depends on more drowning in the abyssal depths, ruthless fury remains in the barricade of colored seasons and the shackles shine fairly. With a tongue sharp and fierce as an ice - forged blade, departing cherry dyed lips begin the poisonous speech as the unseen labyrinth takes a form that vanishes in the blink of an eye. ❛❛ For a moment I found myself looking at nothing more than a reflection in a water surface. ❜❜ It would be a lie to state the opposite, the inkling bile obnoxious almost travels from the throat like an invasive emotion that evokes familiarity.

One cannot help but wonder how much sacrifice takes to freeze a will in a permanent state of beautiful yet sickening complacency.

This exchange, to see a psyche that activated a forceful attempt of resistance that found a sheer of incredulity; this new experience was a call to pull out different strings inside that beating heart of hers — that abhor that out of madness perhaps makes the perfect sense. ❛❛ I must confess that I did not expect something like this. ❜❜ Once the moment comes to an end, the heat still stings and the reddish light shines like rubies on the ambient almost blinding the vision. A pout in porcelain features appears with ease. ❛❛ You have a horrible personality. It’s offensive, Chief … If I were to take < it >, your title, away from you, what would you have left ? Nothing. ❜❜

While this wasn’t her first time welcoming a Sinner who had just turned themselves in, the Chief couldn’t help the stifling uncertainty bubbling within her ever as she returned to her seat; hazy grey eyes never once shifting from the other’s own peculiar hues.

“A horrible personality, you say...” The Chief blinked curiously, ungloved hand reaching at the lapel of her dull-coloured coat so she could tug it closer. “Mm… I suppose you would be correct.” She nodded after the brief pause, her voice steady and matter-of-fact, coupled with a melancholic smile on her lips. She must have used her ability. This much, the Chief could tell now that they were bound together with her shackles. As to what that ability of hers could do, however... The Chief couldn't quite tell just yet. “I would have... nothing left, yes.”

Nothing, huh... The idea of being left with nothingness, with the sickening feeling of vast emptiness within her... The Chief supposes it does, indeed, terrify her. However, the fact remains that what she has ー these shackles of hers ー and the title that came with it was unique to her. A sinner had already made an attempt of imitating her likeness before, and they themselves admitted that they could not quite copy her ability. This was hers. Her power. Her duty as the Chief of Minos Bureau of Crisis Control. And no one can ever take it from her.

That, at least, is enough comfort for the Chief, despite the worry that slowly gnawed at the back of her head.

Crystal Slevant. Although Nightingale had done her best to gather as much information as she could about the Sinner, in the end, there wasn't much they could unearth other than what was already out in public. Beyond that, it was as if she had been living as a ghost.

"You don't seem to be very pleased with that." She continued, carefully studying the Sinner's features. There were still a lot of things they don't know about Crystal yet. And though the Chief would rather not delve much about herself, this was as good a chance as she might ever get. "Does it frustrate you? My attachment to my title, that is."

#venenumroses #╰ * 𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑬𝑭 ： in character.

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crimson-host · 1 year

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Alright, this is a huge departure from my usual stories but oh well, also my second attempt as my first draft that took me two hours borked and didn't save....fun

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Knight of the Abyss

Ruby slowly began to regain consciousness as the first thing was pain, her body hurt like hell, with a groan she slowly opened her eyes and looked around, and she saw the inside of a...house?, she slowly sat up a bit stiff and to her horror she saw her baby broke into piece "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" she crookedly rushed over and hugged the broke remains of Crescent Rose "MY BABY!, DON'T WORRY MOMMY'S HERE, SHE CAN FIX I PROMISE!" she kissed and caressed Crescent Rose remains, beginning to tear up, and began to carefully store what she could away, looking around she saw the rest of the room, saw being the strange part, shouldn't she-, now that she tried to remember it hurt but she remembered a train, and explosion, then falling, looking up she saw a hole in a roof she obviously fell through, so why did everything have a soft glow to it?, she slowly stood up and took out her Scrolled, cracked but then powered on "Oh thank Oum, hopefully I can call Yang or Professor Doctor Oobleck" try as she might she couldn't seem to get a signal "Fiddle sticks" stowing her scroll back into her pocket she began looking around, everything about the room was old, thick layer of dust on everything, carved stone walls, wooden flooring, rotten and decayed mostly away, and the collapsed rotted remains of a table, it was so bizarre, eventually she spotted a door and walked out, the door collapsed at a touch, and outside shocked and awed Ruby, it was a city, a large city underground, and in the distance was what looked like a castle or palace, and above shines...a glass dome?, or some kind of...barrier, some areas shined and shimmered "This place is incredible, Professor DOCTOR! Oobleck would lose his marbles at this" looking around Ruby began to explore the city, having no idea how to get out whatever she was, best she could do was look around, many houses and buildings showed shines of combat and fighting, from destroyed to large slash marks on walls, roads, and impact craters of whatever happened, she hadn't the faintest clue what happened her, she could only hope whatever happened wasn't still around

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Yang paced back and forth like she was trying to burn a hole into her dorm room's floor, Weiss at sat their desk and Blake sat on her bed, everyone was a bit tense especially Yang, Blake and Weiss having to tackle and pin Yang to prevent her from jumping into sink hole to try and rescue Ruby, for awhile Yang was anger at the two but eventually she burnt out and was now just worried sick

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Ruby explored only a small section of the City but she was in awe of it all, tho one part did disturb her, some of the dust some disturbed by something else, relatively recently, and the air felt...off, dry with no humidity, stale, and little cold, but breathable despite it all, looking to the Palace she decided that's where she would head, making her way over through several streets she arrived to a large wooden reinforced gate bashed in and broken, which is usually a bad sign, but it clearly was older and rotted so hopefully whatever bashed it's way in was no longer here, walking through the halls of the Palace it was clear some long fight went on here, broken down walls, torn tapestry, scattered pieces of armor and weapons, she would use them if they weren't so broken, and most disturbing of all...she missed Yang's awful puns, they would've lightened the eerie mood of this place, deeper into the Palace she went until she arrived at a large chamber Throne room and froze....bodies, the room was field with bodies, stale blood everywhere, Ruby immediately turned away in shock and horror, vomiting onto the floor in disgust and terror, she wasn't prepared for such a sight, there must've been around a hundred or something, so many people, all dead, she spun around collapsing to her hands and knees and she vomited in the floor, she wasn't...prepared for such a grizzly sight, she could only estimate how many there were, maybe a hundred?, why were they here, and what did they did they fight, each other?, Grimm?, it make no sense, and her eyes, Oum her eyes felt like they were softly burning when she entered that room, she slowly stood up and wobbled away whipping at her mouth, she...couldn't stomach it, she knew she needed to investigate that room further but...she needed some place to rest and recover, hopefully this place has somewhere safe to sleep

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Atlas Soldiers were underway replacing the old bullhead doors of the Mount. Glenn Tunnel that was destroyed, and reinforcing a half collapsed sinkhole to avoid further collapse, Professor Glynda Goodwitch and Specialist Winter Schnee was on scene supervising the site, Glynda turned to Winter "You have my thanks for helping us in this endeavor to recover Ms. Rose" Winter shook her head "No thanks needed, we are simply fulfilling our duties, if she and her team wasn't here to fight back against the White Fang and the Roman Torchwick the damages would've been far worse, tho they failed to stop the train they continue to fight even after they failed to try and minimize the damage, this is the least we can do" Glynda sighed and turned back to the sinkhole, offering a silent prayer that Ruby was safe

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Ruby walked back to the Throne Room, having managed to find the sleeping quarters, most of the beds were rotted and decayed like most of the city but one or two were sturdy enough for a goodnights rest, tho failing asleep was a little bit of a challenge considering the circumstances, but nonetheless, grabbing a torch from a wall mount and using some remaining cloth and some fire dust ammo she still had she managed to start a fire to help light up the place better, she began to hype herself up "Come on Ruby, you can do this, you're a Huntress-in-Training, you managed to beat Torchwick you can beat this creepy city" turning and entering the Throne Room her blood ran cold at the sight before her....the bodies were gone, she was in a cold shock, unable to move for several seconds as she steeled herself, she hadn't even realized the burning of her eyes didn't happened again, slowly walking into the Throne Room being careful to avoid the old blood on the ground and walls, cut marks, dents, and bits and pieces of cloth and armor littered the room, catching her eye was a old faded painting with a engraving under the painting 'King Ozenheimer Cromwell the Third' Ruby walked closer trying to get a good look at the faded painting, it was a tall broad man with jet black hair, covered from neck to toe in armor and a crow on his head, the most figure was his eyes, silver "So this place had a King, but did why did they build underground?, to try and hide from the Grimm?" Ruby began to survey the room some more, finding a dagger on the ground, a very odd but painful looking dagger, in decent condition still, picking it up "Not my go to choice but better than nothing" carefully storing the dagger away she began her trek to the front doors of the palace, slowly picking up the pace as she began to feel like she was being followed, until she was in a full sprint out the broken doors of the Palace, spinning around drawing the dagger but..she saw nothing, just a empty corridor, after a few tense seconds she sighed and relaxed "Jeez, this place is driving me Paranoid" she began to turn and froze, before her was a Grimm, but none like she had ever seen, heard, or read before, it had the body of a lizard, four legs with claws on them, a long spiked tail, on it's body was a torso like a man with two long arms with claws, at it's head was a mask but divided into four pieces, the mask slowly opened to reveal a maw of just rows and rows of teeth, and out came a long pointed tongue, everything about it felt, wrong

Ruby dodged to the side dropping her torch when the pointed tongue suddenly shot at her with shocking speeds, impaling the flooring with the force of a ballista or bolt-action rifle, it pulled it's tongue free and turned to Ruby as she stood up and sprinted as fast as she could away, try as she might she couldn't lose the abomination, despite it's large body, it was fast and agile, jumping onto and climbing onto building to keep pace with so Ruby began making sharp turns, the monster could keep pace with her and while it could jump around it couldn't make sharp precise turns, the abomination swatted a house with it's spiked tail around bits and pieces of rubble and old wood around trying to hit Ruby with the debry but with her speed Ruby slide and slipped past the rocks and splinters sprinting away, the abomination tried to chase after Ruby and tho she couldn't outrun it she did have a head start now, and so she ran only to slide to a grinding halt, before her was a person, dressed in leather armor, a metal shoulder piece on their left shoulders, gauntlets, knee pad, a tattered red cape, and bizarrely of all a pointed metal helmet, try as she might she couldn't see person's face as cloth covered their mouth and jaw, in their right hand was a greatsword and their left a shield, then it hit her, they were one of the many bodies she saw at the Throne Room, she began to back up but heard the stomping of the abomination rapidly approaching, "C-Can you help me!?" the person began slowly walking to Ruby, but said nothing "Oh fiddlesticks I hope you're not a zombie" with no options left she did the only thing she could, jump into into of the houses!, running and bashing into one of the house's doors, turning around expecting the Knight to pursue her but instead ran at the monster, jumping into the air swinging their greatsword with shocking ease, the abomination shoot out it's tongue to spear the Knight but they held up their shield blocking the tongue and with a swift motion sliced off the tongue causing the abomination to recoiling and roar in pain, landing the Knight used their momentum to spin into a uppercut slice almost bisecting the torso, causing to let out a gurgled roar as it went into a fenzy using it's powerful legs to swipe and bashed at everything along with it's tail whipping around like crazy, the Knight rolled away and held up their shield as the abomination bashed away at it's surrounding, bashing and half collapsing the house Ruby was in, and with a scream from Ruby the Knight shifted and rushed abomination sliding under a swipe from the spiked tail and cleaving into it's under belly, the abomination jumping away as black smoke bellowed from it's body, the Knight looked to Ruby seeing she was fine, the Knight knelt down and stared at Ruby, now she could see their eyes, ocean blue but bloodshot, tuffs of faded blond hair, and what little of their face she could see it was sunken in some and leathery, the Knight then gave Ruby their shield and turned without a word "Wait!" the Knight turned a little to Ruby as she took out the strange dagger and offered it to the Knight "T-Take this, y-you can probably use it better than I can" the Knight slowly to the dagger and examined it, then turned to the abomination that glared at them, the Knight held up their greatsword and with their left hand held the dagger over their right arm, and rushed the abomination immediately the abomination rushed the Knight, the abomination taking a heavy swipe at the Knight but missed as the Knight leapt up spinning their greatsword around and plunged it into half-bisected torso of the abomination, and with one final roar from the abomination the Knight cleaved the monster in half, jumping off it corpse and watched as the smoke from it's body rose to meet the shimmering barrier, the Knight turned to Ruby

"OH MY OUM THAT WAS SO AWESOME!!✨" Ruby rushed over to the Knight and jumped up and down excitedly "EVEN THO YOU USED A GREATSWORD WITH ONE HAND YOU COMPLETELY CONTROLLED THE FIGHT WITH EASE THAT WAS SO AWESOME!" The Knight didn't say anything as per usual "U-Um...c-can you help me get out of her?" The Knight said nothing but stiffly nodded and turned walking to another section of the city and with nothing else Ruby followed the Knight putting the shield on her back

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That's enough for now, my burnout and procrastinates is sick and tired of the constant errors when trying to save to draft, I may continue it but for now this is a decent cliffhanger

#rwby oneshot #rwby #rwby fanfiction #rwby x dark souls crossover

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marahuyos · 3 years

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how they kiss: genshin boys

*:･ﾟ✧ nothing much, just me describing how diluc, kaeya, childe and zhongli kiss. this piece is mostly just me trying to practice how to write kisses.

tw: slight suggestive themes, swearing, character story spoilers for childe, zhongli

✧ Diluc Ragnvindr

• A tentative flame-you don’t know whether it would spark and rise up in flames or die out in smoke, leaving nothing but a charred mess. That’s how Diluc is. You know he wasn’t good at this and he’s both thankful that you’re patient enough and annoyed that he couldn’t even muster a single kiss. At the start of your relationship, he is like a flame on a matchstick during a snowstorm. He burns but with how cold the world is, he fights to survive. With you, you are the closed space that blocks the harsh snow. You are the hands that cradle his flame ever so gently. He may be the one with the Pyro Vision but you warm his cold heart.

• His lips are slightly chapped but you’ll be lucky when you catch them moist, tasting of wine when Diluc taste tests new wines. When you do catch him with wine-flavored lips, you would press your lips against his with an excited grin on your mouth. With your sudden kiss, Diluc had to open his mouth to emit a gasp as you took the chance to slip your tongue inside his mouth. The taste of wine was stronger, your tongue slowly gliding over his own just to taste the sinful beverage. Your hands would grasp his shoulders, massaging the muscle that’s been way too tense. You think that you have surprised him from your impromptu kiss but Diluc is just as passionate as you are.

• Reaching around your back, he pushed you closer to him, chests bumping against each other as he began gaining control. He tilts your head, his ruby eyes staring at your surprised ones. He parts for a chance to breathe before diving back in to claim your lips again. The wine he tasted was still present on his lips but, combined with your taste, he was already getting drunk on the flavor. His nose nearly brushes against your cheek as he hears you mewl from his sudden outburst. His hands roam around your back, leaving warm tingles across your skin despite the layers of clothes. Before you two part for the next breath of air, he whispers into your lips how cheeky you are, his breathless voice making you swoon.

“You truly test my patience, love. Don’t think that I will back down once I’m through with you.”

✧ Kaeya Alberich

• As much as he’s cold to the touch, being a Cryo user and all, he is rather like the freshly fallen snow on a winter’s morning. Yes, it may bite your skin (also doesn’t help that Kaeya is a biter) but it also leaves you tingling after the cold shock response. That’s how he leaves you after kisses: shivering but wanting more as he chuckles on how cute and needy you are for him.

• He’s a charmer so it’s not an uncommon sight to see him with pampered skin and well-taken care of hair. So, as such, you bet that his lips are just as soft and plump (like his chest) because he always seeks out the best lip care. You’re jealous of the way his lips just shine naturally and how pouty they are every time he speaks. Your jealousy became a weapon for him, as he would always go beyond your personal space, making sure his lips are the focus as he smirks. And if that didn’t make you want to wipe the smug smirk off of his face, there was probably more teasing remarks that Kaeya would’ve used. You taste mint and hints of berry when you kissed his lips, swallowing in the chuckle that he emitted. His hand reaches around the back of your head as he tilts your head, deepening the kiss as he teases your lips.

• Remember when I said that he’s a biter? He would always nibble on your lips if the cold wasn’t enough for you. First, it was small kisses on your bottom lip then his teeth gently nibbling on it. He takes his time, making sure your lips are swollen before kissing you fully and letting the cold in your mouth. His one eye is open to see your closed ones, which clearly meant you were enjoying it. He chuckles against your lips before running his tongue along the roof of your mouth before parting away, a trail of spittle connecting your lips. His eye shined with wildly when he sees your dazed look.

“Clocking out already? We’ve only just begun, darling.”

✧ Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax

• There’s three ways on how Childe kisses-and it all really depends on who you’re talking to. In his years as a Harbinger and in his time wandering the Abyss with his teacher, the young man has garnered many a façade. He doesn’t just hand out his love for free-you must brave through his storm that he brewed for himself, the capsizing waves that swallows anything in its path. Only then will you see the eye of the storm and see Ajax.

• As Childe, you literally get what you hear. Childe’s kisses is, well, childish. Quick little pecks on your lips when he’s in a hurry, a loud, obnoxious kiss on your cheek, or him rubbing his nose softly against yours-all of those things are Childe. You can’t really tell if he was ever serious at all when he smirks playfully at your flushed face. As Tartaglia, this is the storm that you need to brave. He is a Harbinger for a reason and his kisses are just as ruthless. Overbearing, domineering, he makes sure that everything you see is only him. His lips glide over to yours before sinking his teeth on your lip until it’s swollen. His tongue would push in, teeth nearly clacking against each other as his hands grip your skin to the point of painful. As a warrior, he dominates, he conquers, and you were no exception.

• But as Ajax, sweet sweet Ajax, he’s none of those things. He lets go of Foul Legacy, he lets go of his weapons-in front of you, it is merely a young lad who grew up too fast too soon. He is the still waters, easily disturbed by any force, so you take his face between your hands as you initiated the kiss. First it was small pecks, then a pleasant plant of the lips against his before whispering against his lips that he is your home. What sounded like a choked cry died in his throat, as his own hands clutched your hips shakily as he draws you closer. His lips are surprisingly smooth, either from the Hydro Vision he’d been using or he’s taken heed to his older sister’s skincare. There was no danger, no tension, no ulterior motive each stroke of tongue you two share. Here, he is finally himself.

“I don’t know what god would give me someone like yourself, babe... But I’m grateful that you’re here.”

✧ Zhongli

• Morax, Rex Lapis, Vago Mundo... many names, many lives, many loves. Zhongli had such a long life of war, love, and everything that no one should’ve ever experienced. He is as long-standing as the earth (haha), never faltering, even with so much weathering. He should be as long-standing, there was no room for cracks, even as a mortal man. Yet, he seems like he didn’t know that you’ve already made several cracks across his heart and weathering him down to a man who is in love.

• His kisses are secure. Vanilla maybe, but you know that Zhongli is being a gentleman. With a hand under your chin to tilt up your face towards his, his thumb smoothly glides over your bottom lip before planting his lips against yours. He moves his lips against yours slowly, giving small pecks along the way, before diving back in. His other hand smoothly glides over your back before settling on your waist, pulling you closer. Meanwhile, your hands would softly tug at his ponytail, making the gentleman shiver as he gives a warning pinch to your waist for being cheeky.

• But there are times when that gentlemanly face breaks through. Most of the time it may be Venti getting him drunk. In this moment, he remembers that he was a ruthless god who formed this land from his own hands. He is the god of contracts and if you wanted it rougher, then he expects to hold your end of the bargain. Excuse my sudden twist, but I am a firm fuckin believer of dragon Zhongli and ya’ll can pry his elongated, forked tongue swiping across your lips before slithering inside your mouth off of my cold dead hands. His fangs threatening to bleed your lips... unless you wanted it, then who is he to oblige? His clawed fingers poking holes through your clothes as more skin is accessible to his scaly hands. There is no escaping this contract.

“My treasure, you created this contract. Now you must abide to the conditions.”

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sondepoch · 4 years

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Chapter 1

Written in the Stars (Lucifer x Angel!Reader)

Four thousand years is a long time. In the absence of your most cherished friend, it feels even longer. But when a certain student exchange program in the Devildom reunites you and Lucifer, things aren't the same. Because four thousand years of separation is a long time. And the love you once felt for Lucifer has changed into something different—something forbidden. But that might not even be your biggest problem, because with each passing day, your holy wings are turning blacker and blacker.

MASTERLIST

The weight around your shoulders is unnatural.

You shift the fabric as you stand, gently pushing it back while fiddling with the golden clasp that keeps the thick, Celestial silk wrapped around your body, before forcing yourself to stop. It had been Simeon who had helped you put it on this morning. For good reason, too—the angel is blessed with a surprising degree of lean muscle and strength—but where he could easily carry the cape and drape it around your body, you can barely lift the thing.

It's heavy for a reason, he had told you when helping you wear it. We can't stay in our angel forms at the Academy, so the High Seraphs said that this will help remind us of the weight of our wings.

And while the fabric is definitely as heavy as your wings, it does no justice to the true feel of your snowy feathers, a poor simulation of the holy pinions.

You sigh, pressing your hands against the closest object to stabilize your body, wishing that you could bring your wings out to do so. You'd begged to come here, begged and cried and pleaded with the High Seraphs to give you the chance to see Lucifer one last time before eternally returning to the Celestial Realm, and they'd warned you that the experience wouldn't be pleasant. That you'd be forced to take this unorthodox human form, deprived of your wings and halo, surrounded by demons and the unbearable heat of the Devildom.

But you hadn't faltered then, and you certainly won't falter now.

It's for Lucifer, right? You'd do anything for Lucifer.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you hold your body steady by gripping the tall, wooden chair that Diavolo had been sitting in when he'd greeted the three of you.

"Welcome to the Devildom!" He'd exclaimed enthusiastically, a grin so wide stretched across his face that you couldn't help but offer your own smile in return. The man had been nothing but pleasant when introducing himself to you. Each word, he spoke with purpose. His tone bordered on intimidating when he declared his own titles—proudly naming himself Lord Diavolo, overseer of the nine circles of hell, heir to the Devildom, prince of the abyss—but he immediately expressed what a pleasure it was to meet your acquaintance, honorably referring to you all with your own titles. Again, with purpose. His formality was to remind you that you're all just as important to your realms as he is to his. Just as crucial, powerful, and strong.

"Luke," He had proclaimed with a smile, his grin almost proud as he gazed upon the youngest of you three. "Child of Chamuel, heir to the twelfth Holy Protectorate." He'd then turned to your best friend, the oldest of the group: "Simeon: child of Selaphiel, defender of the High Seraphs." And last, but absolutely not the least, he had faced you. "MC: child of light, equalizer of the Celestial Realm."

The man had proceeded to shower you all with gifts, casually instructing his butler to have the larger presents delivered to Purgatory Hall, the location of your year-long stay. He'd offered to give you all a tour of the Devildom, looking almost eager as he began leading you out the door—but he hesitated at the last minute.

"Ah, MC." His eyes watched you carefully as he spoke, waiting to see your reaction. "If you don't mind, would you be alright with staying here? Lucifer explicitly requested that he be the one to greet and show you around, though it's entirely understandable if you should wish to remain with the group for—"

"Not at all!" You'd exclaimed immediately, excitement flooding your veins at the mention of the man who's been dominating your thoughts for the past four thousand years. Diavolo's relief was apparent at your immediate acceptance of his offer, and you almost had to laugh.

Had he been concerned that you wouldn't want to be alone with Lucifer? Surely he's heard all the stories about the Morningstar of light and the equalizer of the heavens. Did he think your feelings for Lucifer would have changed after his fall? You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. For all the stories and songs written about the two of you, people never seem to understand the true depth of your love for Lucifer.

Then again, the written history has never done a good job at portraying truth, has it?

You sigh, turning your head to stare out the windows of the room. This is the Student Council Office, you know. Small wonder. It has a marvelous view of the entire RAD campus, and really, you don't think you'll have the full map memorized even after you've spent a year here.

You smile, eyes skirting over the immense campus.

You, Simeon, and Luke had arrived in the Devildom just as the sun was beginning to make its journey back under the horizon; by now, the sun has almost completely set. Still, the remnants of its illumination light up the various fountains and statues littered around the campus. There are eight buildings set up for classroom use, nine buildings in total—likely modeled after the nine circles of hell—and each is connected by a modernistic sidewalk three wingspans wide. Every intersection is marked by a different ornamental tablet, engraved with what you can only assume is Devildom history, and the last remaining rays of sunlight jump off the various metals like fiery dancers of dusk. There's a large field in the distance, where you see six demons playing some sport you don't recognize, and you'd stare even longer at the strange forest in the background if not for the sound of a door opening behind you.

You freeze.

All of a sudden, you wish you hadn't been staring out at the window but at the door instead, because your body is stiller than the statues you'd been admiring outside, unwilling to move an inch.

Fingers tensing around the chair you'd been casually gripping, you feel your throat bob as you swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

It's the moment you've been waiting for.

There's no doubt about it: you can feel it in the shift of the darkness in the room, in the subtle scent of the cologne that after all these years he's still wearing, in the quiet but sharp breath he takes that you were once so used to hearing.

Mustering up all the courage you have, you turn your head, preparing yourself for what you've been waiting four thousand years for.

Your head moves slowly, impossibly slow. You can't bring it to turn any faster, even though all you want to do is see the man you've spent so long yearning for.

And then you do.

A strangled gasp leaves you throat as all your breath deserts you, the man looking as magnificent and glorious and breathtaking as he did the last time you saw him. You stare into his eyes, two red rubies that shine not with holiness or darkness or anything but love as they gaze back at you, and then whatever restraint you had vanishes, and you're throwing yourself into Lucifer's arms: crying, whimpering, sobbing as you embrace him the way you've wanted to for so long.

"MC," he murmurs softly, his own voice thick with emotion as he lifts you, spinning you around gracefully as he used to so long ago. "What's this?" He asks, gaze traveling to the golden clasp that keeps the dense cape wrapped around your shoulders, wordlessly unclasping it.

And as the Celestial silk falls, so do the last of your inhibitions, leaving you truly weightless in Lucifer's arms as he holds you tighter, fingers running through your hair the way he used to.

You know he's fallen now, a demon, but nothing about him seems different. His embrace is still comforting as he holds you, his hands still rub small circles into your back, he still presses weightless kisses to your forehead as he holds you. Angel or demon, he's still the Lucifer that raised you, the Lucifer that taught you everything you know. He's still Lucifer.

"I missed you," You whisper, well aware that he can feel your tears as you bury your head in his neck. "So much."

"I know," He murmurs back, his voice carrying the rare softness that he only unveils for you. "I've missed you too."

The two of you remain like that for far longer than is necessary, simply basking in the blissful feeling of being together until even the sun has gone down, knowing that its warmth is unnecessary now that the two of you have each other.

Even when Lucifer finally begins to pull away, you let out a reluctant whine. You've been deprived of his company for four thousand years, surely he can give you one more minute?

"Don't look at me like that," He says, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Come. Don't you want a tour of the campus? You'll be staying here the entire year, after all."

You grudgingly agree, removing yourself from Lucifer's arms while staring at the fabric on the ground. Now that it's off your shoulders, you certainly do feel much more free—but Simeon was absolutely right. No matter how heavy the fabric was, it really did remind you of your wings. You feel naked without it.

Lowering your body to the ground, you summon all of your strength in an attempt to lift the thick cloth up, trying your best to raise it higher than a foot off the ground. Next to you, Lucifer lets out an audible laugh as he watches you struggle until, finally, you collapse to the ground. "I give up," You mumble, light pants escaping your lips. Your muscles genuinely ache as you look up at your old friend, a defeated expression cast on your face.

"Celestial silk, is it?" Lucifer crouches, lifting the fabric. "Even heavier than I remember, but still manageable." He smiles lightly as he finds the clasps, fingers deftly hooking the golden fasteners in place until the cape is secured around your body once more.

It's a comfortable motion for you, and familiar, too. When Lucifer was still with you in the Celestial Realm, he had taken it upon himself to be your guardian—understandable, given the nature of your birth—and had practically raised you himself. It was Lucifer, who whispered stories to you every night until you slept. Lucifer, who taught you how to cook and bathe and read. Lucifer, who would help you dress in the mornings, while you blankly sat on the floor, just as you're doing now.

"Why are you wearing something so heavy? I doubt you can even stand straight for long, when this weighs as much as you." The demon's expression is intrigued as he pinches the fabric between his gloved fingers.

"It's not just me. Simeon is wearing the same thing. His cloak is even longer, actually, and heavier, too. And it's really bothersome, but without this, it just feels so unnatural to be in this form. At least, with this around my shoulders, it feels like I still sort of have my wings."

Lucifer nods. "That's smart. I think that was the hardest adjustment after the fall. It took me a while to figure out how to walk normally, without my wings weighing me back. Even in my demon form, I..." He trails off, a dark look cast on his face. You hold your breath, waiting for him to continue, but he says nothing.

"Lucifer?" You ask, bringing a hand to his cheek, gently angling his face back toward you. "After the Great Celestial War and your fall, I heard...the messengers would say..." You swallow, realizing that beating around the bush isn't going to help either of you right now. "They said you lost your wings."

Lucifer's eyes widen in surprise, and the shocked response is enough to tell you that the rumors were false. But then the demon's gaze darkens once more, and you can't figure out what's going on in his head.

When he next speaks, his voice is soft, quiet enough to be lost in the sound of your own breathing, if you're not careful. "If I show you my true form, will it scare you?"

Your breath hitches in your throat.

His true form. His demon form.

Against your will, the image of Lucifer's angel form flashes through your mind—the image you'd cut out from your history textbook, before anyone could take it away. A time when Lucifer's pride had been given to him by the realm, rather than stemming from within him. When he had six divine wings and the Mark of the Blessed on his forehead. Dressed in full white garb, every fine detail outlined in rubies and gold, you've never stopped picturing that Lucifer as the true Lucifer in your mind.

But times have changed.

Four thousand years have passed, and the Lucifer who dressed in white is no longer a reality.

"Show me," You whisper, voice earnest.

Closing his eyes, it takes barely a second for Lucifer's darkness to manifest, the black wings curling around his frame and the familiar Mark of the Blessed on his forehead. But only after a second look do you realize that neither are quite the same—the six wings you're used to seeing being reduced to four, and the mark on Lucifer's forehead something twisted, something unholy, no longer shining with light: a small diamond of skin blackened with the retraction of whatever blessing was once laid upon his fair head.

"Lucifer..." You whisper, unable to say anything other than his name. "You're beautiful."

The demon's eyes, once dropped to the floor, look up at you in surprise, evidently not expecting to hear that of all things. Indeed, the light favored Lucifer brilliantly, but the darkness brings out a different side of the man: unfamiliar, strange, and foreign—but undeniably beautiful, in its own right.

Before he can say a word against you, you wrap him in another embrace, this time letting your hands run along his wings, savoring the sensation. Their color may have changed, but they're just as soft as you remember, each feather delicate and majestic. You allow your hands to trail all the way to where they meet at Lucifer's back, hesitating before running your hands along the small strip in between the four wings.

A shudder travels through Lucifer as your fingertips graze the spot. "Don't—don't—"

You calmly move your hands, sliding them back into the wings you love, understanding that you must have been touching the location where Lucifer's two center wings were ripped out during his fall. The sheer thought is painful enough; you can't begin to imagine how awful it must have been.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for you," You murmur into Lucifer's ear, kissing the black diamond on his forehead. His body trembles once more, but he welcomes your touch, gripping your shoulders tightly even as he slowly shifts back to his human form. It's a long time before he speaks, but when he does, he's composed once more.

"Don't be. I was relieved that the High Seraphs had the sense to keep you locked away during the Great Celestial War. You would have done something foolish, like get yourself banished with me." You don't respond, knowing all too well that you'd entertained the thought numerous times. "Come," Lucifer murmurs, finally standing up. "It's time I gave you the tour I promised."

You nod your head, attempting to stand up. Key word: attempting. Your silk cloak drags you back down before you can even straighten your legs, causing you to collapse rather ungraciously on the floor.

"How did even manage to put this on in the morning?" Lucifer asks, shaking his head as he bends down and lifts you to your feet. "You can barely stand properly. Did you enchant it with a spell or some such?"

"Not exactly. I still struggle a bit when it comes to object enchantments." You hide a faint blush, sheepishly glancing away. "Simeon helped me dress this morning."

You glance up at Lucifer, only to see him averting his eyes, a strange expression wrapped around his face. You don't recognize the look, but before you can ask Lucifer about it, he's speaking: "I see. That much is unsurprising, I suppose." His voice is calm and controlled, but from his face, you can tell that it's taking all his effort to do so. He feigns a sense of casualness, not meeting your eyes. "There have been rumors in the Devildom about you and Simeon. That the equalizer of the Celestial Realm and the defender of the High Seraphs are...involved." You don't comment, but Lucifer almost seems to choke on that last word. Still, you let the man continue, watching as his steady voice wavers. "I suppose the rumors are true?"

Your lips twitch in amusement.

Is it jealousy that's casting Lucifer's face into this unappealing frown, the demon desperately trying to conceal his distaste but failing so miserably? You're unable to stop a brief sound of laughter from escaping your lips, a quick shake of your shoulders, but Lucifer catches it.

"What. What? What?" His voice is sharp, irritated as he gives you his usual glare, one that you've missed all too much.

"Simeon and I are friends," You tell him, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Nothing more, Lucifer. There's no need to be jealous."

"I am not jealous," The demon hisses, eyebrows fuddling together in a demonstration meant to be intimidating, but you only find it cute.

"Relax!" You exclaim, consciously stopping yourself from squealing with merriment. "I was only teasing. I would never involve myself with another man—didn't I promise you that I would get your approval before doing so?"

Lucifer's eyes widen in surprise, as if he'd long forgotten that exchange. But his next words reveal that his thoughts were quite the opposite: "I didn't realize you had any recollection of that promise."

"How could I forget?" You ask, the memory clear in your mind even to this day.

"It's just..." Lucifer sighs softly, his eyes dropping to your hair, where he brushes a strand of the (h/c) behind your ear. "You were only a child when you said it."

"A child? Lucifer, I grew up in a literal hour," You argue, recalling how the High Seraphs had described you being born as a baby and then having turned into a young woman before they'd even had the chance to give you a name. It's angel stuff—not wholly unheard of, since Lucifer's birth was somewhat the same, but definitely not the most common thing out there. Then again, nothing about the story of your birth is common.

"Yes, but you'd only been in the realm for three days. You might have looked older, but you were young and inexperienced in the ways of the world, foolish enough to make such a preposterous promise." Lucifer chuckles, crossing his arms as he remembers your youth. "I do hope that you haven't been denying your heart on my account? As long as the suitor makes you happy, I would support any union you might partake in."

"I know, Lucifer." You smile up at the man. He may be a demon now, but inside, he's still the man you adore. You press a delicate kiss to his cheek. "When I made that promise to you, you told me the same thing."

***

Lucifer had promised Diavolo that he would handle your student tour of the RAD, that he would show you all the prettiest fountains and loveliest statues and best restaurants. And when he'd assured his prince of such a thing, he had been sincere.

But as he leads you out of the student council building, there's really only one thing he deems of immediate importance: how to get to the House of Lamentation from your residence in Purgatory Hall. Doubtless, he'll ensure that he's there to accompany you the first few times, but as he makes the walk with you, he can't help but feel a familiar sense of worry bubble in his stomach.

A part of him still can't believe that it's been four thousand years since he last saw you.

You've barely changed.

Your smile is still just as bright, your hands are just as soft, your hair dances in the wind the exact same way—but there are subtle differences, too. Lucifer swallows as he notes the womanly shape that you've taken on over the centuries, the small of your waist, the curve of your hips, the tantalizing dip of your collarbone.

The demon is unable to take his eyes off you, desperately wondering who in heaven designed your uniform. Diavolo had decided not to force the standard RAD uniform on any of the exchange students, and for good reason. The Devildom is too close to hell, and unbearably hot for anyone that isn't already used to its temperature.

But Lucifer had still expected the angels to be wearing somewhat modest clothes. He'd assumed that they'd arrive in angel attire, the garb simply enchanted with spells to resist the heat. Not these outfits that resemble the strippers he's seen in Asmo's clubs!

His eyes are glued to the thin mesh fabric covering your shoulders. It does an awful job of concealing skin. In fact, it only draws more attention to your upper body and—really—does the outfit have to be sleeveless? And is it truly necessary for the sides of your waist to be exposed?

Lucifer exhales lightly, his jaw tensing. None of his brothers would dare try anything inappropriate with you, you're too precious to them for that, and he'd do his best to shield you from the lustful eyes of his peers. But even then, how long would Lucifer be able to protect you from himself?

He forces himself to look away from your body, knowing that he would kill a lesser demon for the very thoughts reverberating through his own mind.

It's ridiculous that he even feels this way, he reasons with himself. He's practically your older brother. He knows you think of him as such. So why is he looking at you like a woman, when he should be looking at you as a sister?

Off limits. Lucifer scowls, staring forward as he drills the word into his mind. Off limits. MC is off limits. MC is off limits!

But the more he tries to ignore you, the more he's drawn to you, to the light sway of your hips as you move, to the elegant grace you've cultivated over the years, the dazzling smile that he can only describe as enchanting, where it had once been cute and endearing.

Is it because he's a demon, that he feels this way around you? Because it's now in his nature to give in to temptation, where it had once been in his blood to resist? The thought weighs heavily on his mind, because that means that it would be impossible for you to ever feel the same way about him. And as much as Lucifer hates himself for thinking it, that prospect seems to be even worse than the notion of you being foolish enough reciprocate his feelings.

"Lucifer?"

The demon halts his thoughts, staring at you in surprise. "I'm sorry, MC. My mind was elsewhere. What were you saying?"

He watches you giggle, an action he's seen you do thousands of times, but it's never made him feel such a strong urge to wrap his arms around you and hide you away from everyone else.

"I was talking about your youngest brother. Though I think he's been named the fourth-born? I'm talking about Satan. I know he was born a little before the Great Celestial War began, but the High Seraphs isolated me immediately after, so I still haven't met him. Do you think he'll like me?"

Lucifer blinks. You've certainly grown, but you've still retained your angelic innocence. "Don't be ridiculous," He murmurs quietly. "How could anyone not like you?"

The beaming smile you give Lucifer is worth the agitation he feels when he realizes how smitten he is with you.

You're off limits, he tells himself once more. Off limits.

Just as he will not allow any other demons to lay a hand on you, he will not allow himself to touch you.

"MC?" He asks, eyes glued to your exposed shoulders, all too aware of how it's only furthering the temptation within him. When you turn to him, a questioning gaze on your face, it's all he can do to take off his coat without letting his embarrassment show on his face. "It's cold." It's not. "Wear my jacket for the time being."

Wordlessly, he helps you slip it onto your shoulders, lifting the Celestial silk for you and then unclasping it altogether, not failing to notice the blissful sigh you give as he takes the weight into his own arms, allowing you to freely slip into his jacket.

He breathes a sigh of relief when you continue talking, the demon finally eased of the tempting sight of your exposed body. He turns back to you, hoping to listen to whatever subject you're currently ranting so passionately about.

And fails.

Even with his jacket wrapped around you, Lucifer finds that his gaze is just as hungry as before, only further stemmed along by the sight of you in his clothes, your smaller figure entirely enveloped by his jacket.

By his side, Lucifer's hand clenches into a fist.

Thou shalt not covet, he tells himself, the words still engraved on his heart after all these years. Thou shalt not covet. But staring at you, talking so animatedly next to him, so comfortable and trusting by his side, he can't stop.

No matter how many times the words echo in his mind, they fall short of his heart.

He covets.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: And that's the first chapter of this series :D Just so you guys know, I currently plan to update this work on Tuesdays and Saturdays - and based on my current drafts, this whole thing will be either 8 or 9 chapters, so not too long! I hope that you enjoy this - things start to get real in the next chapter <3 Expect a slight slow burn? Ngl, I've done more planning than usual for this fic, but this project is also bigger than I'm used to taking on - regardless, I'll do my best to make sure that the content I give you guys is my best effort :D

Comment & Like

Next Update: 5/23/20

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 4 years

Text

Little Prince (Pt.1)

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

Roman Marrell was a man of class and sophistication. From the way he pinned his crimson hair to the way he stood in things from three-piece suits to floor length ballgown, no one could question that the singer held himself in high regards.

Or at least that's what it seemed to the outsiders. Roman was an incredible actor, but even actors had to break character at some point. There was only one person who Roman could count on not to ruin his life, one person who'd seen Roman with mascara trailing down his face, held him at night when he had nightmares and his face was swimming with so many tears he couldnt see where he was. His brother, Remus Marrell.

Quite the opposite of Roman, Remus looked like the kind of man you'd find looting trash bins for extra cash; loose ties, wrinkled suits, messy brown hair with a white streak he'd had since birth. The twins had two physical compliments to each other, the first was a matching birthmark on each of their hips, both in the shape of one half of a heart. The second, Roman's emerald eyes, and Remus' stunning ruby ones.

Roman may have had a successful career and may have been held higher up by the public. But Remus had something that Roman thought was much more special. Remus had his husband, Virgil Clove. Roman had always wanted a relationship, ever since he was a kid, but every boy he tried to talk to ran from him. Now that he was famous it was easier for boys to fawn over him, but now he knew they only wanted him for his looks, his money, they didnt want to listen to him talk. They wanted a pretty little husband to sit around and sing songs and cook for them while they lounged on the couch spending money on cars and beer.

Roman didnt want that, he wanted something real, he wanted someone who would treat him like a prince instead of a pretty face. But he knew that was reaching to far, for him to reach that level he'd have to have an emotional connection with someone, and he wasnt sure he could fathom something as intimate as that.

"Roman! You're on in five!" Roman looked at himself in the mirror, there he was, dressed in the most stunning of dresses with more sequins and glitter than one man would need in a life time, gold and red eyeshadow that contrasted so well with the green in his eyes, and matched perfectly with the red lipstick he wore. Then there was his tiara, it was large and gold and covered with jewels, but it didnt make him feel like a prince. No, it made him feel like a naive narcissistic fool.

Roman stood up, straightening his clothes before he took to the stage. He was met with whistles and cheers and comments that would make even Remus' stomach churn, whether with rage or disgust, Roman didnt want to know.

Then his eyes locked on someone he didnt recognize, someone new. The man was tall, muscular, with round black glasses and shining blue eyes like he'd stolen them from the ocean itself. His brown hair was a mess of curls, seemingly controlled only by a few bobby pins and hair clips. His lips were parted in a smile, a smile that sent Roman's fragile little heart pounding like rain on a window.

Roman tried his best to keep his eyes on the walls, he didnt like to make eye contact with costumers, it distracted him from his music. But something about this boy made him feel calmer, caused the sounds of everyone else in the crowd to melt into the abyss.

Roman had managed to get through about half of his performance without a single slip up, but rather than forget the lyrics to a song, Roman's performance was cut short but a round of gunfire. Roman ducked under the nearest table, his chest tightened, he felt like he was going numb.

Then he felt an arm around his waist, a strong one. He felt himself lifted off the ground and held close to someone, almost like a porcelain doll that might shatter if it were to be dropped.

Roman didnt know where he was going, but he couldnt seem to muster the words to ask. Soon enough, though, he was set down on the steps of a large building. He turned to face his rescuer, only to be met with those same striking blue eyes.

"You. . . Saved me?" Roman asked, he hadnt meant to sound disappointed, but there was concern etched in the man's face.

"Of course I did, what happened there was in no way meant to harm you, it was a retaliation and it wont be happening again," said the man. He reached up to knock on the door. Another man opened it, this one with brown eyes that looked almost gold, and a nasty looking burn on one side of his face.

"Jay, there's been an attack on the Butterfly Lounge, I'm not sure who did it but I know it can't have ended well," said the man with blue eyes.

Jay paused for a moment, looking over at Roman, Roman felt his insides squirming. "And who's this?" Jay said, his voice almost like a snake's hiss.

"The singer, Roman, I rescued him," said the man, a faint blush coated his face.

"Lo, you are to much of a softie for your own good," Jay spoke in a joking manner, moving out of the doorway and beckoning the two inside.

The inside of the house was elaborate and large, the walls seemed to have been painted over from black to much lighter shades of blue and gray.

"Please, have a seat, I'll have my husband get something for you," Jay said, gesturing Roman toward one of the large chairs in the main room. Roman sat down in the one that looked softest, melting into the fabric as though hoping it would absorb him entirely. Lo sat across from him, pressing his thumbs together as though he were thinking of what to say.

"I'm sorry, all of thus must be very confusing for you," he stated finally.

"Oh not at all, I understand I've been kidnapped by the mafia and most likely I'm going to be held for a random my parents will never pay and my brother wont be able to afford," Roman said. He wasnt entirely sure why, after all, no one had acted like this was a kidnapping since they'd left the lounge.

Lo sat there for a moment, clearly taken aback. "No no no no- that's the exact opposite of the point, see, it was our rivals that attacked the lounge, I merely wanted to ensure your safety, you'll be returned straight home once you've had a chance to relax, whatever that entails in your opinion," he said, a small smile appearing on his round face.

A few minutes later another boy rushed into the room with two plates. He was short, though he had a similar stature to Lo, and the same round glasses with clear frames, he was dressed in a light blue sweater and a short white skirt, both garments seeming to accentuate his hips.

"Terribly sorry about the wait, are you alright- Roman?" He asked as he shoved a tray over to him with the plate placed on it.

"Im- fine I suppose," Roman replied.

"This is Patton, Jay's husband, he mostly stays here and looks after the house," said Lo. Roman felt his stomach drop.

Patton's eyes widened slightly "oh no it's not like I'm doing this unwillingly, Janus asks me every time he goes out if I'd like to tag along, but I'm just not comfortable with his type of work," Patton said. Roman relaxed slightly.

It took a few hours, a nice warm bath, and a change of clothes for Roman to feel safe enough to go back home, Logan had promised to escort him, and now here they were in his bedroom. He'd allowed Roman to borrow one of his sweaters despite it being not only to long for him, but about two sizes to big. Roman didnt mind, it felt nice, and as long as he had shorts on it wasnt like it was going to do much.

When they finally got back to Roman's apartment, and Roman was finally able to get to a phone, he had a lot of things to explain to his brother. But first, he had to say goodbye.

"Thank you again, for saving me back there," Roman said, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other hugging the sweater closer to his body.

"It was my pleasure, little prince," said Logan, and without another word, he disappeared into his car, and down the street.

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

Tag list:

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scribbling-stiks · 3 years

Text

Retrievers - XL - Found

Once America tugs him around a corner, Russia looks over at him, confused.

"Beam? What's wrong?" Russia asks.

"(I just wanted a second to talk to you.)"

Russia starts signing back when America interjects.

"(I can't see you, but this is private, so I don't want to shout. You can whisper.)"

Russia nods.

"(Is that okay?)"

"Yes," Russia mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"(Are you okay?)" America asks.

"Yes," Russia responds automatically.

"(Are you sure?)" America replies, "(Your ____ is moving around. And so are your ears.)"

"What?"

"(T-A-I-L,)" America spells, "(Tail.)"

Russia hums.

"(Are you sure you're okay?)"

"I'm still alive."

"(That's not what I'm asking.)"

"What do you want me to say? I'm not dead, and the states are safe. Mostly."

America seems to sigh before signing again.

"(I'm asking about you, not the states.)"

"I'm well enough."

"(You were freaking out before. I just wanted to make sure you're actually okay before we keep going.)"

"I'm okay," Russia soothes.

America nods and then takes Russia's hand. Russia's stomach feels warm and full of butterflies. America then tugs Russia down and kisses his forehead. The flashlight turns off and America cradles Russia's head.

Russia smiles brightly. Then, warm hands start massaging his ears. Russia melts into them.

"Awwww," America coos, "do you like this?"

Russia purrs in response. His tail calmly sways behind him, and he presses his face into America's shoulder. America pets his hair and smoothes out the fur on his ears, filling Russia with bubbly, warm feelings.

"There we go," America says with a laugh, "now you're okay."

Russia whines a little when America pulls away and turns his flashlight back on.

"Come on, we need to keep moving," America says, "but don't worry, as soon as we get home, we'll relax as much we can, okay?"

Russia hums with a love-struck smile. America scratches under Russia's chin and starts walking away. Russia walks with him, leaned over to enjoy America's contact.

They walk up and a flashlight lights them up. Finland begins laughing, and Russia yanks away like his face had been lit on fire.

Russia's face burns and America laughs. Russia tucks his tail against his chest and grabs it with his hands. He twists the fur between his fingers, glancing around at the shadows. The rows surrounding him suddenly open into a creepily long hallway that stretches out into shadows.

"Come on!" Florida exclaims, "let's find a way out of here!"

They walk into another row of machines, and Alberta watches the machines move, her light shining on a small circle. Russia followers her gaze. He stares up into the abyss above and spots a plaque on one of the machines. He doesn't understand the alphabet, but it looks intentional.

He takes out a notepad and begins scribbling on it, trying to match the way the symbols were written. They seem to have a message, but Russia couldn't decipher it.

Russia tucks the paper back into his back and takes a few running steps to catch up to America. South Dakota chats away with Ohio, and North Dakota begins walking ahead with Kansas, carefully peeking around corners.

"Can you actually see?" Finland asks.

"Yes," Russia replies, glancing at America.

"Do you see anything useful?"

Russia scans the room and spots what looks like a rectangular frame at the end of the next rows of machines.

"Beam, what is that?" Russia asks, pointing at it and facing America.

"Ruby, I can't see that far. This light sucks."

"It looks like a door."

"A door?" Florida interjects, bounding up to Russia.

Russia's ear flicks. He walks forward and grabs the door handle. It feels cold. He turns it slowly, and it opens smoothly to a set of metal stairs. He hears some commotion upstairs. Clanging metal and Russian and Ukrainian profanity echos around the metal bubble in the machinery.

"You think that's Ukraine?" America asks.

"Absolutely. His profanity is getting more creative though."

"New profanity! Can I have some?!" Ohio exclaims.

"If you can pronounce it," Russia replies with a shrug, ignoring the incredulous look America gives him.

"Oh, okay," Alberta says gleefully.

Kansas chuckles and America pinches Russia's arm.

"Hey!" Russia hisses.

"Stop giving them ideas," America scolds lightly.

Russia smirks and doesn't respond.

They continue walking, and Russia is careful to avoid the pipes lining the floor and ceiling. Florida starts to climb on them, but America is quick to pull him down. The hallways and floors and tinted red from small lights on the ceilings.

"What? Are you God damn guards scared of me know!? Fucking bastards!" A familiar voice echoes.

"Ukraine?" Russia calls.

The clanging quiets for a moment before coming back full volume.

Russia takes a few running steps upstairs, and South Dakota tries to follow him.

"Stay back with your sister," Russia hisses.

Russia creeps up to the top and peeks over the edge. It seems empty. The wall of the hallways is lined with huge metal doors. Each had a small slot on the bottom. The one toward the back left is being opened, and the door itself starts to shake.

The slot emits profanity that would've gotten Russia's mouth washed out at home.

Russia walks over and his tail flicks behind him. His ears perk up and he slowly walks over on his toes. He opens the eye slot and knocks on the door. Movement catches his attention, and Ukraine pops up to meet his gaze. Russia watches surprise, confusion, and excitement flash through his eyes.

Ukraine backs up and Russia pulls away. His ears pin back and he backs up a step.

"Ruby, wha-?"

Russia charges at the door with his shoulder and dents it inward. Russia backs up again and slams his shoulder into the metal. It creaks loudly against his weight, and Russia leans into it on the third and fourth shoves. The metal snaps and Russia tumbles inside.

He ends up on his back, and he looks up to see Ukraine standing over him, laughing. His shoulder throbs, but Russia decides to ignore it.

"Are you sparkly?!" Ukraine wheezes.

"Shut up!" Russia growls, rolling over onto his hands and knees.

"And you're a cat!" Ukraine cackles.

Russia stands up and glares.

"Maybe I shouldn't have saved you."

"You love me," Ukraine says smugly.

Russia crosses his arms and scowls. "Unfortunately."

Russia feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see a grinning America.

"Yay!" America cheers.

'Yay.... we found him.'

"You find something kitty-boy?" Finland calls.

"Yeah! Ukraine is up here," Russia calls back.

"You guys are friends?" Ukraine asks, baffled.

Russia smirks and doesn't respond.

'Now to get out of here. I wonder if Ukraine should know about Meri and me. I should ask Meri.'

'I can't wait to get home.'

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minniewoos · 4 years

Text

By the Stars ➣ Bang Chan

Genre: dystopian au, angst

Word count: 6,014

Warnings: terminal illness, prescription drug abuse, a moody Minho

Summary: The people of Mars live under constant surveillance and constant control; living in awful polluted conditions. Your brother, Jeongin, is sick. To save him you try to escape to Earth, your friend Chan helps you along the way.

The planet breathes smoke and fire.

Smog drifted up in thick, ashen pillars; hundreds of stacks ascending up towards the duel moons. Pinkish ruby skies were dulled to a cinnabar hue, poisoned from the constant outpour of smoke. Exhaust from the pristine cubes dotting the surface of the planet, between the small humble neighborhoods, large, off-white buildings whose purpose was for the ultimate happiness of humanity. People called those buildings the Cubes. It was considered a pleasure to work in them, for them, and for the human race, and you’re reminded of it every time you walk past. “LIVE TO SERVE” was embossed on every one of them. You served humanity, at least the portion who lived on Earth. The Cubes cranked out mass productions of illustrious, high-end products for the people of Earth to use or consume. It was the highest-ranking job on the planet aside from being a part of the royal court.

What is this planet? Well, its called it Mars. Colonized long ago by earthen prisoners. By people who were on death row because of their horrid crimes. Sent here to perform hard labor until their inevitable deaths. Those were your ancestors. But well…that was centuries ago, there have been many generations since the first colonies. Now, you were technically Martians but not really aliens. You were certainly human, and the only purpose in life was to produce luxury products for the people of Earth. But most people don’t seem to mind, this is all you’ve ever known. What a life.

There was constant smoke in the air due to the uncontrolled pollution, and it was the worst down in the trenches. A couple hundred feet below the surface, you lived in these canyons where the sun was hardly seen. And at night when curfew was enforced and the lanterns were blown out, these trenches were like an abyss. Impossible to see and impossible to escape. This is where the poorer citizens lived, aka, you.

But you’re probably the only one who thought of it that way. To your neighbors and friends, it was only a place to sleep before they woke up once more and continued their daily schedules. Your face twisted in disgust at the thought, none of them had a single idea or feeling of their own. And you know it’s not their fault; their heads were dulled with meds while their thoughts were constricted by the constant business your schedules demanded. It was near impossible to think, especially when the king tells everybody what to think. People don’t just live by what he says, they revere him and the people of Earth. It made you sick. It was brainwashing and it was effective.

Your eyes wandered towards the planet’s two moons. The rising Phobos and then to Deimos, as they rise and fall the red skies turn blue before shifting to black. It’s beautiful. But a shame the sight was being choked by the ash in the air, grey specks floating in the sky like always. It was still so ugly, like the black clouds spewing from the Cubes. The nasty pollution was suffocating the once beautiful planet.

“CURFEW IN TEN. I REPEAT, CURFEW IN TEN.” Several guardians stationed around this area of the trenches announced at once, cold mechanic voices resounding off the canyon walls. Their eyes started flashing red to signal the urgency of it, while yours just turned away from them. Guardians, ugly, metallic creatures were basically soldiers who controlled every aspect of life; people were under constant surveillance. It was suffocating. A few stragglers like you were finishing up their tasks and rushing into their homes. And at about five minutes before curfew, everyone’s wrist would start flashing, the last warning.

You sighed as you turned back towards your wagon. You unhooked it from your bike and collected your supplies, the things you didn’t sell, and the things you bought. When you walked inside, you were greeted by the dull lantern light and your brother already lying in his sheets, coughing up a lung. He was only a few years younger than you and the only family you had left. And ever since he came down with sickness, life got much harder and you became the main breadwinner.

“Y/n, you come home later every day.”

A weak smile, “Yea, I know. I’m sorry, Jeongin, but we can’t afford more time.”

“No, I’m sorry. Right now I’m just a burden.” He sat up, coughing as he did so. He shook his head, “I can’t work anymore and I know it’s hard to provide me.”

“Jeongin.” You turned towards him, a serious look settled on your face. “You will never be a burden on me. You are my little brother and I have no problem looking out for you. Come on, lay back down, you know how the guardians get with curfew.”

While putting the supplies away before bed, you tossed the useless meds in the disposal, just as you had been doing for the past several nights. Since you’ve been doing that, your mind cleared up immensely and it was like a blessing. Since then, Jeongin stopped taking the required meds and he’s come to notice more things as well. You’ve both agreed that the meds were given by the king to fog the citizens’ heads to prevent a revolution. But you do try to help his illness, a lung disease caused by the mass pollution on the planet; unfortunately the king provides the medicine for that too, and it doesn’t seem to be helping Jeongin. You’ve known many people to contract the disease, and the survival rate: 5%. Sighing sadly, you finish your nightly routine and make sure to shut the blinds in your tiny, three-room home. You blow the lanterns out, shading the small house in darkness so the Guardians don’t come by. You lay your head on your pillow and your mind went blank, peace.

Exactly 9 hours later, it was morning, you yawned and leaned your head against the wall of your small, wooden stall, stocked with daily portions. If people could afford them, they came and ate, if they couldn’t, then they worked more to afford the food. Another day out working and nothing’s changed with everything relatively the same, except right now, Chan stopped by. A kind boy who worked in the repair shop next door, he visited your food stall often. He gets hungry often, so sometimes you’d slip him an extra ration when you could afford it. You’ve been friends for a while, which you’re glad for. It’s hard to make friends when all you do it eat, sleep, and work. You wake up, leave the trenches, work on the surface, and then go back home to the trenches; so a friend livens up the day. Especially a friend like Chan, who is truly one of a kind. Even when everybody in this society is dulled by the meds, Chan’s light somehow shines through. It’s hard to explain, but he stuck out and was certainly a sight for sore eyes. So you try to make time in the schedules, and it’s easier since he works next door to your rickety food cart.

“You’ve been tired lately, why? Maybe you need a stronger prescription.” Chan’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he bit into his lunch ration for the day. You frown at the mention of the medication, medication you’ve stopped taking.

You paused for a moment, then shook your head, “No, that’s not it. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Is it Jeongin?”

You nod, a slight irritation bubbling inside of you, “His meds for Soot Lung haven’t helped at all, and then why would the king or the guardians care about him? He’s only a vendor’s sister, barely out of school now. You have no idea how many letters I sent the palace begging for help. Begging Chan. But nothing will change because everything is contaminated on this stupid planet, we can’t even breathe properly!” You slammed a fist down, shifting everything in your little stall. You couldn’t care less, but as for Chan, he gave you a look like you just talked back to the king himself. “What, why do you look so worried?”

“You’re being really emotional,” he stood up and looked down at you, concern written on his face, “are you sure you’re okay. You’ve been acting weird lately anyway.“

You stared at him for a moment, then on a whim, in your lowest voice, you uttered to him, “Do you trust me.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

Chan’s Adam’s apple dipped and he took a shaky breath before nodding, a sure and absolute nod. You purse your lips, you trusted Chan, of course you did. Without him, you wouldn’t know where you would be. He and Jeongin were the only things that were able to bring a smile to your face. Emotions were something undeniably human, and they were being suppressed by the king; without the meds, people would be able to live freely, to think freely. You wanted Chan to experience the same sense of freedom as you have discovered. Your hesitance came with what Chan would think. Chan, just like everyone else, was a slave to this society. Everyone had to work, everyone had to worship the king, and everyone had to think the same. You were the outlier here, but you clasped his hands in yours and looked at him pleadingly.

“Then, my good good friend, please stop taking the meds. Just trust me and for one week…throw them in the disposal. And nobody will know.” You squeezed his hands in yours, from across your stall, and looked at him with a fire he’s probably never witnessed in a single person before. “It’s-It’s like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, like a lock was broken and I can finally express myself. These emotions I’m feeling, they were amplified by ten…! It feels freeing in a way. Those meds suppress us, and they’re used to control us. And sometimes, like now, I want the people around me to experience these emotions as well…”

Chan eyed your face for any sign of lies or jests. And when he found none, his eyes turned fearful, “Y/n…you know that we live to serve the people of Earth. Those emotions you’re feeling are not for us. They aren’t for us as they weren’t for our ancestors.”

“Just one week,” you insisted, your voice low once more, “Try it for one week. Our ancestors’ faults should not be our own. Will you do it?”

Chan paused for one half of a moment, a half a moment of deep thought, then nodded. You took his hand in yours and grinned, as did he. The thought of Chan choosing you, made you overwhelmingly happy. Because as of now, he gave you hope.

∎∎∎

It’s been several nights since then, and you’ve come up with a thought. A crazy, impossible, and life-threatening thought. One purely for Jeongin.

You will go to Earth.

Earth, as you’ve heard, was clean. The sky was a beautiful blue hue. You could breathe and your lungs don’t turn black, you could look up and the sky was clear, and you could even drink from the rivers! Everything was clean on Earth. The air on Earth could clean your brother’s lungs; as you’ve heard, the air itself could heal the planet’s infamous Soot Lung. Soot Lung was very common on the planet, and you’re not sure how many die from it, but Jeongin isn’t going to be one of them. You told Jeongin a couple days ago, and he agreed; you presented the idea to Chan the day after, and he also agreed. Seemingly much more determined and motivated lately, the change was nice, but much more sudden then you expected.

And today between work and curfew, you had only an hour, you would visit a dock worker called Minho. A friend of Chan’s, apparently. And Chan said he’s been a smuggler for a while; never explicitly explained to him, but Chans not dumb, he found it obvious. Jeongin’s condition was worsening by the day and you didn’t have much time left. His breathing was short and faint. If only time had a price, you’d be willing to pay anything for that. But for now, you can only race time. And by the stars, you were sprinting for your lives.

“Are you Minho?” you asked a guy hauling a crate to the end of a dock, he was stocking a shipment to Earth. The massive ship settled at the edge of it, doors open, ready to be filled.

The docks were not by water or contained the boats used on Earth. Mars has no need for large bodies of waters, or rains, or any precipitation. The only snow you receive is the dusty, black, yet gentle ash floating in the atmosphere. Instead, the docks were filled with large spaceships ready for takeoff into the cosmos. And the dock workers simply loaded the shipments up and sent the valuable goods off to Earth. But, if you were clever, you could take advantage of the low-ranking job and smuggle a thing or two to make some extra cash. Maybe a couple tablets of Ecstasy or a bottle of Pleasure, whatever it takes to live a bit comfier. Some even snuck people onto the ships to go to Earth, those were the people with nothing to lose…or a death wish. Of course, if you get caught, you disappear immediately. The king had a no tolerance policy with this planet.

But as you surveyed this guy in front of you, a man in his early twenties at best, you wouldn’t have had the tiniest suspicion he’d be involved in such illegal activities. He looked virtually harmless with a fair complexion and a small, round face. He was a dock worker and lugged boxes and crates all day, but he was slim and lean, not at all what you expected from a supposed smuggler. But to his credit, his eyes were sharp, steely, and wise; it gave you some comfort in the reliability he exuded.

“What about it?” he snapped at me, and you were taken aback by the harshness. The tone contradicting his soft features.

“Chan told me about you, we want to make it to Earth-”

“Shut it!” He slaps a hand over your mouth before you could continue, “If you want to leave, the dock is the last place to talk about this. There are guardians everywhere.”

You pulled his hand off your mouth, “Fine, when can we talk?”

He scowled, “Depends on the pay and if you’re dumb or not. But guessing from your introduction, you’re not the brightest.”

Your bit back a retaliation and pulled out your bag of coins, “This is all I have, please my brothers really sick.”

Minho only scoffed, “That’s not enough for a tablet of Ecstasy. This whole crate is worth more than your life. Come back when you’re not going to waste my time.” he turned his back to you. He continued to haul the crates onto the ship. You felt the blood rushing to your face; you couldn’t tell if that meant anger or embarrassment, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“Then how bout this?” A bag full of coins was thrown at Minho’s feet, probably valued over thrice the amount you offered. And it was Chans. you turned around and almost yelled at him, but you held back to try to keep control. So you simply asked, “Why are you here?”

“I’m the one who recommended him to you, you think I’m not going too?” Chan said, undeniably sure of himself. He worked a higher-paying job than you, and didn’t have to spend as much. It only made sense for him to have more money than you did, but it wasn’t as much as the people who worked in the Cubes made. And even though he was your good friend, you didn’t want him going and risking his life.

You could feel the blood rising again, there was no way you’d let yourself be the reason for a possible death. And death was very possible. If Chan died, you’d have that guilt on your shoulders forever. You didn’t care about yourself; this was for Jeongin, and this is your last resort. Meanwhile, Minho looked from coins to Chan, a look of contemplation on his face.

“Fine, but the only reason I’m taking you is because of Chan; I can do it.” Minho said, picking up the bag of coins. He side-glanced you, “And he seems to have some common-sense.”

“Thanks, Minho, we won’t be a problem.” Chan said gratefully, a small smile curving the corners of his lips.

“I believe you won’t be the problem,” Minho said harshly then nodded at you, “don’t let them ruin this.”

Chan looked at you, then only nodded towards Minho.

“Now get out of here before we all disappear.”

You huffed on the way home to the trenches with Chan, he only snickered at you; he was amused. You sent a displeased look his way and crossed your arms. You and Chan fell into step together over the red terrain and under your setting sun. The normally red skies began fading to a light, beautiful blue hue as your sun was going to sleep. It was a beautiful sight. Still, simultaneously and wordlessly, you quickened your pace, dreading the possibility of being late to curfew. You and Chan were virtually alone on the quaint road; although there were a couple other stragglers and a few guardians stationed at their posts, It felt as though you were the only two people at this moment. It was then where he nudged your hand with his before slipping it into yours, lacing and locking your hands together. Although a simple moment, a walk home at sunset, your chest bloomed and warmed as a certain feeling spread throughout it. It was cozy, and snug, and secure, and- and safe. In that moment, a feeling you can’t recall experiencing before; many feelings you hadn’t experienced before. You glanced at Chan, and so did he; you squeezed his hand fondly, and so did he.

It was quiet the rest of the walk, but peaceful. Then you arrive at the trench entrance, a rickety old lift that carried passengers to the bottom. Before you let go of his hand to board the creaky lift, you had a sudden urge. You began to get nervous and shy, blood rushed to your cheeks and they became red; it was an unusual feeling you had. You never felt it before, but the more you stared at Chan, the more nervous you became. You unconsciously swallowed. And before the uncomfortable feeling became any stronger, you suddenly leaned in closer, placing a kiss against his lips. It was impulsive and spontaenous but spoke things that words couldn’t.

Shock and a stillness, but Chan soon reciprocated and kissed back as that feeling from before exploded in your chest. And it only elevated as Chan wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you close. It felt unreal, and kind of magical. It was only when you pulled away that you realized what you were feeling, it was love.

You’ve only ever heard of the feeling, and you’ve certainly loved before, but it wasn’t as intense and raw as this moment. And as you looked at Chan, his eyes said the same thing. His cheeks were blushing red and it was like he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Chan…” You whispered, his shirt in your clenched hands, not wanting to let go.

“…yes?”

“I-” you paused, but only for a second, “I love you.”

The smile that broke across his face could only be described as warm, loving, and very very happy. His arms tightened around you and he pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on you. “I love you too, y/n. God, I’ve never felt this happy before.”

“Me too,” You smiled joyously.

After another moment together, you said your farewells and waved goodbye as the lift descended. The reluctance to say goodbye was clear, but it was necessary. The Guardians were strict. And Chan didn’t live in the trenches, he lived above ground. Better conditions but less freedom, if any.

“Get home safe.” You called out to him, and he smiled at you.

∎∎∎

It was five days, five days with absolutely no word from Chan. He hasn’t been at work; he hasn’t been seen or heard of from anybody. And your mind could only go to the worse. You made him late for curfew. That had to be the reason. And just thinking about that made your heart sink. If the guardians caught Chan then, who knows what they would do to him; they would find out he wasn’t taking his meds and the punishment for that is… You shook your head, but the thoughts still didn’t disappear. It devastated you, Chan has become a part of your daily routine and not seeing him for days worried you to no end, especially after what happened.

But you still planned on making it to Earth with Jeongin. He’s been overcome by lassitude for a while now, and you can’t wait any longer. No matter how much it broke you.

“Hey- Y/n.” you heard Jeongin say weakly.

“Oh, yes?”

“When are we going to Earth? Where’s that guy you spoke of.”

“We’re leaving soon, I talked and arranged everything. And…” you tried swallowing a lump in your throat, then a voice crack, “I… I don’t know. Jeongin, I have no idea where he is.”

“Did you treasure him…?” Meekly and innocently, Jeongin looked at you, his wide eyes bright as he already knew the answer. But the simple inquiry was enough to set a switch off; everything inside yourself you tried to compose leaked out.

Your eyes began to burn as tears welled up and brimmed on your eyes. You sniffed, took a great, shaky breath in, then out. You looked at Jeongin, a pained smile etched itself onto your face, he’s the only one you have now. Your beloved little brother, and even he’s about to be taken right from you if you don’t act soon.

“That man’s name was Chan, and-and he was warm and kind and gentle. He was smart, too; he might not have looked like it though. He took care of me when I refused to take care of myself…and I like to think I did the same for him. Chan was my only friend on our planet. Our ugly, vile, corrupt planet filled to the brim with depravity.” Before you knew it, your despair over Chan soon morphed into a wave of anger over the foul system that took him from you.

“With a king who treats us like cogs in a machine; slaves to him and slaves to Earth. And the worst of it, nobody else sees the awful state they are forced to be in. Meds meds meds. They pump fog into your mind and force meaningless smiles onto your faces; a fake contentedness that’s truly quite eerie. A planet full of suppressed emotions; there exists no anger, no love, no hope, no sorrow. No nothing! Nothing! We are thrown into schooling as soon as possible to only learn to be servants. Well, I don’t want to be a servant! I want these emotions, no matter how painful I want to feel. Jeongin, in school, you learned about emotions the people on Earth feel, right? Well, without the goddamned meds, we feel those as well; that’s what they don’t teach you huh.” you laughed bitterly; you frantically tapped your fingers against your table.

The king throws all the children into school at around four years old, and I’ve heard it’s younger if you live in the upper classes. But all they do is teach you how to “live to serve.” They show the history of your planet and the superiority the people of Earth have over us due to your ancestors’ faults. That’s the only story your children will ever hear, it’s drilled into you. Your children never get approbation or praise for any achievements made; they don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve the luxury of fables or fairy tales, that’s reserved for the people of Earth. At the age of sixteen, you’re assigned a role to play in society and thrown out into the world. And you were assigned to be a simple vendor. A measly food vendor to sell small rations to those who could afford it. Jeongin, while having a better job than you, still didn’t get paid much as an entertainer for the royal court. He used to sing for them and they loved his unique voice, how ironic he contracted Soot Lung.

You sighed and helped Jeongin stand up, he leaned against you, “Okay Jeongin, we’re going now.”

“Y/n,” He coughed before leaning against you once more for support, “We will get through this together. You are one of the strongest people I know. You’re my big sister. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Jeongin flashed his bright signature smile, a smile that never failed to brighten your mood. And you smiled back with his words, words that gave you confidence. You made your way to the docks, determined to keep Jeongin safe.

When you arrived at the meeting spot near the docks but away from prying eyes, you were surprised to see two other people there with Minho. They were a couple, a boy and a girl. You looked at Minho inquisitively.

“Don’t give me that look, you’re all going to Earth. Just follow my instructions, and don’t be dumb.” He announced to you, glanced at Jeongin, then added, “I’ll be joining this time.”

“You’re going too?“

Minho nodded, “We all have our reasons to escape this hell. I’m going to take these two to a separate ship, it may take a while so just wait here in the meantime.”

You nodded and so did Jeongin, but before he left, he paused and turned to you specifically.

“I’ll send Chan over to you to wait with you. Okay?” Minho whispered, as casual as he could be, as if it were no big deal to you. But your eyes nearly bugged out of your head with how wide they got, the news was sudden and completely unexpected. You went into this believing Chan was unreachable, taken away from you by the Guardians. But here Minho was, Chan’s friend, telling you that Chan was alive?

“Wh-what?” you stammered dumbly.

“I’m sending Chan over.” Minho repeated, starting to get annoyed.

“He’s okay? Really? I haven’t seen him in days, oh god, I was so worried. Minho, are you being serious?” You rambled on, the anxiety from missing Chan was being let go now.

“Yes.” Minho snapped, “Now be quiet and stay here. Nobody will find you guys. And Chan can explain things to you.”

And with that Minho left with the other two stowaways, and you huffed, slightly annoyed by his snappy attitude. But that was quickly forgotten at the thought of seeing Chan again.

Jeongin smiled as the two of you sat in a small hidden space, “Now I get to see that boyfriend of yours.”

A blush crawled up your neck and your glared at Jeongin, embarrassed, “He’s not my boyfriend, come on, don’t tease me.”

“Ah but you’re blushing y/n.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ah shut up!”

Jeongin’s devilish smile was back and you were pouting at him, he never let the opportunity to tease you go. You shook your head at him and was thinking of something to say when Jeongins smile dropped a slightly, but then came back brighter than before. You figured he found pleasure in your suffering.

“What do you think of Chan?” He asked, his eyes wandering to look behind you.

“Ah come on, you know the answer to that already Jeongin, stop teasing.” You whined, and then followed his gaze and looked behind you. Your breath seemed to halt. Because there stood Chan, a smile on his face as you locked eyes with him. You mirrored him and stood up immediately. Relief flooded through you to see him for yourself, “You’re okay!”

“Of course I am, you can’t get rid of me that easy.” He smiled, and opened his arms to hug you, which you gladly accepted and practically tackled him in a hug. But he barely budged and just wrapped his arms around you and a big, comforting embrace. You rested your head on him, closing your eyes and smiling in that moment.

“I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“Yea, but I still missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Yuck.” Jeongin had enough of the very visible displays of cheesy affection from you two and audibly voiced his distaste. “Not in front of me please.”

You looked at Jeongin and stuck your tongue out at him childishly, mocking him. He just mirrored your actions, mocking you. Meanwhile, Chan laughed softly, humored by the sibling interactions. You suddenly realized, this is Chans first time meeting your brother.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, then put a hand over your mouth, realizing you should be quiet. Then continued in a softer tone, “Chan, this is Jeongin. Jeongin, this is Chan.”

Jeongin stood up, albeit slowly, and held out a hand to greet Chan. Which Chan took confidently, a smile on his face since he was finally able to meet the brother you cared so much for. Jeongin cast a playful glare, “Be careful with her, she’s hard to handle.”

“Hey.” You pouted, offended.

“Yea, I know, I’m used to it.”

“Hey!” You smacked Chan’s arm.

He laughed, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, only teasing you. You leaned into him and looked at him seriously, “Hey…so you have some explaining to do.”

“Ah, yea… I do.” Chan hesitated, then went to sit down next to Jeongin and you followed him. “I’m not hurt, so you don’t have to worry.”

You nodded and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Well, I was late for curfew, only barely. I was on my street when curfew passed and a Guardian had caught me. I was taken to some holding cell and just kinda sat there for a day, but eventually they came back.” Chan’s eyebrows furrowed and he stared at the ground as he continued. “They came back to give me my daily meds, but I only pretended to take them. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to me, actually. But they drew some blood from me, and well, they found out I wasn’t taking the meds… They almost killed me-but I’m okay!”

Chan quickly reassured once more, looking to you and knowing how worried you must’ve been, he didn’t want to add more stress. “The cells were old, since they barely hold anybody in them, and there was a broken lock so I was able to escape. But I couldn’t just go back to normal life, I’d be punished by death. So, well, I went to Minho…he wasn’t happy. But he helped me hide out till now.” Chan laughed awkwardly, grateful for his agitated friend. He was still staring at the ground, nodding his head as if to confirm what he experienced was real.

“How did you and Minho become friends?” Jeongin asked, confused how two completely different people got along.

“We’ve known each other since really little, we talked more than others so we got along naturally. People change over the years, but, we still get along quite well.” Chan explained with a small smile. He then looked up to see Minho walking up to you guy, “Speak of the devil.”

“Talking about me, I see.” Minho said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Let’s go, get up quick, the faster we are the better our chances are.”

You and Chan supported Jeongin as Minho lead all of you through a maze of crates, and eventually into the loading dock. It was quite secluded and you were the only ones there, for now. Minho was ahead of the group by a few paces, leading the way to a couple large crates. He cracked two open, revealing they were only half filled with the luxury goods, and looked back at the group. But your attention was at the ship taking off, already a good three-hundred feet in the sky heading towards Earth. The boys followed your gaze towards the spaceship.

“That’s the ship the other couple were on, I believe that’s going to some place in the Americas. A nice couple actually, their story was similar to yours.” Minho explained, then looked at you and Chan. “I heard the Americas are one of the richer places to be on Earth, but anywhere on Earth is better than anywhere on here. I really do hope the best for-”

Minho’s moment of sentiment was abruptly cut off as a huge explosion shook the atmosphere. You gasped in horror and looked towards the source, it was the ship, the same one the couple from before were on. And it was already in shambles, pieces flying down from the sky in flaming chunks. You were confused on how that happened until you was a rocket fly towards it, and explode when it came into contact with a larger chunk of the ship. It broke into smaller pieces as well, essentially guaranteeing the destruction of anything aboard that ship. Minho hissed in enraged panic, sucking in a large breath before pushing the crates onto the ship you were about the board.

“Follow me in!” He yelled, urgent and loading the cargo without haste. None of you hesitated to follow directions. Minho wasted no time in loading the rest of the cargo that was needed, it seemed like this was the last load needed for this shipment to Earth. Minho swore and rambled, “Whenever the king finds out about stowaways, he just blows up the entire fucking ship. Jackass doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

He closed the large door for the ship, then did some security measures before leading the three of you towards the two half-empty crates from before.

“I have buddies on Earth who will help once we land, Earth doesn’t condone what goes on here on Mars, but nearly no media coverage is on it. But they accept refugees, thankfully. Chan and y/n in that crate.” Minho pointed to one, then to the other, “Jeongin and me in this one. You two get in first and I’ll seal the crate.”

“Wait…the king doesn’t know about us??” You asked frantically, “What happens to us?”

“It’s either we take this risk or we die anyway.” Minho frowned, “This is better than continuing to live in this hellhole.”

You looked down for a moment, then to Jeongin and nodded. Agreeing with Minho. Whatever happens, happens.

You smiled at Jeongin, “I’ll see you on the other side buddy.”

“You better greet me with a smile.” He smiled back at you as you climbed into the crate with Chan, a tight fit, but a fit nonetheless. Minho grimly shut and sealed the crate, leaving the closed space in darkness with the exception of a few holes poking light through.

Chan held you close as you all waited to see what your fates were, but whatever they were at this point, they would be better than before. You and Chan spoke no words as you listened to Minho seal the crate beside you, and then silence. Your heart wouldn’t settle no matter how hard you tried to calm down. But all you could do was sit and wait; wait for what felt like an hour until the ship finally began to rumble. Chan held your hand and held you close, your head resting on his shoulder in that solemn moment. Liftoff.

a/n: so, hope you enjoyed :)

I wrote this for class sometime last year and it’s just been sitting in my docs since. I liked the idea so I took it, heavily edited it, and here it is now. It’s still a little eh some parts, but I hope y’all like it. Also thought it was a fitting story cause of Astronaut dropping recently

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rukangle · 4 years

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RWBY Tuesday: RWBY White Trailer Retrospective - Insufferable Firecracker

RWBY Tuesday: RWBY White Trailer Retrospective

FEATURED ~ INSUFFERABLE FIRECRACKER

Last week I kicked off my RWBY Retrospective series with the RWBY Red Trailer. For a brief recap, when the RWBY Red Trailer first released, I wasn’t exactly a huge fan of what I saw. My love of RWBY didn’t come until I saw the release of the RWBY White Trailer and the introduction of Weiss Schnee.

The trailer opens slowly, a quote flashes across the screen. Then a spotlight shows overhead, the garbled mutterings of an announcer calls her name. The audience cheers as a white haired woman takes the stage. Her face is elegant, but there’s a slender scar blemishing her skin over one eye. She’s dressed in white, with a splash of red, and a hint of black. Her expression stays serious in front of the crowd. The soft fluttering of of a piano begins to play as the crowed cheers.

By this point in the trailer, less than 30 seconds into it, I had already found myself captivated by Weiss Schnee as a character. Where the RWBY Red Trailer failed to instantly grab my attention, the RWBY White Trailer had captured me from the very beginning.

Weiss looks out to the crowd, takes a breath and closes her eyes. Then the song begins in earnest. Unlike Ruby’s song that was merely playing as a music backdrop, this time Weiss is performing her personal story for the world to see. Her song, known as “Mirror Mirror” is a testament that Jeff Williams and Casey Lee Williams really know how to make a soundtrack shine.

This song is probably one of the saddest in the original soundtrack for the first RWBY volume. As the song plays, Weiss is shown to be singing it, although, her actual voice actress didn’t do the vocals. The woman singing is Casey Lee Williams.

This trailer turns into a flashback as Weiss continues to sing, her eyes still closed. The camera pans lower and the stage fades to black. A reflection of Weiss glows from the dark abyss as she stands atop it, a perfect reflection.

It is now implied that anything beyond this is a flashback of a memory Weiss has. Her eyes open, and kneeling in front of her is a gigantic armored knight. It bows to her in reverence, as if she were its queen. Then, it stands to its full height, grasping its sword as the tempo of the music changes.

No longer just a soft piano melody, string instruments and percussion are added into the mix. The soft classical music taking on new urgency as Weiss faces down her opponent. Swords clash as Weiss faces down this armored giant, deftly avoiding his blade.

Her combat is almost like a dancer’s grace as she continues flitting around the arena floor like a ballerina. She uses her sword with frontal swings and forward jabs just like a fencer. Weiss relies on a mix of skill, dust, and a series of glyphs to the knight and gain the upper hand.

This isn’t enough to stop the knight from countering every attack she lands on him. Finally he swats her aside like a paper doll. She lands on the ground looking disheartened and defeated.

Then the scene faces to black and Weiss is on stage again. Slowly she opens her eyes. Operatic vocals fill the air as the moon overhead appears from behind dark clouds.

Her eyes close again, and her memory continues.

The knight is still ready for more, and Weiss lifts herself up from the ground. There’s blood on her face, and determination in her eyes.

Weiss won’t let herself be put down from a little thing like a head injury. Instead she prepares herself for another clashing of blades. She’s smarter this time, going on the defensive and waiting for the right moment to take him down.

The song changes tempo again. This time, it’s not haunting, it’s empowering. She prepares her weapon, adjusting her stance, and strikes. A flurry of red and blue dust shimmers with every attack. A wave of ice spiking up from the ground as she returns the armored knight’s attack tenfold, effectively disarming him.

Then it’s time for her final attack. She readies her glyphs and the dust inside her sword. Trapping the the knight she sends herself flying into the air, slicing a pinpoint attack into the knight. This turns him into dust.

Sparkles of dust fall from the stage as she finishes her song. The blood on her face fades away. She opens her eyes and looks around as if trying to remember where she is. The crowd cheers for her.

Weiss looks out toward the audience and she offers her final bow. Her reflection is still there, a perfect mirror image. The curtains close, and the trailer ends.

The RWBY White Trailer is character building at its finest. A lot of fans claim that Weiss is one of the most interesting characters in the series, at least, on her own merits. I wholeheartedly agree. In this trailer we’re given far more depth to her character than we ever saw in the RWBY Red Trailer.

At the end, I feel like I know more about Weiss than I ever did about Ruby. The thing is, Ruby’s trailer focuses more on factual information. For Weiss, her trailer is entirely emotional. The fight was on her point of view, and the song lyrics reflect that.

The song stands in a league of it’s own, the animation is top-notch, and the fight is captivating from start to finish. All in all, this trailer is my absolute favorite one in the early volumes.

However, I wouldn’t actually say it’s the best trailer we received. No, that credit goes to the RWBY Black Trailer, featuring Blake Belladonna. Join me next Tuesday as I cover Blake’s trailer. You don’t want to miss it.

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rohad93 · 6 years

Text

Magic & Monsters Ch6

With the Cat potion Ruby could see in the catacombs as if the midday sun were shining straight inside.

She stalked quietly down the tunnel to the first cavern and drew the silver sword from her back as silently as possible.

She and Weiss hadn’t explored very far into the tunnels but she figured that whoever was killing the servants hadn’t put the basilisk here. You couldn’t make a basilisk do anything. No, it was more likely the basilisk had come in from a tunnel that lead above ground outside the castle and that the responsible party had somehow discovered it and was letting it do their dirty work for them.

She of course had no proof of any of that, it was just a theory, but she had a gut feeling and if Ruby had learned to trust anything over all the years she had been a Witcher it was her gut. Her instincts never let her down, when she chose to follow them of course.

It had been more than a month since the basilisk had had its last free meal here, presumably. Even if it had a way to get outside from here, and it must, it was safer to go into this fight assuming it was hungry and perhaps even desperate.

She had gone into fights before, not taking those little bits of information into account and had paid for it. She had been fairly lucky over the years that her face was free of the kind of deep angry looking scars that covered the rest of her body.

The worst of which was a long, wide scar that started at her left shoulder and traveled diagonally to the right side of her ribs and ached terribly when winter was at its peak.

At the time she had thought for sure that that wound was going to be the end of her. Her saving grace had been the fact that when she took the blow she had buried all thirty-five and a half inches of Crescent Rose’s silver blade to the hilt in that Werewolf’s throat. That, and that the village that had hired her had helped patch her back together afterward.

She’d learned her lessons the hard way that was for sure.

She trudged deeper into the tunnels than she and Weiss had previously gone. Unless she was really lucky she would no doubt have to do some backtracking to check the other tunnels. Hopefully they didn’t all intersect.

She followed one tunnel to its end and found where it came above ground. She would have to tell Oobleck to have some men block this off unless he wanted something else to move in, maybe even more dangerous than a basilisk.

She backtracked to the first cavern, and went down the next opening. It was silent except for her own heartbeat in her ears. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It was only about a hundred feet down the second tunnel that she found the nest she had been looking for.

Large green feathers were scattered about the area littered with chunks of bone and by the smell, dung, but other than that it was empty.

She knew the sun had probably nearly set, it would be back soon.

She scampered behind a large rock and waited, digging the small vial of draconid oil out of her pouch and pouring it over Crescent Rose’s spotless silver blade. She would be ready for when it came back to the nest.

Settling down on her knees she closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath, settling into a meditative state.

Of all her training, meditation was by far the hardest aspect for Ruby. She excelled at everything having to do with combat and even learning the alchemy and strengths and weakness of several books worth of monsters had come easier than meditating. She always wanted to be going and doing anything she could.

Her mentor always said that she had to much energy for her own good. To quell that problem he’d make her run the gauntlet until she thought she would black out and then make her sit and meditate, reprimanding her harshly if she fell asleep.

Two months of that treatment had taught her how to better channel and focus her energy into more useful ways, as well as finally relax herself and easily slip into meditation.

Her breathing evened and her already slower than average heartbeat slowed even further. Time ticked by unheeded. How long was hard to say down here in the black abyss of the catacombs. It could have been five minutes, it could have been three hours.

The soft rattling of the medallion resting on her chest made her eyes pop open. It was here.

Creeping forward to peek around the rock she saw it.

The large wings attached to it’s forearms made quiet rustling noises as it shuffled forward, it’s long talons clicking against the stone as it picked over the bits of bones laying on the floor with its beak. It wasn’t the biggest basilisk she'd ever seen, but it wasn’t the smallest either. It had dark green scales covering its entire body, which was about eight feet long. It’s wingspan probably was twice that, though in here she would have the advantage.

One of a basilisks most dangerous tactics was to divebomb prey from the air, using its weight and talons to rip prey to shreds. That would be impossible in here.

Gripping her blade with both hands she slowly stepped out from behind the rock, the blade over her sword at cheek level, pointed at the beast.

She stepped and gravel shifted under her foot, causing the beast to whip around to face her. Its head twitched and cocked to the side before it let loose a loud crowing screech, flapping its wings threateningly.

It charged, swiping at her with deadly claws. She parried the blow and spun away, putting some distance between herself and the beast.

It charged again and she flashed Igni, spraying the beast with a blast of fire. It screeched in pain, reeling back and swinging its wings wildly. Spinning on her heel she brought down the full weight of the blade, the metal biting deeply into its side. Blood splattered the floor and it screeched again, swiping at her.

The powerful forearm was blocked by the blade but the force sent her stumbling backwards.

She dug her heels in as much as the stone would allow and was able to quickly regain her footing. The beast swiped at her and she backstepped just out of its reach, sword poised to strike or parry as she circled it.

It screeched, the crest on its head flaring. It was angry.

She slashed at its face only to have the blow parried by the long talons on its forearms. She flung out her hand, throwing out another blast of fire to help create an opening. The beast screeched, leaping away as the flames licked at its leathery hide.

She spun to the right, delivering a furious overhead strike to its back, but it only grazed it as it jumped away.

It continued to back away as Ruby advanced. She had to be careful, it was liable to do something unpredictable.

She was in the surprised by what it did though.

Instead of attacking it fled.

Running back down the tunnel she had come from. The shock lasted only a moment before she gave chase down the tunnel, heading back the way she came. It was looking to escape.

She chased it back to the main cavern, nothing about that was unusual until it scrambled up the steps leading back up to the dungeon and her heart jumped in her chest.

She suddenly remembered Weiss and the guard standing just on the other side and her heart rate spiked.

‘Shit shIT SHIT!’ She panicked inside. That old rotten door would never hold the basilisk, it was going to escape into the castle.

She watched as it busted through the door with a crack like thunder followed by two startled voices.

She pushed herself harder, flying up the steps and into the dungeon.

Bits of shattered wood lay spilled across the floor. The guard was laying sprawled on his back having been knocked away when the basilisk burst through. Her eyes scanned frantically until they landed on a head of white.

Weiss was pushing herself up off the floor. She locked eyes with Ruby and pointed to the unfortunately, wide open doors that lead out into the castle.

“Go!” She ordered, watching the Witcher do a twitchy sideways shuffle toward the doors, unsure if she should give chase or help Weiss.

Without further prompting she turned and ran, following the screams that were suddenly erupting from within Beacon castle.

She caught up to it in the main hall. Screaming servants were running for their lives and guards shakily stood their ground.

There was no way it would break through the giant front gates, which meant it was now trapped inside. Unfortunately all the people that were now at risk put Ruby at a disadvantage.

“Run, get out of here!” She yelled, making those still frozen in fear scramble for cover.

Finding its way blocked it turned around to face her and let out a piercing screech as its wings unfurled in a gust of wind.

‘Shit,’ She thought with a scowl.

She flashed the sign for Quen and felt the tingle of the magical shield as it settled over her body.

Weiss came running into the main hall with Oobleck on her heels, having heard the commotion from his office. Several guards were at their side instantly, keeping them shielded near the wall.

The powerful beating of the basilisk’s wings lifted it off the ground, making the banners hanging from the walls flap violently and the guards shook in their armor. Ruby bent her knees, ready.

With a screech it flashed forward, diving at her.

Tucking her chin to her chest Ruby rolled forward, almost passing unharmed underneath the deadly beast. As it passed over its back legs knocked into her, sending her tumbling, breaking Quen and causing a small explosion that sent it reeling as it landed behind her, claws screeching against the stone as it tried to right itself. A few feathers smoked at the end of its wings from Quen’s blowback.

It’s screeching filled the room and its wings raised, preparing to take off again.

Popping up like a spring and pivoting on her heel Ruby threw up her right hand, casting Aard and blasting the basilisk with a gust of wind. It wasn’t enough to knock it over but it was enough to disorient it just long enough that in three quick seconds she covered the distance between her and it, swinging her sword in a graceful arc and slicing at the monsters left wing. It sailed through the air, never slowing as it sliced through skin and muscle like butter.

It screeched and flung itself around swiping at her exposed right side.

A searing pain shot through her shoulder but she ignored it as she leapt to the side. It spat at her, spraying acid across the floor, forcing her to back off. It spread its wings, preparing.

The cut to its wing hadn’t been enough to prevent it from taking off again.

She took a chance and darted forward, throwing out the Yrden sign. A glowing purple circle of runes flashed into existence around the basilisk, crackling with energy as it was held in the barrier. It wouldn’t last long.

With one powerful overhead swing she finished what she started and hacked off the beast’s left forearm. The loud crunching of its bones was drowned out by its shriek of anguish.

There wouldn’t be anymore flying for it.

It was crippled now but that was no reason to grow complacent, she’d been there before and paid for it. Her scars were a road map of lessons learned hard. Backed into a corner now it would fight harder than ever, even as it bled all over the floor. The servants hiding in the halls and behind the the pillars watched silently.

Weiss watched the Witcher’s graceful and fluid movements with silent awe and newfound respect. She honestly hadn’t expected much from the chatty, unimposing Witcher, but watching her now, swiftly moving around the beast in a deadly dance, she felt regret of her quick judgment.

Ruby circled the beast slowly, her steps measured and careful, ready to advance or retreat in the blink of an eye. It hissed and spit, keeping its bottomless black eyes trained on her.

Seeing the monster crippled emboldened a nearby guard into charging at it, sword drawn.

“Stay back!” Ruby shouted at the man.

His battle cry drew the monster’s attention and it turned on him much quicker than everyone but Ruby thought possible.

The guard screamed in agony as acid coated his front, spraying him in the face. He thrashed on the ground in agony.

Pressing the distraction Ruby charged, jumping up into a spin and bringing Crescent Rose’s blade down in a flashing arc, it bit deep into the back of the basilisk’s neck and blood splashed back, splattering her armor.

The beast slumped, twitching violently. Ruby raised her blade over head and with one great swing severed head from body and at last it lay still. Blood flowed over the stone and dripped from Crescent Rose’s tip, making little ripples in the growing pool at her feet.

The hall was silent for several long seconds before the guards cheered and bellowed, combined with the excited chatter of the servants.

“Sensational, absolutely sensational!” Oobleck praised as he jogged up to her, Weiss at his side.

“All in a day’s work.” Ruby nodded, taking out a rag and wiping the blood and remaining oil from the blade’s surface before sliding it home on her back. Reaching up to wipe her face she flinched, which did not go unnoticed by Weiss.

“You’re injured.” She took hold of the Witcher’s right arm to get a closer look at the two bloody gashes in her arms

“Yeah. He nicked me.” She admitted. Now that the adrenaline was leaving her she could feel it throbbing and was aware of the blood seeping all the way down her arm. Some had pooled inside her glove, she could feel the sticky liquid on her fingers.

She glanced over at the guard lying still on the floor. She already knew he was dead even before two other guards picked him up and carried him away and she felt some guilt gnaw at her. Weiss followed her gaze and saw the dead man being hauled away and the look of guilt on Ruby’s face.

“He brought that on himself.” The Sorceress said and Ruby knew it was true but she still felt guilty for it.

“We need to clean your arm.” Weiss insisted, tugging on the Witcher’s good arm.

She nodded and followed silently.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Ruby sighed to herself as she leaned against the balcony in her room, clean and bandaged. Her armor had been taken to be repaired and cleaned, Oobleck had insisted. So she now wore a simple white peasant shirt under a maroon colored jerking, her old tattered cloak hanged from the shoulders and a clean pair of black pants. Her wound still stung but it was a graze at best. She rubbed her hand over the bandages gently.

Weiss had looked more than a little unimpressed by Ruby’s assessment of the two deep gouges on her right bicep.

Another job well done if she said so herself. True, she could just take the reward for the basilisk and leave, but then she thought of the blue eyed Sorceress and knew that wasn’t an option now.

“What are you getting yourself into, Ruby?” She asked herself aloud.

The quiet chirping of crickets was her answer.

A knock on her door had her glancing over her shoulder.

“Come in.” She called.

Weiss silently stepped into the room and seeing Ruby standing out on the balcony moved to join her.

“Hey, Weiss.” The Witcher greeted with an easy smile.

“Mistress Goodwitch and his Majesty are very pleased with your speedy dispatching of the basilisk. I informed her of the fisstech and that I would go and investigate the local source in the morning.” She informed. “If they could find the local supplier they could probably narrow down who might be responsible.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Ruby nodded.

“How’s your arm?” She asked.

“Fine. In three of four days it will be like it never happened.” She assured.

“Good, I’m glad.” She said, tapping her fingers quietly on the railing.

They stood in silence for several minutes, Ruby looking up at the bright sea of stars twinkling above them and Weiss looking down at the dark garden below.

“Ruby…” Weiss started after a while. Those silver cat like eyes turned to train on her, eyebrows cocked in silent question.

“I want to… apologize.” She said. Ruby blinked in confusion.

“For what?”

“I… did not think much of you when we met.” She admitted. “I thought it would be better if we handled this problem ourselves, but Mistress Goodwitch insisted that we needed a professional, then you showed up to Signal Castle and I thought Mistress Goodwitch had lost her mind.” The Sorceress admitted with a grumble.

“You didn’t think I could slay bunnies, much less monsters?” Ruby guessed. Weiss pursed her lips, feeling suitably ashamed at her quick judgment of her companion but nodded all the same.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ruby said easily making Weiss look back up, meeting her eyes.

“What do you mean ‘don’t worry about it’?” She demanded. “I… I wrongly judged you and I…” She floundered for words. Her mouth snapped shut as she composed herself, much to Ruby’s silent amusement.

“I am not often wrong but I am big enough to admit when I am and I humbly ask for your forgiveness, Ruby Rose.” The Sorceress lowered her head ever so slightly. She still had her pride.

Ruby knew the Sorceress wasn’t going to let this go till she got the response she wanted.

“I accept your apology. Now forget about.” She smiled easily. “You’re hardly the first person who saw me and thought that. I know I’m not exactly imposing or scary like most of my fellows.”

“No, you aren’t…” Weiss agreed.

“You’re not exactly the meanest looking thing this side of the Blue mountains either, but I know you could kill a man in a heartbeat.” Ruby said.

“Also true.” Weiss agreed, pleased that Ruby was aware of that fact.

“Don’t be fooled though, this is all rock solid muscle.” She grinned pushing away from the railing and flexing. “Ow..”She flinched, grabbing at her injured arm.

“You dolt...” Weiss sighed, reaching out and gently laying a hand on the bandages covering Ruby's right shoulder. She quietly chanted a few words and soft green light emitted from her hand, soothing the pain.

“Thanks,” Ruby mumbled.

“Are you trying to impress me?” Weiss accused, cocking a white brow.

“Maybe… is it working?” She asked with an easy grin even as her stomach rolled and tumbled nervously.

“Maybe…” Weiss admitted, turning away to look at the garden below them, but Ruby could see the little smile pulling at her lips and was immeasurably pleased to be the reason for it.

The soft moonlight shining on Weiss’s white locks made it appear as if she was glowing and Ruby was struck by how beautiful the Sorceress was.

She turned away, looking back out at stars shining overhead, trying to regain control of her rapidly beating heart. She turned back to her companion and caught Weiss’s intense stare.

“Wha…?” Her question was silenced by the mouth suddenly slanted over hers.

The Sorceress’s soft lips were pressed against her own chapped ones and she was frozen, blindsided by the sudden kiss as her head filled with static.

When Ruby didn’t move Weiss pulled back, embarrassed.

Without a word she moved to go, getting only as far as the balcony door before an iron grip wrapped around her wrist and she found herself being spun back around and the lips she had only seconds before been kissing were roughly pressing against her own.

Her free hand scrambled for purchase, fisting into the soft leather of Ruby’s jerkin as the Witcher wrapped an arm like steel around her waist, holding her in place. Heat shot through Weiss like wildfire and she wrenched her other hand free from the other woman's grip to bury her fingers almost painfully in the red and black locks.

It was like casting a powerful spell. Every cell of her body was buzzing with energy.

When her lips were finally released all she could do was pant and stare into those slitted silver eyes.

“I… uh...” Ruby started, unconsciously running her tongue over her lips. Weiss pressed a finger against them.

“For once, don’t say anything.” She said, taking Ruby’s rough, calloused hand and lead her back inside, shutting the balcony door behind them.

#RWBY #Witcher AU #Whiterose #Magi & Monsters

12 notes · View notes

rickfallsforgravity · 7 years

Text

Diamond Crystals

(Rick x Reader horror, angst, fluff // Trigger warnings: Mental illness, self harm, hallucinations, gore) Foreword: Here’s some Rick Sanchez writing because I haven’t done some in a while. Also this is my 100th post :D This is kinda horror/angst/fluff? so yeah uh enjoy!

I lay in bed, the folds of the blanket tucked around me, cocooning me into a nest of warmth and comfort-

But I felt neither of those things.

The sickness pooling from my stomach, tainting my breath with a bitter after taste. Leaking out from me like I was a broken pipe, dripping, slowly until everything around me was corrupted with bile and sewage. Black with anger. Black with frustration. Black with disgust for myself.

I sat up, wincing as the blood rushes to my head. How long had I been lying here for? How many days have I not eaten for? The whole world spinning so viciously- too fast- I just want to-

I slumped back down, tears turning the furniture into mere blobs of colour, running down their well-travelled paths across my skin. Following the crinkles and fault lines that were engrained into my features. The air tarnished by stillness, the stagnancy making it suffocating. I struggled to breath, sobs racking my lungs, making them raw and tender. Again.

Always happening again.

I was a broken record player, unable to be fixed, my life just a dull, painful repeat of the same day over and over again. Sleep, cry, repeat, sleep, cry- The cycle only interrupted by futile attempts to dull or distract myself from the pain. I looked down at my wrist, the many attempts evident across my skin. Red, angry scars that hurt to touch, scattered sporadically up my arms- sleeves of affliction.

Just a pathetic little shit

Rick slammed the door of the space ship shut behind him as he settled into the driver’s seat. The plastic bag of food and supplies discarded to the passenger seat as he turned the key in the ignition and the vehicle came to life with a low hum. He sighed. This whole situation was his fault, he should have never have brought you with him on that adventure. He knew that they had come up with a new poison in their weapons, one that HE KNEW lead to psychosis and severe bouts of depression, but that was why he brought you on along. The strong, sensible, intelligent and ultimately emotionally stable (Y/n). He had thought this through- the drug only affected people susceptible to mental illness, who were insecure, who weren’t happy. It was why he hadn’t brought Morty or Beth or fucking Summer. He had chosen you, because you were happy.

How fucking wrong he had been.

The symptoms had not shown up immediately. When you were hit by the dart it seemed to have the opposite effect, boosting you with adrenaline. You had fought like a fucking machine that day… and he knew he had not been wrong. He was almost proud of you. But as the next few weeks enfolded, you started to crack. The darkness taking hold so slowly it was impossible to notice until your sleeve had slipped a little too far up your arm one day. When he saw them, the cuts, he had frozen. He had PANICKED. You were still the same. Still happy, still ambitious, still strong. How had that happened? How had it slipped past him-

The truth was that he hadn’t been watching, he had been too sure of himself. But all the signs were as clear as day. And it only got worse.

Rick smashes his arm upon the steering wheel, frustration and anger buzzing in his being. And the worst thing was that there was no cure. He just had to wait it out, just had to go through with it and let the venom work itself out of your system. He felt helpless, the smartest man in the world yet he had his hands tied.

I clasped my fists around my ears. The voices starting up again, singing their sweet lullaby that dripped through the holds of imaginations into reality, saturated with self-loathing and truth. Their desire made as clear as diamond crystals as they started to dominate over my senses. Bodies and beings flashing before me in the dark, standing and watching me unravel into their claws.

“You’re not real- Your all part of the drug- y-our not r-real,"

Their calls turning into screams, so loud my head wanted to explode. Their eyes dark and cold, the little light the bedroom contained glinting off them, revealing nothing but the abyss. The oblivion. The emptiness that took hold when the pain subsided…

"FUCK OFF” I shouted at them, fresh tears blossoming, blurring everything but them. No, they- they were as clear as day- as clear as diamond crystals. A scream escaped my lungs as I pressed my face into the mattress, my effort to block them out only making them angrier. I needed to stay strong, I needed to keep trying, for Rick, for him-

I gasped- teeth ripping at the flesh of my forearm, blood dripping onto pillowcase, blooming into the fabric. And it just stood there, the monster. It’s beady eyes sunken deep into its skull, it’s skin shrivelled and decaying in front of me. Slowly, it started to smile, the terrifying grin spreading like an infection, stretching from ear to ear, revealing millions of tiny shards of teeth as sharp as razor blades… smeared in my blood. The cuts in my arm ripped open, spurting fresh colour.

I fell silent. No scream could capture the horror I felt. Slowly, I reached down and pressed my thumb against the wound, the warmth of my life coating my fingertips. Oh god… this was REAL. THIS WAS ALL REAL. I stumbled out of bed, falling onto the floor, their random singing turning into a singular, godforsaken chant.

This has all happened before, this will all happen again.

“No-no stop please- please stop” my voice hardly above a whisper. Not this again- I can’t- it will never end- I can’t go on anymore. I stumbled about in the dark until I felt my fingers grasp the edge of the window sill. On trembling limbs, I pulled myself up to it, shoving back the curtains to look out into the dark, bleak but star-studded night. The orchestra of delusions humming behind me, their melodies agreeing with my growing need. I brought my hands up to the glass, ready to push against it, for it to open, for me to fall 20 stories out of my apartment window and into oblivion-

It was locked. I faltered for a moment before a new wave of panic awashed my veins. I banged against the glass, trying to force it open, to break the lock. No. No- NO! There was no escaping them. I was trapped in here with the demons; the hideous, shark teeth monsters and I was trapped here alone. Where was he? Why wasn’t Rick here?

You should have been alright. Rick had taken extra precautions as he knew he was leaving you on your own. He had thrown out every sharp object in the house, every pill available, all the ropes, bolt locked all the windows. Before he left he had even given you sleeping pills, which should knock you out for a few hours until he was back- but worry still pricked his mind. This venom was unpredictable, making the victim irrational and emotion. Sometimes, you were fine, it would seem like you were getting better, coping… but then you would relapse even worse than ever, plagued by hallucinations and suicidal thoughts. It infuriated him. He parked up his space ship and got into the lift. With a ding, the doors of the elevator opened to the 20th floor and that when he heard it. The screaming.

“Fuck-” he shouted, dropping everything and rushing to the door.

I crumpled to the ground, terrible visions of slaughter and violence dancing across my mind. Images of me, covered in blood, grinning from exhilaration as I stood over a pile of a thousand dead children. Images of me eating a lamb alive as it bleeped frantically from the excruciating pain. Images of me setting fire to a hospital, laughing as the people inside started screaming. This has all happened before, this will all happen again. No- I am not that person- I would never! THAT WAS NOT ME! IT W-asn’t wasn’t me… and the monster loomed over me, a shit eating grin tearing the skin around its mouth, salivating, my blood stained upon its teeth, dribble trickling down on me, making my skin crawl with disgust. And its intention was clear… it wanted revenge and it was going to taunt me until I lost all sanity- as clear as diamond crystals- terrify me, torture me, tear me apart. It wanted to see me suffer… and suddenly I caught my reflection in the mirror. Grey, dead skin pulled taunt against my skull, eyes sunken into sockets until they were just dots of black, mouth agape, revealing layers of maggot infested teeth. I screamed. The realisation shattering my mind into a billion fragments of glittering glass-

I was the monster…

Suddenly, the bedroom door smashed open and there Rick stood, his tall stature silhouetted by the bright hallway light. His presence immediately silencing the voices, making the room fall into a toxic silence. I brought a bloody hand up to my face, shielding my eyes from the sudden brightness… A look of complete horror and shock contorted his familiar features. Pain glinting in his eyes. He staggered forward, taking me in, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“(Y-y/n)"

The bedroom was like one from a horror movie; blood smeared along the floor and the walls, shimmering in the artificial sun. Prints of maroon and burgundy smudged against the glass from where you tried to force it open. But worst of all was you-

Your wrist glistening with fresh blood that flowed down your arm, bite marks tearing it open. Shadowed eyes crazed and frantic, darting to and fro in a mad panic, terror still shining from the core of your being. And as Rick shifted his gaze, everything became crystal clear. Ruby smeared across your mouth and cheeks, specks of saliva dotting your clothes, the rich colours contrasting against your skin which had gone pale from blood loss.

Obviously, he had seen you tear open your skin before when the delusions took hold; he was accustomed to the blood, but it had always been with an instrument- a knife, a pen, a sharp end of a folder. This time you had ripped open your life source… with your own bare teeth.

"Fuck-” he rushed forward, his hands gasping around your body as he lifted you up. Your head resting against his cotton blue chest, vision glazing over. You didn’t resist as he moved you into the light, into the living room and sat you on the sofa.

“I’m sorry, this was my fault, I shouldn’t have left you alone…” He said, his voice low but steady, soothing your head until you were sure you were safe. You look up to him, catching his eye, looking into his soul. “God-” he picked up his phone quickly dialling in Morty’s number, “Morty, I need you to come quickly. (Y-y/n)’s hurt really bad, they’re bleeding out-”

“Aw geez Rick, h-how did you let this happen? You- you- you know-”

“Don’t fucking lecture me Morty- its-it’s a code RED Morty, just- just come as quickly as you can and bring Summer!"

Rick hung up and brought his attention back to you, quickly working to stop the bleeding and deal with your flesh wound. You groaned a little, head spinning off into the galaxies, as quickly as the earth twirls around its axis. And only one thing came clearly to you, one thing that was still tormenting your heart.

"This will has all happened before, this will all happen again-” you muttered, letting the vibrations of it dance in the air like smoke. Letting it linger. Rick glanced at you, worry ageing him into an ancient being.

“(Y/n)-"

"Am I a bad person Rick? Did I do all those things they say I did?"

He looked down at the white bandage wrapped tightly around your injury, his fingers brushing against the soft material.

"Am I a monster?"

He flinched. It was all wrong… you were pure, and young and kind. Always had been. He had been the one to corrupt you, to destroy your morals, to disintegrate your virtue so that you were willing to help him. Manipulate your belief so that right was wrong, and nothing mattered. You were never the monster, because everything you ever did had always been for him. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you that.

“Shh baby, don’t-don’t think about it. It’s going to be okay…” His voice quiet, gentle almost. Calloused fingers wrapping tightly around your hand. Never letting go- not again- never again. Holding onto the faint pulse that drummed through your hand-

It faltered.

“STAY with me, promise you’ll stay with me.” His words suddenly surging with new energy, fear springing him to life as he grabbed your face to force your eyes to fixate solely on him.

“Promise ME!”

You stared at him, your thoughts a wild scatter of images and emotions- lost in haze that no one could fathom, not even you. Your eyes just a blank stare, like nothing that was happening had registered in your brain. But despite your condition, despite your disorientation, something momentarily pulled you back into focus. You recognised something that made your mind snap back in place- only for a second- Rick was crying…

And in that millisecond of sanity, of sudden rationalism, you managed to splutter the one truth that mattered the most.

“I promise.”

And then you were gone.

Written by M.S.T

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multifandom-hoes · 7 years

Text

Deep Blue Sea

Member: JeongHan // SEVENTEEN

Genre: Horror, Fantasy, Prince!AU

A/N: Ah, what a lovely throwback to long-haired JeongHan ;’> lmao so this was only supposed to be a drabble but I somehow went over 1k words what even whoops

Warning: Mentions of suicide, Gore.

Words: 1.4k

Her house was stone cold, the smell of iron beating at her nose with venom so strong she thought she will puke- and she did, all over the once beautifully white rug that lay in the living room, now stained a ruby red of her mother’s corpse, her insides sprawled out beside her, behind her, and to the sides of her.

Clutching her stomach with one hand, she tried to stand up while supporting her weight with the other, warm tears spilling over her cheeks as she sobbed, yelled and vomited more. The sight was mortifying and she wanted to get out. She wanted to run away. She wanted to die.

Stumbling out of her house through the back doors she fell once again, retching as soon as her eyes adjusted to the listless eyes of her father, staring at her with a pain wrecked face. Though in a better condition than her mother, her father still bore cuts all over his body, his face, everywhere- he was near unrecognizable, apart from his distinctive, once beautifully shining hazel eyes.

She screamed then, an ear-piercing scream that would shake one to the very bottom of their heart, and then she ran, and ran, and ran, until she reached the bridge crossing of the Sacred Waters- the legend goes that a Prince of Ethereal Beauty dwells at the deepest part of these waters, coming to the surface only every odd year to take a bride one of the beauties of the village she now tried to run away from. The village that killed her family and was most likely now going to hunt her down for supposed witchcraft.

Though her heart hammered with pain and fear, she climbed to the other side of the wobbly railing that surrounded the bridge and steadied herself for a jump. She didn’t want to die, but instead live a happy and fulfilling life, possibly finding a humble man to wed and have a couple of children. That’s the kind of life she wanted- and now she was accused of some superstitious nonsense that her village still claimed to believe, and death at own hand seemed like a much nicer option than being burned, lynched or fed to wild animals.

Taking in one last breath of air she jumped, and as she dived under the water she swore she saw a man of unthinkable beauty stand at the shore of the lake, his face confused, and yet relaxed.

Something solid pressed to her chest, then again, and again, and then something warm and soft pressed to her lips, pinching her nose with what she supposed to be fingers. Her consciousness was dazed, but she could still understand the efforts of someone trying to save her. But she didn’t want to live- she wanted the opposite; to die and finally be free, together with her mother and father.

“You’re awake, finally.” A soft, velvety voice spoke above her, heaving a sigh and then the voice grew further step by step which the mysterious voice took.

She retched onto the marble floors, her mouth spurting the waters from the lake, and then heaved, her lungs burning, throat burning, eyes burning. She felt like a cursed creature, realizing that whenever she went only trouble seemed to follow her. “Where am I?” she spoke, her voice surprisingly steady, ignoring the fierce gaze into her scalp from behind her, no doubt where her saviour stood.

She was in a place of beauty she never once saw in her village. Who knew, maybe she did manage to die and even got herself to heaven? The sky was of the brightest blue, bug sun overhead, and the marble that she managed to stain was snow-white, and summer-warm. She was in paradise.

“You’re in my Palace.” The voice spoke again, and she could not help but relish in the presence of such a smooth, soothing voice.

“Did I die?”

“Did you want to?”

She shut her mouth then, and ever so slowly turned to face the person. Some strands of the person’s hair was flowing past their broad shoulders, the colour being a light, pretty brown reminding her of chestnut. And as her eyes roamed over the person’s face, she realized it was that same man she saw when diving into the Sacred Waters. He was beautiful, with his nose slim and slender, eyes deep and sharp, like a cat’s, brows soft but creased in the middle, lips set into a straight line of seriousness, his teeth, so perfectly cared for and white, gnawing on the upper part of it. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Where am I?” it was hard to believe that the person she spoke with had actually been a man, not female, because she believed that such slender and prime beauty could belong only to a female of a fine and refined class of nobility.

“You’re in my Palace.” He provided to her as he did before- that same answer with that same expression.

“And where is this Palace of yours, then?” her hands shook as she tried to steady herself and stand up.

“Under the Sacred Waters that you jumped into and decided to die in.” he bit back, closing his eyes and bringing his hand to his face as he sat up, leaning onto the hand as if it was his last chance of hanging on a loose piece of patience.

Her heart jumped in her ribcage and her knees wobbled again, sending her hurtling away from the man of calm and beauty, away, away, away where he could not find her. Away.

As she ran, her eyes roamed over the borders of the palace- all around was water, crystalline blue water, and as she gazed down into that water she saw the bridge she jumped down from, a little murky and disoriented, but she could clearly recognize it, and the small figures atop it with torches in their hands.

A shudder wrecked her body then, realizing that the man perched atop the throne just minutes ago had not been lying how she thought he was, he was no madman, how she thought he was- he was purely serious as he spoke, no trace of humour and nothing but truth.

“You can go back if you want.” The velvety voice spoke from behind her. “Though assuming that your frantic behaviour and running all over the place while you were down there is somehow connected to the villagers now running around with pitchforks and torches, I highly not recommend it at all.”

She jumped away from him, anger filling her eyes. “Why did you save me?”

“I don’t like people dying.” Simple and clear- she felt that this was how he was, a simplistic man filled with boredom. “You don’t have to ask, but you can stay. You’re not welcomed there, as it seems, so I’ll give you some time to stay here. Get yourself together, and prove your innocence or something.”

“I want them dead.” She muttered, tears in her eyes and throat gagged with a lump of something.

“Murder is never an option if life, Deary.”

“Tell them that.”

A hum escaped the man and then he turned, grabbing her wrist and dragging her away from the edge of the palace. “If you stare into the abyss for too long, it begins to stare back at you. Ever heard of it?”

“What are you doing?”

“Leading you away from the abyss. I’ll have to prove to you that even if the lives of those you loved were taken, your is still present and now all that’s left is to cherish it through all pain and suffering. It’s what you have left.”

She kept quiet as he spoke in a monotonous voice, listening to every crevice in his words and memorizing every denture in his face. “You’re beautiful…” she muttered, then clamped her mouth shut, embarrassed to the core of the earth and back a thousand times.

He froze for a second, then chuckled and spoke, “I mean, I would love to be called that till the moment you leave, but if something I usually go by JeongHan, and I am the Prince of the Sacred Waters, the Deep Blue Sea is my Palace.”

#seventeen #svt #seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen requests #request #kpop requests #kpop #seventeen reaction #seventeen scenario #seventeen prince!au #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen jeonghan prince!au #prince!au #kpop prince!au #jeonghan

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siren-dragon · 7 years

Text

La La Land -- (Ardyn Izunia x Reader) Ch.1

Ta da! I’m back everyone, writing a serious fanfic again! :D

Anyway, this fic is based on a prompt I made myself as well as a headcanon I had and another I have seen floating around. And I am tagging @poisonous-panda, @valkyrieofardyn, @ardynium, and @maty-yami. Enjoy!

Summary: Perhaps there are more to Ardyn’s illusions than what he let’s on...

‘Illusions are dangerous people, they have no flaws.’ -Sabrina, 1995

Chapter 1 - First Meeting

The moon shined brightly in the evening sky, bathing all of Eos in a luminescent glow. Out on the ocean the waves silently carried the semi-conscious body of a man toward the shoreline of Lucis, crashing against the sand. He winced in pain as the salt water beat against his back before slowly rising to his knees and crawling out of the surf. He coughed harshly before his arms lost their strength, causing him to fall against the sand once more as darkness clouded his vision.

“…-ello?”

Was that…a voice?

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Were those damn daemons taunting him once more?

“By the Six! Are you alright?!”

A light started to make its way toward him, though the figure accompanying it was impossible to make out. He felt the vibration of their movements as the mysterious person fell into the sand beside him. A hand; soft as silk and warm as fire placed itself gently against his skin, turning his head to face the night sky.

“He’s still alive…. Don’t worry sir, you’ll be alright.”

If he had the strength he would have laughed, for nothing would be such a way for him ever again….

When he awoke once more, the sharp pain he felt from his wounds had been reduced to a dull ache. Glancing around at his surroundings it appeared as if he was within a small bedroom, a welcome change from that stone prison he had languished away in. Hazy memories flittered about his mind, slowly falling into place as he pieced together what had happened after his escape. He remembered water….and waves; the ocean? And then…a voice…

“Oh, thank Shiva! I was worried you would not wake up.”

He turned to the source of the voice and saw a young woman standing within the doorway. Her (h/c) hair was tied into twin braids, tossed over her shoulders and tied with twin ruby-red ribbons. Clad in a simple dark blue dress with a matching pale blue apron, the young girl appeared to be nothing more than a simple farm girl. Yet those (e/c) eyes seemed to pierce right through him worse than any blade could. They held an air of regality that not even the Oracle herself could measure to.

The young woman approached the bed calmly, placing the tray in her hands atop the old, wooden bedside table. “Your wounds were rather severe, but fortunately no infection has set in. You truly had me worried, lying unconscious on the shoreline like that.”

“…Where….am I….” Ardyn croaked, his voice soft and frail.

“On the Border of Duscae and Leide, by the Vannath Coast,” the woman replied as she poured tea into a cup. “I found you on the shoreline of Galdin Quay and you have been asleep for the past 3 days. Here, this will help.”

Ardyn remained silent as the mysterious woman helped him drink, the hot beverage soothing his throat before she lowered the blanket to reach his injuries. “You are quite fortunate I found you before the rubyshears or daemons did.”

He tensed slightly at the mention of the nocturnal monstrosities. Within the dark shadows of his mind he could feel the churning abyss that hosted the Horde. They all cackled gleefully at the mention of their brethren, the continuous horrors they whispered to him caused Ardyn to wince as if physically struck. It was too much…and it had to stop. Stop it…. please…s-stop…stop it.…STOP IT!

Suddenly he felt a pressure upon his hand and a warmth that chased away the chill that enveloped his mind. Ardyn glanced to the young woman, who had taken hold of his hand between her own. It felt like a life-line within the black waters of darkness he was drowning in. She smiled kindly at him; an expression he had not been on the receiving end of in a long…. a long time. “Do not worry, you’re safe. Rest.”

Ardyn fell back against the bed once more and closed his eyes, exhaustion returning in full. Yet the comforting weight that held his hand made him relax as he drifted into oblivion….

The next time he had awoke, sunlight was shined through the open window as a soft breeze danced throughout the room. Slowly he rose, the injuries upon his person nothing more than scars upon his body, curtesy of his lineage. He exited the bedroom into a small communal living space with an attached kitchen; the space was modest, but clean. Laying upon the floor beside the fireplace was the woman who had saved him, asleep and bundled amongst spare blankets to beat back the evening chill.

Ardyn glanced to her before looking about the home, biting his lip in thought before a decision was made. Quickly he grabbed what items of use there were; placing food into a satchel alongside any item of value he could sell for money. Tying a cloak about his shoulders he glanced back at the woman asleep on the floor and exiting the cottage.

Ardyn raced across the grassy fields and rocky terrain, cursing his lack of footwear; though he knew that farm girl wouldn’t have any shoes appropriate for his own feet. Yet it was a long trip to Insomnia if he was near Galdin Quay and hopefully, he would be able to acquire some more necessities.

As he approached the fishing village, Ardyn couldn’t help but stare at the sight of it. Strange buildings he had never seen before lined the coast as people cheerfully called out to their neighbors. The store owners tried to entice customers for a purchase as children milled about playing with what looked like a strange black and white ball. A loud horn sounded behind him, causing Ardyn to jump in surprise and jolt him out of his distracted state.

“Get out of the road!” A man shouted angrily at him from within the black, metal beast he sat inside of. He gave Ardyn a rude gesture before the monstrous beast roared and sped down the road.

W-What is this place?! Am I even in Lucis? He thought to himself with a slight panic.

“Excuse me sir, are you alright?” Another man, though this one blonde, dressed in a uniform, and much kinder, spoke to him. “You are not injured correct?”

“I am fine, thank you.” Ardyn answered defensively.

The man stared at his rugged appearance, dirty clothes, and bare feet with suspicion. “Sir, might I ask where it is you are going?”

“I don’t understand why that would be any of your business.”

“Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to show me your bag.” The man spoke, his tone now serious.

Ardyn froze, grasping the bag tightly. “No, I will not. Now please, leave me alone or I’ll- “

“Ah, there you are my dear!”

The two men turned to the source of the voice and Ardyn stared in horror at the sight of the woman whom he had stolen from. Yet instead of a look of anger or even disgust, the young girl smiled and took hold of his arm. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. Thank you for finding him Magnus.”

“You know this man (f/n)?” The uniformed man, Magnus spoke, a tone of disbelief evident in his voice.

The young woman holding his arm nodded, “he is a old friend of mine from Lestallum that has come to visit. I’m sorry if he seems a bit out of sorts, he was attacked by daemons on his way here. And now that I think of it, you should be resting a bit more, my dear.”

Ardyn watched as Magnus shifted his gaze between the two, suspicion written across his face. “Then I’ll just leave you to your errands. Have a good day (f/n) and try to keep your friend out of trouble, alright?”

“Of course, and thank you again Magnus!” The woman, (f/n) was it? Spoke to the departing Magnus.

When it was just the two of them Ardyn heard the woman release a sigh of relief. She turned to face him and gave him a wry smile before holding out her hand to him. “Come, let’s get you back home.”

He frowned stared at the offered hand. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I want to.”

“….Ardyn.”

The woman blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“Ardyn is my name.”

She grinned at him, the expression causing her (e/c) eyes to shine brighter than the sun. “A pleasure Ardyn, I am (f/n).”

And once again he took hold of her hand, of the life-line that would save him so many times….

He leaned against the metal railing of the pier, staring off into the distance at the island that sat off the coast of the bay. Ardyn couldn’t help but snort at name that was bestowed upon it. Only a fallen angel had graced that accursed hellhole.

“This place truly has changed, hasn’t it?”

Ardyn turned his gaze from the island of Angelgard and glanced at the young woman standing beside him. She was dressed in a simple sundress gown of white, the hem coming just below her knees and swaying in the ocean breeze. Her (h/c) hair was twisted into two braids, both tossed in front of her shoulders and tied by thin indigo ribbons. She turned her (e/c) eyes to his own as a cheeky smile slowly spread across her lips. “I do hope you are not going to rob a poor young woman again.”

He chuckled, “a tempting offer, my dear. Though I fear that I’ve not the need nor time to perform such a heinous deed. ”

“How fortunate for you, as you wouldn’t have someone to come to your aid if you did.”

The woman looked back to the island of Angelgard, an expression of thoughtfulness coming across her face. “Will you tell me what happened? On the island?”

Ardyn’s grin fell, causing him to take on a more stoic expression as he turned back to face the island. “Perhaps another time, my dear.”

“Why not? You have all the time in the world.”

The words felt more painful than any physical blow, causing him to spin around in anger at his companion; only to find her gone. He gripped the steel railing and sighed, knowing he had chased her away once more. But she would return…she always returned.

“Excuse me sir,” an attendant spoke. “I’m afraid the ferries are currently out of service, I do apologize for the inconvenience.”

Ardyn tossed the attendant a charming smile, “it is no trouble at all. Thank you for your service.” He spoke before leaving the pier.

The attendant watched the man disappear before looking around the pier, a frown coming to their face. “That’s strange, no one’s here. I could have sworn I heard him speaking to someone….”

Let me know what you guys think and I’ll work on chapter 2 when I can. See ya everybody! ^_^

#ffxv #fanfiction #ardyn izunia #ardyn izunia x reader #my writing #la la land - ch.1

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spirify · 7 years

Text

Stargate― CH. 1

Stargate; the path leading to another you

bgm yang su hyeok / flaming heart - story of the star

In abyss of complete darkness, the crimson eyes jolted open, revealing its rubiness that shines even in the void. Awake from the strange nightmare that cannot be remembered, the male’s breath was raspy and quick as beads of sweat rolled down his temples and down to his chin.

Where am I?

Darkness.

What time is it?

Unknown.

What was I doing before sleeping?

Slowly, he started to collect his knowledge piece by piece as if he was completing a puzzle.

Who are you?

Elsword. A Lord Knight, one of the members in the El Search Party.

Who are your fellow teammates?

Uh, Rena, Raven, Eve, Chung, Ara, Elesis, Add, Luciel, Rose, Ain… and um...

Are you excluding someone?

I… there is one more person, I just can’t remember for some reason…

Is that person the least important?

No… no way. She’s the most important person to me. Why can’t I remember her name…

The confused male glanced around; who was he talking to? Who was asking him so many questions, especially about a specific person? The thought of the mysterious teammate still lingered within his mind, but he decided to quickly brush it away as he glimpsed a hint of fluorescent light reaching his pitch―black room through the tiny gap between the floor and the door. As he removed the heavy blanket that seemed to strangle him into sleep, he continued to brainstorm his thoughts. He couldn't remember what happened yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. Then he realized, he doesn't know anything about this world. It was as if he never existed before, as if his existence never lived within his world. It was as if he was just born.

With sweaty palms, the male turned the doorknob and walked out, the sound of wooden door creaking echoed into his ears. From afar, he glimpsed a hint of light that somewhat seemed to give off a familiar light. Without thinking, he started to walk toward it, his gaze fixed on the luminosity that was slowly growing in size. He walked and walked, it felt like as if he walking on an infinite pathway, but he reached the end. The small speck of light has surrounded his entire existence, swallowing him whole― welcoming him to the world.

“Finally, you’re up, sleepyhead!”

A rather high―pitched voice that contained hints of huskiness rang into the knight’s ears, awaking him into the reality that was standing before him. He looked up and glanced around, slowly recognizing the familiar faces that were all staring back at him― except one. One gaze felt so unfamiliar that he couldn’t dare stare back at it.

“You slept for ten hours!”

The same voice continued. He glanced toward the source of voice, recognizing his older sister, Elesis, who approached the male and gave him a friendly smack on his back. That tiny little slap seemed to wake the male up.

“Ah, sorry, sorry,”

He apologized, his voice coming out raspy due to locking his voice for ten hours with his restful sleep.

“Since Elsword is up now, shall we eat?”

Another high―pitched voice, yet this one seemed to give off an aura of coziness and tenderness. He recognized it right away; Rena, who sauntered over to the table filled with various foods that were freshly cooked and baked. Everyone sat down in their chairs and so did Elsword. Then the strange sensation started to overwhelm the knight once again. He glanced over, a violet haired girl was munching on a bread quietly.

Who was she again?

“Aisha,”

Startled, Elsword looked up. It was Add who called her name.

“Pass me the bread please,”

The Mastermind said casually and ever so naturally, the violet haired female passed the basket of bread across the table.

Right, her name was Aisha…

How could he forget one of his teammates? Not only that, but she was one of the first person he ever met, along with Rena as the three created the El Search Party. Then slowly, the memories of the mage started to reminiscent into his mind.

Aisha. A magician with immense power of skills hiding inside her petite body, yet whenever she swung that wand around Elsword with nothing but annoyance and anger filled in her violet eyes, he would always be afraid of her. Unintentionally, Elsword let out a silent chuckle as he scooped up the warm soup from the bowl placed in front of him.

“Something wrong, Elsword?”

Elsword looked up. It was Ain who quickly caught on Elsword’s actions and asked him a curious question. Then all of a sudden, all of the gazes were fixed on the Lord Knight. He glimpsed over to his right, the violet haired mage was staring at him as well― nothing but voidness filled in her amethyst eyes.

“N―no, nothing,”

Startled, he quickly shook away the question and continued to eat his soup in silence.

Something is off. Something is so strange.

What is?

Aisha.

Then he realized. The strange sensation that chilled his spine continuously, making him feel extremely uncomfortable throughout his entire breakfast session, it was all caused by the violet haired female who was casually drinking a cup of warm coffee while sitting down next to him. The unusual, unfamiliar sensation. Everything was caused and coming from Aisha. Yet he couldn’t detect what was so wrong about her. He’d known her for years, he lived with her for years, and fought various opponents with her for years. They were the perfect teammate; a knight and a mage. Their teamwork was beyond extraordinary and their relationship was closer than a family; they depend on each other at all times. Yet why does it feel like he’ve only known her for days?

“We should divide into tinier groups and finish these quests,”

Then he came back into the reality. It was Eve who spoke this time. The Nasod Queen, who does not need to consume human food, was standing near the front door of their residence and was going through multiple pages of paper. Elsword automatically assumed they were easy, simple quests given by the residences living in this village.

“Groups of two?”

Rose said as she sliced a piece of her fried egg with a knife.

“Isn’t that just a partner?”

Chung said as he chuckled then continued to drink his milk.

“Yeah, let’s do that,”

Rena agreed with Eve as she sat up from her chair while holding onto her empty plate and cup.

“I’ll go with Elsword,”

“What?”

All of a sudden, the petite mage casually concluded without further negotiating, that she will go with Elsword to complete their task. Surprised at her sudden settlement, the knight couldn’t help but burst out his question without a second thought.

“Yeah, good idea. I’ll go with Lu,”

Ciel said as he cleaned his mouth with a piece of napkin.

Out of all these people, it’s her?

“Sonic Blade,”

Elsword swung his sword in front of him, slashing the group of monsters that were surrounding the knight. A circular shock wave pushed the enemies back and sliced the enemies, making the powerless opponents fall down to their knees in sign of defeat.

He glanced toward the magician, who was aiming fireballs toward the enemy, effectively burning them without consuming high amount of mana. Then the knight glanced toward his front once again, focusing on his own fight. Then he realized, a large crowd of monsters were sprinting toward the two fighters.

“There's more coming!”

Elsword yelled out and Aisha nodded, acknowledging his warning.

“I got this!”

She said as she teleported in front of the knight, who stared at her with confusion.

What is she gonna do...

“Aging!”

She yelled out her battle cry as a she threw a tremendous dark ball that was chained up with her conjuring. Her skill effectively locked the enemies near her sphere, which landed on top of the ground and beams of amethysts light soured from the floor. The group of monsters quickly decayed in age and died of rottenness as they faded into gray.

“What was that…?”

Elsword, who remained confused at her sudden actions asked her unintentionally, driven by complete uncertainty. It was a skill he have never seen before. It was as if she wasn't even Aisha.

“The greatest Void Princess, Miss Aisha!”

The mage cheerfully replied as she created a V―shape with her two fingers, placing them directly near her face as she stuck her tongue out.

Void Princess…? What the hell is she saying? What is that?

He wanted to ask her, yet his words did not simply slip out of his mouth. Somehow, for some reason, he couldn't ask her. He was somewhat feared of her; she didn't seem like the Aisha he’d known for the past couple years.

On top of a bricked roads, the villagers were shouting at one another to lure in customers as they displayed their goods on top of their stands. Although the road was considerably wide, it seemed narrow due to the fact that there was so many people within this tiny area. Elsword glanced around, there was two drunken men bickering with one another in one side, and on the other side was a middle―aged women holding a dozen of eggs inside a basket with delicate touch. Although the village was crowded, it seemed like everyone was familiar with each other and their everyday life. Then his gaze was fixed on the magician who was walking right next to him. Due to the road being so limited and the size of crowd was so overwhelming, their arms were brushing one another as they continued to walk. However, Elsword assumed she didn’t mind as she looked so casual and calm, and neither did he. Then he glimpsed her outfit that was rather revealing; it was definitely a piece of clothing that he would never expected her to wear.

“Why are you wearing such revealing clothes?”

Without a second thought, his lips sputtered the words out first; he didn’t mean to ask her such question, yet it seemed like his curiosity slipped out by itself. With embarrassment, Elsword felt his ears turning red as he gazed away from the magician, afraid of staring into her eyes.

“What?”

But an unexpected reply was heard. He turned back to face Aisha, who had a confused face with a hint of a look that seemed to express― ‘Are you stupid?’

“N―nothing,”

He replied back shyly, his cheeks flushing hint of red with awkwardness.

“What’s wrong with you today? You seem off,”

She said coolly as she gently patted his back with her delicate hands, which startled Elsword once again with her unfamiliar actions. Then she proceeded to walk beyond, expecting the knight to follow up with her pace that has gotten slightly faster. Automatically, Elsword’s gaze was fixed upon the back side of her violet hair. Then he glimpsed a hint of redness on her ears as well as her cheeks.

She’s embarrassed?

Elsword thought to himself as he let out a silent chuckle at her actions.

Although he had to admit, there was either something wrong with Aisha or something wrong with himself. Either he was imagining Aisha in an unusual way, or it was Aisha herself who was giving off a strange aura. Rest of his teammates in the El Search Party felt like family he had known for years, except Aisha who was giving off an unfamiliar sensation. It felt like he met someone completely new, yet the memories he shared with Aisha was still there, it was just Aisha in the current world that seemed so different. Yet he couldn’t help but always find himself staring at her; his gaze was fixed at her at all times and he felt a weird, throbbing sensation within himself as well.

Yeah, something’s completely wrong with Aisha… or me.

note:

hello everyone! what am i doing when i should be working on artificial flower? /rip rebirth prob never work on it lmao

- i realized most of my stories are modern day kind of setting, and is never based on actual elsword's setting. thus i decided to start a story that is based on elsword's background, but with a little twist of my imagination.

- this story may be a little bit confusing but i promise everything will be explained as the story progresses!

- every bgm used in this story will have a "star" or "moon" or "night" in the title and will sound sad-ish.

- i usually work on like 5 chapters and post 1 every couple weeks, but i actually started working on this last night! HAHAHA. i only wrote chapter one so far, so i want to apologize beforehand if this story is updated not so often.

rielin’s fanfiction site

#stargate #elsword #elsword x aisha #elswordxaisha #elsha #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #text

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squadrongal · 7 years

Text

Rose Garden (Ruby X Oscar): Never Alone

Rated A for Angst. _______________________________________

A lot of things were fading away around him. The corpses of the grim they had slain now faded into black clouds like ash, the light of the sun from beyond the horizon now faded as cold colors seeped into previously warm ones, even the edges of his vision blurred just the slightest bit from the exhaustion of the fight. Oscar saw many things fade in front of him, but he felt only one.

“Oscar…” his head rose slowly, as Ozpin addressed him. He had grown so used to his presence within the caverns of his mind. For months acting as a voice of reason, direction, but most importantly a teacher. The two, despite the unfortunate circumstances of how they met and why, formed something of a close comradery. Much like a student to his pupil, or even, dare he say, a parent to their child. Their bond was closer than something Oscar could ever explain, but as of right now, he could feel it…

“You’ve done so well, Oscar…”

…He could feel it fading away.

“I’m afraid, we’ve run out of time…”

“What are you…?” Oscar tried speaking to the old soul, not even attempting to refrain from speaking out loud as a twinge of panic grabbed at his chest.

“I want you to know that I never had any doubts in your abilities. I knew you would do wonders, and I can certainly say you did not disappoint.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My only regret is that I didn’t stick around long enough to see what else you would achieve.”

“Stop talking.” Oscar attempted to address him, sternly as if scolding Ozpin much like he had him in the past. But the old voice continued, as if Oscars words fell on deaf ears.

“The challenges you and the others are about to face, they will most certainly be challenges greater than anything you’ve faced before. There will be times you may feel lost, or confused, even hopeless. But I know whatever choices or actions you make, they will be the right ones.”

He could feel him slipping away, like his head became lighter and lighter by the second.

“Ozpin, don’t!”

“It’s okay, Oscar.” The boy fell silent “My memories are yours now. As is your fate.” Ozpin’s voice grew duller and duller. “I’m proud of you Oscar… good luck…”

All at once, a sudden peace fell over Oscar’s trembling form. His pounding headache from before ceased, his muscles relaxed, a sudden flood of memories and emotions surging through him. It almost pained him, if only for a split second before seeping into the depths of him. He felt different, but he hardly cared. His mind felt cleared, and it terrified him.

“Ozpin…?” There was nothing. Only silence surrounded the boy, the wind being the only kind thing to reply. “Ozpin?!” His voice echoed in the openness. “Knock it off! This isn’t funny!” A beowulf’s final growl escaped its lips as the remainder of its form faded into smoke. “You can’t leave! Not yet! Please!” The fluttering of a bird’s wings passed over the silence, but nothing remained.

Ren and Nora were the first to find Oscar, and could faintly be heard calling the others over to them, but Oscar paid them not mind.

“OZPIN!” his throat grinded as he screamed but he didn’t care. “You need to stay! I don’t know what I’m doing! You’re the only reason I got this far what am I supposed to do if you’re not there to help me?! Please say something! Anything! I don’t know what to do! SAY SOMETHING!”

. . .

It was strange, he had recalled feeling this way before. A thousand lifetimes worth of loss and sadness repeated over and over though generations that weren’t his. He knew this pain, yet he didn’t, it was something he felt all too often, yet nothing like he had ever experienced before. He couldn’t help but weep. And the fact that his sobs were the only thing he heard, the only thing he felt only pained him more.

_______________________________________

Jaune and Ren took turns carrying the boy, his form completely and utterly exhausted. The team worried for him, with even more following suit when they met up with their comrades from team RWBY. Oscar took comfort in the friends around him, as they regrouped in the nearest town, planning their next advancement.

Ren was the first to ask what had happened to Oscar during the fight, and the boy was careful with his words so as to not choke on them as he explained. He began curling in on himself, as everyone’s faces turned to him with a look of grievance, and something that resembled pity. He noticed her face didn’t seem that way though, that she didn’t look at him with pity… It soothed him for a moment, but only a moment.

Their mentor was officially gone for good… and it left a feeling of dread and uncertainty in each of their stomachs.

When the teams retired to their rooms, Oscar dreaded the thought of rest. In the darkness of his small room, he felt like he walked in an abyss. He tried to sleep, he tried to rest, tossing and turning and scuffling his bedsheets, but the quiet was surprisingly suppressing. For months he had grown used to Ozpin’s presence, knowing that whatever the unknown held for him the next day or just around the corner, he would be there to explain, to offer solutions. Perhaps the old man was something of a crutch, it certainly didn’t change the fact that he felt lost and utterly alone without him there.

He got up, and wandered the halls of the inn like a ghost. He hadn’t bothered to put on his boots, so the floors barely creaked as he paced back and forth from one end of the hall to the other. The numbers on the doors counted up and down with every which way he walked, small slivers of light just barely seeping into the dark hall from the rooms behind mahogany doors.

He found himself standing in front of her door, he knew she was awake because the light from inside shined through the hinges. He hesitated, wondering how intrusive his actions may come across. He had made many friends on his journey, but of all of them she was always the one who saw him for who he was. She always saw him as Oscar Pine, not Ozpin, not Ozpin’s successor, not the chosen one, or wizard, or whatever title had been passed down to him through his many past lives, just Oscar.

He ran his tan fingers through his messy black hair before knocking on the door, loudly enough to insist urgency, but quiet enough to not wake up any neighboring guests. He heard soft footsteps from inside inching closer and closer to him, followed by the quick click of the door’s handle as warm lamp light washed over Oscars form. Her silver eyes met his, her expression knowing.

“Hey, Oscar.” She greeted quietly.

“Hey, Ruby.” He responded, even more quiet than her greeting had been. Ruby recalled first meeting Oscar, his very being was much more reserved back then. Looking at him now, ‘reserved’ didn’t even do justice just how withdrawn and scared he seemed. After seeing how much he had grown but a few days prior, she hated seeing her friend like this.

“How are you doing?” She felt she knew the answer, but asked regardless.

“I’m not okay.” The matter of fact tone to his answer was enough to make her chest tighten, and his averted gaze down to the floor even more so. “For months, I had been living with the voice of an old man in my head. Telling me what I was supposed to do, expect, and who I was supposed to be. I hated it at first, but at the same time he was the only one who made sense of everything happening around me. These memories, these abilities, he always said they were meant to be mine… but deep down I always felt like they weren’t. Even now I have thousands of years of knowledge and memories stirring inside me and I have nothing to make any sense of it! Or anyone!” His voice began to crack, Ruby gripping the door frame unsure if whether she should take hold of him or not. “He always said ‘this is how things were meant to be’… So why do I feel like a piece of me is missing if this is what being whole is like?”

“… Oscar, what do you need?”

“I just…” He finally looked up to her, his eyes reflecting an emotion that could only be described as desperation. “I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Ruby nodded, she may not have understood his predicament completely, but she did know what loss felt like, and isolation was never a good thing to pair with it. She gently took Oscars hand and lead him into the room, the door closing behind them.

She sat herself down on the bed, Oscar sitting beside her. Ruby hadn’t even adjusted the pillows for two before she noticed the boy’s shoulders shaking rapidly. She lifted his hunched form, revealing the fresh stream of tears staining his cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry…” his words hiccupped. “This must look so pathetic…”

“Oscar…” Ruby pulled the boy closer to her, until his head rested in the crook of her neck. “It’s okay.”

Another wave of tears leaked through his shut eyes, his breaths growing shallow and hitched. Oscar clung to Ruby, crying into her shoulder as she stroked his hair and rocked both of them back and forth. She recalled being held like this by her mother, and sometimes Yang on rare occasion, it felt somewhat strange to be the one doing it for once. But if she was being honest with herself, for Oscar, she would have done anything to ease his pain.

“I’m terrified Ruby…” he mumbled into her shoulder “I don’t want to be alone.” He suddenly felt her chuckle a bit as she massaged his scalp.

“Oscar, you’re so silly you know that?”

“What do you-?”

“You’ve never been alone.” The girl’s forehead rested on top of Oscar’s, providing a new type of closeness as she soothed him. “Even while Ozpin was still with you, you always had friends willing to help you. Uncle Qrow trained you, Jaune, Nora, Ren, your team befriended you. We met…” Both took notice of the emphasis she spoke with on ‘we.’ “And not just because you’re Ozpin’s successor or whatever, but because of you. Oscar Pine. One of the bravest dudes I’ve ever met. I may not know the full story, but I feel like Ozpin knew you’d be okay, because if you ever feel lost and afraid, you’ll have us to fall back on. Do you understand?”

Oscar slowly looked up, his eyes still damp and glossy, but his expression had shifted. He no longer looked up to her with sadness, in fact Ruby wasn’t certain what his expression actually was. She just knew it bored into her, making her feel like she’d melt under its gaze

“How… are you always like this?” he asked, almost whispering it.

“Like what?”

“Just… perfect in every way.” Ruby felt her heart skip a beat, the smallest sense of elation spreading through her. Her face must have reflected it as she watched Oscar’s shift to a shyer half smile.

Neither of them is sure who leaned in first, just the sudden recognition of their breath on each other’s lips was all they recalled before gently kissing one another. Before closing her eyes completely Ruby could have sworn she saw one last tear roll out from the corner of Oscar’s eye.

Oscar snatched either side of Ruby’s face, deepening the kiss in a mixture of passion and longing for closeness. Both of Ruby’s hands took hold on Oscar’s neck, pulling and keeping him closer, rubbing at the nap below his hairline. Her touch was like hot iron on ice, melting him. His scent reminded her of pine trees and open fields, hers filled Oscar’s senses with the scent of dust powder and roses. She admitted feeling his desperation. Despite the multitude of kisses being perfectly plentiful and feverish, each felt more like a small cry for help than a gesture of passion. Like he had clung himself to a precious thing he was terrified of losing. It was flattering to say the least, and Ruby was more than willing to be there for him.

The two stayed that way for a while, a few stray tears streaking down Oscars face every so often. Ruby would break away to wipe them away with her thumb or kiss the streaks left behind. They took comfort in the taste of one another, leaving previous doubts and worries to the wind. Ruby’s hands glided up to Oscar’s shoulders, and could feel the tension loosening. The feverish kissing from before slowing into smaller pecks. Ruby pulled the two of them down until both rested on their sides on the bed.

“I assume you don’t really wanna head back yet, do you?” The boy only hummed in response, shaking his head ever so slightly. The ebony haired girl pulled a large throw blanket over the two, scooching over so that her bedmate may have more room.

Oscar immediately wrapped his arms around Ruby’s waist, holding her like a child’s first bear. Ruby sighed contently, resting her head now in the crook of Oscars neck. She could feel sleep gripping at her consciousness as her hand rubbed circles on his back, making him let out a calmer but still a bit of a shaky breath.

“I love you, Ruby…”

She was certain he could feel her heartbeat accelerate through her chest as his grip around her tightened a bit. She couldn’t help but smile like a dope, and had she’d been more awake, she might had tried to conceal it. She kissed his chin before replying.

“And I love you, Oscar Pine.”

Oscar had gone to sleep afraid of the inevitable bombardment of nightmares he was sure he’d receive, but in her hold, he felt safe, and gentle rest soon followed.

#rwby #ruby #rose #oscar #pine #rose garden #rosegarden #rosepine #enchanted rose #ruby x oscar #oscar x ruby #fanfiction #angst #feels #ozpin #my writings #confession?#sort of?

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