#all feeding into my larger than life headcanon that they knew each other before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Hey!!!how are you?

Can i have some Rambo Headcanons??

Maybe the old rambo moving nextdoor to a young(24), farmer? (They/them pls), and maybe eventually him developing a crush or Wanting to protect them since they’re always so nice and caring towards him?

Thank you!!(these are for my birthday lmao, im a complete and total rambo simp. And i feel old rambo would really enjoy calming down and helping around with someone who loves him)

You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to write these as soon as I read the request! It's so wholesome, so I hope I've done it justice! And happy birthday! I hope you like these 😊(also I'm good, thanks for asking!)

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x younger!reader headcannons.

Warnings: mention of PTSD, vague injury detail.

A/n: I'm sorry if this is not as expected, I'm still getting to grips with writing headcannons 😅

Masterlist

The ranch had been in a state of disrepair when John first got there, walls thinning, paint peeling, buildings empty and soulless. He hadn't expected things to be as they were when he left, all those years ago, but the evident lack of care surprised him.

The house had been empty, which he eventually figured out was die to the fact his father had passed a good few years prior, and hadn't left anyone in charge of the ranch.

This meant that everything was as it was when he left, photographs hanging awkwardly on the walls, dusty furniture shoved out of the way.

Naturally, the rest of the ranch was also in pretty poor condition: the stables were practically overrun with weeds and foul smelling hay, one lone horse still nosing weakly at the empty water bucket on the floor. Taking pity on the animal, and feeling a need to help it, John took it out onto the field, which is where he first saw them.

Across from his father's ranch was another, smaller one, where horses and cattle grazed in the fields, a single car parked up beside the main house, which was in a much better condition than his own newfound home. In one of the fields, running around with a young foal, was who he assumed to be a ranchhand.

For a moment or so, he had stood and watched as the figure ran in circles with the youthful horse in tow, admiring their seemingly high spirits - he hadn't felt high-spirited in years.

After he'd helped the old horse from the stables out (cleaning out a stall, feeding it with feed he found in a storeroom), John had gone back to the house, almost forgetting the figure across the field, intending to head to sleep.

A couple of days passed after that, before he saw them again, though this time, they also saw him.

He'd started work on the house, having collected what he needed from a nearby town, and was sat on the roof of the main building as the sun glared down at him. Taking a brief pause from his work, he'd looked up and seen them in the field again, this time astride a larger horse.

They were racing around again, until the rider noticed they were being watched, at which point they slowed to a halt and looked around, quickly spotting John on the roof. From that distance, he couldn't tell what their expression was, but they raised a hand after a moment or so, waving up at him. Hesitantly, he had waved back.

Later that day, when he'd been sat on his father's old rocking chair on the veranda, taking another break, John had noticed someone coming up the road towards him. Standing out of instinct, John soon realised it was someone astride a horse, the rider carefully trotting up the drive, their face becoming clearer the nearer they came.

Still cautious of people, John had acted somewhat guarded as the person rode up to him, a broad smile on their work-weathered youthful face. In their hand, they carried a small box, which they cradled awkwardly on their thighs.

Approaching him, they'd tipped their hat, a battered Stetson, and greeted him, introducing themself as (Y/n), the owner of the ranch next to his. They'd spoken cheerfully, as if unaffected by the hardships of life, which they may well be. That's what John thought anyway, until they openly and happily told him about the passing of their parents, four years ago. The ranch had been left to them, leaving them in charge of the business.

Their first encounter had been somewhat awkward, but it didn't seem to bother (Y/n), and they left after ten minutes or so with a genial smile at him, stating that they'd be happy to help if he ever needed it. They also left behind the box, which John soon discovered was filled to the brim with cookies, a food he hadn't eaten for decades. Trying one, he soon rediscovered a love for them he didn't remember he had.

In the following weeks, John managed to fix up the house, getting it ready to live in properly, with some very brief help from his neighbour. They'd been round earlier in one week, dropping off another box of cookies, and had offered him access to their tools, which they brought round soon after.

After this, John felt it was only right that he invited them round for drinks as thanks, something that still made him somewhat uneasy. Somehow, he did feel reassured when they happily agreed and turned up the following Sunday, the two of them sitting in comfortable quiet on the veranda, sometimes talking, other times staying silent.

This became a regular occurrence.

Every week, (Y/n) would go to John's, or vice-versa, the latter soon learning to trust them and enjoy their company, finding himself in a better mood than he had been in in a long time. Their openness to talk or listen (even if he said very little) comforted him, allowing him to forget the nightmarish things going through his head near-daily.

After three months, (Y/n) had started coming round much more often, many times just appearing in the middle of the day to help out with whatever task needed doing, unafraid of doing dirty work. They later told him it was because they enjoyed his company far too much, and often actively sought it out: they made it clear that his quiet, brooding nature was an attractive quality about him that reassured them.

It didn't take long for them to become close, the two seemingly working at a different wavelength to the rest of the world, one that only existed between their small ranches.

They helped John procure his first horses, lending him one of their own to help build up the numbers. The differences between each ranch soon became blurred, the fence running through the middle of their respective fields eventually disappearing as they merged their ranches together, continuing with business individually with the help of the other's land.

John had long since accepted, within himself, that he would not find someone to spend the rest of his life with, not after Sarah. It was a sad truth, but one he had to live with.

That all changed when he suddenly realised he had fallen for his neighbour, the one person he now trusted and cared for more than anyone in the world.

He'd realised this when their face first started appearing in his nightmares, after a close accident that nearly resulted in catastrophe. (Y/n) had fallen from the roof of the stables, thankfully landing on a stack of stray hay which softened the impact, leaving them in severe amounts of pain for two days. Their face became part of the repertoire in his head, nightmares about their death soon plaguing him even further, as he finally acknowledged the newfound love he felt for them.

Because that's what it was: love.

It couldn't be anything less, he was too damaged to have heedless fancies, and his emotions were far too strong towards them. Since he'd moved in, (Y/n) had always been there, acting as a friend he never had, steadily working their way into his life, bettering it in ways he never would've thought another person could, supporting him through the episodes of flashbacks he was now prone to having. They had showed him love and care he hadnt experienced from anyone else. He valued them highly, prioritising them over himself, and he knew he was heavily attracted to them, but he told himself "no", don't ruin the friendship.

They didn't make it easy to repress the urges. No, they only managed to win him over more and more with their caring, loving attitude, though their youth managed to awaken some form of paternal instinct John never knew he had. He felt the need to protect them at all times, and he would do his best to uphold this, but he knew his feelings were getting too strong.

Somehow, he managed to miss all the loving glances, and little tells (Y/n) inadvertently laid down before him, the rancher have g developed similar feelings for him, though they'd never admit it to John, knowing how human interaction like that could be upsetting for him.

Eventually, it had taken a beautiful evening, with the sun spilling its last bloody rays on the dry landscape as the two sipped beer from bottles on the veranda, for them to finally admit to each other how they felt.

It just happened: one minute, they were leaning in to replace their bottles on the table, the next, their lips are just touching, breaths mingling as they struggle to do rain themselves. (Y/n) had finally leaned in, pressing their lips against his, pulling back almost as quickly as they moved in, a horrified, embarrassed expression on their face.

They'd apologised instantly, terrified that they'd screwed up their relationship, rambling and cursing until John had recovered and kissed them again, cupping their face in his hand as he pulled them closer. It had been too long for him, and the touch was just incredible, goosebumps rising along his spine as he poured all of his love and care into the kiss, pressing as close as possible.

Somehow, (Y/n) had ended up in his lap, head on his chest as he cradled them, relishing in the feeling of having a solid, supple body against his own after so long, and one that means him no harm, too. They knew where they both stood, and it kickstarted a close relationship.

(Y/n) moved in with him after their second foaling season together, where he'd seen their parental instincts kick in, particularly when they'd then worked to socialise the foals by playing with them. The memory would always stick with John: something about the carefree youth in their face as they ran around with the frolicking horses reminded him of the good in his life.

Life was good, everything was going mostly well.

Naturally, there were some days when he'd relapse, having particularly bad episodes that would be harrowing on both him and (Y/n), though they were always there to help him through it. Their soft words of love and worry would easily permeate the cloud of despair, and had break down in their arms, enjoying the sensation of being held.

They often held each other. Even if it was just a quick hug, or an embrace from behind as one pressed up against the other's back, touch became a large factor in their relationship - John relished it after the more callous touch he had grown used to.

Kisses, too, became a large way of showing their affection. Little ones here and there between jobs, deep passionate kisses up against the wall of the house, or sloppy making out on the shared seat on the veranda, it all counted for their love, and they thoroughly enjoyed partaking in them.

(Y/n) was always there, even when Gabrielle and Maria joined them. They were there when Gabrielle died, and they were there to avenge her death, choosing to go out with the man they loved.

Both of them liked to cook, even if John's meals were a little...plain...so they often spent hours in the kitchen with each other, fooling around with whatever they could, John's face alight with more smiles and grins than he thinks it's ever been.

They went riding together, finding solace in each other's company on their many trails through their land, the horses often coming home tired after so long of being out.

Sometimes, John got self-conscious about his age in comparison with their's, thinking he is too old for them. Everytime this happened, (Y/n) would reassure him that they love him for who he is and doesn't care if he's not as young as he used to be, it never would matter.

Marriage was never really a thing they considered. John never had much time for the state anymore, so why get them involved in their relationship?

They considered themselves married, and wore rings to show it, but it was never a legal affair. Nevertheless, the union had always been a happy one, and John could honestly say that he had been wrong about himself: he had found love.

#rambo x reader #rambo imagine #Rambo headcannons #Rambo #john rambo x reader #John Rambo #John Rambo headcannons #Rambo last blood #Rambo 4

100 notes · View notes

anonymouse-thoughts · 4 years

Text

@starlit-winter @luluthorn I’ve been thinking about all the potential unexplored lore of kwamis in ML and since since the world is shit right now I made a small thing while trying to avoid real life. I figured y’all may enjoy diving back into headcanons if life is rough on your end as well. If I end up writing more little blurbs, you’ll get to meet the narrator of this little history. I think you’d like him though. He’s a real hoot and he loves jelly beans~

[In the beginning...] [Those three were the first...]

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

If these words confuse you, be kind and grant some allowances as explaining things that existed before existence itself is a difficult matter. They’re meant to recount events in the way you will be most likely to understand, but even so you will need to listen closely and with an open mind. Your language limits the depth of this narrative and many parts are simply beyond what you or any human, regardless of how educated they are on such topics, could possibly hope to comprehend. Therefore, you must accept what you hear and trust that the things that seem contrary to what you have previously believed are as they are told. Interpret any inconsistencies as due either to your own limitations as a being of only four dimensions, or to explanations that are too detailed and off-topic to bother with at this time. If you feel something crucial has been left out, you may ask. And if an adequate response is possible and appropriate, you will be answered. But hold your tongue, at least until the end, and try to trust my judgment about what it is you should hear. These are my words, after all. With that being said, let us begin at the Beginning.

In the Beginning there was Nothing. This Nothing was not the black void humans typically envision, however. Instead, it was a bright, luminous Nothing. It was empty of any substance, but it was filled with raw energy. The white expanse was simultaneously everywhere and nowhere as space had not yet formed – or at the very least not in a manner that could be defined. Similarly, time existed in a paradoxical state of both being and not being. For either of these to exist in full, there needed to be something that served as a reference point. Something that relative distance could be measured against, that could anchor time and thus allow it progress. And, eventually, that something came to be. From the vast energy came a speck. This speck was energy that had slowed and condensed. This speck was mass. This speck was matter. This speck was everything. This speck was Everything.

The Nothing and the Everything existed and evolved. They were separate from one another, yet they grew closer and closer still. The Everything was dense and dark, emitting no light but rather taking it all in from the Nothing. The Nothing enveloped the Everything, gravitating towards it and feeding into it as it orbited around the speck. The Everything and Nothing became intertwined, giving part of themselves to the other. From these interactions arose two beings. One was a consciousness of the Nothing imbued with the three foundational properties of the Everything: space, mass, and time. This consciousness came to be known as Null. The other, an avatar of the speck that had been the Everything, now held the attributes that made up the Nothing. These are harder to describe as they are attributes of the immaterial – abstract tendencies for how energy behaves and influences matter. Two can be referred to as enthalpy and entropy. These terms are not exact but they come close enough. Simplified, the former is the tendency for matter to seek out its lowest energy state. The latter is the tendency for matter to exist in the state which gives it the greatest possibilities – the most chaos. The third is an amalgamation of the other two; it’s the reaction process itself and the matter’s state of being. Again, it’s difficult to describe. This second consciousness did not receive a name as it was not around for the rise of names. Over time, it’s been called Essence, All, Full, and Higgs; it’s been given titles such as The First and The Nameless One… But none of these were its true name. Its true name faded along with its consciousness during the Great Spark.

The Great Spark. That too lacks a proper name. It was an event – the event. It was the true start of the universe, its birth per se. Everything before that was merely its conception.

Null and All – for simplicity’s sake, The Nameless One shall be referred to as All – were aware. They were aware of themselves and of each other. Null still orbited All, being content with simply basking in the other’s presence. But All sought for there to be more. All was everything that was left from the initial Everything, but it was so… small. Every universe that now exists was contained within it. And, although Null was content to hover just out of reach, All desperately wished for real contact with its match. The two knew things would change if that happened though. Through some instinctual premonition, they could tell that the moment they were truly united they would never be together again. Null feared this and thus kept a distance, but All beckoned until the former gave in. Each consciousness learned the nature of the other, found the pieces of itself the other had held, gave itself to the other. The moment they touched had been both infinite and instantaneous. A great surge of energy rippled outwards as all matter was freed. And then the consciousness of All was gone.

Fragments of All’s consciousness were scattered through all that now existed, spanning through various dimensions and connecting the universe. In All’s place, three distinct beings were left. These were the parts of Null that had been held by All and which were now, once again, in the former’s domain. Null cared for these three and kept them safe. In Null’s presence, they grew until they too became aware. These were beings of energy and light, but they could manipulate matter and pass through different dimensional planes. They were the manifestations of the abstract tendencies that had been released by All. The first to awaken was the avatar of Creation, the one who embodied the very existence of matter. The other two gained awareness at roughly the same time, but in very different ways. Having remained in passive stasis, the avatar of Destruction had grown larger than Creation. On the other hand, the avatar of Chaos had phased through all its possible forms during its incubation and thus emerged smaller and more loosely bound than the others.

These were the first kwamis. And like all things perfect, they came in three.

#ml lore au #ml au

67 notes · View notes

realityhelixcreates · 5 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 11: Dark World

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mention of genocide, casual racism, mentions of past death Relationships: Loki x Reader (if you squint) Characters: Loki (Marvel), OFC, Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending, Loki needs to Work on the Racism, Have More Headcanons, Loki is Not Fond of Stephen Strange, Loki is also Not Fond of Reliving Certain Memories Summary: Reader gets an impromptu astronomy/history lesson, but Loki glosses over the important parts, not wanting to dwell on the very history that he himself made

Loki was still reading the Alfar book when you returned, but he set it aside for a moment to inquire about how your check-in went.

“I told him the truth.” You said simply. “I’m not gonna lie to Captain America.”

“Oh, you fancy the old soldier?” He teased.

“I believe in what he stands for.” You said, lifting your chin.

“And what is that? Ah, don’t tell me.” He stood, and began to prowl around you like a cat. “Courage. Nobility. Self-sacrifice. Honor and glory! For God and Country! Amen!”

“Justice.” You said, as he completed his circle. “No more billionaires getting away with slavery and murder. No more cops killing you for having the wrong skin color. No more people thinking there even is a wrong skin color. No more kids going hungry in the richest nation on Earth. No blindly following unjust laws. Standing up, and making your little corner of the world a better place. We wanna believe America is exceptional? Then we have to make it that way. We haven’t, but we could.”

“And what do you bring to that table, little baker?” He questioned. “What’s exceptional about you?”

You had never been anything special. You were average. You had gotten average grades, came from an average part of the country, looked average. You were a hard worker, but you couldn’t be anything less, or you’d be homeless. Average jobs meant starvation wages. You hadn’t gone to college. You’d never stopped studying, but without a degree, all your extracurricular learning meant nothing. What could you have been, if only you’d had the money to make anyone believe in your worth? What could you do?

“I can do magic.” You offered.

“Can you? Why don’t you show me?”

So he was still going to be like that, was he?

You quickly grabbed him by the hand, and reached for a nearby glass. He caught you by the wrist before you could pick it up, and shook his hand loose from yours.

“Okay, yes. But can you do it without our contact?”

“Not yet.” You conceded. “But once you teach me how, I will.”

“So what you’re saying is that, for you to grow and reach your great potential…you need me.”

He fixed you with a positively wolfish grin. It made your stomach flip. You crossed your arms and stared up into his teeth. He just wants you to react.

“Or, you know, that wizard we saw before.”

“That presumptuous dilettante?” He growled. “The arrogant dabbler would have you scrubbing his floors to distract you from his lack of ability! He wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

“And you do?”

“Moreso than that cocksure novice!”

“Sure don’t like him, huh? What’s the deal? Did he scuff up your shoes one time, or something?” Now this was amusing! He sounded like an overdramatic teenager ranting about a rival.

“He’s a swaggering pretender playing with forces he barely understands. A baby given an incredibly dangerous toy. I have had centuries to grow and mature in the Art, he has the equivalent training of picking up a pamphlet and thinking he’s learned everything.”

“Mature, huh? Is that why you turned my hair green?”

He snorted. “It’s not green, you little fool.” He waved his hand in front of your eyes. “Go look.”

You did. Everything was normal again.

“The illusion was not on your hair.” He informed you. “It was on your eyes. Did you think nobody said anything about it out of respect? My brother would have mentioned it, even if no one else did.”

“Okay, I’m…actually less mad about that than I thought I would be. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I can do an untold number of things that you don’t yet know about.”

“Oh.” That sounded mildly threatening. “Well…can you tell me more about Svartalfheim? I couldn’t finish my lesson yesterday, Miss Valkyrie was a little unsure about the details of its recent history.”

He frowned. “You’re still on about that? I suppose it’s lucky that one of my meetings has been cancelled. But I cannot always waste time on your curiosity. “

“Rude! You think teaching your history is wasting time?”

“I don’t.” He sat down, patting the bench, inviting you to join him. Why did he do things like that? His moods and actions in constant flux. You never knew where he’d be a few moments down the line.

Loki is the trickster of the gods, an untrustworthy god of lies, deceit, treachery and evil. The father of lies and monsters, a patron of misleading actions.

You sat down next to him.

“It’s just that I hate Svartalfheim, and I hate the Svartalfari. Living through events that make it into history books is nearly always unpleasant in some way. But you are so cursed curious, so I suppose I must fill you in.”

He conjured an image of a black, cloudy world, orbiting a dim, eclipsed sun. There were no visible stars. Swathes of dust obscured the already weak light.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathed.

He gave you a look. “It’s dismal. Just look at it. It’s colorless, dry and depressing.”

“But how is it like this? How is the sun like that? Where are the stars?”

“Do you want history or astronomy?”

“Both!”

He sighed. “The galaxy in which Svartalfheim is located contains a great deal of dust and dark matter. Svartalfheim itself orbits a small, young star within an absorption nebula. Do you know what that is?”

“I know what a nebula is.”

“Okay, well there’s more than one kind. This kind does not glow with the light of the stars within it; no light escapes or enters. So, no stars, no constellations, no inkling that there might be someone else out there. There are but two planets in this system, no others have had time to form. There is Svartalfheim, small, dark, dirty. And then there is this enormous gas giant, just barely not a star itself. Both planets are very close to the star, so Svartalfheim is warm, despite the darkness. But by some fluke of development, both planets have the exact same orbital period. Meaning-“ He continued, noticing your slightly confused expression. “-that they have the exact same length of year. And so, this gas giant is forever between Svatalfheim and the star. The eclipse is permanent. A day on Svartalfheim is very long. Long dark days, and long black nights. Do you follow?”

“Stuff’s dark. I got it.”

“Yes. And so, no plants larger than lichens grow. That’s really all they have there. Lichens and mushrooms. The soil is poor, as is the ecosystem. Only a few species can live there, and the majority of those are carnivorous, feeding off small eaters of lichen, and each other. All of this contributes to the overall dreariness of the place. “

“I still think it’s beautiful.”

“Why?” He asked, seeming annoyed that you hadn’t instantly taken up his same dislike of the place. “It’s bleak. It’s empty. It’s hostile.”

“It’s different! It’s new, and young, and we’ve never seen what might live on a young planet. I didn’t even know life could form on planets in such weird circumstances.”

“Midgardian attitudes toward space are rather amusing, do you know that? You all have such a passion for it, but you’ve barely done anything with that passion. It’s as if you are obsessed with looking through your windows, but won’t take but a few steps outside your own door.”

“Well, I mean, we didn’t have a Bifrost, and we need, just, so much air? To survive? I already know we’re less tough and have shorter lives than you all, so that probably has something to do with it. We haven’t been able to build ships that could hold everything we need, and go fast enough to get us places within those short lifespans. And then I think some weird things happen to our bodies when we stay in space for too long? I’m not sure, I haven’t studied it before. Kinda want to now, though.”

“There is a Bifrost here now.” Loki pointed out. “Someday, it will be like our old one, and able to transport people to all of these planets. Svartalfheim is forbidden though, on order of the king. And myself. I’m afraid I can never take you there.”

“Oh. But why not?”

“Because we hate it. Or rather, I hate it, and my brother hates it and also sympathizes with it.”

“You’ve been beating around the bush here. Can’t you tell me what happened?”

“I can. But it’s unpleasant. You know, I assume, of my grandfather’s battle with the Svartalfari?”

“Yeah. And the Aether, and that it came back later in a human lady. Did you meet her?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes…we met.”

“What was she like? She had this stone inside her?”

“She was…interesting. Secretly powerful. You know only a few can handle the stones without terrible consequences. She didn’t exactly handle it, she could not utilize its powers, but she did contain it. If you were to touch one of these things, it would likely consume you entirely, understand? She held it within her body, and all it did was weaken her.

In the end, we rid her of its influence, but it fell into our enemies hands. Behold.”

A small figure emerged. It was entirely white and black; white skin, white hair, white armor that looked carved from bone, all wrapped and strapped in leathery black clothing. It wore an expressionless, hollow-eyed, white mask over its face.

“Okay, that’s creepy.”

“That’s a Svartalfar. Hideous, cave-crawling, hateful creatures.”

“Why do they look like us? Why do they all look like us?”

“What do you mean?” The planet and the person dissipated.

“Vanir, Asgardian, Human, Svart-al-far, we all look the same. Same body shape, same faces. We all have written languages, wear clothes, make fashion choices. Some worse than others. We should all be extremely different from one another, shouldn’t we?”

“Convergent evolution?” He suggested.

“I’m gonna have to look that up. So is that why they’re so pale? Because they live in caves?”

“Precisely. They are very insular, unforgiving of any weakness. They used to war against each other, having no idea there was anything or anyone outside of their tiny star system. They couldn’t do what humans did; they couldn’t look out into the stars and wonder if they were alone or not. When they found out that they were not, they did not react with wonder, or even fear. They have only hatred for anything that isn’t one of them. They try to destroy anything that is not Svartalfari.”

“Okay, but you guys didn’t exactly come with open arms, right? You wanted something that was on the planet, didn’t you?”

He sighed. “Metals. Mostly zinc and silver.”

“Uh-huh. So their first contact with another species was a bunch of warlike invaders who wanted to steal their stuff. But of course, they’re just ‘naturally inclined’ to hate all outsiders.”

“Now I know it seems like that, but we did attempt to open trade agreements first. We saw how poor the ecosystem of the planet was, and offered to trade food with them. Grain and such.”

“Did they not want that? Was it taken as some kind of insult?”

“No, not exactly. It just turned out our food was poisonous to them.”

“Oh no!”

“Yes. Our existence, what we represented-that is, an entire unseen universe beyond what they thought was ‘everything’-upset their cultural understanding of their place in existence. And this death we brought could only be interpreted as a deliberate attack. The Svartalfari are truly immortal, you understand; they can be killed, but they do not die on their own. Old age is an unknown concept to them. Due to this, their birth rate is incredibly low. They had a stable population of only a few tens of thousands, that’s it.

Hundreds died in the initial poisonings. That was when their hatred truly took hold. As the deaths continued, one of them rose to a position of prominence. He spread a doctrine of genocide among his people; that all others were a mockery of what the universe should be. That all others must die. They began by killing the Asgardian miners and merchants, and continued doing this until the armies came. This one man mustered all of his warring people under one cause, and claimed to have a weapon to back him up.

He had discovered the Aether. You know it as an Infinity Stone, the Reality stone specifically. With it, one can influence, or even change reality itself. He intended to use it to revert the universe to its initial state of darkness. It was possible only under a cosmic convergence that brings all the realms into line, and breaks down barriers between those worlds. He thought to use the stone then, to reach as far into the universe as he could, extinguishing the light along the way.

My grandfather and our armies routed them. Nearly the entire species was wiped out, and we left the planet permanently.”

“Didn’t stay for the silver?”

“I think, for perhaps the first time, my grandfather regretted a battle. He certainly liked to fight and conquer, but I do not believe he was genocidal. That takes a…a certain kind of insanity that rarely looks like what it is. So he forbid his people from returning, leaving the planet as a graveyard.

But, of course, they didn’t all die. Their leader, some of his soldiers, and a very few children survived. And so, thousands of years later, they tried again. In search of the Aether, which was within that woman, they actually invaded Asgard.

I was imprisoned at the time. You know, for my oh-so heinous crimes against your world, which my father had abandoned a millennia ago.” He sounded positively venomous for a moment. “You know, they broke all the other criminals out. Offered to free me, but…I just didn’t take the opportunity. You know, I think I still believed I’d be forgiven in time. ‘Look Father! I had the chance, but I didn’t take it! I still have some honor after all!’ Hmph.” He grimaced. “The Svartalfari invaders murdered the queen while I stayed in a cage.”

And there was the reason their mother had never been mentioned. She wasn’t here. You opened your arms almost on reflex. Who had hugged him after that?

His hand was on your forehead in an instant, halting your compassionate advance.

“Spare me.” He said dryly. “It wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me that day.”

“What?”

“Well of course we sought revenge. Did you know my brother and Heimdall are traitors to the Crown? It was never just me. We broke so many laws together. Ah, good times. We headed right to Svartalfheim, got the Aether out of that woman, and tricked the Svartalfari easily. And then I was killed, and left behind on that miserable place.”

“What?” You repeated.

“Obviously I wasn’t completely dead, but I was very close. It certainly seemed like it; enough to fool absolutely everyone. Including myself. But I am Aesir, and I did not die. Oh, but they did. All of the invaders. I ended the life of my mother’s killer, but if I could have taken the head of every remaining member of the species, I would have.”

“Genocide takes a certain kind of insanity-“ You began to repeat his earlier words.

“Yes. It does.” He stared at you, face sharp and serious. “My brother has once again forbid contact with Svartalfheim. Any who survive may someday rebuild the species. I cannot bring myself to care.”

“Your highness.” You said firmly. “You should allow me to hug you.”

He gave you a long, silent side-glance.

“You do not command me, tiny mortal.” He proclaimed darkly. But he did lift his arm, and look away, giving you the opportunity to wrap your arms around his middle.

You took it.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#marvel fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

cordiibus · 5 years

Photo

HEADCANONS. The Anerufu ( Dark Elves )

I’ve have Daichi for several years now and haven’t made a proper post about the kind of creature he is nor about his people. I’ve been writing down important headcanons and their history and decided to share it ( despite Daichi’s dislike of sharing information over his people ). It will show what hes capable of doing, what his people were like/capable of, and as well as just my own lore to the people that once roamed. This is not everything about his people, what he is and there are things I obviously left out, this is basically a short version of everything I remember/written down. If theres any question though or you want to know about a certain thing/topic just send a ask in !!

CREATION. Two Paired Goddess created the Anerufu. To say they were created with a mission was far from correct as these creatures were created out of boredom from the pair. Wishing to have creatures of their own to cause destruction and to rule -- they began their creation over these new creatures. Though the Goddess knew of Dark Elves, they wanted to make their own more powerful among all of them. Infusing their own blood, powers, life, into these creatures. As well as connecting them to their environment and the feeling of chaos, so they were never without energy. They were creatures connected to the Goddess, environment, and chaos. It took a total of 2 days in the creation of the Anerufu. Plus, to keep themselves occupied they took as long as they needed. The Goddesses decided to create clans of these peoples, all governed by one royal clan.

SPLIT / FIRST CIVIL WAR. It was 3000 years after the first creation of the Anerufu before the broke into a civil war. Wanting to dominant the entire world and many wanted to enslave those who were not Anerufu. When the royal clan at the time did not agree to that -- an uprising took place. With the slaughter of many of the Anerufu, the Goddesses attempted to make peace between the two -- however found that they were at odds with themselves. The two Goddesses argued against the action that their creatures should take: one agreeing with the royal family, the other agreeing with the uprising. Due to that, there was a fight among the Goddesses as well. The victor ? Tianliú, the Goddess who sided with the royals. Due to her winning she was able to strip the abilities of those who rebelled -- though they were powerful still, they wouldn’t be able to use the environment to replenish their powers. Also breaking ties with her partner Goddess who fought against her -- their bond broken from the betrayal. Tianliú began creating new Anerufu for the people, taking her time with these despite them being similar to the old ones. Those were rebelled ? They were exiled away and taking under by the other Goddess. Though she couldn’t restore much of their power, they continued to feed off of chaos and destruction. These people were renamed Shenerufu.

SECOND CIVIL WAR/EXTINCTION. The second civil war, ~ 165,000 years after the first, was on the anniversary of the first year war. There were constantly battles against each side, never one ever overpowering the other. There was no sight of the sneak attack that happened that day, nor was anyone among the Anerufu anticipating it. The warriors who were watching the troops gave no signals to oncoming warriors of the Shenerufu. It was a complete ambush and destructions to both sides. Anerufu near the Shenerufu territory also resorting into fighting. Everyone was sent into battle. Warriors, Generals, Royals, Civilians -- everyone was aware they had to fight to conquer. There was a battle between the two Goddesses and when one was slayed they all soon feel. Tianliú was killed first among them, the second seemingly followed. With the fall of their goddess began a domino affect on their people. The only living Anerufu are Daichi and Noboru. No Shenerufu survivors were ever found.

THE GODDESS. Tianliú is possibly the most interactive with her people among deities. Having her own sanctuary, many Anerufu are welcomed to come into and have a chat with her if they wish and she is accepting visits. Though the Goddess is much larger than them, if she wishes to roam the kingdom, she will do so in a smaller size ( though still much taller than any other Anerufu ). She is loving of all her children, though definitely know to have some favorites. Everyone refers her as the Goddess or Mother, only the special favorites refer to her with her first name.

APPEARANCE. The Anerufu were created in the image of the Goddess. They stand tall with the average height being 10 feet ( Daichi is actually taller ). With fanged teeth ( lateral incisors, canines on both top and bottom jaw. ) that could easily mistaken them for being vampires. They have pointed ears, however aren’t ridiculously large as most depictions have them. They have average size ears just coming to a longer point. Their hands have longer claws instead nails, sharp and strong enough to pierce through someone’s skull. Long hair is highly common among them, however coloration varies ( usually with paired with eye color ). Eye color also has different variations ( some having pink, gold, purple, etc ). Due to the fact that they have gold blood -- they are often dressed highly in gold and see gold as very valuable. They were many accessories for their claws and fangs. The only real distinction between them are some having wings and others do not. Wings are not developed until the Anerufu has encountered their mated pair and had sex. The wing size are often based on status ( though everyone would have rather large wings, the royal family winged would have much larger wings that touch the ground ). The color of their wings depends on the Anerufu hair color as well as their eye color. Their eye color will determine the color of the markings that they would have on their wings.

MATING BONDS. Tianliú had made the Anerufu with their own destined mate and mate for life. However, these mates are not considered to be soulmates in any regard. As soulmates are destined by fate alone, not by the gift of a Goddess. Though for some it is the same as it is for soulmates, it is not the same in any regard. As soulmates are those that complement each other and who’s heart and souls are the same --- here it is based on chance more than anything else. There is no guarantee that the destined pair would be someone that you love. The Anerufu believe gaining a mate is the next step of growth. There are mating festivals and social parties held specifically for introducing/finding eligible mates to one another. After finding their mate, they go through steps into fully complete the mating process.

At first they will constantly feel the tug and need to be with their mate ( known as the mating call ). If this call is ignored, then the pain of being from their mate will only continue on and become worse until they are touched by their mate. With this mating call also comes with the trait of being able to feel everything your mate is feeling as well as telepathically speak to each other. One can feel their mate’s anger, happiness, arousal -- even some being able to send images to one another. To end the mating call, the next step is to have sex and climax with your partner and become united -- accepting each other and ending the tug feeling as well as the knowing of your partner’s emotions ( This rises question for Anerufu who identify as Asexual, which isnt commonly discussed among the people, go figure. However those who identify and wish to not partake with the last part may speak with the Goddess and be united in whatever way they choose ) However telepathically speaking and image sending is still there. After this is accomplished, the submissive pair will begin the process of growing wings about a week after mating. Once the submissive have their wings, they are able to start reproducing. The markings on their wings changing to a lighter shade once they are pregnant. There is also no disrespect nor sign of inequality between those who are dominant and those who are submissive. There are also festivals honoring winged Anerufu.

OTHER BONDS. There are other bonds among the Anerufu that can occur. Such as a bond between close friends, a ruler and their right hand soldier. These bonds are completely solid things and completely unbreakable. They are similar to mated bonds, with the exception of having the mating call and the rest. These bonds are very cherished as they are also able to be telepathic to one another, as well as feel what the other is feeling ( which isnt part of the Mate Bond ).

MAGIC. The Anerufu are pure magic, with no single magical core but almost branches. Able to draw magic from everything around them -- the earth, from those who have magic within them, from chaos. They are creatures who can call upon the elements, who can retract abilities from others and grow their own magic. There are also abilities that are not shared with every Anerufu. Warriors are given different abilities as Healers have ( ie. Healers gain the ability to see auras that help with their own work, Warriors/Guards are able to communicate without sound or telepathically with each other .. given their own language ). They are seen as very powerful creatures -- however with power comes the Sacred Law they have. This Sacred Law declaring that no Anerufu would use their magic against any person when in any type of battle. They also arent the most powerful and of course can die ( easiest way to kill a Anerufu is the neck and head ). Also know that Daichi is the most powerful among the Anerufu simply because he studied and mimicked the powers of other elves and creatures.

#( the dark elves. )#( daichi headcanons. )#save #( i finally finished ?? at least the ''''important''' things i got to lskdjf )#( save. )

6 notes · View notes

justaramblingromantic · 6 years

Text

when she was little - part ii

Characters/Pairing: Sarugaki Hiyori and Hirako Shinji/ShiYori

Type: Canon, Post!Series, Say Please!verse, Lily and Thistle!verse, ShiYori Week 2018,

Word Count: 5128

A/N: Part two of seven.

I headcanon Hiyori to be a street rat from a very young age. It makes sense, with how violent and defensive she is (forced to fend for herself), how possessive she is over her food, how small and runty she is (possible stunted growth caused by severe malnutrition during her formative years). Another example of a similar childhood is Rukia. She also grew up on the streets of Rukongai and that girl is so tiny, too.

For the aforementioned reason, Hiyori is seven in this arc, but looks physically like a four or five year old.

Shinji stared at the little blonde girl in shock.

First of all, he was surprised by how very young she sounded when she finally spoke to him for the very first time, and secondly, the uncomfortable nature of her abrupt question made him momentarily at a loss as to how to reply her. The whole thing was rather iffy and awkward to him, and the fact that the other three Shinigami in the room were all watching him right now did not make this situation feel any less absurd or surreal.

“…No,” the fine-haired Captain replied carefully at last. “I ain’t related ‘ta ya, Hiyori.”

He did not blame the young girl for making that conclusion. They both shared the same hair color, and blondes were also pretty rare in Soul Society.

Hiyori tilted her head to the side and looked adorably confused. Her small button nose wrinkled in a most endearing manner and the only thought that ran through his mind then was ‘cute.’

“Then, who are ya?” she demanded again with childlike authority, and that was a very good question indeed. He couldn’t possibly just go ahead and tell her that he was the love of her life – she probably wouldn’t understand and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck having to explain what that meant to her.

“I’m yer Prince Charmin’,” he told her at last, hoping that she would just take his answer as it was.

The child looked at him for a long time. Then, at last, she blurted out.

“But yer really old,” she told him point blank, and it was all Shinji could do not to twitch. In the background, he was pretty sure that he could hear Momo’s suppressed giggles in the background, accompanied by Akon’s soft snort.

“That may be so-” It wasn’t as if he could deny it. “-but don’t ya think that I’m, uh…handsome?”

If the adult Hiyori was around right now, she would have given him a punch right in the face for spouting stupidity. However, this wasn’t the adult Hiyori yet, this was the baby version of her, and little Hiyori merely continued to eye him skeptically, evidently a (slightly) more polite being than her older self. “…Ya’ve pretty hair,” she observed slowly at last, a tiny hand reaching out to touch the fine strands in question, and somehow he wasn’t surprised when she continued with the next remark. “Pretty like a princess.”

Adult or baby, this was definitely his Hiyori, alright.

Even as the other Shinigami were tittering softly in the background, Shinji wryly eyed the little girl whom he was currently carrying in his arms. “How come every time yer outta yer mind, I’m suddenly ‘pretty like a princess?’”

Little Hiyori scowled at him. “Yer wrong!” she barked with all the fierceness of her current seven year old self. “Only yer hair’s pretty – ya look like a horse.”

…She had just more or less called him horse face, and she had gone ahead and done so in such a brassy, matter of fact manner that he could only stare at the little brat in disbelief. The fact that her adult self also sometimes called him something to that effect (though in not so polite words) did not make him feel any better. This time, the muffled laughter ringing out behind him was unmistakable, but the young girl stood her ground and looked at him defiantly. She wasn’t as obstinate or as strong minded as how she would be when she was older, but she was surely getting there. Shinji’s response was purely instinctive – the Captain freed one hand from holding her, reached up and lightly pinched one of her babyish, freckled cheek between his fingers.

“Call me Ouji-sama, Ou-ji-sa-ma,” he insisted to her, enunciating each syllable deliberately, but she was hardly intimidated by his response. The little girl started to just as instinctively pull on fistfuls of his hair in retaliation, giving him as good as she got, and the fact that she was at ease enough to be tussling with this strange man already spoke for itself, especially when she had only been quiet and wary with all the others beforehand, Akon included, and it had taken them a good part of an hour to convince her to trust them.

Little Hiyori grunted and tugged harder on the stupid man’s hair. “No! Yer not my Prince Charmin’!!”

“‘Course I am!” he replied just as heatedly, rather shamelessly arguing with the young girl. “And I can prove it!”

“How?!!” she barked back at him, and he was inwardly charmed to see that one of her baby teeth, her incisor to be precise, was sharp and pointy just like the adult version.

Shinji said the magic words. “Yakiniku,” he deadpanned. “All ya can eat,” he continued. “I’ll cook ‘em for ya.”

He might as well have told her that they were going to be living happily ever after from hereon. The child froze briefly, and then for a quick moment, images of succulent, well grilled meat slices filled her vision, and the small, skinny blonde started to drool. “Niku?” she repeated hopefully, as if it was just too good to be true. Shinji nodded and replied.

“As much as ya want,” the larger male confirmed once again, and the age-diminished lover felt her stomach start to rumble with hunger at the promise of being fed. She was such a scrawny, bedraggled little thing, and being allowed to eat meat must have been such an extravagant treat to her. Shinji had personally not known Hiyori until after she had been brought under the wing and care of her ex-Captain Hikifune Kirio, so this child-like appearance of hers was entirely new to him, and her gaunt, clearly undernourished frame and gutter rat-like appearance and demeanor quickly gave him a very good hint as to how her childhood must have been like.

The Gobantai Taichou was abruptly filled with the urge to feed the young girl as much as she wanted to eat, and the instinctive need to tend to and care for her grew even more – she was just so tiny and fragile looking now, and she was also so darned cute with her spirited and feisty nature, and he wasn’t surprised at the least to find that she was already sharp as a whip and bright as a button even at this tender age.

She was unusually wary and guarded for a young child though, but he was pleased with the way she seemed to be at ease around him even though she did not seem to remember him at all – however, perhaps there was a part of her that subconsciously recognized who he was, and she clearly trusted him.

“Ya believe me now?” Shinji asked. Hiyori started to nod, but then she paused and shook her head instead.

“I want niku first!” she bargained shrewdly, not about to trust him for his word, even if something told her that he was a good guy, though he looked a bit weird to her. He responded by tweaking her nose next, and she wrinkled it cutely, going slightly cross-eyed as she tried to pull back away from him. This miniature version of his lover was really too adorable for her own good, and he was hard pressed not to laugh at the squeaky little grunts of outrage that she made when he continued to tease her – who knew that Hiyori was such a precocious little brat when she was little?

“Deal,” the fine-haired blonde agreed once more, finally removing his fingers from her face when she threatened to bite him for poking her. “But ya must listen ‘ta everythin’ I say and do whatever I tell ya.”

Hiyori gave him a sharp, wary stare. “Are ya the bad kind of oji-san?” she questioned abruptly, and Shinji stared at her, his eyebrow twitching at being called ‘uncle,’ even though the pronunciation was very close to what he originally wanted her to address him by – Prince. At least the impudent little thing had not gone for broke and straight up called him ‘ojii-san.’ He’d probably tip her upside down and dangle her by the ankles if she did.

“What do ya mean, ‘bad kind of oji-san?’” he asked her, and she squinted suspiciously at him once more.

“The kind who gives out candies and then tells other kiddies ‘ta follow ‘em,” Hiyori replied bluntly.

Oh. That kind who-

Shinji choked when he finally realized what she was talking about. The man’s face turned a dull red.

“NO! I’m most definitely not that kind of oji-san!” he quickly sputtered his denial before he shot the young girl a disgruntled look. “…And I ain’t even an uncle. At least call me ‘onii-san’ if ya must, ya ‘lil imp.” He reached up and flicked her on the forehead, and the little girl yelped as she immediately slapped her hands over the lightly reddened spot.

“And just where did ya hear ‘bout that sort of stuff, anyway?” Shinji asked her, concerned by her alarming and specific knowledge of that type of disgusting predator. The tiny blonde scowled at him for that finger flick but grudgingly answered his question all the same.

“The older kids in the streets said so,” she mumbled, and he looked at her in mild surprise. Shinji knew that Hiyori had pretty much grown up without parents until Hikifune came into her life, the latter serving as a much needed maternal figure, but she had been pretty closemouthed about how she had lived prior to that fateful meeting with her adoptive mother. Perhaps this might be a unique opportunity to learn more about her past...

“Ya listen ‘ta the others pretty good, don’t ya?” he commented, and she was placated by his praise.

“Of course!” she boasted, her little chest puffing out with smug self-satisfaction, and Shinji was pleased to know that this side of her was already present when she was so young. Speaking of which…

“How old are ya right now, brat?” he asked, and she frowned slightly at him for calling her that name.

“…I’m this many,” she replied slowly at last, a bit bewildered by the attention she was being showered upon when no adult usually cared about her, but at the same time, also quite happily lapping it up at the same time. The little girl showed him all five fingers on one hand and then stuck up two more on the other. She took her time to count them before uttering, “Seven!”

Shinji appeared skeptical by her claim. She was so small in size that he had initially thought that there was no way she could be physically older than four or five, but then again, she had always been on the runty side, so she might be speaking the truth after all.

“Huh. Are ya sure?” he asked, carefully concealing his growing amusement. “Ya still look like a baby ‘ta me.”

Hiyori gave him an indignant glare then, and it was really adorable that the cute little thing was trying to give him the stink eye. “I ain’t a baby anymore!! Imma big girl now! Take that back, baka!!”

Momo, Akon and Kurotsuchi Fukutaichou stepped up once again then, since it seemed that Shinji was getting along with his age diminished lover/charge well enough. The young girl who had been rather spirited and loud in her interactions with the golden-haired man carrying her immediately shrank and quieted when the other Shinigami came near once again, reminding her of their continual presence all this while, her hot air deflating alongside with her bravado at the number of adults around her. For some reason or another, little Hiyori felt safe enough with Shinji to show her true self (probably because the man look quite comical to her and acted like a big idiot unlike the rest of the adults), but promptly became guarded and wary once more when there were others around.

The small child pressed closer to Shinji even as she carefully kept the other Death Gods within her sight, snaking a skinny arm around the older blonde's neck to steady herself as she did so.

The dark-haired Lieutenant of the Twelfth was the first to speak.

"We're grateful for your assistance in this matter, Hirako Taichou," Kurotsuchi Nemu remarked politely. "If you're certain that you do not require additional support in the care of Sarugaki-san, then my colleague and I shall take our leave first."

Akon was not pleased with the decision of his fellow Juunibantai member, but he made no comment, opting to remain silent. His Fukutaichou was right - it was apparent that the Fifth Division Captain could handle the little golden-haired girl very well on his own. In fact, they were getting along so well within minutes of meeting each other that it was rather astounding.

With the assurance that the Twelfth Division would be doing their best to find a way to reverse the effects of the 'youth' potion, the two Shinigami finally departed, leaving behind the Gobantai Fukutaichou together with her Captain and the latter's young charge.

Momo smiled gently as Hiyori peeked at her from the side of her champion's neck - the little girl was positively precocious and it made the dark-haired young woman wonder if her superior's future offspring would be just as adorable as their female parent. She shifted her attention to her Captain, sobering slightly as she did so.

"Hirako Taichou, what are your orders for now? We've already gotten most of today's agendas completed, and the rest left are not of great priority." Momo glanced curiously at the little girl whom her Captain was carrying, her smile widening slightly as the tiny blonde ducked back into the man’s shoulder in a shy and wary manner. So cute!

“Yer right, we’ve gotten most of the things done for today already,” Shinji responded as he absently tugged Hiyori’s hand from his neck to keep her from strangling him with her unconsciously strong grip. “I’m gonna have ‘ta go off for a bit ‘ta feed this bottomless pit-” At that, the man lightly wiggled his fingers against the stomach of said ‘bottomless pit’ – he didn’t even know why he was doing it, but instincts prompted him to do so and before he knew it, he was eliciting a startled burst of laughter from the child before she quickly pushed his hand away to stop his tickle attack, squeaky giggles still escaping her as she did so.

The innocent sound of Hiyori’s glee pleased Shinji very much, and he smiled back at the child in return, clearly already won over by the vivacious little sprite. It was hard to believe that his grumpy lover had once been so effing cute when she was younger – that was it; he was never going to let her live this down once she returned to her adult form. The Fifth Division Captain was becoming rather endeared with this child alter ego of his significant other, and even though the whole thing was more than a bit strange and unusual, he was rolling with the punches rather well and adapting quickly, accepting the current situation. Besides, it was still Hiyori as far as he was concerned, only that she was tinier than usual and even more dangerously cute (thankfully minus the ‘dangerous’ component this time). Shinji could deal with that.

Momo had to keep from laughing at the adorable and unexpectedly charming sight of the two blondes.

“Hirako Taichou, I’ll watch over the division while you care for Hiyori-san,” his Fukutaichou informed him, her eyes twinkling with mirth as the indignant young girl attempted to get back at her guardian but to little effect.

Shinji was grateful for the helpful initiative of his subordinate. “Ya will? Yer a real lifesaver, Momo. Thanks,” he informed her with a grateful look, and the dark-haired young woman inclined her head in acknowledgement, pleased to be of assistance. “We should be back in a few hours’ time, so if ya can hold down the fort till then, that’d be great.”

Momo nodded once more. “Understood, Hirako Taichou,” she paused briefly before adding. “I can also finish up here on my own so you don’t have to rush back with Hiyori-san unnecessarily.”

Shinji waved off his subordinate’s concerns. “Don’t worry ‘bout that – this ‘lil runt’s gonna be really easy ‘ta take care of.” The fine-haired male turned his attention to said runt, and the little girl gave him a small scowl.

“I ain’t a runt!”

“Yes, ya are!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, ya are!”

“No, I’m not!! Rawrrr!!”

“Ouch! Ow, ow- Quit bitin’ me!!”

“THEN QUIT CALLIN’ ME A RUNT, OLD MAN!”

“OLD MAN?!! WHY, YA ‘LIL-”

Momo stood at the entrance of the Gobantai office and smiled in farewell as her superior and his now miniaturized lover disappeared into the distance, squabbling the entire way.

Those two sure shared a wonderfully close relationship.

“First things first,” Shinji told his young charge as he set her down on the ground so that she could walk on her own. “We’re gonna get ya some proper clothes ‘ta wear.”

Now that Hiyori had shrunk in size, she obviously no longer fit in her usual tank top and track pants attire. The Twelfth Division had kindly wrapped her up in the tiniest yukata that they had, but she was still very much dwarfed in it and looked bedraggled like a little street urchin that she was.

The little girl lifted her head to stare at him at his announcement.

"Clothes??" She sounded very surprised and bewildered, as if no one had ever offered such a thing to her before. The man’s response was to reach down with an elegant hand and pull up the lapel of her plain, cotton yukata, which had been drooping precariously off of her small, skinny shoulder.

"Clothes,” he repeated plainly, figuring that since she was in his care, he might as well just go ahead and do a good job of it. “Ones that will fit ya better than this rag yer wearin’. Ya will get yer yakiniku after that.”

Because if he knew her like he did, there was a very high chance that she would happily eat herself into a food coma if allowed to do so – it would be impossible to get her to do anything after that then, let alone try to outfit her, and so this was the next best solution.

“C’mon,” Shinji moved to make it final, before the young girl could have the opportunity to protest the decision. He started to walk into the building that they had both stopped before. “The faster we get this done, the faster ya get ‘ta eat.”

That was enough incentive to move the child, it seemed, and the little blonde scooted after him only after a brief pause, reaching out to cling to the tail of his billowing white haori as she followed him tentatively into the exclusive establishment of one of Seireitei’s traditional kimono makers, her eyes wide with wonder and childish curiosity as they darted around the place.

A female attendant dressed in a formal but utilitarian kimono immediately moved towards the two guests, bowing respectfully before Shinji when she came right to stand before the Captain.

“Greetings, Taichou-sama,” the woman murmured politely as she straightened. “How may this one be of service today?”

Shinji inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement of the attendant’s greeting, and then, he reached down, placed his hand between the shoulder blades of his young charge and gently pushed her reluctant and slightly intimidated form forward, revealing her unwilling presence to the other. “Good afternoon. I require a few sets of adequate apparel for this child at your soonest convenience, please.”

The lady looked down at the little blonde urchin who was still clinging tightly to the distinguished form of Gotei 13 Captain. If the former was wondering about the relationship between the two golden haired patrons, she revealed nothing of it. The shop assistant bobbed her head once in agreement, more than happy to be talking business. “Of course, Taichou-sama. This one shall get down to your request right away. Will the little Miss please follow this one to the back to be measured?”

Hiyori balked immediately when all the attention landed on her, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists into Shinji’s coat and fought the urge to shrink in on herself. Shinji raised his brow slightly at the visibly alarmed expression on the girl’s face. It was obvious that she was unused to being in such a formal and expensive environment and was still quite bewildered by her surroundings. However, he had caught her peeking in awe at the colorful, intricately woven haori and kimono that hung on the walls of the shop, and her fascination was impossible to miss. The Gobantai Taichou glanced down at his young companion and gave her an arched look.

“Afraid, ‘lil scaredy cat?” he teased lightly, and immediately, the child’s uncertain and anxious demeanor disappeared as her attention snapped to him, a small, indignant expression taking their place even as she suddenly straightened and pulled her shoulders back in a show of bravado.

“Not a scaredy cat,” she muttered back, though she hesitated once again when the lady attendant reached out to take her hand. Little Hiyori chanced a quick glance at her guardian – he appeared completely relaxed and unthreatened – before she slowly allowed herself to be led away by the stranger. Shinji waited at the main area for them to be done, and thankfully enough, nothing untoward came out of the experience and his miniaturized charge eventually reemerged from the dressing room at the back looking none the worse for wear and with a cherry sucker in her mouth for her efforts. The tiny blonde even appeared quite pleased with her new acquisition, enough that whatever tedium and awkward discomfort derived from the measurement process had clearly been forgiven and put behind her, and it was all Shinji could do not to laugh at her delighted expression when she finally came into sight with the female attendant in tow. It was pretty amusing to see how different she was as an adult (albeit a very tiny, vertically challenged one) compared to her child self (still very runty in appearance, no matter how she protested it).

The shop assistant politely drew up to Shinji while Hiyori was still preoccupied with her lollipop.

“Taichou-sama, this one has taken the measurements for the little miss and will get to work on tailoring the outfits right away after the fabrics to be used have been chosen. We’ve a fine selection of material in various colors and designs, if you will please follow me.”

Hiyori stuck close to her guardian as they proceeded to move to the side of the large shop where an entire wall had been dedicated to the display of various bolts of cloths of different types and cost. The little girl’s eyes widened with amazement and interest as the female attendant went on to bring out even more exquisite and colorful textiles with all sorts of delicate prints and stitching painstakingly embroidered on them. One particular collection caught Hiyori’s attention – it was made of cotton and dyed a deep, bright shade of crimson, and the eye catching fabric was decorated with a really delicate motif depicting tiny summer songbirds cavorting about on flowering branches. The little blonde was immediately mesmerized by the lovely fabric, and before she could stop herself, she had reached out to lightly and reverently touch the cloth, apparently having never seen anything so pretty before.

Shinji watched with bemusement as she fingered the cloth, entranced. “…Ya really like this one, huh?” he asked, and the child quickly snapped out of her daze. She went stiff when she realized what she was doing, and Hiyori immediately took her hand off of the fabric and hid the errant limb behind her back instead, her face burning slightly as she bit her lip uncertainly and looked unsure of herself. Once again, Shinji was abruptly reminded of just how different she was right now compared to the woman she would grow into in the future. This Hiyori was still a bit shy and tentatively cautious of the world that moved around her, and he found this side of her to be extremely endearing. Gesturing to the crimson fabric that had caught the young girl’s fancy, Shinji simply told the female shop assistant.

“Please use this cloth ‘ta make a yukata for this child.”

“Of course, Taichou-sama,” the attendant agreed quite amicably. “I shall get to it immediately.”

The rest of the materials were quickly chosen, and through it all, Hiyori just stared at the tall blonde man with something akin to wonder and bewilderment. Sometime without even her noticing, the child was clinging to her guardian with one hand fisted in his haori once more, and she was okay with that, because for some reason that she did not quite understand herself, she felt really safe with him.

Less than an hour later, Shinji and his young charge could be found at the latter’s favorite yakiniku restaurant and the younger blonde was busily stuffing her face with platters of luscious, juicy cooked slices of beef fresh off the stove while her older counterpart grilled the raw, seasoned meat over the barbeque griddle for her, exactly as he had promised. It hadn’t taken very long for them to get things settled at the kimono shop and Hiyori had been getting increasingly antsy by then, though now that her hunger was being slowly assuaged, the child was content once more and simply happy to be able to eat.

Shinji was rather bemused as he watched the young girl devour all the food placed before her like a starving beast. For a child still of tender age and possessing a significantly slight and scrawny build, she sure could eat.

“Slow down,” he cautioned her then when she nearly choked on a too large piece of meat. “No one’s gonna steal yer food, so take yer time and eat slowly.”

Coughing slightly to dislodge the troublesome piece of beef from her throat, Hiyori turned to him with slightly watering eyes. “Am hungry,” she mumbled after swallowing the mouthful of meat. Hunkering over her plate defensively, she kept her head down and continued to chow down on her late lunch. She started to eat slightly slower though, but still savoring the food with great gusto and appetite. Shinji eyed her curiously.

“When’s the last time ya got ‘ta eat, brat?” he asked. She stopped chewing her food and looked at him briefly before she just shook her head.

“Don’t remember,” she muttered, pausing to think before she continued with a shrug. “M’always hungry, though.”

He wasn't entirely surprised by her reply. Akon and Nemu had briefly informed him that the youth potion had only caused her physical form and mind to revert to their younger states, so even though the tiny blonde could vaguely recall a faint ripple of the sensations and feelings associated with her distant past, it wasn't as if her past body had been literally transported to the present – she had only been de-aged, and had not time travelled.

"Well then," he responded after a pause. "Ya may eat as much as ya want.”

Hiyori stopped and eyed the man.

“How come yer so nice ‘ta me?” she asked suspiciously, openly baffled at the same time. She sounded like she genuinely did not comprehend her sudden stroke of good luck, and the fact that she was only so young but already so wary and jaded made him feel regretful for her. This child was not the Hiyori whom he knew and loved – not yet, at any rate. She was still a bit less guarded, a bit more innocent, but already he could see the beginnings of that grit and mule headed stubbornness that would characterize her in the future.

"I told ya already - I'm yer Prince Charmin'," Shinji responded at last, at the same time picking a few more pieces of the grilled meat from the griddle and laying it on her plate. "Don't talk so much; eat up."

But the little girl just continued to look at him for a while, her head slightly tilted as if she was trying her best to figure him out, those bright ochre eyes of hers centered on him with an intelligence and sharpness that were beyond her years. In the end, he must have passed whatever test that she had in her mind, at least for now, for Hiyori promptly turned back her focus to eating once again. Eventually, the tiny blonde ate so much that she nearly could not move and started to look a bit green around the gills from the excessive bingeing; Shinji had to put his foot down when she still refused to stop despite of that, and had to promise her that they would be back again some other day before she reluctantly quit stuffing herself. She still did not budge when it was time for them to leave, though, but that was due to another reason altogether.

Shinji raised his brow ever so slightly at the red faced young girl. “…Lemme guess. Ya ate so well that ya can’t move?”

The child scowled slightly at him, but the way she did not refute his observation told him that he was right. In the end, she had to be piggybacked out of the establishment, and even though it looked a bit strange for a Shinigami Captain to be doing such things, nobody dared to comment beyond the startled stares, and the chagrin of the visibly embarrassed little blonde tucked meekly against her guardian’s back radiated all around her.

“Yer gettin’ kinda heavy, ‘lil piggy.” Shinji remarked innocuously as they made their way back to the Fifth Division.

“S-Shut up!” she sputtered, indignant and getting all righteously puffed up immediately. “I ain’t a pig!!”

If the child was just a little bit more observant, she would have wondered how come this man seemed to be so at ease carrying her about, and that he also seemed to know all the right things to say to make her feel less awkward and self-conscious and uncomfortable. It was too bad that he did it so well and so naturally that she did not even notice the way he could so easily engage her and get her to respond to him.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop squirmin’. And I’m tellin’ ya, if ya puke on me, I’m droppin’ yer ass.”

“If ya drop me, then I’ll definitely puke on ya again!!”

::tsuzuku::

#bleach #shiyoriweek2018 #Shiyori #Hirako Shinji #Sarugaki Hiyori #my fics #ShiYori: Say Please AU

23 notes · View notes

thestanfoubrew · 6 years

Text

When Someone Clings to My Apron Strings

This is a late Valentine’s Day gift for @ginnyweatherby who is the absolute light of my life, inspiring me with he sweet stories and her great headcanons. All of these fics are based on her stories, so I highly recommend checking them. The way she details love in her story - not just the love between Stanley and Lefou but between father and children - is amazing and obviously is the source for each of these little ficlets.

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies~

‘Older’

Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one.

The foolish days of youth were melting past Lefou faster than he expected them to ever. But these were the days to stumble through life, unsure, and to take a few missteps because, for the most part, you’d catch yourself and carry-on.

He wasn’t exactly irresponsible. He wasn’t exactly responsible, either.

With the crowd he hung around, the loud-mouth, rowdy group of theater majors married with the reckless antics of Gaston, he wasn’t quite on the straight and narrow.

His grades were decent enough. He went home to see his family every other weekend.

But he drank.

And partied.

And fell into strange beds.

But he used protection. Always used protection.

Except he didn't. Not when it mattered.

Twenty-two.

And so on the night when he’s supposed to be commemorating his youth, celebrating another hedonistic and carefree year, he is sitting across from the girl he fooled around with on her extra-long twin bed, a white stick between them.

Her face that night had been so lovely.

(He had been so drunk.)

She laughed at everything he said.

(Everyone was always raving about how good it was.)

She invited her back to the girls' floor.

(He gave it a shot.)

But tonight, on his twenty-second birthday, she’s not laughing at what he’s said at all. Her face is red and blotchy and not glowing like everyone said it would. She was freaking out on the phone when she called him about this.

Twenty-two years old and in the little pink plus sign, his life as he knew it is gone.

And something new is starting.

One.

***

‘Reaching’

It was alien like, this little box for babies. Cold, hard plastic surrounded her, tubes and wires connected to oxygen tanks and heart monitors escaped through the little holes. These holes, two on each side, were a child’s only window to the outside, human world. These holes were only large enough for a hand to go inside and touch the baby inside.

Not hold. Not kiss. Touch. Gently.

Lefou’s baby, the unexpected visitor they were, was supposed to be held and kissed. They were unexpected, unplanned for, but by God were they going to be surrounded by a tiny village who loved them more than anything.

They weren’t supposed to be here. In a glass box. With an enormous scar down their tiny front.

Lefou and Madeline had a meeting with the pediatrician outside the NICU to talk about what was the best option for their baby’s life, which only hours before had hung in the balance as surgeons cut through new skin and tried to fix an already broken organ. But she was here. (For now.) And while her Maman and Papa were out, Uncle Gaston was going to keep watch.

“Hey there, buddy,” Gaston said softly. Lefou’s baby was a little girl - surprising at least Lefou who had convinced himself that he’d be having a son - and therefore, wasn’t exactly Gaston’s little buddy. The boy they had dreamed up, the one who would watch sports, the one he’d teach how to wrestle, the one he’d convince Lefou and Madeline to get a big dog for, wasn’t here. But a sick little girl who needed his love was.

And at that moment, little Charlotte balled her tiny hand into a fist, flailing it outside her little portal, offering it to him.

Gaston smiled.

She wanted a fist bump.

His little buddy after all.

***

‘Bright Blue’

“Charlotte! Charlotte Mae, look at Papa!”

His daughter - no more than two - was clearly showing off the dramatic flair she had inherited. She was leaning up against the wooden frame of the beach house, posing in her new blue, off the shoulder, striped romper like she was twenty-two. And Lefou, of course, was taking photographs with the aid of his lovely assistant, Jacqueline.

(Jacqueline had made the romper, too. She had a talent in sewing, but having a model with such miniature proportions definitely increased the volume of clothing she produced. And Lefou could tell that she took great effort to make something sweet

Still, she had her critics. “In my day, toddlers didn’t go around looking like they just stepped out of Vogue,” Madeline’s mother hummed when she saw her granddaughter make her grand entrance in her new ensemble. “They wore overalls and dresses with bunnies on them.”

Although, of course, Charlotte had her own fair share of corduroys and bunny dresses.)

Charlotte didn’t look. Instead, she tossed her thick, dark, curly hair - her hair that had been the reason behind Madeline’s mad case of heartburn when she was pregnant - to the side. Like she knew what she was doing.

Lefou’s genetics hard at work.

He laughed to himself and instead snapped one of her looking off into the distance.

These are the photos that, in twenty years, she’d actually be proud to show off.

***

‘Reflection’

A small town meant a larger number of people who heard the latest news - be it legitimate fact or whispered gossip. But Stanley Bernard becoming a single father at twenty-five was entirely true. And sure enough, when he ventured outside to the town’s early-summer festival with a baby wrap slung around himself and a wide-eyed infant peering at all the hustle and bustle, everyone began to talk even more.

That just how small towns were.

So young.

Couldn’t he have waited?

A baby needs two parents.

The funny thing about fatherhood was how much like his mother he had become. With her four kids, Fleur was always like a mama bird, keeping a close eye on them and shielding them with her wings. Stanley’s own wings were still fresh and downy - barely out of his adolescent phase himself - but they were there to wrap around Emilien.

They were a team, the two of them. Though the nights were sleepless and the days were long, there was no better joy than those moments he catches on film of Emilien laughing, smiling that toothless smile as he takes a picture of them together, his son on his shoulders, sporting a grin that’s not quite so toothless.

Never happier.

***

‘Companion’

It had been six years since Lefou had a baby at his hip. He had never anticipated another one. It was unlikely he’d ever fall into a situation that would grant him another child very soon, but it was clear that the ways of the universe were mysterious to him.

And of course, he never planned on a baby that was so different from his first. Charlotte Mae was just as wild and spontaneous as her dark curls but Bartholomew Elijah was calm, always pink-cheeked and staring around at the world with bleary blue eyes.

He hardly cried. He just let things happen. As long as he was close to his Papa, he could do anything.

And that was why, when he was introduced to Madeline’s dog, a Saint-Bernard that had a much different approach to the world, he didn’t freak out at this enormous creature dead-set on sniffing him. He just let her be. And with his peaceful nature, the new dog seemed to calm down as well.

Lefou smiled as he adjusted his grip on his son.

It was nice, after this disruption of his life, to know that this little boy could ground him even more.

***

‘Morning Light’

Once the boys had transitioned from waking up at the crack of dawn, eagerly awaiting what brand new things Saturday morning would bring, to finally realizing there was nothing glamorous or thrilling about six am, Lefou and Stanley thought they’d get back to normal human sleeping patterns. Then, of course, came along two little girls who were the unconventional last two pieces they needed in their family jigsaw puzzle.

Michelle, their sweet little surprise, couldn’t go through life without a companion. Barney and Emilien - though not siblings from birth - had become brothers in the three years time since their lives became one. Therefore, when the stork came knocking at their front door with Camille in tow, (and for a couple who could not conceive on their own, that damn bird presented with them with so many offers away) they couldn’t turn her away.

And sure. It was hard sleeping in a room with two cribs, two babies, two constant alarms that could never synchronize their feedings and changing. But as Lefou lays in bed with a Camille swaddled up beside him, dozing off after a long night with an upset tummy, and Michelle, somehow alert after struggling to sleep through the crying, sitting and watching her sister in fascination. She had no ill will that this baby kept her up. She was just happy to see her.

Enough to - bless her heart - lean down and kiss the baby’s forehead when Stanley, from the other side of this Lefou/Camille/Michelle/Stanley sandwich - coaxed her.

Yep. This was worth it.

***

#stanley #lefou #stanfou #stafou #fanfic #dads!au #beauty and the beast #batb2017 #beauty and the beast 2017 #josh gad #alexis loizon

21 notes · View notes

tryingthisfangirlthing · 7 years

Text

@viennainspringtime I am so glad you like Nikola’s dialogue! Writing him is always a bit tricky for me, trying to mimic his natural melodrama without coming off as “cliché villain” or hokey. Nikola and Helen are both characters that are just a bit larger than life, though, so giving them grandiose lines doesn’t seem quite as “off” as it might otherwise. Also that vampire-bites-giving-a-high is just my own vampire headcanon I couldn’t help sneaking in there. I actually came up with it a while back for a different fic that is still not published, but I found I really really liked it (because wouldn’t it make evolutionary sense if your food source liked you feeding from it? and it tosses all sorts of lovely ethical quandaries and gray areas into vampires feeding from humans).

Teslen vampire/hunter AU, Part 3 (Also, I lied. This will be more than 5 parts because parts 4 and 5 are basically one scene/chunk that I decided to split up for readability, and wow, do these two still have a long way to go until I can actually see them together but I want to make them happy!)

Contains: violence, guns, mentions of the offscreen deaths of canon characters (Henry and Ashley), major medical emergencies, close calls, and a cliffhanger because I am mean

---

He was ready for her, next time. It was a point of pride now, practically — three times already she had gotten the jump on him, and no one did that. He had several different backup plans in place. She wrecked all of them.

First it was the exterior alarm. Put the entire house on lockdown: metal shutters, steel door reinforcements, steel plating over everything that wasn't brick or stone.

“Don't you think that's a little extreme?” She arched an eyebrow at one of the external cameras, before reaching up to examine it more closely, tilting down.

“No, not really, considering I have a murderous stalker.” He steered it back up, and she tilted it down again, and for a few moments it became almost a little game, back and forth.

“Fair enough.” Then she disappeared from the camera, though he heard the rustling of a bag, and then a quiet, mechanical hum. Several moments later, his sensors told him the outer shell had been breached. Laser cutting implement, most likely, which meant she was better-equipped than most. Never mind: he still had several more layers of defenses.

The intercom system still worked; he used it primarily for music, but it came in handy at times like these.

“Can't we just — postpone this? You take out everyone else and then come back for me? I'm just one vampire, and surely there are easier targets.”

She exhaled, loudly, and he could pinpoint her location now — she would be facing the laser grid by the northern entrance. “I have been postponing it. But I also can't save the most powerful until last — they'll only become more powerful in the meantime. And I take out the major threats as they come.”

“Should I be flattered or insulted you've taken so long to get around to me?” He sighed, and deactivated the steel reinforcement, sending off an alert to the police station as if a normal alarm system had been triggered. “I'm giving you an easy way out. The police have been notified of a breaking and entering, but you can still leave.”

“Are you afraid?” There was a bit of a laugh to her voice, and she ignored his offer. “I've left you alone for a very long time, Nikola Tesla, but I'm afraid that time is up.”

“Exactly how long has it been since you started this hunter gig?” He ignored her taunt. Truth was, he was a little afraid, and he looked down at the small device on the table beside him. It wasn't large, a glass rod that fit easily in his hand, with metal contact points at both ends, but the shock it delivered would be lethal.

“Longer than you would believe.” She was somewhere else now, moving… How? Note to self: install cameras everywhere next time.

“Vampire, remember? I've been around for more than a century. I'm actually inclined to believe a surprising amount of things with a little evidence.” Like that “thrall” effect. It shouldn't make him feel a little sick to his stomach, no more than that natural high he gave a donor, but it did. He fed off of a different person each time now, or bought from blood banks, and he put anything he got through his blood matrix scrubber, to remove any potential poisons, since he had no established trust with the source any longer. It was all an enormous inconvenience, and he was glad he only needed to feed once a week.

“And I'm not a vampire, as I'm sure you've noticed.”

“I have.” He had yet to hear of a vampire hunter who was a vampire themself, but he was sure one existed. And yet, he was equally sure that whatever she was, she wasn't a vampire, not a full-fledged one at any rate.

“All right, then, what's your story?” He leaned back, eyeing the status of his security systems, and deactivated the laser fields. “Did someone you love die before their time and you have since sworn to eliminate the entire race instead of just the individual, like you would otherwise if it were a human or, say, a tiger that had killed you beloved child-sibling-parent-spouse-other-important-person?”

“Yes, you've got me. You have me all figured out.” She didn't sound sincere, more distracted, likely trying to take apart his new field emitters.

He wasn’t sure if she was being facetious or not. “So… tell me about them.”

“What?” Sharply. He had her full attention now.

“Tell me about them. Whoever it was you lost.” It would be information. Ammunition, a clue to her weak spot. He'd tried looking her up, but even with his rather impressive resources the little he knew hadn't given him any useful results. It wasn't like he actually cared, despite her being one of the most intriguing beings to cross his path in a long time.

“Why would I want to do that?” Her voice held disdain.

“You don't wish to educate me on the sins of my people? Should I not know in whose name you intend for me to be murdered?” He checked the status of the layers of containment fields — still holding. Police ETA: 5 minutes.

There was a clicking sound on her end, metallic, and he was nearly sure she was trying to take apart the field emitters — she’d receive an unpleasant warning shock in a moment — and then came her voice. “Henry and Ashley. My children. They were brave, and smart, and they died because of —” she let out a noise of frustration, of anger, and then fell silent.

“I'm sorry. About both of them.” He could practically feel her anguish, and stilled for a moment at his console. “I am truly sorry.”

She inhaled, slowly. “Thank you.” He wasn't sure if the words were perfunctory or not.

“Do you want to tell me anything else?” he asked softly.

“Henry was a wizard with electronics. Always building and tinkering. You were one of his personal heroes — what he knew of you. Ironic, isn't it?” Her tone was flat, and yet he suddenly wondered if she had ever had anyone else to tell about this, to talk to.

“Just a little.” He waited a moment. “And Ashley?”

“She was following in my footsteps.” Short, clipped, and then the fields flickered.

“What the hell are you doing?” He stiffened, his heart up in his throat. There was a lot of current running through those emitters, to generate a field of the strength he needed, and they were not to be trifled with. “If you get shocked from your own stupid meddling —”

A crackle, a cry, and a pained hiss echoed over the intercom, and Nikola snarled. “Idiot!”

There was only silence. “It's your own fault if you're dead, you know.” He counted the seconds — twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six… Then he lowered the field and hurried to the spot where he was sure she lay, the sounds of sirens faint in his sensitive ears but growing louder, his anger rising. It wasn't his fault, wasn't his damned fault, but it was yet another death, yet another act of violence in his orbit, and they ate away at him. “Of course she has to go and meddle and get herself killed, infuriating little twit.”

He rounded the corner, quickly, using his speed, and then jolted to a stop. She lay prone, crumpled, tranquilizer gun in hand that he knew held a more permanent sort of sedative. He swore under his breath, a litany of curses in every language he knew, and knelt beside her, setting his fingers against the pulse point on her neck. Her pulse fluttered under his fingertips, shallow, erratic, but she was still breathing, against all odds.

There was a first-aid kit in his lab, with a defibrillator, and he rose to head there, pulling his phone from his pocket and punching in the emergency number. A quiet groan sounded from behind him, and he turned again, to find her gazing at him, dazed, her brow wrinkled.

“911, where is your emergency?”

She tilted the barrel of her gun up, slightly. He stumbled back, snarled, turned again to run. A shot, sharp, loud, again — and fire tore through his left thigh. He limped back to his lab, gasping his address and the need for an ambulance into the phone, the toxin seeping through his veins searing him from the inside.

#rinari's fic #sanctuary #teslen #teslen vampire/hunter au #alternate universe #fanfiction #vampires #vampire hunters #helen magnus #nikola tesla

2 notes · View notes