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strangerobin · 3 years

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Rue: Chapter 9 (Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

Note: I'm literally in tears right now. I have 7000+ words over 13 pages on my word processor just for this chapter.

Night after night, summer and winter, the torment of storms, the arrow-like stillness of fine weather, held their court without interference.’

The swaying wheat and barley waved in the warm breeze; the burning sun burned like the beacon it was. The entire world was brown and golden. It was hot, it was suffocating. It was terrible.

“The land is barren.” Adeline muttered, her body rocking to and fro with the movement of the wagon, her eyes were trained into the far distance, squinting in the broiling sun.

“You’re being over dramatic.” Henriette’s tone was dry, her hands on the reins, spurring the horses to continue its trot.

“I hate it here already.” Adeline announced, crossing her arms in a huff. “Why couldn’t we have gone somewhere else? Somewhere with more greenery than this? There’s still plenty of places to hide in Louisiana-”

“Staying in the same place over and over will attract attention and you know it.” Henriette was losing her patience too, turning her head sharply to glare at her sister. “Your father will find us if we keep staying in the same place.” The lines on her face and around her eyes deepening, the ever growing frown settling over her wrinkled forehead.

“…We left Ralph in Orleans. All alone.” Adeline bowed her head in grief, hiding her face behind her hair and avoiding those piercing eyes of her sisters. “Six feet under and his body wasn’t even cold when we left.”

Her sister sighed again, though this time it betrayed a tenderness and affection that she only displayed towards her loved ones, freeing one hand to gently comb back Adeline’s soft tresses.

“Silly girl. How many times do I have to tell you? Ralph hasn’t gone anywhere, he’s always with you and me. Always.”

“He’s dead, that’s what he is.”

Henriette continued rubbing her shoulder’s soothingly, as if she were comforting a child. “But he’ll always be in our hearts, and that’s what matters.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Come Addie, let’s not fight.” The older woman smiled lightly, turning the younger girl’s head towards her for closer inspection. There were bags under her eyes and an unnatural pallor, a sullenness swirling behind. Even her usual bright eyes were dulled. “I hate it when you’re angry or sad.”

The younger girl shook her head and curled around the older ones side, much like a feline would.

“I still hate it here. Everything’s so dry and barren and ugly. I’m only putting up with it because of you.”

“What will you do when I’m gone?” Henriette sighed.

“Then I’ll just have to die and pursue you."

“Silly girl.” The elder smiled at the other indulgently, yet her eyes betrayed a melancholy she failed to hide. “You don’t mean that.”

He saw them long before they arrived.

Initially a speck in the distance, and then gradually enlarging until he could see their wagon gradually pulling into town along the dusty highway.

In truth, Jasper had noticed the old lady at the front first; her face hard and etched into a permanent frown, doing nothing to dispel the presence of her wrinkles and only succeeding in making more pronounced than ever. He would have turned away back to his field then had he not caught sight of her in the setting sun, the last of the sun rays reflecting a pale face.

She had a simple shawl wrapped around her head, protecting her from the dust. But it did nothing to hide the beauty she possessed, there was an ethereal feel to it; a otherworldliness. There was also a melancholy to the girl; with her head bowed, eyes downcast, looking so dejected. It captured his attention, struck a chord in his heart, and later he would stop to think about her, in his work, during mealtime, before he went to bed, in his walk.

His eyes followed their receding figure unconsciously as they made their way into town.

He did not know her name yet.

But she had unknowingly sent a ripple in the pool of his heart

Except he did not know of any of this yet.

It was another sleepless night.

Adeline clutched at the tattered copy of To The Lighthouse she had found fallen behind the shelf in the library and staggered downstairs.

Sleep had evaded her yet again. When was the last time she had had a good night’s rest? Or perhaps it was herself who was avoiding it altogether. Whichever it was, she barely slept a wink in the past week. she could almost feel the rush of agitation in her nerves now, the lethargy in her frame, the shortness of her temper.

She needed to get out.

This was a paradise for vampires she supposed. A secretive hideout for the Cullens, no one bothered them here. The town was too enamoured by the dazzling family, the town’s police chief was Bella’s dad and the only visitors they ever had were the wolves from the nearby indigenous tribe. And anyways there was ever only one person who came most of the time.

But it still unnerved her. The jitteriness she experienced in Colorado never fully left her. And she was still startled by the smallest things, the tiniest sounds.

It was the house. She finally concluded. It was Jasper.

She couldn’t rest with Jasper around. No she couldn’t.

Pocketing the few cigarettes she still had remaining into her worn satchel, Adeline grabbed the giant coffee flask she had prepared and stalked out of the house into the dreary morning of Forks in only a thin parka and boots.

As she stalked down the clearing at the back of the house, she felt a shiver down her spine and a feeling of being watched. Turning back she just made out a silhouette at the upper left window.

She didn’t need to squint to know who it was.

She flipped the bird at him before turning around to leave in a huff.

Jasper saw her multiple times in town over the next few days. The two had settled down into one of the cottages his parents had owned bordering their own farming fields; he had yet to formally acquaint with his new neighbours. But it would seem that the arrival of the girl had already sent the town into frenzy.

For one, her dress making skill was excellent. Her embroidery so fine and so meticulous that all the ladies of the town were soon sending in requests, until she had to put them on hold until she could finish the earlier ones first.

Two, she was soon the gossip of the entire town. She’d already had seven proposals in the course of a week, all of which she had rejected without even a side eye. Men were in awe of her beauty and wondered aloud at her ever downcast eyes and the enigma that she was. For the women in town though, she was the subject they loved to hate, for monopolising the attention of the other half of the town. Jealously was an ugly sentiment and hostility an ever isolating one. And the girl soon found herself alone and alienated without a single soul to call as friend.

Soon they had a third topic to discuss on.

She was seen trying to storm the local bookshop for new reading materials, but on seeing her, the store owner had kindly redirected her back to her ladies’ weekly digest.

“You don’t make any sense! Why am I not allowed to read?! It’s only a novel!"

“Child, novels are hardly a suitable reading material for a lady. It promotes unrealistic fancies in young minds like yours.”

“That’s a condescending observation sir.”

“Who do you say you live with again?”

“My grandmama.”

“Well young lady, I suggest you have a word with you grandmother then.”

“Wait!”

The man slammed his door in her face.

And no matter how hard she pounced on the wooden door, the shopkeeper refused to open the door again to the girl.

“Darling, sweetheart.” A pair of well-meaning elderly ladies stopped in their tracks to regard the girl. “Don’t be mad at the man, he’s only trying to do you good. What kind of gentleman of good status would want a woman with her head stuck in a book? It’ll only spur you on into fantasies after fantasies; no man would want a wife who would neglect the family. What would you possibly do then?”

Her lips pursed now and Jasper could see how upset she was with the way her shoulders were hunched and her teeth biting into her lips so hard it drew blood but somehow her eyes shone with a fierce defiance he had never seen.

“A man who loves me would not ask me to give up any of that.”

She let slipped this one sentence before turning to leave with her head held high.

“What a peculiar young girl.” The lady turned to her equally surprised friend and wondered aloud.

The crowd dispersed to return to their day and errands.

Only Jasper was rooted where he was, his mind replaying the conversation the girl and the lady had, the silent dignity, the crackling flame inside her.

He looked to the bookshop again.

Adeline always thought that their relationship now was like a predator to its prey; Jasper always on the outlook, ready to pounce anytime she showed the slightest weakness. But when she did look closely, it wasn’t difficult to find him shuffling awkwardly in the corner when they were in the same room, looking at her with unveiled longing and then the predator would turn into a wounded puppy.

Adeline wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. That he should feel hurt and yet still longed for her, instead of choosing to hate her for all she had done. It was beyond her comprehension. If their fortunes had reversed, she couldn’t say for certain if she would feel the same.

She wondered if he ever thought of the past, their past together. Because she was convinced that he viewed it through a rose tinted lens

Adeline lighted a cigarette and puffed thoughtfully. What she had read at the break of dawn still fresh on her mind.

“There it was before her - life. Life: she thought but she did not finish her thought. She took a look at life, for she had a clear sense of it there, something real, something private, which she shared neither with her children nor with her husband. A sort of transaction went on between them, in which she was on one side, and life was on another, and she was always trying to get the better of it, as it was of her; and sometimes they parleyed (when she sat alone); there were, she remembered, great reconciliation scenes; but for the most part, oddly enough, she must admit that she felt this thing that she called life terrible, hostile, and quick to pounce on you if you gave it a chance.”

She must admit, Woolf’s writings always did have a knack of making one feel and think differently; to approach life, time and memory in a new light; to reflect. The lighthouse, was the never changing vantage point in the passage of time, the ever eluding desire that one chased after but never could quite grasp; ten years was a very long time in a life span, people change, for better or for worse; people die, and all was left was a memory frozen in time. And even that fades, lost in time and space. Nothing was everlasting, no mark or testimony survives the void.

Not even love.

The brutality of life and reality had made sure that it did not.

She briefly considered her own life.

The innocent child Henriette had protected at all cost when she was alive, who was immediately killed by her father after Hettie’s death, gutted and left to her own demise in some dirty gutter. And in her place, all that was left was this new emotionally dead and drained Adeline. Haunted by her own past, her deeds and her misfortunes, completely broken and never quite pieced back together right.

Adeline had taken the gamble with life and lost miserably.

The fog was getting thicker now, the wind lost somewhere in the thicket. The spring air was stagnant, and the soft tendrils of smoke curled around her hair, her frame. For a moment, she stopped in her tracks, just to take in this present moment that would soon morph into another forgotten memory of hers.

He found her at the far end of his parents’ field, looking out into distance, sniffing.

“Hey are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She sniffed again no doubt surprised that someone had crept on her, scrubbing at her face furiously. “Never better.” Before turning around to scrutinise him.

“Who are you?”

“I don’t think we’ve formally met ma’am, I’m Jasper Whitlock.”

“You’re Mr and Mrs Whitlock’s second son.” The girl gasped, before ducking her head formally and shaking his hand. “I’m Adeline, Adeline Ruelle. Your mother’s told me about you.” She looked around again before smiling awkwardly and gesturing to the fields. “I’m trespassing. This is your land. I’ll go-”

“No, no. It’s uh… it’s alright. I don’t mind, Miss Ruelle.”

“But still. I shouldn’t be disturbing the lot of you.”

“Wait. Uh I… I couldn’t help but saw what happened in the town square.”

“Oh.” She frowned before looking down, clearly getting the wrong idea. He wasn’t there to reprimand her too. “It’s alright, I won’t-”

“No wait, I don’t mean it that way. Here.” He quickly thrusted the bundle he had been hiding behind his back this whole time.

Confused, Adeline clutched at the bundle, feeling the hard texture of the package before looking up to stare at him agape. Her hand quickly dove in to tear at the wrapping paper to reveal a hardback book.

“Frankenstein?” She held the book up questioningly. “Why are you giving me this?”

“You wanted this right? Or was it not this? I could take it back and change it if you want-”

“No, no. This was what I was looking for. But why are you giving me this?”

“Because you wanted it.” He stated as a matter of fact. When his answer didn’t dispel the confused look on Adeline’s face, Jasper struggled to explain himself more. “I don’t think they were right in refusing to let you read just because they think it’s not suitable for a lady. Anyone should be allowed to pursue their own knowledge…”

“This isn’t really the most educating thing you know.” For the first time, there was a playful smirk on her lips. “It’s a novel on a man making a monster.”

“You know what I mean.”

Evidently she was grateful. “I- how can I ever thank you for this? How much does this cost? I’ll pay you back the money… I’ll pay you double for all your trouble-”

“No, no it’s fine. Please don’t pay me. I wanted to help. You looked so sad and I just wanted to cheer you up is all.”

“Wait, where are you going, Mr Whitlock sir?! Wait.”

In his mind he had embarrassed himself. It was a stupid move buying her the book. Now she would think him worse than all her other suitors. He had intruded into her privacy and had condescended her by deciding that she would want the book. He had never lost his cool once before, not in front of the girls who had flirted with him, and this new girl had come along and thrown him off his balance.

He didn’t realise till then that his heart was beating erratically and his hand clenched over it unconsciously.

What a stupid stupid man that he was.

“Adeline.”

She was momentarily shocked from her thoughts. Looking up, she found that she had come across the Cullens. There was Alice with the little family.

Alice looked concerned, no doubt surprised by her haggard look and her sleep deprived countenance. Even Bella and Edward looked alerted too. Despite being eccentric, Alice was, Adeline concluded, actually quite a nice person, overly friendly maybe.

“You look tired, are you alright?”

“I’m alright.” She shrugged nonchalantly. Even though the exhaustion was catching up on her fast.

Alice hesitated before smiling. “We’re going to hunt. Do you want to join us?”

Ah, so they were going to hunt. She remembered her surprise when for the first time she had heard that they were vegetarians and that they only fed on animals. Henriette had half forced half bullied her to adopt this kind of diet since she was born, yet she had never seen another doing the same before.

But she didn’t like to hunt in the presence of another, it made her self conscious. And anyways, she was trying her best to steer away from the company of the family.

“It’s alright.” She remained aloof. “I’ll hunt on my way.”

“Will we expect you by dinnertime?” Bella spoke up at the back, Adeline could literally see the trying in her effort to be nice. She quickly looked to Edward who’s face remained neutral.

“Hmph. I’ll be back.” She nodded her head at the latter.

Their paths diverging, the rest of the clan soon took their leave of her. And Adeline looked on at their receding back from her spot.

They would all soon be a distant memory of hers, there was no need to be formally acquainted with any of them.

‘With her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta's arm and left the room, it changed, it shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past.’

This time she was waiting for him.

The moment she caught sight of him strolling towards the perimeter of his fields after supper, Adeline immediately jogged towards him, a large basket in tow.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Mr Whitlock.” She chirped, an unusually bright smile graced over her porcelain features, a stark contrast to the melancholy he saw on her first day in town.

He decided that he loved seeing her smile more than anything right then.

“Jasper is fine ma’am.” He ducked his head bashfully. “Mr Whitlock’s my dad if you will, everyone around here just calls me Jasper, Miss Ruelle.”

“Fine. But then you must call me Adeline. It’s only fair.”

“Miss Adeline.” He bowed half out of jest.

“Adeline.” She corrected him, though there was a twinkle in her eyes. “So where’re you headed to?”

“I’m just heading to the creek down below to rest for a bit, it’s been a long day.”

Adeline nodded in understanding and he was somewhat amused to find the girl trotting behind him. Chuckling, Jasper swooped in to take a grasp at the handle of the basket and carried it. When they finally settled at a shady spot near the creek, Adeline leaned forward to open the latch of the basket.

“I wanted to thank you,” she began, pulling out a batch of baked cookies. “For the book.”

“Its nothing-”

“No! It wasn’t just anything! I…” He watched as she frowned and look away, debilitating with herself, trying to find the right words to express herself.

“No one’s ever done this for me… ever.” She finally murmured, her hands playing at her aprons absentmindedly. “So… yeah.” She pulled at her ear sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re not interested in my ramblings. I should go… it’s your rest time.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

They sat in mutual silence, though there was less initial awkwardness.

“Do you-”

“So I-”

They started at the same time. Sheepish, Jasper gestured for Adeline to continue speaking. She smiled another of her easy smile.

“What I wanted to say was that you really don’t know how much it means for me… for you to get that book for me. My grandfather taught me how to read and write. And between the both of us, this was our most favourite book of all time. But his copy was destroyed in the floods some years ago so when he died… I wanted something to remember him by. That’s why I desperately wanted it at the bookshop.” She grew sentimental then. “Of course it’s not the same copy we used to have, but it’s the sentiment of it that’s the most important.”

“Then I’m glad I got it for you.” And he meant it from the bottom of his heart.

“Here.” She handed him a cookie, “you still haven’t tried it yet.”

Tentatively, he took a bite out of it. “It’s delicious!"

Adeline grinned, evidently proud. “Of course. And they said no decent southern gentleman would want me. You’ve just proven them wrong!”

Jasper laughed. “Well you’ve certainly stolen my stomach away with that amazing bakery.”

Adeline reclined onto her elbows in her spot and squinted in the dazzling sun. “You know it’s not half as bad here as I initially thought.”

“Must be because of my company.” He spoke jokingly.

“Hmm. Maybe." Jasper found himself observing Adeline’s every move. Now she was closing her eyes, basking in the glory of the setting sun, humming to herself. The warm ray of light accentuating her long neck and her collarbones and-

She turned suddenly, her excited eyes on him.

“Have you ever read Frankenstein?”

She knew she was getting closer and closer towards the sea, despite the fog being thick and hanging over the threshold. She just knew.

There was the faint crashing of waves now, getting louder by the minute. And the brambles of the forest floor was spreading out.

Now all she needed to do was-

And she stepped out into the sunlight. Despite the sun, it was not the Texan sun she remembered from her memories, it barely gave her warmth. But it did dispel some of the mist that clung around her like tendrils. Here was a cliff of some sort, with the sea roaring right below her feet, the moss and the wildflowers carpeting the entire forest ground until it ended abruptly at the ledge, to a steep drop of some fifty or even sixty feet.

It was indeed beautiful.

Adeline watched mesmerised, how the waves licked the cliff side, thundering, throwing up white foam and algae and whatnots.

Sighing, she leaned back against a tree trunk. The sky was grey and endless in the horizon. It was dreary, and she felt that it suited her more than the Texan sun and blue sky ever did.

She readjusted her sitting position against the tree and took out her book.

James and Cam and Mr Ramsey were heading to the lighthouse now and Lily Briscoe was finishing off her painting ten years later.

‘“It will rain,” he remembered his father saying. “You won’t be able to go to the Lighthouse.”

The Lighthouse was then a silvery, misty-looking tower with a yellow eye, that opened suddenly, and softly in the evening. Now—

James looked at the Lighthouse. He could see the white-washed rocks; the tower, stark and straight; he could see that it was barred with black and white; he could see windows in it; he could even see washing spread on the rocks to dry. So that was the Lighthouse, was it?

No, the other was also the Lighthouse. For nothing was simply one thing. The other Lighthouse was true too. It was sometimes hardly to be seen across the bay. In the evening one looked up and saw the eye opening and shutting and the light seemed to reach them in that airy sunny garden where they sat.’

She closed the book with a sigh.

To be fair, she knew that Jasper thought about their past, just as she did. Except, they each remembered things and events differently. Or maybe it was just that for her, with the knowledge of hindsight, everything was brought into a new light and became tainted.

Could she look back with pure joy now? At her days with him which was now, in hindsight, filled with regret and more importantly, guilt.

There was some truth in it she supposed.

Perhaps there were more facets in their memory than she would give credit for. There was the truth, and then there were all the different angles you could appraise it from. Both were looking at the lighthouse, but he no doubt looked on with fondness and through a rose tinted lens, and she with hindsight could only look on with a sense of dread.

She only wished that he would not be so enamoured by his sentiments that he was blindsided by the truth.

With that thought, her mood soured again and she threw the book into the ground. Subconsciously, her hand went to the locket hidden beneath her shirt where she fingered the engravings to calm herself.

Adeline closed her eyes and listened to the sea.

After that fateful afternoon, Adeline was showing up at the fields every few days. And the creek immediately became their mutual meeting point. And on days when she was too busy with her work to venture out, Jasper would swing by, just to see her, have a chat. They lived close enough, and he was always giving excuses after excuses about why he was there. Excuses he thought she saw through with that complicit smile and the twinkle always present in her eyes. Her grandmother was less impressed however, but she never treated him ill, always being ever cordial, receiving him, making tea, working in the corner, muttering to herself in French.

The days blurred into one, and towards the end of that summer, his parents invited the Adeline and her grandmother over for dinner one fine evening. His mother took an immediate liking towards the girl, and his father called her the daughter he always wanted.

It made Jasper feel giddy, that his family loved her so much. He was almost proud.

It would be the best summer he ever had.

They had read Milton, the Odysseus, the Aeneid, Austen, Dickens, and many more.

He was always surprised to see Adeline brimming with so much knowledge at such a young age. He had wondered at the background of her grandfather, but she always deflected the questions with a wistful smile then he learnt not to ask them anymore.

It was perhaps cliche to say, but she really was not like other girls. Adeline was open, she was kind and sincere and more importantly she was the sun herself, a burning beacon, radiating with warmth. One look at her and he found the day’s worth of handwork and fatigue to be nothing.

Jasper knew the implication of his thundering heart. Romance was not something new to him, he’d heard it from fieldworkers, men who were only a few years older than him.

But he had his doubts too.

He saw how the men tried to talk to her, and though she never mentioned it once to him, he heard enough to know about all the confessions and declarations and proposals she received on a regular basis. Her refusals did nothing to quell his disheartened heart. Her suitors ranged from various backgrounds including pretty boys with wealthy backgrounds and ancestors who were founding members of this town even.

What was he? Nothing but a simple farmer boy. How was he to compete with then?

Every time he heard of another refusal, his hope would get a little higher, that perhaps her smiles and her openness were only directed at him. Yet one look at himself and his meagre possessions, and he would lose what little confidence he had.

Even so, even so she never missed a day with him. Never forgot an engagement, never failed to show up.

That she would welcome him warmly each time, with her radiant smile and her gentle words, even if she would ramble on and on about her long and tiring day and her tedious work.

He was failing miserably to quell his beating heart. Some days It was pure agony, other days he would find himself hope against all hope that perhaps, just perhaps that she would reciprocate even a fraction of his feelings.

But his doubts held him back each time, when he was on the brink of a confession. He would be reminded of the string of failed proposals that came before his and he would become afraid and stopped himself short.

Was it better to protect this friendship, this comradeship that they had?

But with each passing summer day, as he got ready for harvest, his heart was becoming more and more heavy.

It was too much.

He didn’t think he could go on like this.

The ravens cawed and she awoke with a start. Standing up immediately, she was dazed to find that she was not in her simple attire of boots and parka anymore. Gone was the sea and the grey horizon; the pines surrounding her were tall and ominous, a light mist was beginning to form around her, obscuring her sight further on. She was in her Sunday best again, the cream coloured dress with those understated embroideries she had seen herself. There was the chain of daisies at the hem of her sleeves and around her collar. She looked around, trying to comprehend her surrounding.

So she was in a dream then.

A nightmare perhaps.

Might as well walk to the very end of it so that she could wake. Though she loathed to think how it would end, hopefully not with her screaming bloody murder again.

Trudging onwards, the claustrophobia was getting more and more intense, the fog thickening and the trees crowding more and more together until there was no distinguishable path that she could follow. She felt suffocated.

Just then, there was a chill around her heart and it began to thump fiercely. Turning her head cautiously towards her back, she was instantly struck by an intense fear.

Run, her instinct was screaming in her ears.

She ran like the frightened bunny that she was. She could hear the laughters of her sisters, and worse of all. The shoutings of her father.

There seemed to be no end. The brambles tore at her dress, tearing the embroideries, the mud splattering all over her apron, the loose branches leaving small open cuts over her hands and face. The laughters behind her never ceased. She was bone chilled and yet she daren’t stop in her tracks. For fear of being caught, for fear of a punishment worse than death.

And just when all hope was lost, there in the distance was an opening!

And out she ran into a field of wheat and barley. Shocked, she looked back cautiously at the edge of the forest she had just dashed through.

The eeriness had gone and it was only just a stretch of low woodland and shrubberies. Her nightmarish forest was gone.

Cocking her head to the side in confusion, Adeline nevertheless continued to trudge on and at the end of the wheat field, a warm inviting cottage stood in its midst.

The smoke gently curled around the chimney, the vines over the walls, the blue cornflowers at the windows.

It was painfully the same as she had remembered.

She quietly opened the latch to the door and stepped inside the threshold.

“You’re back.” As her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, she saw a man in a simple cotton white shirt and dark pants gently settling the white bundle in his arms into a crib. “How was your walk? Refreshing?”

“Yes…” Adeline stuttered. “Jasper?"

“Yes darling?” The man turned with a tender smile towards her, arms opening wide to welcome her. This time she did not hesitate and rushed towards his strong inviting embrace. Breathing in the strong familiar scent, feeling the warmth he radiated. All the while avoiding glancing at the crib she had seen.

“I’m tired.” She murmured. “Take me to bed?” She pleaded.

Jasper only chuckled.

As they finally settled in bed, his calloused hands, overused at the farm, began its motion of combing through her hair slowly, soothingly just like he did all the time when the two were in bed. Adeline closed her eyes and sighed. She didn’t want to wake up from this and back to the icy cold acquaintance that they now shared.

“I had the strangest dream.” She murmured to him, burrowing deeper into his embrace, her ear rested on his chest, and she could hear the strong beating of his beating heart. “I dreamt that I left you. And that it destroyed you so badly that you became something I couldn’t even recognise anymore. And then I hated you so much and you resented me so much for turning you into what you became.”

“Left me…” Jasper repeated to himself, his hand froze momentarily in its motion.

Adeline looked up in desperation. If this was a dream, at least she would keep him happy. This much she could do at the very least.

“It was only just a dream though.” She tried to smile, raising a hand to trace his strong jawline. “I could never leave you.”

He resumed his soothing motion, combing through her hair, massaging her scalp. She hummed and turned to listen to his beating heart again.

“No, because what would happen to us if you actually left?”

Ah… the bundle in the crib.

She imagined a young boy, with golden curls around his temple and warm inviting hazel eyes. Who would call her maman, who she would teach French to, and raise him and teach him well, just as she had done to her handful of brothers and sisters. It would’ve been domestic bliss. It would’ve been what she wanted if she had been human.

She was drifting in and out of consciousness again as she lingered in her impossible dreams.

The soothing motion over her scalp never ceased. In fact it became more and more concrete.

“Adeline…. Adeline…”

There was someone calling to her softly, far away, at the edge of her consciousness. And it was getting nearer and nearer.

Somehow she felt safe, warm and calm. A sense of serenity washed over her.

She was protected.

She felt a light peck over her lips.

A chaste little kiss.

She chastised without opening her eyes, though her lips were slowly pulling into a small smile.

“What are you playing at-” she mumbled in her sleep.

And then she descended into sweet oblivion.

They met in the fields as usual the sun casting its shadow towards the east, amongst the waving barley and the golden wheat. Adeline was chatting animatedly about the latest novel she had been reading.

He cleared his throat when she stopped to take a breath in between.

“I have something to tell you.”

Her brows shot up no doubt finally realising that she had been hogging the conversation table for the last half an hour or so, but she quickly composed herself and gave him a reassuring smile. “What is it? I’m all ears.”

“I’m joining the army.”

“What?”

“I’m joining the Texas cavalry.”

“Why?” She looked bewildered, and there was a frantic look in her eye. “Don’t you have enough to do in the farm? The harvests and the cattle’s and… everything! Have you talked this through with your parents?!”

“I have. They are in full support of it.”

“But why?” She pouted her lips cutely, but her voices sounded betrayed. “I enjoy our time with you here everyday, don’t you? If you join the army, you’ll be working and training everyday. I-” she stopped and looked away, embarrassed, scuffing the sole of her shoe over the ground petulantly.

He chuckled. How to make her understand? That he was doing this exactly because of her.

“Besides, you’re a landowner yourself. I know the land isn’t much, but it should be enough for you right?”

“Adeline.”

“So why would you suddenly decide you want to become a soldier?”

“Adeline.”

“I mean sure I know you’ll excel in it anyways. You’re going to charm you way up. Then you’ll forget little ol me.”

“Adeline.” Jasper finally had to smirk. "You never let people finish what they have to say.”

Adeline huffed in annoyance and crossed her arm. “Fine. By all means!”

What she didn’t expect next was for him to clasp her hand in his.

“You might think that a farmer is well respected enough, but I’m a second son. When my parents die, my brother will inherit the farm. I can help with the farm, but it will never be mine. I’ll never have an income as prosperous as my brother will if I continue to work for him. When I do marry and then someday have children of mine, would I want them to endure the same fate as I have?”

“But if you love her then surely-”

“Would I be able to have better marriage prospect as my brother does? The answer is no. I would never be able to do better than him, I would be at a disadvantage, less likely to get the girl of my dreams. No decent gentleman would marry their own precious daughter to a second son. That is, unless if I make a name for myself in some other way.”

“By joining the army?”

“It was either that or become a priest.”

“There are other ways surely! You can study to be a lawyer or… or a businessman or anything other than joining the army!”

“Don’t you find some of the younger soldiers charming and dashing? I overheard you chatting with-”

“I care about you too much to want to see you get hurt!”

There was a solemnity in her clear blue eyes that betrayed nothing but sincerity and concern. It left him feeling giddy, that gave him a confidence he had been lacking for sometime to carry out what he was about to do that he had psyched himself up to do for weeks now. He couldn’t help but grin.

But it irked her to new heights.

“Stop it, don’t laugh! It’s not a laughing matter!” Adeline pouted again, slapping him in the arm repeatedly, and this time there were angry tears threatening to fall from her beautiful orbs. “I worry about you! Even if you seem no have no care about your own safety!”

“Fine! Go! Go join the bloody army if you love it so much for some bloody girl you think you’ve fallen in love with! See if I care when you get killed off by some stupid I don’t know what!”

She turned around and by the slight tremor in her shoulder and the sniffing he realised with a newfound panic that she was crying. This wasn’t what he had intended to do.

“Adeline.” He soothed, coaxing the girl to turn around to face him. “Are you crying?”

“No I’m not.”

“Hush, then turn around see that I can see you properly.”

When she did turn, he could still see the devastation over her face. The tear trails over the apples of her cheek, those eyes brimmed with unshed tears. But she stared back with great defiance, her chin held haughtily up. He has to suppress a tender sigh, his heart was so heavy with love for this girl, the little treacherous thing thumping against his chest so loudly he was sure she would’ve heard it.

“Adeline, you must know how important this is for me."

She looked away then and feigned boredom. “Why are you telling me this Mr Whitlock? You’re wasting your time on me. Shouldn’t you be looking for your bloody lover to her about this.”

“I really should shouldn’t I? But I need your help and advice.” He studied her closely as she bit her lips so hard it almost drew blood, as she raised a hand to finger her earring in an effort to calm her nerves mo doubt. He slowly reached out a hand to hold her chin and turn her pretty face back to his before delivering the final blow.

“But suppose I’m looking at her already right now as I speak?”

“Looking at her…?”

“Won’t you tell me how do I stop her tears and make her understand that I’m joining the army so that I can have a future with her? So that I can stand on my own and go to her grandmother to ask for permission to court her and marry her?”

He saw the moment the realisation hit her, Adeline’s mouth dropped as she stared mutely at him.

“You… I… I don’t think I understand what you-”

“I’m telling you that I love you Adeline. And I want to marry you.”

He stopped abruptly then to take a deep breath, his heart beating ferociously now, the rush in his ears was almost deafening, he was too fearful of what she would say.

But when her looked into her eyes, there was a newfound vulnerability, one he had never seen before. She wet her trembling lips.

“This isn’t a joke you’re pulling on me is this?”

“I would never joke about this.” He said with resolute.

Bashful, she looked down and sucked at her lips. And if he had looked closely, he would have seen how her cheeks were tinted red, not by the summer heat or the burning sin.

“No one has ever said that to me.” Her eyes were brimming with tears again though her lips were slowly, but surely drawing up into a smile. “I think… I love you too Jasper Whitlock.”

And that was the straw for him.

He stepped forward to close the gap between them, long arms stretching out to hold her tightly. Her arms slowly wound themselves around his neck, their face inches apart, looking straight into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t you think we’re a little too close for propriety’s sake, Mr Whitlock?” The corner of her lips tugging up playfully.

“Hush”. He thought his heart was going to burst. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

And under the setting Texan sun, amongst a golden burning world, they shared their first ever kiss, two hearts beating as one.

The thick clouds above were for once finally dispersing and the radiant sunbeams filtered in between, producing a luminous effect as it struck his skin.

The motion in his hand never ceasing, gently combing through Adeline’s hair as she herself laid on his chest, breathing in and out calmly. Without the hostility and the jitteriness, Jasper was almost fooled into believing that this Adeline was the same Adeline from his past.

But she was not.

Jasper sighed again, his heart so full of emotions it was painful.

He had wandered out after she left the house and subconsciously, or perhaps guided by a vengeful angel, he had stumbled across her, in the midst of a nightmare, curling into herself, whimpering. He acted on his natural instincts to soothe away the frown, and it mystified him that the moment he laid his hand on her head did the whimpering stopped. He couldn’t resist stealing a light kiss from those plump lips.

Looking down at Adeline’s serene sleeping face, Jasper wished he didn’t have to hide himself like this, that he could’ve held her when she was awake, her radiant smile guided towards him and himself only. Not like this, not when she wouldn’t even know that it was him who had comforted her and held her in her sleep, had warded away her nightmares, even if just for a few moments only.

Oh but he couldn’t let her know.

Every small movement now would send him into caution, to extricate himself from her before she woke, lest she would run away, lest he would startle her, deepen this gulf between them.

He surveyed their immediate surrounding, there was Adeline’s cassette player, the tiny thing’s battery had long since stopped running. He made a remark to ask her about the mixtape she had been listening to. The emptied coffee flask, the burnt cigarette butts. And there lying open with its cover up, its spine breaking right in the middle, was Rosalie’s old battered copy of To the Lighthouse. He remembered watching her going all out just to hide it behind the shelf.

It’s too painful. She had finally confessed one rainy day. But I can’t bear to throw it away. It’s like a mirror you hold up to juxtapose it with your own life.

He never read it, not in depth anyways.

He reached out to grab it and randomly flipped through it, scanning the words as he did so.

‘To want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have- to want and want- how that wrung the heart, and wrung it again and again!’

“What is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years, the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”

#jasper hale x you #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale imagine #jasperhale #twilight angst #twilight imagine

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missyart123 · 3 years

Text

To Be Forgiven - Tommy & Technoblade

Based off of This Post by @savvyart101

The night was cold.

Even with the colossal trees that grew high into the sky, shielding the little light provided by the moon, the figure’s breath was visible in the air, illuminated by the faint purple glow that permeated the forest.

The man sighed, watching the steam curl. It was quiet – unnaturally quiet. Not even the sounds of the forest breached the silence, but it didn’t strike the man as odd. He was used to it. The forest would often fall silent in his presence; the rush of wind through the leaves stilling, the chirps of crickets fading out, the bustle of nature coming to a halt. It was as though the forest itself froze at the sight of him. It wouldn’t surprise the man. Not even the night beasts neared him anymore.

The thought didn’t bother him. He’d learned long ago that it wasn’t worth the hassle of caring – nothing stuck around for long. Impermanence was the nature of life and when one lived as long as he, one quickly realised that hanging on to things only made their inevitable end all the more tragic.

Why then, the man wondered, was he here. Following that note offered him no benefit, no relief. He had followed it on a whim and now, as he stood at the entrance to the clearing, he wasn’t sure what had compelled him to in the first place. Perhaps it had been curiosity, but even that seemed false. Perhaps he knew it to be.

In all reality, it didn’t really matter. He was here now and he’d see it through. The hybrid had never been the type to lie down; never put down his weapon in the face of battle.

Steeling himself, he stepped forward, pushing a stray vine from his vision.

The clearing opened wider than he’d been expecting.

In the centre of the glade a rustic campfire sat, presumably lit in preparation of his arrival. The flickering flame cast a vivid orange glow that licked at its surroundings, biting at the boots of the shadows which danced desperately out of its way.

Around the central pit five wooden stools had been fashioned haphazardly of a few spare logs. They sat clustered close together in a ring; buckets and other such equipment scattered in between and hidden amongst the wild grass. Each item bore a thick layer of rust, telling of a long period lain untouched.

The area practically stunk of nostalgia. It was almost as though he could see the ghostlike figures that once sat around the edges; laughing into the night as they told tales and sung songs, backed by the battered guitar leaning abandoned against one of the stumps.

Whoever they had been they were long gone now. All that was left behind were the imprints of once happy memories; ghostly figures trapped by the magic of the forest.

He wondered who the group had been. Only one person sat there now.

Hunched over and staring into the flames sat Tommy.

From where the man stood the boy’s face was bathed in darkness, shadowed by the blackness of the night. Even so, the boy looked deep in thought, not even seeming to register his presence.

It was odd seeing such a look on his face. It was an expression too old for his face, too quiet for one so loud. It felt wrong seeing the boy that burned so bright so subdued, as though the fire itself had sucked all of the fight from his soul.

The figure felt like he was staring at a shell of a boy; a boy who had been forced into the role of a man. Something about it left something deep within him twisting with discomfort. It was a feeling not unlike staring at a corpse.

The hybrid found himself dropping his gaze soon after, the feeling of intrusion so strong that it quickly became unbearable.

Breaking the still, the man stepped into the light.

“You wanted to talk,” Techno began, eyes trained on his brother.

His voice came out louder than he had intended. What with the lack of previous reaction, Techno almost expected the other to flinch, and yet Tommy didn’t move an inch.

Perhaps he’d underestimated him.

Still, it was quiet.

He reached the log next to the blond and crouched down, falling back into the low-set seat. Not sparing the other a glance, Techno spread himself out, getting comfortable in the chair that was not his own. Relaxing his shoulders, he reached up and pulled his sword from its sheath, carelessly throwing it to the ground. He unbuckled his sheath from his shoulder next, dragging it off of his back and placing it down on the ground next to his sword with a soft thump.

Hand running through his hair, he stretched out and leaned forwards, eyes landing on the fire. He wondered what his brother saw in it; what shapes haunted him too.

“It was you that sent the message then,” He started, as though he hadn’t known. As though it hadn’t been obvious from the hand writing alone, never mind the inky smudges the teen always left along the margins or the crinkled edges of the paper from the way Tommy pinned the sheet to the desk, attempting to stop his quill from catching on the page.

Following a similar vein of thought, Tommy gave him a sharp look, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

Pleased, Techno caught the younger’s eyes. Not being able to read people’s faces was a pain.

Tommy let out a deep sigh, turning fully to face his elder brother. Gaze sharp, Techno scoured his face, taking in as much as he could. All at once everything that had felt so wrong about it all hit him like a slap to the face.

Tommy looked old. Unlike what he’d thought, the boy’s eyes no longer shone a youthful blue, now a muted grey – the joyful crinkles that always lined his eyes smoothed out, fading into non-existence.

He looked tired, his whole pallor taking on a rather dull shade. The overall effect was horrifying, his waxy skin exaggerating the emaciated jut of his bones.

It was wrong. He didn’t look like his brother anymore.

“Well,” Tommy began, throat dry with disuse, “like you said, I came to talk.”

The boy paused for a moment as though weighing his words, skinny fingers fiddling anxiously with the – definitely new – lock of grey hair tucked behind his ear. “I- I want to open a dialogue; to apologise for some things; to hear your side.” With that the younger breathed out, looking nervous as to his next words, as though he were unsure of how Techno would react. “And for you to hear mine; to listen to what I have to say too.”

Techno said nothing. Legs shaking, Tommy stood up, figure illuminated as he paced restlessly along the edge of the pit. “We’ve only really spoken in screaming matches where neither of us were really listening other. It was wrong. I want that to change. I’m making it change. If no one else is going to take the step to move things forward, then someone has to.” Tommy stilled, voice hard with conviction. “I guess it has to be me.”

Techno watched his younger brother, unsure as what to feel. If he was completely honest, this almost felt like a chastisement; as though the words were an accusation, not a fact. He looked away, struggling to remain impassive.

“Fine.” Despite the discomfort it caused, Techno tried to remain serious, not allowing himself to fall into the habit of breaking the tension with humour. If his brother was going to make the effort to be mature, then he’d at least give him the respect to match him. “I’m listening.”

Tommy nodded, face pulled into a forced smile. It didn’t last long, the look quickly dropping from his face as he looked away.

In the following moments, an awkward silence filled the air. Neither was sure how to begin. Getting to this point had been a battle in and of itself and now they’d finally reached it, both found the words that usually came leaping to their tongues like poison had fallen silent, docile in their amicable still.

Tommy shuffled, picking absently at his jumper.

Looking at the younger, Techno steeled himself. As much as it pained him to admit it, Tommy was right. He shouldn’t be the one having to do this.

“Where do you want to begin?” He asked quietly, tone matching the solemnness the question deserved. Tommy shrugged, looking away.

It was as though all the fight had drained from the boy the minute he’d broken eye contact, closing in on himself along with his body, which was now wrapped tightly around itself. It was concerning how quickly the boy could switch, fire dying like a match blown out.

Perhaps it really had been curiosity after all that had brought him here; wonder at the little brother that had changed so much. Nostalgia for a time that was gone.

“Why did you leave me behind?” The words poured from his mouth without his consent, drenched in the pain he hadn’t meant to voice. Tommy’s head lifted quickly, eyes wide with surprise.

Techno met his gaze with equal confusion, tense at his own unprompted confession.

He hadn’t meant to say that.

He leaned away, a familiar smile pulling across his face, light and jokey and false.

“Don’t worry about it; it was nothing. What did you want to say?”

Tommy’s face dropped into a frown. His eyes trained over Techno’s face, watching his older brother with a look too knowing for one so young. Techno shifted, uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Say it. Say what you want to say.” The words were oddly reminiscent of the ones Phil would say to them as children; kindly encouraging, yet firm. It brought that deep seated discomfort back, the wrongness of their flipped dynamic tilting the ground under his feet.

Techno grit his teeth, nails digging into his arms. Fine. He’d told himself he’d act mature so he was going to do it.

“At the community house. Why did you leave me?” He clarified, voice tight.

“Oh.” Tommy answered. Silence fell.

Neither bothered to break the tension; staring at each other with eyes more challenging than anything else.

Tommy finally sighed, arms folding across his chest. “You want to know why a joined the other side? Or why I specifically left you there.” Techno shrugged noncommittally, eyes unmoving from the younger.

“Right, okay.” Tommy’s eyes flicked between Techno’s and the seats that surrounded them before launching in, presumably seeing something that Techno didn’t. When he spoke his voice was quiet, diplomatically neutral. “For the former, I think you know the answer. We’ve always principally disagreed. L’manburg was my home, democracy or not, and I’d defend it no matter who I had to go against. I knew that and you knew that no matter how hard we both tried to pretend otherwise. I was never going to sit back and watch. I won’t apologise for that and despite it all I know you don’t expect me too. It was just a difference in opinions.”

Techno inclined his head, ignoring the distaste the answer brought, and waited for the rest.

“But I won’t defend my leaving you behind. I shouldn’t have done it then – I – I put you in danger. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that you’d be fine, I didn’t know for certain and I knowingly left you to fend for yourself amongst thirty enemies. That was wrong.”

Tommy paused for a moment, eyes catching in the fire.

“You know what?”

Techno started as Tommy abruptly turned to face him head on. With trembling hands, the younger knelt down before him, staring up at him with startlingly dark eyes.

Face blank, Techno watched as the younger reached out, pulling Techno’s hands into his own. He allowed the movement, heart pulling at the familiarity of it all. “This is still too impersonal. We’re right next to each other and we’re not even looking at each other.”

Techno said nothing but, knowing what the younger was doing, he entwined his hands around his brother’s wrist in wordless agreement, allowing him to do the same. It was Phil’s special thing. It showed that what they were saying meant something, that they were fully invested in the other.

From the position, Techno could feel the rapid beating of Tommy’s heart, the tremors in his fingers. Despite this, the younger held his gaze, grey irises unmoving from his own. “I’m sorry, Techno. You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have left you there. I don’t regret siding with Tubbo, but I do regret leaving you behind. You’re my brother Techno, not ‘The Blade’. You’ve always meant more than that to me than that. And yet, still, I left you behind.” He paused, squeezing his brother’s wrists. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy’s voice cracked as he finished, nervous eyes flicking anxiously between Techno’s own.

Techno stared at his younger brother, heart beating in his chest. He wasn’t sure how to take that, how to process any of that.

“Well that was something,” Techno laughed shakily. Against his will, a smile began to pull at the corner of his lips, struggling to make itself known. He tightened his hands around his brother’s wrists instead, squeezing lightly.

Feeling that, Tommy sagged. His eyes shone as he looked up as his older brother, taking the acceptance of his apology for what it was.

Techno looked away, uncomfortable with the adoration in his gaze. It was reminiscent of the hero-worship Tommy held for him in his youth, the unconditional awe. Techno was no hero; Tommy knew that more than anyone.

“What did you want to ask me?” He demanded, tone l sharp as he forcefully broke through the calm that had settled between them.

That was a mistake.

Tommy’s face fell, eyes darkening even as he continued to hold eye contact.

Techno watched, stricken, as the younger’s gaze began to drift away; mind pulled far beyond him or even this time. Watched, unable to do anything, as his brother faded away from him, stomach heavy in the knowledge that it was his fault. Always his fault.

He squeezed his wrist lightly again, frantically attempting to ground the younger to the present. He had had to do it often when they lived together in the cottage. Back then, the bad days had far outnumbered the good and Techno had spent enough time trying to pull the younger back from the depths of his mind that the movement was familiar.

There was no response. Tommy’s eyes were empty, no sign of recognition lighting up their dead gaze.

He needed to do something.

Desperately, he scoured his mind for anything that would help. He recalled that physical contact would often help, alongside talking; something about the words and feelings contrasting the horrifying images in his mind. Techno had spent many hours in the past talking himself hoarse, trying bring his brother back to him.

Pushing against the discomfort the prolonged contact would cause him, he pulled the younger forward into his lap, threading his hands into his hair.

“I’m sorry Tommy. I’d probably never say this to your face, but – I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes, trying to focus on the words and forget his anxiety; stop the way his words stumbled. This was for Tommy; he owed it to him to tell him the truth at least once.

He clenched his teeth, pushing past the fear the words brought him. How terrifying it was to hear the words aloud. “I failed you.”

He faltered, hand stuttering in its ministrations. It was hard to ignore the truth of the words when he was the one saying them aloud, not hearing them as he usually did – whispered from the recesses of his mind. “I failed you as a brother. I tried to save you and yet all I did was make you hate me. All I did was lose you more.”

His hands tightened in his unresponsive brother’s hair, hiding the way they shook. “I promised myself I would always protect you both and look how that turned out.” One dead and one ruined. What a brother he was.

“I don’t know why I’m even bothering to apologise. How could I expect you to forgive me? You shouldn’t.” He stares into the fire, wishing he knew what his brother saw; wishing he knew what had compelled him to want to make amends.

Perhaps that had been it then. Perhaps he had come not out of curiosity or boredom or any other lie he told himself, but to see if it was worth it. If he was worth it.

“Still, I hope you do.”

In the following hours, Techno continued to sit in that same spot, whispering sweet nothings into the younger’s hair with the promise to himself that he wouldn’t stop until the moment his little brother returned to him. Maybe he’d remember his words, maybe he wouldn’t, but he hoped that this wasn’t the last time they’d speak. That even if he couldn’t be forgiven, he’d at least have him back one more time.

---

The rays of the rising sun flickered between the branches, the golden light basking the forest in a warm glow.

Under the cover of the brush, the fae prepared for their beds, giggling amongst themselves. How silly the humans were! The youngling wasn’t even asleep anymore!

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

Text

The Obey Me Boys as RPG Bosses: Frostheart

CHAPTERS: Prologue + Beelzebub and Belphegor , Asmodeus, Satan, Leviathan, Mammon, Lucifer, ???, ??? (YOU ARE HERE), Endings

You are one of many hunters in a land cursed with everlasting winter. You yourself have become rime-touched after an attack by your fellow corrupted hunter, an incident that left you traumatized and lame. Even your hunter’s guild has resigned you to a life of mere cleaning and upkeep duties, and you have spent the last seven years in the depths of your guild’s archives.

Then the White Witch spirits your little brother away into her castle, taking with her the only family you have ever known. Armed with your trusty hunting knife and bow – and aided by your senior hunter, Simeon – you set off into the rime-cursed lands to find Luke and end the White Witch’s reign once and for all.

**Very loosely based on The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen.

Word Count: 1,560 words

TW: Blood, Violence, Gore

[???]

The ice-carved guard’s halberd strikes hard against your crystalline arm, nearly knocking you to the ground, but the curse of the rime has become much too strong to give way. Your lame leg acts as both a prop and pivot, and you easily knock the halberd out of the guard’s hands with a simple swipe. One kick to render him prone, a swing of his own weapon, and his body shatters against the icy floor. A strange, pale blue ichor pools around his remains. You step over him and head down yet another seemingly endless corridor.

It won’t be long until the frost overwhelms your heart once more. The remnants of sensation that you still possess seem to drift further and further away: you no longer feel the lingering frost on your skin, and the paths carved out by tears on your cheeks have turned into ice. You can feel yourself bound to this realm in body and soul. You pad barefooted amongst the opulence of the White Witch’s castle, searching desperately for anything that might be a throne room. You come across a few more ice-carved guards. While they possess only artificial desires and hearts of frost -- like the soulless doll-maker, you note -- they’ve been allowed to roam long enough for you to justify their shattering. You peer into the snippets of memories with your rime-touched eye, seeing winding halls and paths of hoarfrost. There is the glimpse of a carved throne, a massive, glittering chamber, and a glacial crown. You crush the last guard’s head with your foot.

The heart of the glacial rift calls out to you. You storm the throne room with a stolen halberd, prepared to demand Luke and Simeon’s freedom from this nightmare realm.

But the words never come. You are rendered silent, your mouth sewn shut by some invisible force. A wave of her delicate fingers forces you to kneel, nearly cracking your lame leg in two, and despite the lack of physical contact, you feel her glacial touch trace the side of your jaw. It leaves needles of ice embedded in your skin.

“How nice of you to finally arrive! Your little brother has told me all about you.” Her peals of laughter echo in the massive chamber, and the needles of ice push themselves further into your flesh. “Oh, Luke, why don’t you say hello to your dear sister? I believe you’ve missed her an awful lot.”

You know you should feel nothing but rage towards this frost-ridden abomination. Nothing but cold, bitter resentment. You should have nothing but the desire to shatter this creature to pieces and to crush her heart underfoot. You can discern the depth of her corruption in her reflection: her skin is completely bloodless and spider-webbed with ice, bearing an unnaturally blue pallor. Her eyes, much like yours, are beset with a layer of hoarfrost. Frost-like lashes flutter against carved cheekbones, white locks seem to have bound her to her throne, and rows of sharp teeth make themselves known when she smiles. Fear, revulsion, abhorrence -- you should be steeped in all of that and more.

Yet you do not. Here lies the heart of the glacial rift. In this beautiful embodiment of frozen death lies the source of the corruption, its voice calling out to you.

Oh, and how sweetly it beckons.

Your trance is interrupted by the sight of blond locks and blue eyes. A fine silk tunic, breeches interwoven with silver, and a lavish cloak trimmed with white fur. The porcelain doll regards you with dispassion and -- no, you’re wrong. This is no doll before you. This creature that the White Witch has corrupted can only be --

“Who are you?” Luke asks.

Luke, it’s -- it’s you! It’s his big sister! Tears threaten to spill once more, and you can’t help but smile with a strange sort of relief. Your voice cracks. Why can’t he recognize you? What has been done to him? You call out his name again and again, pleading, but you receive only a disdainful glance.

He turns to the White Witch, frowning. “Can I go back now?”

“Oh, of course, my dear.” She presses a kiss to his temple and ruffles his hair before sending him off. “Now, where were we?”

You demand to know what she has done to him. She was human once before. How could she find it in her heart to be so cruel? She may have betrayed her brothers for the corruption, but surely --

Her fingers dig into her throne, slightly cracking it. “Betrayed? You think I betrayed them?”

There’s no other word for it. You had inadvertently peered into Lucifer’s heart when you had slain him, and the fleeting memories had branded themselves into your mind. There was another White Witch when they had journeyed to the heart of the rift. A weaker one, yes, but a White Witch all the same. A White Witch could only live without devouring a heart for so long. Lucifer could only remember the taste of blood in his mouth, the tears spilled upon him by his sister, and the loving, gentle caress of death. He had bid her to slay the White Witch for him -- for all of them, as the rest had fallen to the dangers of the glacial rift. Belphegor, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Satan, Leviathan, and Mammon had long perished. And then Lucifer could only remember the absence of his sword, Lilith drawing it away, and what remained of his consciousness slipped away.

You know her. You know what she’s done. You know her name.

“Oh? And what is my name, then?”

Lilith. Her name is Lilith.

Her mouth quirks into a mirthless smile. “Well, you certainly aren’t as stupid as you look,” she remarks, sighing. “I called by that name once, yes.”

Then that means she understands the pain of loss. How could she ever want to inflict that pain on anybody else? Why did she spirit away Luke into her realm?

“You act as if he didn’t come of his own accord. I can assure you that he very much did. I never wanted him in the first place, really.”

She’s lying. As the White Witch, she must devour a heart.

“Perhaps Lucifer’s memories weren’t clear enough for you, then. I believe he perished before I did.” The White Witch rests her chin in her hands, as if preparing to discuss the details of some tedious affair. “A heart of frost is not created by simply corrupting a creature with the curse. Oh, believe me, I’ve tried. A heart of frost belongs to one who is both pure and corrupted. One who has suffered unfathomable amounts of pain -- and has yet to submit to the curse. One who freely gives it. That, my dear, is a heart of frost. Anything else is a mere mockery.”

The realization dawns on you.

“You were quite adorable, really. All that screaming and throwing rocks -- well, I suppose it was only a distraction,” she says, “but that’s beside the point. Such selflessness in adolescence is quite rare. All these years, and you haven’t changed one bit.”

If you hadn’t acted as quick as you had on that fateful day, you’re sure that Luke would have been the one torn apart by the creature. The creature that was once Agathe had given you no mercy. The thirteen year old Luke would have had an even lesser chance of survival.

“Imagine a life without pain. A life without heartache, without suffering. A fulfilled wish is a wish fulfilled. Gowns sewn from the finest silk, silver crowns beset with jewels, beds stuffed with the softest down -- oh, my dear, you’ll never want for anything here. I can give you all of this and more, if you so choose.” Her expression almost becomes gentle, her face becoming even more beautiful than before. The heart of the glacial rift sings from within her, and you crave its embrace. “All I ask in return is your heart.”

The great doors creak open behind you, followed by the sound of sabatons against ice. You turn around out of instinct. It takes you one moment to realize that the witch has released you from her spell. It takes you another moment to realize just who has walked in behind you.

The White Witch claps her hands in delight. “Oh, how wonderful! Another guest is here for you, my sweet.”

It is said that the rime draws beasts out of the hearts of men. You had believed you had seen everything that there was to be seen when it came to corruption of wishes and sins, and you had believed that the rime could not possibly warp an innocent and pure intent. Belphegor and his sloth had turned him into a nearly dormant golem. Beelzebub and his gluttony had turned him into one with an insatiable appetite. Asmodeus and his lust had changed him into a dryad capable of only seeking pleasure and beauty. Satan and his wrath had transformed him into a dire wolf capable of pure destruction. Leviathan and his envy had metamorphosed him into a sea serpent. Mammon and his greed had changed him into a crow-beast obsessed with value. Lucifer and his pride had led to him becoming an ageless, imprisoned shadow of himself.

For Simeon, it was love.

[Give her your heart.]

[Refuse.]

Tip: [The White Witch] will not take refusal kindly. Make a wise choice.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me simeon #obey me mc #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #frostheart

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geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek · 4 years

Text

a breath of sunlight

geraskier | teen | 2.3k | soulmate au

he’s just past thirty when he gives his soul to a witcher on a whim, because those lonely gold eyes look like they’ve seen too little love and jaskier has nothing but his lute and his love to give.

( read on ao3 )

When he was a kid, Jaskier turned up his nose at the idea of finding his soulmate.

“You don’t want to meet them?” one of his friends—he doesn’t recall their name anymore, a time that seems so, so long ago—had asked, as they played with sticks in the streets in the town.

He remembers scrunching his face up, lips pursed as if he’d just eaten a lemon. "Why? So I can grow old and die? That doesn’t sound very fun.”

And it didn’t—there was so much to do, how could he possibly do it all in a single lifetime? Jaskier wanted to see the world, to travel and learn things and make a name for himself across all the countries and in all the cities and towns outside of the only one he’d ever known.

“I think it would get lonely,” another of his friends had said softly, looking off into the distance. “You’d meet so many people, maybe even love them, and then you’d have to watch them die when they found their own soulmates. You don’t think you’d want an end to it? Your own soulmate to love?”

Jaskier never did find a response to those questions that felt satisfactory. Of course he wanted someone to love! He wanted to love lots of someones, but he also didn’t want to wake up one day and find he couldn’t move for the arthritis in his joints, or the rattle in his chest as he breathed, or even remember his own name.

He isn’t the only one to scoff at it all, wanting instead to live forever, but it doesn’t sit right with him when the hunters come through, slitting the throats of the people unfortunate enough to have soulmates who’d rather they were murdered than grow old together. Jaskier wants to live, but not at the cost of his own soulmate’s life.

It doesn’t sit right with him but it doesn’t stop him from turning his eyes away and strumming louder notes on his lute when cries and screams fill the air as someone is beheaded for sharing a soul with the wrong kind of person.

He’s a coward like that.

Which is maybe why, when he turns twenty-five, and he’s still obviously aging where he should still look like a young-faced baby of eighteen, it seems only fair that the universe should curse him to have no soulmate at all, and his plans of living forever crumble at his feet.

And it’s not that he’s met his soulmate, he knows. Even if only in passing at a market, everyone knows if they’ve met their other half—you feel it, they say, somewhere deep in your bones and it’s like being able to breathe after being underwater for far too long, like the sun rising after the night ends.

Jaskier still feels choked by water making it hard to breathe, still sees darkness even in the middle of the day. It’s not because he’s found them, but because he has none at all.

It’s a rarity, and not a good one. Most people stop aging at eighteen, just on the cusp of adulthood, to wait for the other half of their soul so they can live together and grow old together and die together. It’s the ultimate achievement: meet your soulmate, and live, and die. Those that don't, that continue to age despite not meeting anyone they can call their own? It's because there isn't anyone for them; their soul is whole on its own and doesn't need another—or is so jagged and rough that no other will fit it, and why would destiny let a soft soul suffer that kind of pain?

Jaskier will live, and he will die, but he will never have a soulmate. His soul is too rough, too jagged for another to fit with it.

He tells himself he won’t let it bother him. So he won’t live forever—fine. He’ll just have to live the fullest life he can while he has it, and it will have to be enough. And for a time, it is: he travels and he plays and he sings and he loves and he loves and he loves, and it never fills the emptiness in his chest where his heart is supposed to be when he’s not throwing it at whoever smiles at him like he might just be something more to them than he is.

He’s just past thirty when he gives his heart to a witcher on a whim, because those lonely gold eyes look like they’ve seen too little love and Jaskier has nothing but his lute and his love to give.

He knows the tales of witchers, with no feelings and no souls and no soulmates—the mutagens deaden whatever bond might have been there, sever it like the head from any beast by a witcher’s silver sword, so they live long, lonely, empty lives.

Unnatural, people hiss in behind their hands, evil and vile, no better than the monsters they hunt—before turning around and having their soulmates killed for immortality, and Jaskier thinks them hypocrites.

Geralt of Rivia has lived a long, lonely life, but Jaskier thinks he is far from empty.

He is lonely, but he craves companionship and compassion. Jaskier sees it in the way he talks to Roach, always soft, with gentle hands on her neck; in the way he holds himself surrounded by people, careful of his presence like just breathing might have him looking at his hands to see innocent blood on them; in the way he lets Jaskier follow him even when his words say otherwise, and the almost-smiles he gives when Jaskier plays something soft and just for them on the road.

Jaskier thinks their loneliness matches, jagged souls rough around the edges, craving love and eager to give it. He’s more than happy to let Geralt have all his love he wants.

Loving Geralt is like taking a deep breath after holding it for too long, like seeing the sun for the first time on a cloudless summer day after being in the dark. Jaskier looks at him and feels the empty space in his chest fill up with gold eyes and white hair and a body covered in scars, feels complete for the first time that he can recall, and it seems like a cruel joke on destiny’s behalf to make him feel so much for someone who will outlive him by lifetimes.

For the first time in his life, Jaskier wishes he had a soulmate—not because he doesn’t still want to live forever, but because now his eventual death seems like a waste. Here he is, heart and soul belonging to a witcher that deserves nothing short of all the love in the world, and Jaskier will eventually pass on, leaving him alone yet again, taking his love with him.

If he had a soulmate, Jaskier wouldn’t feel like he’s leaving Geralt behind in the end, teasing him with sweet promises only to disappear in the night—Yennefer does that enough for all of them.

But he doesn’t, so he plays his lute and sings songs and keeps following Geralt on the path laid out for him by destiny, and he keeps giving his love despite it all.

It’s Ciri that asks about him about his soulmate, holed up in Kaer Morhen and spending a rare day off from training by Jaskier’s side, listening to him pluck notes on his lute and hum suggestions of songs. Geralt is out doing...something that witchers do, probably, Jaskier wasn’t paying attention.

“What’s it like?” she asks, and Jaskier raises his eyebrows at her in question. “Having a soulmate, I mean.”

His throat closes up and a heavy feeling settles in his chest. He thinks of Geralt and pushes the thought away, swallowing thickly. “I—I don’t know,” he says, and his voice is rough with longing. He has to clear his throat. “I don’t have one. I mean, I don’t like drawing attention to them, but can’t you tell by the wrinkles around my eyes that I’m aging—” he smiles like he's making a joke of it, gestures around, “—and there’s no one around that could possibly be the cause of it? I’m getting old all by myself, thanks.”

Ciri looks...concerned comes to mind, but mostly confused, brow furrowed and lips pursed. “You don’t know, do you?”

Jaskier just looks at her. He doesn’t understand. “I don’t know what?”

“Jaskier,” she says slowly, gently, like he might spook if she speaks any louder, “you’ve looked the same as you always have for as long as I've known you.”

It makes him smile a little. “Well, thank you for your kindness, Ciri, but—”

“I’ve known you for fifty years, Jaskier,” she cuts him off quickly, but kindly. “Since Geralt found me and you were with him. And according to him, he’s known you at least half that many years before me.”

What? He doesn’t—he doesn’t understand. “What?”

She apparently realizes this is news to him—and oh, what news it is—because she smiles even more gently, almost playfully. “You have a soulmate, Jaskier,” she says, and Jaskier is, hysterically, glad she’s spelling it out for him. “And you’re living your life with him, like you’re supposed to. It’s just a little backwards from the norm. Sounds like him, doesn’t it?”

It’s like opening his eyes after being asleep: at first everything is blurry, but as he wakes up, it clears. Ciri’s words—You have a soulmate, Jaskier—float in his head, circling his mind, finding parts to cling to.

I have a soulmate.

Jaskier forces himself to look at Ciri—really look at her—and when he finally sees her it clicks: she’s grown up quite a bit, the round curves of childhood in her face now mature, more angular, though still soft. Her body is that of a woman’s, and while Jaskier could never find himself attracted to her—gods, he’s basically her father, that would be too uncomfortable—he still recognizes that she is attractive, in a way a woman is. Her eyes no longer shine with the innocence of youth, now more world-weary and wise, very much like Geralt’s on quiet nights around a campfire.

And Jaskier is still here. He’s still with them, still follows Geralt when he leaves Kaer Morhen to travel and slay beasts to make some coin—still sings his songs in taverns and sleeps on rough ground beneath the stars and it’s still not fun but his back doesn’t protest it and his joints don’t ache as he strums his lute, his steps still spry and lively as they’ve always been, no cough rattling his lungs when winter sets in, making it hard to breathe.

He feels alive, as full and complete as he has since he fell in love in a tavern, stale bread in his pants and a yearning to tell the stories of a witcher who wanted to be loved.

“How?” he asks, breathes it into the air like it might break, like destiny might come down to him and laugh in his face and tell him it’s not true after all, he’s going to die any minute now and it will all have been for nothing—

But perhaps destiny likes him a bit better than that, has always meant for this to be, because Ciri says, “The same reason my grandmother didn’t begin to age until she met Eist: it’s your destiny to be with him, Jaskier, and destiny wouldn’t separate you so soon.”

It’s...a comfort to hear it, that perhaps the reason he’d aged for the first part of his life wasn’t because he didn’t have a soulmate, but because he did and that soulmate was a witcher, a being meant to live a long, long life. It was destiny telling him, You will need to be more than a child to be with him as long as he needs you.

Oh.

Oh, to be needed by someone who fears being needed at all!

Jaskier realizes he did know, like they all said he would: he knew it by the way looking at Geralt was like coming up for air, like being blinded by light. He felt it in his soul that this was the one he wanted to give his love to for the rest of his life.

His soulmate.

“Well then,” Jaskier says, finally, settling back into his seat. He picks his lute up from where it had fallen out of his lap. Ciri looks at him curiously, and he gives her a smile. “I suppose, then, my answer is that having a soulmate is like being able to breathe after being underwater, and seeing light after a dark night.”

He looks up at movement in the door, and he smiles when Geralt comes in, dropping his swords and taking off his coat. Geralt raises an eyebrow at him, mouth quirked at the corner, like he’s asking a question—What’s going on in here? probably—and Jaskier feels at peace. He turns back to Ciri, strumming thoughtful notes out into the air.

“It’s seeing them and wanting to give all your love to them, because they deserve it and it’s all you have to give, and following them wherever their path takes them because there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be than by their side...”

He lets himself talk as Geralt comes to sit next to him, and Jaskier leans into him as he waxes poetic to Ciri about what it’s like to have a soulmate—because he does, and isn’t that just a hell of a thing?

Really, having a soulmate is the greatest adventure out there, and Jaskier thinks his child self would forgive him for wanting one of his own if he knew it would be Geralt of Rivia.

#the witcher #geraskier #fics.

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patricianandclerk · 4 years

Note

If you still have asks open, I would love to see some TMA where some *other* Power's ritual succeeds, and Peter and Elias (and everyone else, if there is space) are forced to navigate *that* world.

Also I’m like obviously a massive Elias/Peter fan, so if you can work that in that would be great but obviously isn’t required.

My Ask | My Ko-Fi | My Ao3 | Requests always welcome!

Pretty canon-typical body horror, gore, and suicide talk.

The Tundraran aground on the yellow beach outside Shoeburyness, and she keeled hard toone side with a judder that hit from the base of Peter’s spine all the way upto the back of his teeth. He heard the rusted creak of a few of the shippingcontainers above breaking free of their moorings with the force of the slam,crunching against one another, and he managed to save himself from hitting hardagainst the metal wall.

He heard afew cries and moans of pain, shouts for help up and down some of the decks, butnone of them sounded incredibly urgent – injured limbs, perhaps, but none arethe wheezing shouts of anyone crushed beneath machinery. In any case, thecensus of those still alive was Tadeus’ responsibility – Peter had moreinteresting things to do.

He couldfeel the change in the world as he came onto the strangely balmy air of thedeck, and he was forced to move slowly and ungracefully to the edge of it, theship at a forty-five degree angle… The air itself was thick as molasses,slightly sweet on the tongue, and he softly sighed.

Staring outover the dunes that make up the Shoeburyness beach, spanning out into the far,far distance, he saw strange, spiralling shapes that made his eyes water. Evenbefore his eyes, the heavy dunes moved and shifted toward and away from thehorizon, the fat chunks of grass hopping from one dune to the next, scurryingthrough fractal patterns as though they were dancing steps, this time eight beats,this time three, then six, then three, then four—

“Tadeus!”Peter called out, turning back, and Tadeus took a few moments before he raisedhis head from the hatch, meeting Peter’s gaze where he came to crouch over it.

“Only halfa dozen injured, Captain, and no dead,” Tadeus said lowly.

“It doesn’tmatter, lad,” Peter replied, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s the end of theline.” Peter put out his hand, expectant, and Tadeus stared at Peter’s palm, atthe rough-hewn surface of his skin, and when he lookeed up to Peter’s eyes, Petersaw the lovely, lovely fear there.

Such ashame it wasn’t the time to enjoy it.

Tadeus,hands shaking just slightly, bowed his head and drew the whistle on its chainfrom about it, setting it into Peter’s palm.

“You canrun, if you like,” Peter said mildly. “I won’t mind.”

“Is— Is itbetter to be Forsaken, than whatever that is?” Tadeus asked, and his gaze flittedfrom Peter’s face to the shifting, spiralling dunes. His lips were parted, andhe looked not terrified, nor desperate, nor even angry, but resigned. He knewthis would com, one day, Peter supposed. This, or something like it.

“I thinkso,” Peter said. “But I could kill you, if you’d rather. I think you’d preferthat, Tadeus.”

“You wouldn’trather condemn me with the rest?”

“I would,”Peter allowed, shrugging two great shoulders, and he smiled, very kindly, verywarmly. Tadeus shivered. “But we’re friends, you and I. I’m willing to make asacrifice for you before I attend to my… Ha. My other responsibilities.”

For a moment,Tadeus was quiet and taciturn, and then he reached out, his hand touching Peter’schest underneath the thick fabric of his woollen coat, touching only more cordedwool, but he relaxed as though he found a heartbeat there, his eyes closingshut. He nodded his head, slowly, and Peter smiled, reaching out to cup hischeeks.

He wasmerciful twice over – a quick snap, and that was all, Tadeus falling forwardand into his arms.

Peter slungthe body over his shoulder, clambering down one of the ladders to the shifting sands,and he walked with Tadeus going slowly cool against his chest. It would figure,he supposed, that the Distortion would complete their ritual, and rain theirstrange terror down on the world… And what terror it was.

It would bedifficult to say how far he walked from the Tundra, but he kept the oldboat in sight, and when he blew on the whistle, the fog rolled in thick and heavyfrom the sea, coiling about the ship in fat, heavy twists that were still toothick and too normal to be of the Spiral. They shared… It could hardlybe called an alliance.

It issimply that they were too similar to easily destroy one another, case in point –Peter walked, never lost, over the beach, looking out over the plains that nowmade up Essex. It would be a long, long walk, were it not for the souls in theLonely to nourish him, as he made his way west.

He couldfollow the Thames.

Evenspiralling, twisting, he knew her well enough to follow her home.

–

He laid Tadeusdown outside London. He didn’t even need to bury him: the brick of the cobblesshifted and twisted about his body until it was swallowed down beneath thebrick and brick and earth and earth, and Peter walked on, into the city. Thecorridors made by too-tall buildings twisted unnaturally, but Peter kept on astraight path, forcing them to spiral around him.

He heardthe screams, of course.

They weredistant, tangled up amidst their own insanities, so caught up as to forget to evenbe lonely. It was tragic, in a way.

So close tothat beautiful perfection, and yet so, so far away—

The MagnusInstitute was dark, but Peter didn’t need much light to traverse the strange,unnatural corridors. The scant oil light allowed him enough to see his way, andhe moved down the corridors in search of Jonah’s— of James’—

—of Elias’office.

The door creakedloudly when Peter pushed it open, although he knew that Elias was near obsessiveabout keeping the hinges oiled, to avoid such pedestrian displays oftheatricality. In the dark, he saw the still new, still not-quite-familiar shapeof Elias’ body on the floor, and he actually felt a twinge of panic before heconfirmed that Elias was sitting up and supporting his own weight, even thoughhe was on the ground.

He wasleaned forward, his knees drawn halfway up toward his chest, his arms looselywrapped around his knees, his hand curled into his usually perfectly-coiffed hair.Peter stared down at him, scarcely silhouetted by the oil light from the corridor.

“Sulking,are you?” Peter asked, and in the half-light he saw Elias’ mouth fall open, sawhis head rise. So much emotion could be gleaned from that slackening jaw, thatgasp of eager relief.

“Peter?”Elias asked, and Peter chuckled lowly, taking a slow step forward in the dark,his hands sliding into his coat pockets. Elias was facing away from him, halfof his face still in shadow, and Peter reached out, sliding his hand into Elias’hair. Elias did not go so far as to sigh, but he did lean his head minutely backinto Peter’s hand, which was the biggest sign of distress Peter could hope for.

“Hi, honey,”he purred. “I’m home. Guess Gertie took her attention off the pot, hm?”

“She madeto intervene,” Elias said lowly. “Evidently, the intervention in question wasinsufficient. Welcome unto the Great Twisting, Peter. Do enjoy your stay.”

“You and Iare better suited than most,” Peter said mildly. “Better the Spiral than theDesolation – or, God forbid, Hunt. I hate running. It’s undignified.”

Elias’ headturned slightly wrong toward him. He did not turn to face Peter, but turned hisear to listen to him, and yet the angle at which he listened was… Hm.Peter gently scratched over Elias’ scalp, and then stepped around Elias to lookat his face.

The gapingsockets that were once his eyes were scraped clean, blood stained rusty-red onhis cheeks and his forehead. Peter suppressed the twin urges to gasp and toclutch Elias close to him; equally, he felt a surge of distant triumph.

“Oh, Elias,”Peter murmured, feeling the grin come to his mouth and hoping that Elias wouldbe able to hear it in his voice. “I see. Obviously, you aren’t using youreyes sufficiently, so why should you get to keep them?”

“You assumeit was my patron that took my eyes?” Elias asked, but his lips quivered. Helooked deliciously pale, and his skin was chalky – the terror rolled off of himin waves, the fear of blindness, of not knowing, and of course, of course, of beingalone. It was such a lovely thing, to see Elias vulnerable, withoutthe Eye to protect him. “I might have removed them myself.”

“No,” Petersaid.

“… No,”Elias agreed, and Peter’s hand cupped Elias’ cheek.

“I alwaystold you, darling, that my work came with more benefits than yours.”

“Because youlooked only for the benefits,” Elias said, disapproval dripping from his voice,and Peter tipped his chin up to look better at the bloody, empty sockets, toadmire the smoothness Elias’ patron had punished him with. “Your worship wasnever selfless.”

“And yethere I am, rewarded,” Peter purred, “whilst you are shivering in your sanctum,blinded, and afraid.”

Elias shuddered,and Peter cupped his cheeks, sliding his thumbs over the stubble on Elias’cheeks – he couldn’t shave, of course, without a razor, and he had no doubtbeen alone in the spiral for days on end. He leaned in, closer, brushed hislips against Elias’, felt how cool they were, felt how he shivered, and thensurged in for more, wanting for the heat of Peter’s tongue and his mouth, theassurance that Peter was here, and real.

It was forthat reason that Peter broke them apart, and the broken noise Elias releasedfrom the very back of his throat was an ecstasy of sublime proportions, adelicious morsel that settled on Peter’s tongue, and he savoured it. Theworld had gone mad, gone mad and abandoned the monster that was Elias Bouchard,and now he was there for the taking.

“I can killyou, if you like,” Peter said softly.

“Just soyou can be alone?” Elias asked, raising his head just slightly. “Is that whatyou offered Tadeus?”

“You knowme so well,” Peter murmured. “I’d offer to keep you safe, sweetheart, butblind, powerless? You’d be such a liability.”

“Very well,”Elias said, smooth as butter. “Leave me, then.”

He alwaysdid have an infuriating habit of calling Peter’s bluffs.

“You’re noteven going to tell me, with the world ended and everyone going mad, that you’reglad to see me alive?”

“I’m afraidI don’t see you alive, Peter,” Elias murmured, and Peter laughed,shoving Elias in the centre of the chest. Elias went down hard and fast – hemust have been, Peter mused, starving. He couldn’t take in his usual sustenance,watching all that went on, and food in a world like this, real food, realnourishment, was near impossible to trust. Peter hadn’t looked yet, of course,but he knew it – you’d think it was food until you touched it, tastedit, swallowed it, and then you’d find it was razorblades, or worms, or—

It was a lotof effort, keeping a pet like Elias.

Uppity, andirritable, and powerless in the way a human never could be – blindness wasn’tjust a loss of sight for him, but a loss of centre, of knowledge, ofunderstanding, of all he was. All he was now, all he was left over,was Peter’s.

Elias’ headtouched against the carpet on the floor, and Peter loomed over him, his forearmsbraced either side of his head, and Peter could see Elias’ face, the solemnityin it, the quiet, distant pain. It had nothing to do with Peter, nor with beinglonely. Peter supposed it must be dreadfully hard going, to give up as much asElias had to one’s god, and be rejected for it.

What theBeholding didn’t want, Peter was glad to take up instead.

“You werewaiting in the dark,” Peter said, “to die.”

“I thoughtyou were already dead,” Elias said softly. His eyes used to be so beautifullycold: Peter used to fantasize about drowning in them.

“You know,”Peter murmured, “if we put the world back together, your dear patron might giveyou your eyes back.”

“Hope?”Elias asked, and then laughed, low and dark and hoarse. “I changed my mind,Peter. Kill me.”

Peterkissed him instead, as the floor beneath them twisted into fractal afterfractal, shattering into infinity like mad, mad glass.

#peter lukas #elias bouchard #lonelyeyes #leftofrevolution #as defined by dictionary #answered

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sungxmin · 5 years

Text

Stress (m)

» pairing; sungjin x fem!reader » genre; PWP / fluff » word count; 4.7k » synopsis; sungjin has been under stress lately but thank god he has you. » warnings; grinding, blowjob, the reader being horny notes; this is my first one-shot for day6 and its literally just smut lol, but I hope yall like it.

Sungjin was such a sedulous leader, staying up late in the studio, working on lyrics for the group's next track. Brian had told Sungjin countless times to not push himself past his limits, how he should be relaxing when everyone else was. Of course, the sweet male smiled and brushed off his stress as if it were nonexistent, but the concern each of the other members had never faded.

Sometimes they would force him out the building so he could see some damn sunlight. Why he wanted so badly to come up with unrivaled themes to match the deep libretto that embodies the group, no one knew. Some might say he was a bit of a perfectionist, but even so, that much pent up stress he bore needed to be released.

So here you were, pulling up a chair besides Sungjin and making sure he could see the frown marring your face. You could see him nervously swallow the lump down his throat as he avoided your keen gaze on him. "Five more minutes," he spoke up over the suffocating atmosphere that seemed to form as your eyes on him was unyielding. "You said that five minutes ago." you countered.

"I'm serious this time..."

"Damn it Sungjin, you said that too."

He opened his mouth to speak but recalled his earlier spoken words and closed his mouth before pressing his lips in a thin line.

You propelled your body forward, forcing the chair even closer to Sungjin until your legs were practically tangling with his. "Babe, I'm almost finished with this."

You rolled your eyes at his cute whiny tone. He knew you were usually a soft sucker for when his voice would get small, though when you showed that you were done with him putting off rest for one day, he started to stall.

Sungjin sighed and turned his body to face you. He cupped your face in his warm hands and leaned down to press his lips against your nose, giving it a sweet Eskimo kiss. When he pulled away, he looked down to gently caress your cheek, noticing how you relaxed under his touch. "Five more minutes," he said and you slapped his hands away.

"Five more minutes my ass." It was like he was stuck on repeat. An annoying cycle. But you weren't going to let him waste potentially gratifying hours only to finish writing something without a deadline printed on it. No, he was going to leave this depressing studio and you were going to make sure of that.

You abruptly stood to your feet, the rolling chair you previously sat on now rolling backward behind you. Sungjin's brows knitted in confusion until you suddenly pulled his hand toward you, trying to get him out his chair. But alas, he was too heavy for you to lift.

Realizing what your motives were, Sungjin stifled a laugh. Oh, how cute he thought you looked right now. You put more distance between your feet and slightly squatted, thinking it would give you an advantage. It did not.

Then Sungjin pulled his hand back, causing you to stumble forward, the chance of accidentally bumping foreheads with him becoming eminent scaring you. In swift movements, the brunette male maneuvered your body to smoothly land on his lap. Your face flushed from being inches away from his smirking one. That suave fucker...he was always so quick to turn from playful to smug.

He wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer in his chest. One whiff of his cologne alone made you melt on his lap, the savory aroma clouding your senses for a moment. He smelt so good and you wanted to stay in that position, but you had to remind yourself the reason why you barged through those doors an hour ago and it was not to banter for almost thirty minutes nor was it to cuddle in his unnaturally comfortable arms.

Once back in reality, you detached yourself from him. You pointed a stern finger at him and then motioned to the door, "Out. Now."

The smirk never left his face even as he crossed his arms in amusement, "Make me."

You huffed before giving him a faux smile. "Fine then, I will."

After saying that, Sungjin raised one eyebrow at you and you dashed to go behind his chair and with all your might, you yanked the leather material with enough strength to drag it backward. He didn't expect you go try to drag him out -literally- by his chair. Despite his arms reaching out to grab on something sturdy, you had already pulled him back far away from his desk and anything strapping.

You turned your head back, the creek in the door was all you focused on. So close to getting him out this room that you didn't care about what you would do first once he was out or at least in the hall. You'd probably get back up there if any of the members were even in range.

Your back was almost against the door to push it fully open when suddenly your ass was met with the solid ground and the chair was released from your grip, rolling off somewhere else. You hissed at the pain forming on your cheeks and you looked up to see an extremely contrite Sungjin.

"Oh no, baby, I didn't think you'd fall!" he bent down to try help you up but you swatted him off you, upset that he got out the chair.

"Well, did you think I would fly?" you retorted, a frown taking place on Sungjin's face because of your sarcastic reply.

You could visibly see his hurt in the pout he had, but he couldn't see the hurt on your rear. He didn't mean for you to fall hard as you did- or fall at all, only planned on getting up so you wouldn't get him out.

And like any other girlfriend would in your situation, you used his guilt to give yourself an edge.

"Ah ah..." you feign hurt, causing Sungjin to panic.

"Does it hurt that bad? Damn, ___, I'm so sorry!" he continued spewing out apologies, his hands ever so gently gripping your shoulder. You placed your pointer finger to his lips, the action momentarily shushing him.

"I think I bruised my tailbone." A clear lie. There was barely any pain leftover.

When Sungjin wanted to rush you to the hospital, you had to convince him that it wasn't that grave but kept him thinking there was a hint of soreness in you.

"You know, I'd probably feel a lot better if we went to the break room to put some ice on it," you soften the look in your eyes and held your arms out to him, "carry me?"

Sungjin nodded and turned around so you could wrap your arms around his shoulders and he'll give you a piggyback ride to the break room. You did as he wanted, fake wincing each time you moved and his hands extended back until they found your thighs to bring you close to his body as he stood up.

Sungjin wasn't the type of guy to hit the gym daily, although that didn't mean he completely shied away from it. You knew that and you definitely won't forget it every time you touch his body which was quite often.

When he didn't have you writhing beneath him in pleasure, there would be a chance of him doing a fitting exercise or slaving away at work. And quite recently he has been working a lot, leaving you with your own pent up frustrations.

He'd try to make it up to you with gifts and going down on you for hours, but he hasn't lately and the ache between your legs craved him. Just breathing in his scent is making you reminisce of how you begged him to fuck you harder. Damn, you missed the stars he'd have you see.

Sungjin arrived at the break room and bent down to allow you to slide off his back. The room was empty of other living souls - clear as the day everyone had gone back to their house or carried work home with them. You started to amble to the counter normally then it hit you that you're supposed to act bruised. Then you limped slightly, letting out pseudo groans with each slow step until you reached the counter. "Honey, can you get the ice for me, please?" you asked sweetly.

He heeded your request, fishing an ice pad out the short freezer in the corner and handing it to you. "Can you do it for me?" you bend over on the granite surface, the cold top kissing your skin cooly as you purposefully stuck your ass out. "Please?"

Sungjin swallowed thickly, darting his tongue out to wet his dry lips before asking, "Whe- Where does it mostly hurt?"

You smirked at how he stuttered and turned your upper body around enough to reach for the hand that gripped the ice pack a little too tightly and brought it to press on the part between the small of your back and the top of your ass. "Right there."

You 'accidentally' let out a moan upon the feeling of cool sensations the pack managed to give you, despite the layers of clothes in its way. So you kindly asked Sungjin if he could be a dear and move your clothes out the way to properly feel the ice soothe your ache.

Doing as you wanted very much turned on the male. He suppressed his hormones the most he could as he raised your shirt far enough to display your waist and pulled your pants, and panties, down by the waistband only about an inch.

He bit down on his lower lip, his eyes eating up how good you looked. He'd gladly pull your clothing further down and bury his dick so deep in you that you choke on your sobs. But he didn't do that. Sungjin simply pressed the cold pack on your hot skin and tried his best to ignore how you whimpered at the feeling.

Oblivious of how you schemed him out his studio, his mind concentrated on other things. Right now you wanted to rile him up to the point where he fucks you inside the public break room though that wasn't going to happen since he still believed you were in agony.

Albeit, that didn't stop you from moving backward until the pants that hugged your figure met with the front of Sungjin's jeans. You pretended like you didn't know what you were doing, playing it off as nothing as you shifted on your feet and your ass swayed in front of him. Salacious thoughts flooded his mind and as he was about to ask what you were doing, someone else beat him to it.

Sungjin snapped to the side, away from your bent-over frame. You rolled your eyes in chagrin at the sound of Jae's voice. Without even looking you could tell he was sniggering. Sungjin scratched the back of his head, the tip of his ears showing a new shade of pink. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, ___ got hurt and she needed ice on it," Sungjin explained, repositioning his stance to hide his hard-on. The tightening of his jeans making it difficult, however.

Jae hummed, knowing that his presence had interrupted something from potentially happening. He skipped away from you two, opting to wait until later to get a snack out the break room. You straightened your posture and Sungjin's eyes widen in shock when he didn't notice any sign of pain or soreness in you. "How did you--" He was about to interrogate you because you seemed fine but you got a hold of his wrist and talked over him.

"Don't be dramatic, I'll explain later," you said, dragging him out yet another room, "Let's dip."

Sungjin was puzzled at first. From when you hauled him out the massive building with a superficial injury to your tailbone to when you forced him to ride in the passenger seat of your car. He kept prodding with questions like "Doesn't it still hurt?" and "How are you walking fine?" and even "Are you magic or something?"

Only when you approached where you wanted to go did you explain how you might have exaggerated the pain. Sungjin began to whine about how he thought he accidentally broke you and then you glanced sideways to give him the 'are you serious' expression, your orbs happen to catch a peek at Sungjin's lap.

He had both hands above his lap, barely covering the bulge in his jeans. You licked your chapped lips, images of what you'd do to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling he's having right now. However, you stopped yourself from imagining. Why? Because you had already pulled up to the beach.

Part of you knew that Sungjin wanted nothing more than to be at ease (but you gave him a boner) and you felt sort of guilty for making him stress more by thinking he hurt you. So, you pushed away your horniness and decided to give him respite. He deserved it so much.

You both end up spending the day galloping in the sand, ordering sundaes from nearby ice cream carts and sticking y'all feet in the water while splashing the salty sea onto each other. The ear to ear grin that was accompanying Sungjin's handsome features was making your chest warm with giggles streaming from your lips every time he got playful. God, you missed this. It was such a perfect sunny day outside and he was going to miss out on all of this if he was still cooped up in that stuffy building.

You hadn't heard that deep, throaty laugh of his in what seemed like weeks. He was enjoying himself, the strong breeze in the air-kissing his body as it flows by. The wind was pushing back his hair, his forehead showed more and fuck, you loved seeing that. You could slowly feel the build-up of heat spreading between your thighs, creating that ache that would coax you to jump on him and fuck him so nicely.

"What's on your mind darling?" Sungjin's question brought you out your daze. Focusing back to him, he was sitting so close to you that his scent engulfed you in its heavenly fragrance. Your cheeks started to gain a tinge of color, knowing that you can't tell him that you were imagining him dicking you down at the public beach. Only because there were so many people around, you both would get caught almost immediately. The fervent scenarios circling your mind about possibly getting caught riled up your zen to jump into his lap.

"Oh, nothing..." you lied through a forced smile.

"You sure? Are you tired baby?" Sungjin scooted closer to you, sand marking his jeans but he didn't mind. His hand ascended to cup your cheek, his thumb lightly caressing your skin and you breathe out a shaky breath. Sungjin liked doing this. His hand alone held so much warmth that your core burned with the need to be filled. He was also so hot, even in cool weather. God, you were horny. "We can leave if you like?"

You nodded your head hastily, intertwining his hand that once held your cheek so lovingly with yours and yanking him towards your car.

The car ride was silent except you could hear the pounding of your heart against your ribcage. The cause? You were so amorous for something, anything to push you over that blissful edge. And what made matters worse was Sungjin's hand on your thigh while the other was steering the wheel. Goodness. You tried so hard not to clench your legs together even though you wanted to.

Today was meant to just get him out the studio and have a leisure-filled day. You wanted to give him a break except all you could think about is having him pull over to the roadside and relieving yourself with his fingers, but you had to remember that this is his day off and you'd gladly palliate him of his tangible built-up stress.

It was about five minutes later and Sungjin pulled up to the place you call home. You led him inside, he locked the door behind him and was about to chill in the living room where he thought you wanted to go cuddle until you abruptly pushed him against the wall to connect lips with yours in a desperate kiss.

He was baffled at first at your impetuous actions but soon he melted in the kiss, his arms finding their way around your lower half, bring you closer into his chest. Wanting to feel you better, Sungjin swiftly turned you around, your back coming in contact with the wall with a thud sound.

You felt the cheeky grin he had against your lips and both your hands traveled up his lusty structure to tug on his short, brown curls, earning a soft gasp from him.

The kiss got messier, sloppy movements as Sungjin's wet tongue eagerly prod against yours, needing to taste more of you. His left hand descended, finding the soft flesh of your thigh and gripping it towards him as he grinds against you. The cotton fabric of your pants and Sungjin's jeans allowed for little friction. Sungjin noticed this and held a growl in his throat.

In quick movements, Sungjin lifts your other thigh, taking you off the ground and settling you on the couch. His tall build hovered over you. He broke the kiss to hook his hands inside the band of your pants, panties and all and only managed to pull it down no more than two inches off your hips before you halted his actions.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, shocked that you made him stop.

"Uh, I..." your cheeks grew hot as you gazed into his eyes that held worry in them. He thought he had done something he shouldn't have and Sungjin would not ever want to do anything that would make you feel uneasy.

He was always tending to your needs before his, wishing to pleasure you first and foremost. Sungjin was that type of guy and you appreciated him so fucking much.

"Sit right here." you pat a spot on the couch and despite being addled at the moment, Sungjin obeyed, tugging his tight jeans away from his body as he sat down. You sat up from your lied down position and moved to kneel in between Sungjin's legs. As you reached forward to undo his jeans, Sungjin caught on to what you were doing and placed his hands over yours. "Baby, what are you doing?"

As if your face couldn't get any hotter, it just went ablaze. "I- I just want to...please you." The last part came out in almost a whisper, but he heard you.

You weren't looking at him this time, your head was cocked to the side in embarrassment. You've never gone down on him before, so you couldn't help but feel shy at his words. Throughout your relationship with him, Sungjin has been willingly eating you out with every chance he got. That proficient tongue of his always managed to get you off, sometimes without the use of his fingers because you were already squirming in ecstasy as your release washed over you so satisfyingly. Now you just wanted to return the same blissful feeling to him.

"You know you don't have to." The tips of his forefinger and thumb gently grasp your chin to turn your head towards him. A soft smile and gentle eyes were so comforting from him, but it did not make you feel reluctant to do what you were planning to do.

Okay so a big part of you really wanted to suck his dick and being only inches away from his prominent hard-on was not going to diffuse your thirst to taste him. "But I want to," you said through a slight pout, pulling on his zipper.

Sungjin still tried to reassure you that you don't need to go down on him if you're not comfortable with it or if you felt pressured by him he's sorry and continued rambling on with nonsense about social norms so you had to shut him up.

"Christ Sungjin, just let me suck your dick!" The words had already flown out your mouth, making the sitting male swallow hard and undo his jeans for you.

You smirked in victory as you watched him lift his hips off the couch only high enough for him to push the clothing material down to pool at his ankles. The underwear he was still sporting showed the divine outline of his dick.

This wasn't the first time you've seen his dick, obviously, but the sight always makes you shiver with arousal. Speaking of which, your panties were practically soaked and you clenched your legs together. You expected Sungjin to pull his boxer briefs down but he didn't and when you glanced up, you saw his head shyly tilted to the side, arms stiff at his sides.

You then placed one hand on his thigh, moving his legs further apart to move in closer. WIth your other hand, you palmed him over the smooth cloth, garnering a stuttered jerk into your hand. You pleasantly observed his reactions, his ears were red, matching his cheeks, and his eyes were tightly shut. As you continued to slowly knead him, Sungjin grew impatient, craving more than what you were wantonly giving him.

"___, at least don't tease." He breathes out a silent beg and god did you not hesitate.

You used both hands to hook the top of the fabric to pull down and his throbbing cock came into view. The engorged tip was an angry red, lightly wet with pre-cum. You swallowed a nervous lump down your throat, preparing it to be able to take his length.

Sungjin's shlong was impressively above average but not too big to make you think he'll rip you open. He had your preferred length in a guy with a lush girth that always provided you with a delicious stretch.

You grasp his cock in your hand, a light grip on it as you brought it to your lips and darted your tongue out to take a kitten lick. Sungjin pressed his lips together, his body involuntarily slouched a bit down and his dick pressed against your lips. You took this as an encouragement to open your mouth and take all of his head inside.

Your mouth was hot and wet, causing the male to have a sharp intake of air. He didn't expect your mouth to feel so good; he had to clench his fist to stop his keen desire to thrust upwards and watch you choke on his dick.

He wanted you to take your time even though he would've loved to be buried in your beautiful throat.

You licked all around his head then sucked fervidly and kept repeating those movements while slowly taking more and more of his cock each time you pulled away. Sungjin was going mad, his chest heaving as he lets out subdued groans. The tip of his dick finally grazed the back of your throat and you couldn't take any more of him so you used your hand to give him languid strokes where your mouth couldn't reach, spreading your saliva to make the glide more pleasurable. That's when he lets his hips snap forward, causing you to pull back with a choke.

"F-Fuck, shit, sorry." he stammered and when he opened his eyes to look at you- lips puffy with soft pants leaving them, eyes so pure it conceals the tinge of color on your cheeks, and a thin thread of your spit connecting from his dick to your lips, a sight so erotic he swears he could almost cum from it.

His cock twitched in your hand and his hips started to thrust, trying to make up for the lost simulation he so desperately craved. You accepted his apology by descending your head once again and taking more of him this time, tears beginning to swell up in the corner of your eyes. A ragged breath was forced out of Sungjin and when you started bobbing your head again, he couldn't suppress his moans of bliss. He watched your cheeks hollowed as you passionately sucked him, creating obscene noises as you did so.

"God, ___, where did you-- ungh- learn to do this?" Sungjin reached forward and kept the strands of your hair from falling on your face and blocking his rapturous view of you sheathing his dick in your mouth so perfectly.

You moaned around him as a response, not able to talk with your mouth full and all. The vibrations sent him into a frenzy, his hips instantaneously driving upwards and his hold on your hair tightened. He controlled the movements and speed of your head and you forced your eyes to stay open and gaze at him.

You could tell he was close by his expression. Mouth agape, nostrils flaring and the overflowing lust in his eyes as he held eye contact with you. Even though he manipulated your mouth on his thick meat, he didn't force you to take all of him all at once, only bringing your head down on half of him before pulling you back up.

Sungjin moved his other hand up to gingerly cup your face and use his thumb to carefully wipe away the tear that never spilled. His thrust started to stagger, curse words cascading from his lips in guttural moans while never tearing his eyes away from you. "Shit, ___, baby I'm gonna cum."

With that warning, you removed his hold on your hair and started roughly sucking on his tip, swirling your tongue around it so lewdly as your hand pumped the rest of his length. One last growl ripped from his throat, his cum shot into your mouth and you moved your hand slower, helping him ride out his orgasm as his hips kept jerking sporadically. You continued stroking, swallowing his creamy load until you milked it all out of him and he pulled your head off of him, the sensitivity was too much for him to bear.

Sungjin swallowed dry after seeing you slurp up his cum like it was your favorite juice. "Damn..." he chuckled, feeling his coyness come back.

You weren't feeling shy any more though, finally had the chance to get him off. He surely wasn't stressed like he was prior in the day when you tried dragging him out JYP building.

"I didn't know you were so good at that." he continued to praise you and then his expression turned serious. "About earlier today, I was just worried about our music and how if the fans didn't like it, they wouldn't like us anymore. I let it get to my head, I'm sorry." As Sungjin apologized, his forever warm hand still cupped your face and his thumb was rubbing soothing circles on your soft skin. You took his hand in yours and planted a kiss on it.

"I forgive you, but next time when I tell you to take a break, you will, yeah?"

Sungjin nodded in compliance, the corner of his eyes crinkling as his hearty smile came on to show. "Yeah."

"Good," You said, standing up off your sore knees, taking your pants off in the process and crawling onto his lap with your legs at his sides. You started to grind on him, Sungjin's heart rate picking up once again as he felt your arousal through your panties. "You know, I could use a little break myself, wanna help me?" Your voice was sultry with words seemingly innocent but was nowhere near it.

He responded by gripping grabbing your ass and rutting upwards, his dick already pulsating for another release. You smirk at how hard he got already and leaned down to press your lips against his. A mewl emitted from you when you felt his fingers rub your clothed heat before hooking the material with his forefingers and pulling it to the side. Your slick juices coated his cock and your insides burned, ready for what's coming next.

99 notes · View notes

theworstjedi · 5 years

Text

Facing the Mirror

Friyr heard metal spikes scrambling down a cantina counter and across the room in that very same insectoid manner NM-1 possessed.

“Hullo, George. Stop tryin’ t’get th’bartender t’serve you alcohol,” he intoned without greeting. He tapped the weapon turned makeshift staff in his hand around the room as she stepped forward.

Rrzzzwiittt

Friyr snorted as the butt of his piping hit on something solid, and Friyr edged his way around it. “No you didn’t. I don’ think your audio sensors pick up anythin’ beyond this room.”

Zzzwroot

A smile tugged the cut corner of Friyr’s mouth. “Truuuue a lotta people don’ deserve me; that’s fact. Dunno why you’re so concerned with it though.”

Reet

Friyr’s expression quickly turned to a frown in the wake of the sliding doors. “Even if I was th’type t’get all jolly with m’master, there’s a big ol’flaw in your get me with Tabris plan.”

Friyr wiggled his fingers at Mader Gunns spiel in Huttese, he didn’t fully understand, then stepped out into Ambria’s dry coarse heat. Old sunburns immediately stung in protest. Friyr dug his teeth into each other. Time made callouses but did not build pain resistance. Ambria. Ammmbria. It got under his skin the way sun damage soaked up heat, and yet—the perverse call over the rocky wastes appealed something fierce to him.

Wrrrrooottoo doot doot

“Yeah, I guess there’s plenty’a green guys around.” Friyr made a face. “Why’s everyone think I gotta green fetish?” he muttered as NM grabbed his pants leg. Friyr stopped, a displeased bent to his mouth as the droid pinched the fabric, tugged for security, and began to climb up until he was perched on Friyr’s good shoulder, which Friyr leaned away to accommodate. He could feel NM’s little legs digging into his chest through the clothing. He began to walk again. His pace was more burdened by NM’s heavy carapace.

The little but weighty droid trilled again. “Yah, aliens’re preddy hot,” Friyr conceded in an undertone on the off chance any were around. “I never did getta try out Chiss.” Friyr bounced to the balls of his feet to jostle the stowaway. “By th’way. Yer not stayin’ up there.”

Delet doorooo too otooo

The droid fiddled with the bag on Friyr’s back, making the man duck with a pouch to his lips as the fabric of the study canvas pulled and the metal fastenings came undone. “Yer not comin’.”

<<Stop me bitch,>> The droid said in fully rendered basic automation.

Friyr’s lips parted in combination surprise and resignation.

<<I wish to see what happens in this desert.>>

“Well there are no big booty red heads, I prahmise.”

<<We will see. I have heard tales of lone desert spirits in the form of beautiful women offering favors to men.>>

Friyr rolled his eyes so hard he felt the strain in his sockets. “Yah? Bully fer ‘em. Tell me when there’s Massassi suckin’ dick out there. I’ll bring cred chips.”

___

Friyr bounced the pack to a string of binary to audio curses, chuckled, and left on his way. The desert was cruel. The sand shifted with the movements of the Force, belying his own insignificance in it. Wails of a past pain were resonant with each gust of wind and beaten ray of sun that peeled him, so Friyr didn’t judge Ambria too harshly. The planet had come to suit his soul.

Though it didn’t think kindly of him, he did of it in a sense. Caring about something Sith scorned was as futile as the last steps of the behemoth that had staggered and died in the sand. Friyr felt the gargantuan skeleton loom out of the desert easily. The currents of wind diverted in its wake. The creature had died alone. Perhaps scared. But it had tried. Friyr could try and hope it made a little bit of difference before he kicked it.

The first thing Friyr did when he waded through the sand trails to his chosen spot, was throw his pack inside of the skull. It was shaded and spacious in the maw of the beast. Friyr climbed in through the crown of teeth and reshouldered his staff. The plain bone agianst his flat palm acted as his guide.

The Force was warm here. Familiar, like home, but it was uncontestedly dark in concentration. Friyr couldn’t count how many times he’d come here and—

He dropped his jaw, his walls to the Force, and screamed until the dead world, plagued by its own pain, resonated with the chills of his own echoing from his body. Sand eddied with his voice heightened by shame, failure, defeat.

When you scream for blood, you lean the weight of every decision that has led you here to it so that your enemy might know it. Herald his death with your unquenchable thirst for it. You are Sith.

It was transformative. Friyr channeled the unused emotions cluttering his stomach into the darkness he felt deep inside him still, and the unearthly wail welcomed by a world that had seen many desperate and dying beasts before haunted and unhallowed the ground he stood on. Not that it had been hallow to begin with; Ambria was not an innocent planet.

Friyr panted as his breath, taken from far beyond his lungs, ran dry. His eyes wide and blown a beautiful gold. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.He fell back against the bone. Heaving.

“Friyr?”

…

Luca Dorne was not the highest on the list of people he wished to talk to in his moment of weakness. No one was, but—Friyr turned to face him.

___

Luca had left after a brief moment of sitting in the sun talking and giving himself heatstroke all the while. Talking. NM had busied himself arranging the small encampment Friyr kept in the skull. He dug in the sand and complained as Friyr leaned back and settled himself against the bone wall, feeling the temperature fade by degrees. He drifted… in and out of a trance, sometimes replying to the small droid’s complaints.

When he came to, the sun had set, and NM was furiously keeping vigil for the aforementioned spirits. Friyr could hear the tap of his legs shifting the sand. He smiled. Friyr closed his eyelids and savored the coolness. He was distinctly hungry from the trance. The screams had left him empty, elevated and awash in the Force’s grip.

Friyr leaned the forward and pulled the pack forward, feeling for the oilcloth of food he’d settled next to the bundle he’d made for Marzian. His fingers touched the soft skin, and he pulled it out. His fingers unknotted the thin twine as he thought.

Something had to give for Friyr Illustratum. Becoming a Jedi had forced Friyr to strip himself down in front of a mirror and admit he hated parts of himself he’d grown to love. He had been created in adversity and forged by his own callousness. Friyr remembered what it was to be Sith every time he wailed into the empty dunes with no one to hear and no one to care.

Power, strength infused his ruined body, soothed the muscles that no longer worked. The Force murmured that she had him so long as he paid his due to her in the end. It was comforting even if the sum he owed for these narcotic injections of calm assurance were steep from his past usage. Friyr remembered what it was to keep a clear mind in those precious moments of sight and … ability. Free of his body and the prison of stubbornly tormented thoughts. It was a lie.

Friyr only ever had wanted to be alright, he realized, and the decrepit price he’d paid for it was more than he had realized. Sith was fantasy borne of desperate men who didn’t want to admit they were dying. They took people with them before they went but—

Friyr pushed the cloth back and brushed his fingers over the dried fruit and bread. The fruit leather was oilier than the dried oro. He brushed over the rough meat to soft pillowy yeast.

Friyr wanted nothing more than to cut his connection to the Force. He might’ve asked had he not respected the time Teran, As’traa, and Ma’lar had done to pull him back from the brink. Friyr tried not to disappoint people. Especially those he made promises to. Jedi did not make bonds wantonly and neither did slaves.

Friyr tore a piece of the bread with his teeth, calm now. Unnaturally so.

He could only imagine what Sahley would’ve thought. He had changed. The Sahley he had bedded would’ve thought different of the old Sith. Impressed somehow by his scars and the obvious experience behind his words. The way that Friyr had ran his hands over him and the express interest that Sahley had admitted to finding only once before.

This Sahley, the one that Friyr was less apt to take advantage of, believed more in the Sith’s capacity to give in to his own pain. To desert. To run. Like Friyr had run from him. There were furls of difficulty in his words. Distance from the hard and fast way Friyr had been living as though it had been expected. And why shouldn’t he? Friyr had severed the budding connection Sahley had searched for with a purposeful cruelty. Pain, he’d justified then, was the only teacher and none of his business if it wasn’t his own. Friyr hadn’t given anyone any other impression than fast, loose, and easy anyhow.

Friyr swallowed and began to gulp small mouthfuls of water, so it wouldn’t hit him all too hard.

Friyr didn’t know when that had become the rule. It wasn’t him, but he was lonely, starved for close relationships, and half-crazy from his time in the Empire. Bodies were grounding, and he was good at having people but not carrying them with him. They filled a need left vacant. That was fine. Friyr wasn’t a creature of luxury. He was simple. He needed food, sex, and George in that order.

But every so often. A Kurt. A Sahley. He’d wander by, and Friyr would wonder. He hadn’t known he liked the green skinned alien until last night. Sitting in a tree with a girl he barely knew but liked very well enough. In this quiet moment Friyr could pinpoint the exact moment he’d endeared himself to the one-night stand.

He capped the bottle, placed it back into the sand, and wandered outside, pushing heaps of sand in his wake. His face turned up to a distant moon washing the sand in a dim glow that gauzed his eyes. Sahley had taken his wrist and pulled him out onto the deck of Outpost Aether. The Jedi inside milled around talking about things Friyr didn’t quite understand.

Can you feel the sun on your skin? he asked, and part of Friyr’s heart melted under the feeling of being cared for, paid attention to despite every part of him that people gawked at, pointed out, made awkward jokes over to cover their own anxiety. Sahley had grabbed his wrist and asked a blind man, if he could feel the sun. It was so pathetic. Wanting.

Friyr realized that he would always be dogged by the curiosity of what it was to be loved by someone else in the way he loved them. The attachment was not to Sahley. Perhaps not to Kurt, but rather the need to feel—wanted?

Friyr closed his eyes and breathed outward. A stray breeze cradled his face a moment before it returned to the heavens. A chime of musical notes followed it, and Friyr hummed to the tune of the universe gently singing. Today had been good for him. Friyr had asked Sahley to be his in a way Friyr already knew he didn’t want but couldn’t exist without. The man had said a clear no, and Friyr had finally exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. In truth, he didn’t know what he’d do with Sahley if he’d said yes.

The rejection was closure. Friyr still nursed a sweet spot for the mirialan, but he didn’t ache for him. Not the way he’d ached for Kurt in silence and shame. Friyr knew he’d never be wanted, if only because logically he didn’t care for the concept and people were smart enough to understand that chasing that was trouble. His heart, like his body had needs though. Something would need to be arranged because Friyr couldn’t avoid attachments any longer, wait for someone else to tell him no. He needed to deal with them.

Friyr thumbed the Force Bond within him thoughtfully. Thoughtfully. Somewhere in the Empire, a pang of a memory found Kurt Wax, but the Pureblood didn’t pull back. He was trying to move on. Friyr smiled sadly. Perhaps this was his answer.

#IC

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cosmosfated · 5 years

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While getting things lined up on call, I came to the conclusion that Fleur could have turned out almost the same way as he is right now, while also running the possibility of ending up drastically different. There are specific events in his life both on this blog and on other sites that I’ve made “loose canon” and actual canon for him. They have built his entire personality and life thus far but they weren’t, in a way, necessary.

Events, in order:

The “agreement” explaining his abnormal “bad luck”*,

his original introduction / experience with the eldritch truth,

getting killed / set free by Sans // The TRUE RESET,

meeting Blair Black, Katie, and G*,

reaching the Surface (and the subsequent deals that followed),

meeting the family (specifically Whisper, Humerus, Lost, and Regina),

being freed from his keeper under what was essentially technicality*,

leaning more into his monstrous side / “reawakening” his madness,

and coming into contact with old faces from his home timeline.

which I realize is nine events but I had to include one other one, even if its overarching influence on him is... questionable at best.

───────────────

I need to make one thing very clear: Phoenix (celestialshifter) is a crucial part of Fleur’s development but I exclude her on the premise of I would have spoken to Nixxie far sooner than I would have spoken to Nini or Dez if left to my own devices and wasn’t yanked into the chaos by Nini herself. Therefore, Phoenix knowing Fleur and influencing him as she has would have been inevitable by proxy of understanding my own mind. How they influenced each other, that’s different.

─────────────

I’m going to continue this under the cut because oh boy, there’s a lot to cover and tackle. It’s not going to be pretty, either. Warning for a lot of dark themes and quite a bit of information for things Fleur has not spoken about but that I have known for quite some time. (His backstory is already exceptionally messed up, but decidedly there’s a warning for extra tidbits that have been hinted at but not explored, as it held no relevance to the thread or conversation.)

Now.

Going event by event, let’s start at the top.

───────────────

High Mages Annabeth and Samuel Jackson, one representing the trait of Integrity Self-Will and Bravery Audacity. They bring into existence a young girl, who they name Alexandra Maribel Lilly Jackson, bearing a soul of Kindness. Even at the time of her birth, she had been shown to be a favorite of the gods. Specifically the gods of innocence, hope, and justice. She had been blessed by the gods to be able to weather any unnatural force that came her way, but she had also been “blessed” with a terrible cynicism of the world. She would be an adult for longer than she would be a child. However, the gods had promised to give her a place to rest when her time came.

And then they bring into existence another young girl, who they name Celine Vivian Jackson. Upon her birth, there is more power present. There is something bigger present. The gods, anybody could recognize the presence of the gods. But very few in that era would recognize the presence of the gods’ antithesis. Very few would recognize the eldritch gods and their watchers lurking just out of sight. At this point, the two parents had realized something both terrifying and power-hunger-inducing for the both of them. Their youngest had attracted the attention of the bigger cosmic entities, the ones that could end the world in a moment if they got bored enough, or could make anybody their plaything. But in the same vein, they wanted to keep her. As leverage, as a chip in the game, as a card in the deck to play whenever they felt like it.

As a result, a deal was made.

In return for letting them keep the child, the child will be kind, loyal, trusting, and obedient. The child would heed their commands and would view them as their entire world. Despite the child’s elder sister insisting otherwise, the child’s view of them would not change for as long as it is alive and with them. The child would be their perfect heir, smart and talented and beautiful.

However. When the time comes, as a response to allowing the gods to bless their firstborn instead of allowing them a chance to look at her- therefore rendering it impossible for them to get close to the girl blessed by many powerful beings, that child belongs to them. That child will leave them both empty and broken, hollow shells of the people they believe themselves to be, a product of their own pride and greed. That child will do the last thing they expect as a result of what they will inevitably become.

Without much thought into the details of the deal, the two Mages agree to this. Their newborn grows up kind, loyal, trusting, and obedient. They notice something strange right away as soon as the child turns three years old. They’re using magic. They knew, as a result of the reason why they were outcast from their underground/hidden magic circle (which was affiliating themselves with eldritch gods, considered not only taboo but absolute insanity by almost every still living Mage), that their magic could not be passed down to their kids. After all, their eldest never showed magic.

Of course, they brushed it off. They had no idea that the same child they were promised would be obedient and loyal would be the same child that smile at them as they sold the child off to their master’s watcher. Knowing full and well that the child was the one who would be the one to be the mastermind behind their untimely deaths at the hands of their own pride and greed.

A young girl, blessed by the gods with the ability to know justice through her kindness but cursed with fury and cynicism for what she knows. And a young child, blessed by something darker with the ability to not only use magic but to tap into their already gifted ability of harnessing the cosmos itself for whatever they so wished.

One blessed. One cursed.

One with extraordinary fortune. One with extraordinary misfortune.

One who dies of jealousy and greed, but remains out of desire for justice. One who dies of kindness and hope, but remains out of desire for revenge.

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Okay. Still with me? Now that you have the exposition and the first event down, let me explain why you needed to know this.

Maribel and Fleur are the yin and yang of their first life.

Maribel is blessed by the gods because of her strong soul of Kindness, which infuriates the “master” that her parents serve (an Eldritch master, who didn’t take kindly to one of its subsequent belongings being torn from out underneath it). She is given so many blessings, but is given the “curse” of rage and cynicism. Therefore she represents yang, as it has the connotations of fire (which is a word often associated with her via other muses that know her, calling her personality fiery or feisty or flaring) as well as relating to Heaven and light. On top of that, she defines her trait of Kindness being “flexible” and an “easily misconstrued and abused” concept within their old world.

Fleur is “blessed” by the eldritch master his parents serve with kindness, loyalty, and a slew of other things to reflect his sister’s blessings. However, when it comes to his abilities, the eldritch master doesn’t have to do much. All it truly has to do is tilt its head at what was already there and step back to allow it to develop on its own. The intelligence, that was already there. The potential, that was already there. The magic, the power, everything. He had it from the very beginning. That’s why he was so desired that it alerted not just the gods to his existence but also the eldritch keepers lurking in the dark constantly. He represents yin, tying to his fondness for the ocean and nature itself, as well as being a generally calm person until you give him a reason to get back at you.

However, there is deliberately no mention of the soul, because his soul does not belong to him. Not yet, at least. His soul has already been laid claim to, which is something only the serving entity is aware of. Dismissing it as something to discuss with the others, this entity gives that deal as a loophole. The closing statement is its way of saying, “this child will be your undoing as retribution for allowing the gods to take what is rightfully mine”. Because now, this entity, this eldritch keeper, is aware of the fact that this child, this newborn child who caught its attention from universes away with how powerful it was at their birth, already has their “threads” in another’s custody. However. That does not mean it can’t have it for a little while before finding who has the “rights” to this powerful thing that a Human just gave birth to.

If this had never happened to Fleur, would his life be any different?

Yes. Massively different, but not in the way that you’d think.

As I said, he already possessed the ability and intelligence/potential of intelligence to do everything that the eldritch keeper said he’d do. There was no need to set that up, because Fleur had, by that point, already started to piece together just how awful his parents truly were. He would leave them empty and broken. Without their children, without their business, without their lives. All while smiling at them when they gave him away to an eldritch possessed child kidnapper to cart him away to “The Village”. (The Village is something he’s spoken about before, a facility simply named that, of which tries to convince themselves that the Devil is inside each kid brought to the facility and that if they remain tame for their entire lives underneath them, they didn’t have the Devil inside them; however, if they lashed out and fought against them, they had the Devil inside them, labeling them a demon, a mistake, a cursed homunculus. Really fucked up huh? I actually based this off of a comic I saw and a book I read.)

However, he would have died, without that deal. That was his intention, after all, to rid the world entirely of anything tainted by them and that establishment. So determined was he, that even his soul agreed that the only way to continue was to stop. To stop his own heart. His desire to persist beyond death would have kept him around by sheer force of wanting revenge and retribution for people who do this to kids. The deal assured his “rebirth” as the puppeted soul of the Underground, becoming their angel from above. Becoming CHARA, the First Fallen Child. Their Prince.

But we have to take a step back for a moment.

The second event. His introduction and experience with the eldritch “ley-lines” in their home timeline. This isn’t just a random thing plopped into the lore, it’s something repeated again and again and again between various characters and event mentions. Talks of constant fighting, of losing people outside of fights, of fights being darker and more horrendous thanks to all the lights being snuffed out too soon. Referencing not staying out too late, of not being able to retrieve people in the dark, as they can’t tell the difference between the dark and the shadows when it’s nighttime. Speaking of having lost more than they could bear, but they could still continue onwards because, well, what choice do they have? They couldn’t let them die in vain.

However, Fleur’s deal with the eldritch might have lingered from his birth, but there was one major reason why he knew to call for a specific type of entity. Some time ago, Maribel and Fleur had a brief but uncomfortable discussion about “that lady down the street” and Fleur saying that he “understands she didn’t like her”. That lady down the street had been a puppet meant to keep an eye on Fleur’s growth and watching if he would approach the lady. Maribel, due to her blessings from the gods, intrinsically loathed the lady down the street. She felt like something was burning in her soul and spreading ice through her body every time the lady down the street spoke to them. She warned Fleur never to go near her, going so far as to outright call her the local lunatic. (That word being one never used after a certain point in time due to people with Mad Mage / High LOVE Syndrome being treated properly and lunatic already being a not great word to use to begin with.)

However, upon noticing Fleur would still try to see her and listen to her ramblings, she decided simply to join her then-sister in listening to the local loon with her stories that would give normal kids nightmares. Fleur and Maribel both had experiences with nightmarish situations and terrible occurrences happening to people, to them. They weren’t fazed. (It was still illegal to do this - it’s a universal law that children under the age of 10 as well as those over 10 that have said they don’t want to know about the truth about the dark legally can’t be told anything about it - and Lafayette would’ve pitched one hell of a damn fit if they had known.)

If Fleur hadn’t been told about this, certainly he could have had a different round of Keepers along the way. He wouldn’t know who or what to call for when he decided mid fall that he didn’t want to die. He would just cry out for something to save him. That would have opened him up to who knows how many terrible things. So was the lady down the street necessary? No, perhaps not, but she did alter the course to make it much better than it would have been without her. Maribel still loathes her though and with good reason.

Now, skipping way waaaayyyy far ahead to centuries, millennia. Past the curses, past the void, past the Depths, past the countless Resets and past the war. Past it all. And we land squarely at when he was killed by Sans to release his timeline from Glitch City.

That’s the biggest change.

(I’m going to try and summarize from here on out because WHOA this is 3k words already! I didn’t intend on this guys, my bad!)

If Sans hadn’t have agreed to the offered terms, there would have still been the possibility of it happening anyway. How? Well, he was just a circumstantial piece of the puzzle that happened to fit. The right time. The right place. The right power. Conveniently given just when they both thought hope was lost.

However, they could have been yanked back into the void, rather than the Depths. The Depths was reserved for Fleur, after all, and his only demand was that Sunshine (aka FRISK) remained oblivious to this part of the Void under any circumstance. This is something they did off and on in order to get time away from the lingering effects of their Keeper, which they hadn’t made a complete deal with yet. That would come later.

This event could have made Fleur end up exactly where he was when he met the family, or he could have only met a couple of them via the Void or the Depths. How it WOULD have gone? Who knows. I’m just speculating.

Then he met Blair Black, G, and Katie (all around the same time). Technically he met Blair back when he was still controlling the “human” form formerly known as “FRISK” at the time but most of his relationship developed with Blair post TRUE RESET.

Fleur, highly intent on being better than he was raised, trained, and “bred” to be for his entire life, intent on being someone more than just a killer, an overglorified Hunter in some burned history books, ended up trying to learn how people of “normal” universes act. Talking like them, dressing like them, learning what they know, understanding what they do (or trying to). MIMICKING them, but not being a part of them. His whole “life” was a grand show in a living theater, with actors galore not even knowing that they’re on strings like puppets. So he tried to learn how they act. Blair and G were opposites; Blair acted awful and made no outright intentions of saying that he would stay too long but he truly cared, while G acted kind and made every intention known that he wanted Fleur to stay with him but he simply wanted company rather than a family. He understood G more than he understood Blair... and that’s because he’s used to that type of treatment.

Katie, well she was different. Katie was sweet and kind and surely a bit sassy... but she was true. She was honest. She kept approaching him and kept being around him and kept him as sane as he possibly could. She made him believe that... maybe he could truly be better. Maybe, just maybe he could be more than he is. Maybe, just maybe it wasn’t all just a lofty dream of a killer wracked with guilt. She was his light. She is his light.

If he had never met any of them, or he had met them any later than he did, things would be different for him. His darker side and bloodier ambitions would have been more outright. He would have attacked anyone who aimed to get close to him. He would have desired to get revenge for anything and everything that looked like someone or something that had tried to kill him or someone he loved. He would have become the true definition of a monster and this time he would have enjoyed it.

The Surface and meeting the family are a two for one deal but have two very different impacts. The Surface came with The Second War (not very creative, he admits), as well as the deal made to forget it. If he hadn’t gotten to the Surface, he would have been stuck repeating endless loops of his failure to stop the eldritch puppeteers from playing hacky sack with those he once called friends. He would have been stuck believing he could change things, stuck in a body that isn’t his and gave him panic attacks just to be in control of, stuck being someone he isn’t and never would be, just stuck.

But with the family? The family revolutionized EVERYTHING for him. He felt like he could have a happy life. He felt like he could finally take a moment to breathe, even relax in due time. He actually felt like he could be himself. After so long of being made to be everything that he wasn’t, after so long of being forced to do things that made him sick to his stomach to do (though he did them to survive), he could finally have a chance to be himself. It was so bizarre that he, for a long time, believed that it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be. It had to be a TRICK. It had to be a LIE. But it wasn’t. They weren’t.

Without either of these situations, he wouldn’t be the same person he is today. He would be colder. More resistant to the very thing he’s supposed to represent and one of the things he tends to make good on the will of. Without reaching the Surface, he’d be scared of everyone around him, unwilling to get close because they’d all just disappear one day, and if not they’d be turned to dust and blood. After all, everyone he knows is just dust and blood. That’s what they’ll be and that’s what they were and that’s what they’ll always end up living as. Walking, talking, breathing dust and blood. Why get close?

Being freed from his Keeper on a basis of technicality is something that I find amusing. The technicality of it was simply that the deal was made during a moment of desperation. It’s considered frowned upon to do this, though it certainly isn’t taboo among those of that “group” designation (in a way). The warning to let him go or face consequences of him being told of the violation of several fine print details was met with the appropriate response... but what if it had gone different? What if he had found out? What if he had remembered his strength and broke his chains himself due to how flimsy they really were when not tensed to restrain him? What if it had been different for him? If he had known, if he was told, if anything like that were to have come to pass... he’d be more vicious. More violently hateful and cynical. Not only had the world of the light scorned him with the taste of lies and jealousy, but the world of the dark abused his hope by tainting it with the taste of deception and desperation. He would have set the world ablaze.

One has to wonder if that would be a good or bad thing. To be Apocalypse walking... what power that would be.

And then there’s his madness. His madness from the get go has been something that has made him struggle with his perception of the world around him. His deal caused his mind to fracture somewhat, but not entirely. Only enough for him to grasp the situation he had gotten himself into. And compared to the life he would eventually lead, a small fracture in his mind was nothing. His madness is something that is not important to his development as a person, but it did make him more keen to try and figure out how the world works and how the world would respond to certain stimuli and interactions from various entities. It made him more curious, more willing to take a risk if it meant that no one else would get harmed for it.

It made him more willing to take the big risks and take the consequences so no one else would have to. It reminds me of a certain warlock, actually...

But we can’t forget how he started leaning more into being a Monster, a Monstrosity. Without that, he would have insisted on being Human. He would have insisted that no, he can’t be a Monster, he was a Human at birth and he was a Human for the lot of it... he could be a Monster. He couldn’t acknowledge the fact that his previous timeline called him a Monstrosity. He didn’t know what they meant. All those markings and all those runes that showed up on him, those were a result of the hunts. Those weren’t because he wasn’t Human. What do you mean normal Humans can’t withstand things like he did? Sure they can! There has to be records of that happening, there must be. It wasn’t something he liked hearing, but he accepted it over time. He came to understand that that’s another reason why he prefers to not be seen as Human. It never FELT RIGHT. But without that realization, that acceptance he received upon this new path, he’d be more confused and dysphoric. Uncertain as to why he, again, doesn’t feel like he’s in the right body even though he BUILT this body. He made the base and trained it as he wanted it. This, he made this to his standards. Without the realization of being a Monstrosity, and a “magic eater”, he’d be in a panicked daze most of the time, unsure of who or what he is.

And lastly... seeing old and familiar faces from “True Home”. Those gave him a reason to keep fighting for something normal. His heart was in the right place, as always, but he didn’t know what to do. He did the only thing he thought would work, as it had worked before, and when it failed him he panicked. The world crashed around him. Seeing the old faces from “True Home”, it made him settle. It made him realize that he wasn’t alone or simply going completely bonkers and not just being mad from high LV. Those were real. Those memories were real. They happened. Without them around he would start to forget where he came from. He would start to believe that he truly does belong in a mental ward or in the asylum. After all, what strange and elaborate DELUSIONS he’s experiencing. He must be sick.

Without all of this, there’s an equal chance that he’d end up ALMOST the same or COMPLETELY different. His parents weren’t the only people who could have damned him to an eternity or three of darkness and stolen innocence, they just so happened to get power hungry (because Hoo Boy they had ENEMIES that didn’t give a fuck who suffered as an act of revenge, let alone kids). That lady down the street wasn’t the only person who could have (illegally) taught him of the darker things that lurk in the shadows, and the magics that could bring them to you, she just so happened to the be one who had been there for ages and opportunity struck before she ran out of use for the ones keeping her alive for the most part. Lost wasn’t the only person who could have done what he did for Fleur, he was just the first person who tried, failed, then tried again. Regina wasn’t the only person could have gotten him to be calm around mother figures, she was just the first person who didn’t enforce the supposed “rule” of “mother knows best” on him when he viewed her as a mother figure (as well as taking time to understand his issues on the subject). His family wasn’t the only group of people who could have done what they did for him. All of those events, all of those moments, they aren’t exclusive to the person who started it. Anybody can do anything, that goes for causing something to be better and causing something to be worse.

Idk I just REALLY love how this analysis turned out, because it made me highly amused as to how everything went down. Anyway, I love my dumbass child, enjoy him with me.

#* ooc. \ quiet til you get to know me.#* canon. \ more to him than meets the eye.#* important. \ don't forget.#* lore. \ not all fairytales are true fiction.#ACKNOWLEDGE ME #if you want.#it's a bit dark.#4423 words :')#thanks wordcounter.net for letting me acknowledge how much I scream #FOR THE RECORD. I WAS WORKING ON THIS FOR WELL OVER A WEEK #NECESSARY PATIENCE #sorry mobile users if this does't work right #LORD. WHAT EVEN

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icedinsomnia · 5 years

Text

UnderMoon Part 1

A young human boy looked out over the peak of Mount Ebott, his cousins standing by his side.

“Nick, are you sure about this?” his elder cousin asked, her flawless body in perfect form. Nick had always thought that she could be a model someday… or an actress…

“Oy Maddie quit being such a wimp! Nick is actually doing something fun! Don’t ruin it for him!” his other cousin barked.

“Maddie…Mark… please don’t fight…” Nick was never a fighter, he was never brave or courageous… but the one thing he loved most was his music, the one place where all his worries went away. Nick put his headphones over his ears and waited for his cousins to stop fighting. On this day these three humans would be the first to fall, but they would also be the last to escape.

MANY YEARS LATER

Napstablook put his headphones on and turned on his music, letting the sound drown out the argument of his cousins. It has been years since they fell into the underground and even after all they had been through… they never changed.

“I will be a star! That scientist said she would help me achieve my dreams!” Maddie hissed, her ghostly hair as perfect as ever.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!” Mark yelled back as he stormed out, Maddie went after him, their argument continuing. Napstablook sighed heavily, the sound of heavy metal blaring into his ghostly eardrums. As the song was at its end a knock sounded at the door.

“Ooohhhhh… a visitor… I wonder who it is…” Napstablook opened the door, but… there was no one there, just a sealed letter on his welcome mat.

“Ooohhhhh no…I must have scarred them off…” Napstablook picked up the letter and opened it carefully. The text was strange, it wasn’t like anything he has seen before…but…somehow… it seemed familiar…

“Ooohhhhh… I wonder if Maddie or Mark know anything about this…” Napstablook thought for a moment, then a vague memory emerged. It was of him sitting in the rain at home, his parents in a fight and his cousins away on vacation. But that was also the day that Nick met the first ever monster he has ever seen. He was a skeleton in a black trench coat, his umbrella now covering Nick from the rain. The monster had tried to speak to him, but he couldn’t understand his accent, but instead of yelling at Nick the monster smiled kindly and gave his umbrella to Nick, leaving as soon as he arrived.

“I wonder…” Napstablook, in over twenty years, looked determined. It didn’t take long for Napstablook to reach Snowdin, his attention skyward instead of ahead, the one way transparent ceiling of the cave casting down the start of twilight. It was going to be a full moon, which means to stay away from Papyrus and Maddie. During the phases of the moons, monster’s personalities change. It was part of the curse that locked monsters down in the underground. And during a full moon Papyrus becomes a deadly drama queen and Maddie becomes very self-conscious and blood thirsty. That’s why Napstablook was in a panic, but so was most of the underground. Napstablook didn’t have to worry about Sans until the new moon. It wasn’t the fact that Sans became aggressive during the new moon, it was that he became very emotionally open and very much harmless during that time. Napstablook had always felt bad about asking Sans questions during that time because he usually breaks down and cries. But this time it would be different, this time Nick would be brave. Napstablook knocked on the door of Sans and Papyrus’s house. He waited, and waited, and when he was about to leave, Sans opened the door.

“You do know what tonight is don’t you?” Sans asked with a harsh tone. Napstablook nodded.

“I…um… wanted to ask you a question…” Napstablook kept his eyes to the ground, Sans sighed.

“Look if it’s another of those ‘do you know why the full moon affects my cousin’ then no I don’t know.” Sans was about to close the door, but Napstablook forced it back open, startling Sans.

“It’s not about my cousin… it’s about this…” Napstablook held the letter in front of Sans’s eyes. Sans instantly became horrified and nervous.

“Inside. Quickly.” As soon as Napstablook entered Sans shut the door and barricaded it.

“Where did you get this?!” Sans threatened Napstablook, his eyes ablaze. But Napstablook held his ground, Sans was put off guard.

“It was on my welcome mat, I can’t read it so I figured you’d be the one to go to when it comes to things others don’t know…” Sans took a step back cautiously.

“What’s gotten into you today? You aren’t usually… so… well-“

“Brave… determined…” Napstablook finished Sans’s sentence.

“Uh… yeah… so, what changed?” Sans’s eye had stopped glowing, but Napstablook could tell that he was still tense.

“Look, you don’t know everything about me… or my cousins… so please don’t assume things because it’s not visibly in front of you…” Sans grinded his teeth, him and Napstablook locking eyes.

“I recognize that look…” Sans hissed. At first Napstablook had no idea what Sans was talking about, but then he remembered the day that him and his cousins fell into the ruins and emerged into the underground. It was noon at the time, two days after they had entered the ruins. The trio were so ecstatic about meeting Toriel and the other friendly monsters that they had forgotten about any hostile ones. The first hostile monster they met was…

“Sans… you… remember me?” Napstablook was shaking, but he didn’t move, or couldn’t move from his fear.

“Yeah I remember you! Don’t you think I’d remember the first human I killed?! I regretted that day my entire life! And when Asgore couldn’t recover your souls just made it worse! But what really makes me mad is the fact that you three have been living here this entire time!” Napstablook thought Sans was going to explode in rage, but… he fell silent.

“I’m sorry… I… didn’t want to do it… my father forced me… Napstablook… Nick… I am so sorry for what I did to you…” Napstablook was at a loss for words.

“Hey…it’s ok… being a ghost isn’t all that bad… it did help us blend in down here… no one questioned where we came from, which was nice… my cousins didn’t change a bit… and we still have our souls which is cool, I guess…” Sans looked at Napstablook in a curious fashion.

“You still have your souls?” Napstablook nodded.

“Y…yeah…had them this whole time… but I guess being dead made our souls whiter than normal… disguising them as monster souls…” Sans nodded, understanding the logic behind it that Napstablook didn’t understand.

“Who else knows?” Sans glanced out the window.

“No one but you…” Napstablook replied.

“Good, because we still need one more soul to open the barrier, and if anyone finds out, you and your cousins will be used to open it… wait if you’re a dead human then why didn’t you open the barrier?! You’ve been a ghost for what twenty years?! Since I was a kid that’s for sure!” Sans turned to face Napstablook, glancing out the window occasionally.

“We tried… it didn’t work… we think it’s because we’ve been dead to long that we’re losing our human traits… that’s what Maddie says…” Napstablook sat on the floor.

“Maddie?” Sans echoed back.

“Oh, my cousin, you may also know her as Mettaton? She’s helping Dr. Alphys in exchange for fame…” Napstablook fell silent.

“I knew it…” Sans mumbled. The star Mettaton has claimed fame in such a short amount of time that it was almost unnatural. But it wasn’t her talent that made her a star, it was the fact that everyone believed that the great Dr. Alphys has made a robot that functions with a human soul… technically she DID make a robot suited for a human soul, but the mild of the soul control the host, which was a little detail that Alphys and Maddie kept to themselves.

“The moon is rising…” Sans muttered. Napstablook rose and joined Sans by the window. Then they heard the shrill laugh of Papyrus’s twisted self.

“Sans… what does the letter say?” Napstablook whispered as they watched every monster in Snowdin barricade their doors and windows against Papyrus.

“…it says ‘I know your secret’…” Sans looked at Napstablook, hoping to get something of a reaction out of him. But Napstablook stayed as blank as paper, his expression unchanging.

“Is that a joke…? Or are you serious…?” Napstablook kept his eyes glued to the window.

“I’m serious… that’s why I asked if anyone else knows…” Sans motioned for Napstablook to follow him as he walked into the kitchen.

“This is the font my dad used, Wingdings, but he’s been… gone for some time now… so I’m wondering… why is he trying to make contact again, and with you of all people…?” Sans eyed Napstablook enquiringly. The ghost trembling all over.

“I don’t know… I mean… I did meet a very nice skeleton monster once before… when I was a kid… but that was before the war…” Napstablook was cut short by Sans’s outburst.

“YOU WERE ALIVE DURING THE WAR?!” Sans was both shocked and surprised.

“Uh…yeah…things were so simple then…when I could be nice to both humans and monsters… I was raised that way…I can’t help it if I’m too nice…” Napstablook took his place on the floor, eyes avoiding Sans.

“Wait, you parents WANTED you to be kind to humans AND MONSTERS?! That’s not normal, especially for a human.” Sans crossed his arms, waiting for a response.

“Well…I guess it would have to be because I’m half monster… I guess…” Napstablook waited for another of Sans’s outbursts… but none came.

“That… makes a lot of sense actually… and I’m guessing your cousins are half monsters as well?” Sans’s eyes had become kind, but Napstablook knew his trick. He would be kind to him for a bit to get information. That’s how he found out about Maddie’s curse and why Toriel still lets Napstablook into the ruins.

“I…I’m…I’m sure you can put the pieces together yourself… why would someone as smart as you need a simple answer from someone like me…” Napstablook rose and started making his way to the door.

“I have one more question for you Nick…” Sans called after him, Napstablook stopped for a moment, waiting.

“If you and your cousins are all half monsters… then why are you not affected by the moons like everyone else?” there was silence between them for a few heartbeats.

“I don’t know… but I will find out.” Napstablook floated through the door and out into the icy cold night.

#undermoon undertale aus

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brownjet-archive · 6 years

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Cheeky

Pairing: Legolas x (f)Reader (SORRY!!!)

Summary: Legolas decided to be a little cheeky ;)

Word Count: 1,500+

A/N: Yeah, so it’s super short cause it seemed to end well and I’ve been working on this since I was like 12 and idk how to continue, so here ya go. Okay, so I always see super fluffy Legolas fics, but no, he’s a sassy little ass, so here, have some sassy little Legolas

Warnings: Everyone has a fucking ugly laugh, man. Also,,,,,,lots of swearing

Masterlist

Traveling with the fellowship, albeit terribly enjoyable (despite the intentions behind everything) was still awfully annoying. Especially when it meant that you were surrounded completely by men. You had no problem with it, it’s just that after awhile it became very emotionally taxing. Especially when it meant that there was only time for one group of people to bathe, more often than not, that being everyone else, because they drastically outnumbered you.

It also didn’t help that your sole focus on this mission was being the medic. It was the only way you could volunteer yourself, not having any particular amazing heritage or incredibly valuable skill set. Not to say that you weren’t a good fighter, no. You were definitely amazing in combat, being more agile and nimble than the rest (except for a certain Elf prince), despite the fact that outside of combat, you have the tendency to trip on air. They all knew what an asset you were, although it often slipped their minds that such a quiet and meek-ish human was essential to their journey, often taking you for granted.

But no more. You had a plan. Which, now thinking about it, probably wasn’t gonna work. You let out an audible sigh at the realization of how unrealistic your plan was, and that you had bigger things to worry about.

Only Sam seemed to have heard you, running slightly, to catch up to you, offering you a look of sympathy. Sam Gamgee and you understood each other, both being seen as the weak links, despite the both of you knowing that the well-being of the Fellowship rested on the both of your shoulders.

“What’sa matter?” He asked, slightly panting, despite all the travel, still not completely comfortable with the amount of trekking the group of you seemed to do.

“Sick ‘n tired of not bein’ taken seriously.” You muttered, your words slightly slurred from exhaustion and over-exertion.

He gave you a small smile, his eyes full of sympathy. “Believe me, I understand completely.” He said, with his cute little hobbit accent poking through.

You returned his smile, resting your arm on his shoulder. “I keep telling ya, Samwise Gamgee, that the two of us needa get drunk once, together.” You said jokingly, boisterous laughs escaping from the both of you, only replaced by wheezing as you continued your trek up the steep slope, lingering slightly behind Gilmi and Legolas, both of who were bickering, as usual.

The two of you continued up in silence, being with the only person who truly understood you. You straightened your back slightly, your back protesting slightly in pain from the weight it caused to move your backpack from your back to your shoulders, though you ignored it, looking up for a clearing of the rocky terrain where the lot of you could hopefully rest for the night. You caught sight of a clearing, about another hundred or so feet up, your back instantly hunching over to accommodate the weight of your backpack.

“Legolas.” You wheezed out slightly, unsure of if the elf would hear you, though he surprisingly turned around, looking at you with unsure eyes, which seemed to pierce deep throughout your soul.

Not wanting to deal with the oddly intimidating stare of your companion, you motioned with your head, towards the slight clearing, his eyes looking over to where you had motioned, before giving you a curt nod, motioning the clearing to Aragorn, who was loitering in the back with the remaining hobbits.

Legolas and Gilmi, who had been in front of you, were currently running up the steepening slope, Legolas reaching the top in mere moments, his shorter and stouter companion, wheezing slightly and muttering curses under his breath at the prince.

Grumbling angrily, you followed behind them, muttering darkly about the damn showoff of an elf. You knew that it would take you a bit longer to reach the top, about five minutes or so, and seeing the blonde elf grin down at you cockily made you even more frustrated, mumbling many swears, not remembering that Sam was beside you, who now looked very concerned for you, but decided not to question it.

It seemed that your anger and grit had slowed you down, the rest of the fellowship passing you, to your dismay on your way up. Grumbling at them each, you continued, dumping your pack on the ground as soon as you had made it to the clearing, glaring at them all, amused looks on all of their faces.

“What seems to be the problem, Miss (Y/N)?” Gandalf asked rather kindly.

“You’re all bloody stupid! And fucking annoying!” You snapped at him, feeling instantly bad, and apologizing profusely to the wizard.

“What did we do that was so bad?” Sam asked, his eyes wide, and looking full of hurt.

Your heart seemed to crush at his pitiful look, your anger evaporating. “No, not you, Sam. You’re an angel.” You said rather truthfully, wanting to hug him, always seeing him as a younger brother, despite him being a few decades older than you.

“And I suppose the rest of us are as bad as the Orcs.” Legolas said, his voice challenging and calculated as always, though sounding a bit boisterous.

“I’d rather take on an army of orcs than deal with you right now.” You spat out, glaring at him, his stupid smirk unwavering.

“You couldn’t take on an army of orcs by yourself.” He said, stating it simply, as if it were fact.

You gasped audibly, rage taking over, and instinctively, you grabbed for your dagger, tucked away in your boot, bringing it up to rest at the base of his throat in one smooth and swift motion, the stupid elf not even flinching.

“I’ll have you know that I am very capable, Mister Prince Elf of Mirkwood.” You spat out, your face contorted in anger. You removed your dagger from his throat, placing it back in its sheath, hidden in your boot.

“I never said I doubted you, Miss (Y/N).” He said, mockingly, repeating Gandalf’s words.

"You're infuriating!" You screeched, ready to launch yourself onto him and punch him in his stupidly perfect face. Feeling red hot fury flow through your veins, your hands forming unnaturally tight fists, your knuckles turning white, little angry crescent marks etching themselves onto your palms, your entire body visibly shaking with anger.

You turned away from his infuriating smirk, trying to regain control of your emotions, hearing his amused little chortle. You took a deep breath in, trying to ignore him. “Let’s just make the stupid camp.” You said, your emotions doing a complete 180, exasperation and exhaustion returning to your body like old, unwanted friends.

Ignoring your companions, you tended to setting up the campfire, to provide some warmth and maybe cooked food. Oh, it had been so long since you had warm food. Or just food in general. You had grabbed some firewood, and had set up the small little fire pit, all of this managing to help you calm down.

The entirety of the makeshift camp had been set up in a few minutes, the fire pit being no exception. However, you started to feel annoyance build up after five minutes of attempting to start a fire, earning a snicker from one of your comrades, practically feeling his eyes on the back of your neck.

“You’re going to have to learn how to set a fire properly.” Legolas said from behind you, standing on a boulder, his eyes dancing with amusement, his voice laced with amusement.

“Oh, and why is that?” You asked, annoyed and frustrated, looking up from your lack of fire, your eyes cold and hard.

“Because how can you be expected to be betrothed to an elf and not know how to start a proper fire?” He asked knowingly, his words dripping with cockiness.

You stared at him for a few minutes, utterly confused and positive that he had rattled something loose with all the happy running he did, before the gears in your brain started to move, saying the most intelligible thing that came to mind, “Hah?”

A smirk made its way onto his face, before he leaned down, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. “You like me.” He said, rather cheekily, before standing up to full height, smirking as you spluttered, trying to find an appropriate response for what had just happened.

Feeling even more confused, you opened your mouth and closed it, gaping at him, before you tilted your head to the side, repeating your same confusion from earlier. “Hah?”

You like him!? The idea was preposterous!

“You like him.” You heard Boromir say, obviously uninterested, from where he was perched on a rock, not looking up.

You turned to gape at him, standing up from your crouched position, feeling wildly and thoroughly confused. “Why would I like this ass!?” You asked, a little too excited, feeling too many things to process at the moment.

“Because you do.” The hobbits added, you gasping in shock when even Sam, betrayed you.

“I do not!” You said rather indignantly, choosing to ignore the large smirk on Legolas’ face, watching you try not to explode.

“I hate to say this, because you’re a good lass, but you do like the elf.” Gilmi agreed reluctantly.

“Since when did this become ‘shit on (Y/N)’ day?” You asked, feeling rather mad that you had been all ganged up on. “Besides, all he does is annoy me! I don’t like him!” You cried out, rather indignantly, though the more you said it, the more it sounded like a lie, and you were hating that.

“Then what do you like?” Aragorn asked, softly and rather calculated, seeming uninterested.

You opened your mouth, before closing it slightly, before blurting it out, not really thinking any of this through. “Infuriating perfection. Like when someone is so perfect, but it also makes me want to knock their teeth out.” You only realized as soon as the words had come out of your mouth, the wall that you had been backed into.

Loud laughs emitted the entire group, much to your dismay, and continued despite your indignant hisses of ‘I don’t like him!!’

#legolas x reader #legolas imagine #legolas greenleaf x reader #legolas #legolas greenleaf #lotr #not mcu #mira writes

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iced-insomnia · 3 years

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UnderMoon Written Story