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l0standn0tf0und · 5 months

Text

damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes

george weasley x fem!reader (hints on short!bookworm!fem!reader)

words| +- 4400

in short| classic story. George falls in love with his best friend. nothing more and nothing less

warnings| my english, angst, fluffy ending, mention of sex and long ranting about George's feelings

author’s note| it's supposed to be a short one. About 1000 words or so, but I got excited. and well, I tried to make it George's pov. because, you know, ✨️his pov✨️. also, it's my first scribbling in two years. enjoy))

He has been with other girls. He'd even said he has been with a lot of other girls.

There were a couple of girls he dated for a while. There were those he just fucked with. A quickie after a Quidditch match won't hurt anyone. It doesn't matter whether he won this match or not. He's well aware of the fact, that girls like him. But none of these so-called relationships were serious. Perhaps this was because he didn't consider any of them as something serious.

He tried this relationship thing because he was curious, what it's like to date a girl. But during his dates, bringing a cup, all painted with tiny violets, to his lips and listening to the chatter of his now ex-girlfriend, he thought that she'd never say such a thing and she'd never order such a lusciously sweet cupcake. And she wouldn't have dragged him to Madam Puddifoot's in the first place.

After smashing Hufflepuff to smithereens on the Quidditch field, he pressed some Ravenclaw's back to one of the walls in the locker room, pounding deep into her, hearing this girl's moans become louder with each thrust. He caught himself thinking about what her moans would sound like. Would she be filthy and loud underneath him or her moans would be more shaky and soft?

He wouldn't say any of these girls were bad, unattractive, or something like that. Just the opposite, all of them were great. But they simply weren't…her. She got deep under his skin, intertwined with his veins, and blossomed in his lungs. She was his Flower. That's how he called her.

George remembers clearly well how it started. No, not his feelings, they started so naturally, that he didn't even notice how he fell for her. George remembers clearly well how he started calling her flower. This happened back in the second year, during History of Magic. He was getting more and more bored by the second in that stuffy classroom. And there was nothing unusual about it. He got bored very easily. So he quietly began scribbling in the corner of her parchment. He remembers the angry look little Y/N gave him as she carefully pushed her piece of paper away from the redhead. She was also bored but did her best to focus on Professor Binns' words. But George continued, all smiling and trying to stifle his giggles caused by her irritation. At some point, his incomprehensible doodles began to look like something that resembled Professor Binns, but his glasses and mustache were abnormally large compared to everything else. She smiled, took George's hand, and carefully drew a tiny flower on his wrist, before returning her attention to Professor. It took him a while to find out what exactly she drew with so neat lines. It looked like an iris or daffodil, he couldn't tell exactly and she didn't know either. But after that she became flower. His flower.

And now George is sitting in the library. He came here to at least start an essay on Potions. Snape become ruthless lately, so it was easier to work in a group on this 5-page assignment about Golpalott's Third Law. That's how he, Y/N, Fred, and Lee ended up in the library. George knew that this was one of her favorite places at Hogwarts. Two and a half hours earlier, when they had passed Madam Pince's stern gaze, he almost unconsciously walked to her favorite table, between the Poetry and Reference sections.

George's re-reading the same sentence in the book for the seventh time. There's something about the idea that a whole product is greater than the sum of its parts, but he can't really understand its meaning because he's thinking about her. It would be more accurate to say that he's thinking about what Lee and Fred had said about her. The evening before, his twin, the only person in this world who was closer to George than Y/N, again claimed that his love was mutual. Fred constantly tried to push him to confess his feelings. His argumentation was always the same. Fred said that he’s older, which means wiser, and he sees everything, how she steals glances at his little shy brother in classes and how she blushes just as much when George is near. But that evening, Lee has added some new information, which George still tries to process and connects with everything else these two have been telling him through the years.

George returns to yesterday in his thoughts. He was lying on his bed again, hopelessly pressing his face into the soft fabric of the pillow, while these two opened the Pandora's box again. Sometimes it seemed to George that they were enjoying this ranting about his 'unrequited' love situation over and over again.

"Ok, look, if she felt nothing but platonic stuff, she'd not be this frustrated when she found out about you and Jane" Lee spoke in a devious voice, getting more comfortable on his bed.

"Wasn't it Jade?" Fred's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Doesn't matter, I mean this Hufflepuff blondie with the ribbon"

"She's Janis" George sighed. He remembered this relationship, which lasted just over a month or so. Janis was nice, but she talked a bit too much. And this black ribbon, which she constantly wore as a headband, pissed him off. He admitted that the ribbon matched well with her uniform and emphasized the brightness of her hair. But something was wrong with it.

"I thought she was Jade"

"Anyway, why are you telling me about this now?" curiosity and a slight note of annoyance were noticeable in George's voice "It was quite a long ago."

"Look, mate. I'm your friend, right?" Lee sat down, crossed his legs, and the blanket crumpled under his weight. One more movement and the red piece of cloth would end up on the floor. "But I'm her friend as well. She knows that I know. And knows that I overheard that conversation of hers. And I promised, I won't blab it to you…But as it turns out, I'm not the best secret keeper and I'm more of a friend to you than to Y/N"

To tell the truth, Lee was a great secret keeper. Just like he was a great friend. This made George seriously wonder why Lee broke the promise. And so unceremoniously 'blabbed' everything to him. What if he's really as blind as he was told and doesn't see obvious things. He doesn't deny the possibility that she liked him too. More precisely, he doesn't want to deny it. He hopes that Y/N also feels something that crosses the boundaries of friendship. Even if her feelings aren't as strong and all-consuming as his. As if time collapses into one tiny speck and explodes at light speed every time George sees her. He hopes for at least something, for at least a tiny feeling, a tiny sparkle in her heart that flares up at the sight of the tall redhead.

Many times he imagined and replayed in his head the moment he would confess his feelings. Tell her how all the sounds around become quiet when he hears her laugh, how each and every touch imprints and burns on his skin. He dreamed, how he would tell how much he loved her, that he could finally be honest and reveal everything that was in his head and heart.

But the younger twin thinks the stakes are too high. And maybe he's right because she thinks the same thing to herself. Even though George wants more, he doesn't want to risk everything he has right now. His eyes begin to water and a lump rises in his throat every time he assumes he could lose Y/N. His flower. He knows her too well to predict what would happen next if his feelings weren't mutual. Their communication will become awkward, they both will be cautious and afraid of saying or doing something wrong. And then, after some time of this weird communication, their connection will fade away. And even if his love is mutual, what if he and Y/N don’t work out as a couple? What then?

He can't let their previous and future years of friendship go down the drain. Y/N was the first person he and Fred met on the Hogwarts Express. And from the very first year and the very first greeting, the three of them became inseparable. Always together.

She wanted to be a prefect, so she avoided detentions and tried not to get involved in their pranks directly. But Y/N was always there, helped to plan each of their mischiefs, assisted with new inventions, and saved him and his brother from professors. George can't remember how many times she rescued them from Filch while she was patrolling the corridors. He was so proud of her last year when she finally received this little silver pin that gave her extra authority and responsibilities.

George can't imagine Christmas without Y/N now. She visits the Burrow every year and his mom adores her. Perhaps because Y/N helps with cooking more than anyone else in this house. But George can imagine in detail how hard his mother would scold him if he suddenly announce that Y/N won't come for winter break this year because he's an idiot and they stopped talking to each other.

It's not Christmas without having a snowball fight with her and Fred in the backyard. At some point, she always tries to throw Fred into the snow. But due to the obvious height difference and Fred's strength privilege, she never succeeds in this. So she's becoming the one who's giggling on the ground, covered with snow. George always laughs at this little performance while his very kind twin scatters her down with even more snow.

George's envious of his brother in some way. Fred has never seen Y/N as more than a friend or a second sister. He's envious that his twin's heart doesn't ache as much as his does. And his older brother doesn't have to make such a difficult decision. No, George doesn't wish his brother pain. No way. He just doesn't want to suffer himself. George understands, that he's not just at risk of losing her, but also at risk of depriving Fred of his best friend too. If he and Y/N don't work out, what will happen to her friendship with Fred? Yes, perhaps they will be able to maintain some thread of communication. But they certainly won’t be best friends like they are now. George wouldn't handle it. He believes that it's better to be content with the small moments he has than to lose everything.

"Where are you going?" Fred's question snaps the younger twin out of his thoughts. He's still in the library and didn’t even notice how the chair next to him became empty, as Y/N headed towards one of the sections.

“I need this book, about…” her words meet Fred's raised eyebrows "I just need another book"

A quiet “uh-huh,” sounds either from Fred or Lee as her back is already hidden between the shelves full of colorful covers.

George looks for a while longer after Y/N. If someone raised their head from studies or books and glanced at the redhead, they would see the gears turning in his head.

“I…” George moves away from the table. Legs of the chair slide across the floor with a quiet rustle. He tries to come up with some kind of a reason, but Lee is faster.

“We got it, loverboy in shining armor, go already and help your princess” In response George groanes, and a quiet "fuck off" slips from his lips as he heads after his 'princess'. He doesn't know why he decided to follow Y/N. He just wants to. Perhaps he simply feels calmer when she's around, she gives him a feeling of warmth and home just by being near.

And there she is, just three bookshelves away. George can understand why she likes spending time in the library, although he doesn't share this sympathy. It's quiet and peaceful here. High ceilings, impressive columns, and alive stained glass windows are throughout Hogwarts, but they look especially charming in this place. Perhaps it's the specific lighting or the huge number of cabinets filled with old parchment and colored bindings. And, to be honest, he likes the smell of books. There is something about that scent that the redhead can't explain.

Y/N walks along the shelf at the end of the bookrack. Her gaze runs along the top row of colored spines, searching for what she needs. Her hair is up in a messy, almost domestic, bun and secured with a wand. But some strands fell down, framing her face and descending down her neck. The tie hangs loosely around her neck. She undid it after half an hour in the library.

George just stands there and admires her for a while, unable to tear his gaze away. It seems to him as if a soft golden glow surrounds each curve of her glorious body. And this light calls him to come closer. None of the other girls looked like her in his eyes. He swallows, breaks out of this perfect trance, and quietly heads to her.

The girl stands on the very tips of her black shiny shoes. Her fingers almost touch that very book on the top shelf. "Why the hell do they always shove the most useful stuff so far away?" Y/N thinks to herself before long fingers touch the cover of the "Ingredient Encyclopedia". She sees as right above her head a familiar freckled hand takes the faded green binding from its place.

"You're welcome, flower" Y/N turns around at the sound of the voice and finds herself trapped between the worn books and George.

The corners of his lips lift slightly and the younger twin can feel the warmth approaching his cheeks. He can't control it and, to be honest, he doesn't care when she's only millimeters away.

Her "Thank you" is so quiet that George isn't sure she actually said it. Their eyes meet, and it seems to redhead that everything that happened next was in slow motion.

She just wanted to take the book. Such an innocent action. She inhales sharply as her fingertips accidentally brush his hand. He feels high-voltage sparks come from this touch and spread further throughout his whole body and explode where his heart is.

They both froze, not breathing and not breaking an eye contact. George could swear he was ready to give everything he had to live in this moment forever. Just standing next to her in an empty section of the Hogwarts library. Looking into her eyes, losing himself in their depths. And feel the warmth radiating from her hand on his.

Earlier, he thought he'd be nervous at a moment like this but he isn't. He just stares at her eyes, then at her parted lips. "George, don’t do it" he repeats to himself. His fingers shudder imperceptibly with the thought of taking her wand from messy hair, so her locks would fall freely on her fragile shoulders. "Control yourself". He's trying, so damn hard trying not to bury his hands into these shiny strands and pull her into a kiss. It takes all his strength not to. And George doesn't know what happened. Was it Y/N's rosy blush and his brother's words about mutuality flashing through his head. Was it her, standing so close that he could smell his amortentia coming from the girl.

But he gives up. George bends down, without even thinking about it, and presses his lips to hers

George pulls away even faster than he has leaned toward her. There is exposed fear in his widely opened eyes. Eyebrows are raised as the realization crushes his thoughts. His mouth opens and closes without making any sound. It seems that he's more shocked by his own action than Y/N herself.

He fucked up. He knows it.

Y\N stands there still. And this is the first time in the redhead's life that he can't read the emotions of his best friend. "Ingredient Encyclopedia" is still in her palm, but George abruptly pulls his hand away, losing all the warmth she provided to him.

"I'm…I'm sorry" is the only thing he mumbles before storming away from the book section, from the library, from her.

George almost knocks down a first-year with a blue tie when he rushes out around the corner. He fucked up. Y/N didn’t respond to his kiss, she didn’t react at all. She just froze in place. George doesn't understand how he could let himself do this. He shouldn't have. He heads towards the huge wooden door with such speed that some students' parchments fly off their desks. He doesn't notice this, nor the questions from Fred and Lee, that meet his broad back, nor the comments of the furious Madam Pince.

She appears around the corner shortly after George, calling his name. She throws the book on the table and quickly walks past her friends. The faded green binding slides across the wooden surface and lands near Lee's inkpot. Another millimeter and the small glass jar would have been knocked down and poured a black liquid onto the pieces of parchment, only half written with essay.

"For Merlin's sake, what is going on?"

“I'll bet you a galleon that George confessed to her and ran away” Fred speaks with a sly grin, shifting his gaze from the hurrying Y/N to his dormmate.

"Too much drama for these two, don't you think?"

"So…?"

"You're on" Lee agrees, moving the book away from his writings. He only managed to write the introduction and the beginning of the first few theses. It was far from 5 pages but it was at least something and definitely more than George wrote.

George walks through the library entrance. He feels like everything is crumbling inside him as he walks. The sound of his heart pounding in the ears muffles the voice calling his name somewhere behind the back.

"George!…"

He is supposed to be happy. He finally did what he had dreamed of for many years. He finally kissed the girl he was so hopelessly in love with. But instead, he feels as if a dozen Dementors attacked him. All of the hope and happiness have been sucked out of the world.

"George!…"

He'd better get away from here as fast as possible. He'd explain himself later. He'd better get to his safe space. But where should he go if he felt safe only next to her?

"George!….for Merlin's sake!….. I can't keep up with you!"

He recalls everything in his head, from what happened a minute ago to the first time he saw Y\N. He understands that all those happy moments, the tenderness, the memories they both made and the plans for the future, are all gone. He's so disappointed and so angry with himself.

"George!…"

"What?!" He stops and turns around, seeing the girl almost running along the empty corridor of Hogwarts, approaching him.

George heard her calling him. But he's not ready to face the consequences. Not now. He needs time to pull himself back together and come up with something. But he gives up. Again.

"What do you wanna hear, Y|N?!" His hands shoot up in a questioning gesture. "That I'm head over heels in love with you? With your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes! With your damn angelic laughter, which drowns out all other sounds for me! And I even with the way your brows frown when you're concentrated!"

"Georgie…" He doesn't seem to notice her soft voice but continues. She wants to say something, but his confession is unstoppable. And she understands this, so she decides to just let him rant.

"Or do you wanna hear that you became a fixed point in my mind where my thoughts always come back to? That I randomly grin to myself like an idiot when I think about anything related to you. I don't know when exactly I fell for you. But it feels like I've always loved you. You're doing something to me, no one else ever could. You make me feel special and not just another poor Weasley or the second clown of Hogwarts. Every damn time you make me feel important because of who I am and not because I'm the beater or I'm the easiest way to get to Fred." His voice became calmer with each sentence. The irritated raised tone turns into his normal deep timbre, and then it will turn into a soft mumbling. " And you make all of my anxiety and worries turn off just by your presence. I was so fucking angry with myself and you did something I dunno how to explain. So now I can't be this angry. And you are…you are just….you"

She stands next to him. Almost as close as it was back then in the library. Perhaps if George wasn't so nervous, he'd realize that he liked the scent of books because it was her scent. Every time she left the library after spending several hours there, she had this slightest scent on her. It mixed with her perfume and shampoo, so it was impossible to separate and difficult to notice it.

"Are you done?" George doesn't know what to do and just nods his ginger head. Then she rises on her tiptoes and neat fingers finds the collar of his white shirt and pulls it towards her, forcing George to lean forward. Her lips touch his. Again. Only for a few seconds but this makes him blush even more, if it's possible. His freckles aren't this noticeable anymore.

The girl pulls away, the heels of her shoes meet the cold floor and her hands slide onto George's chest. But he continues to stand slightly bent forward, batting his eyelashes. She still has to lift her head slightly to look him in the eyes. In the future, this height difference will piss her off sometimes, but he'll enjoy it endlessly, liking this even more every time.

George stares deeply into her eyes, trying to understand what just happened. But he feels that he can breathe again. And somewhere inside, where his soul is, irises and daffodils and all the other flowers start to blossom slowly. Did she really kiss him? But earlier…

"But you've…." His eyebrows furrow as the puzzles are slowly coming together in his head.

"I was taken by surprise" She explains as she watches his face soften, lips rise into a wide grin that he can't stop. And why the hell should he stop it. "And you didn't give me time to understand what's going on"

George covers her hand with his own. That hand that's laying so peacefully on his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, millimeters from her face. She can feel his breath on her lips, like a ghost kiss, dragging the moment before he crushes his lips down on hers into another real one.

Her lips are soft, almost silken, and pillowy against his own. This kiss is not just a peck, like the previous ones. This time George can understand that her lips are not exactly what he thought. Her lips feel thousands of times better than he could ever imagine. He finally feels relieve and all the world's happiness. All the happiness he supposed to feel. Happiness, that had been accumulating for a long time and didn't leave the palace of his dreams, Finally to escape to freedom. His palms find their place around her waist as he pulls her closer, forcing their bodies to collapse into each other, holding each other as tightly as humanly possible. Her hands shoot up to his hair, slowly letting her fingers slip into ginger strands. He kisses Y/N like he has never kissed anyone else before. With all the tenderness and love he has kept locked in his heart till this moment. George doesn’t see this, but he feels how the gray world around him is filled with colors again. The warmth spreads all over his body and his brain stops working properly.

This girl, this bright and breathtaking girl, is his. Their lips moved softly, delicately, and almost innocently before. But Y/N is driving him insane and intoxicate him with the sweet smell of her body. He can feel her hand slide to his nape and she lightly runs fingers up along his neck. Tiny soft moans escape his lips in the surprise of the goosebumps this action sent down his body. As a response, George brings up his freckled hands to cup her face. His calloused fingers caress her flushed cheeks as he nibbles her lower lip, not so hard to hurt, but enough for Y/N to feel it. Now it's her turn to let out a small, barely audible moan, which makes him break out into a shit-eating grin.

The girl gently pulls away, while George still holds her face in his warm hands.

"I love you too, Georgie. And your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes"

Bonus:

He lets out a giggle caused by quoting. He's unable to open his eyes for a few moments after this kiss, a huge smile on his face

"But…"

"But…?" The question sounds teasing even though his voice is hoarse.

"We have an essay to finish. It's due tomorrow, and you haven't even written a sentence yet." she wrinkles her nose in a taunting way.

"Nooooo" Redhead lets out a groan, throwing his head back. "Don't make me do this, Flower"

"I won't write it for you" She kisses his pouty lips as a response to the puppy gaze he gave her. Y/N frees herself from his cozy grip and heads towards the library. "You'd better write at least something unless you prefer scrubbing cauldron instead of…let's say…sneaking into Hogsmeade."

George catches up with her a couple of seconds later. He slightly leans down just for a moment to catch her hand in his and intertwine their fingers.

"Y/N…." he tries this 'puppy gaze trick' again.

"Fine." She sighs in defeat "I will help you with a plan and theses, but you will write it yourself."

George breaks into a smile once again and brings her hand to his lips, leaving kisses on her knuckles. Well, the thesis for Someone's Third Law is at least something. Plus, he’s sure that he’s sure Y/N will write his essay as soon as she finishes hers. And, to be honest, Fred's too.

After some time, when they are a meter from the huge wooden door, George suddenly wonders.

"Galleons or Sickles?"

"What?"

"Galleons or Sickles?" He repeats, opening the door in front of Y/N

"Wait, you're wondering how much they bet on us, aren't you?"

George overtakes the girl, ending up in front of her, and leans down so that their eyes are at the same level. He shoves his hands into pockets and wrinkles his nose therefore mocking Y/N's previous actions.

"I'll bet a Galleon that Lee owes Fred a Galleon"

masterpost

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley headcanon #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley smut #george weasley x fem #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #george weasley angst #the weasley twins #weasley twins #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins smut #harry potter fanfiction

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blackopals-world · 11 months

Note

Your Implied relationship Twisted Wonderland fic was so good please have a part two where the bys come back to visit and find out she has a son. Also her son finds out she´s the missing princess in the books she wrote. This is SO GOOD O MY GREAT 7 PLEASE PART 2! PART 2!

Okay Okay! I'm listening!I'm listening!

I Found Home

Part 2

(part 1)(part 3)(Part 4)(part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)

Implied relationship

Yuu x twisted cast

Implied relationship in the first half.

Yuu opens the door to find...

Yuu took a deep breath as she opened to door hoping that she heard correctly. She knew that voice anywhere.

"Henchmen!" A ball of grey fluff barreled into her.

"Grim?!" She gasped as the air was pushed out of her lungs.

She had to be dreaming.

What a cruel dream this was. To see her Grim again would mean crossing over to that world but leaving her Grimm behind. How cruel, how impossible.

"Yuu!" The cat cried rubbing his furry form against her in affection. Every so often headbutting against her face.

"Oh Grim." She sighed tearfully wrapping her arms around him " How did you get here?"

The cat familiar pulled away and smiled smugly.

"Obviously, you can never leave me behind. The great and powerful Grim created portals to countless domains." He proclaimed.

"By which he means we created a portal to find you." Another voice entered.

The feathered cloak and bird mask told her everything she needed.

"Crowley." Yuu gasped.

Once upon a time, she hated his guts but in time she understood him. In the years of staying at the school she saw a side of him that others didn't. He was negligent and overdramatic but he protected her in his own way.

Crowley was true to his word about searching for a way back home for her, but he pushed her to stay. He had doubts as his research found little evidence. Not to mention the chaos going on campus. Grim and Yuu's antics didn't help certainly. Back then she thought it was revenge but it only made things harder.

During her last year asked her to remain in twisted wonderland because it would be easier than readjusting to her old world.

She saw through him. He just didn't want her to go. But a promise was made.

"Look how you've grown," Crowley said wistfully as he moved his mask. "Hard to believe it's only been a few years."

Yuu held back a laugh as she saw him. A few streaks of graying hair stood out from the black. His eyes seemed to wrinkle with the beginning of crow's feet. His job must be aging him prematurely. He definitely seemed more tired. Best not to make fun of an old man.

"Nice to see you too." Yuu said

Their reunion halted when footsteps came stumbling down the stairs. Grimm had woken up and came looking for her.

"Mama.." He called out to her rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Mama."

Yuu couldn't speak as her son saw the strange figures in the house.

"Mama?" Grim repeated astonished, bewildered as he looked back and forth between the parent and child.

"Nina?" Grimm asked.

Answering Grimm's questions this late would be difficult without any prep. So she took the easy way.

"Honey your sleepwalking. You should get back to bed." Yuu thanked the heavens that Grim looked like a walking stuff animal.

Grimm nodded and yawn before stumbling back to his room.

"I have a grandson?!" Crowley gasped "Wait your married?!"

"Of course not, I'm too young an-" Yuu started.

"But not too young for a baby? Do you not remember what I said about protection? Who fathered your child? Who was this bastard who left you to raise this child on your own?"

"It's not like that."

"Was it one of your old 'friends'? Even if you left for your old world it doesn't absolve them of responsibility. Regardless now that the gate is open there will be no choice but to be a father to their child. Divus will have fit when he finds out." Crowley ranted taking a seat on the couch as Yuu tried to calm him down.

"No , I adopted Grimm. He's not related to them."

Crowley wasn't hearing it.

"Honestly when that boy asked for me and Crewel's blessing I knew we were right to say no. And don't lie young lady that child looks exactly like-"

"No, he doesn't!"

They argued back and forth as Grim snuck upstairs through the open door to the room that the little boy slept in.

The room was decorated wall to wall with trinkets, stuffies, and books. On the bed, the boy slept hugging a grey cat with a bow.

Grim shifted closer to examine it when a pair of eyes popped open.

"Nina?" There was that name again "You came to life!"

"My name is Grim, boy. The great and powerful magician!" Grim crowed.

"No, I'm Grimm. That's my name."

Grim paused. Yuu named him Grimm. After him. She didn't forget him. Did she love him that much?

"That's. That's a great name." He said simply as he climbed on the bed "You should sleep. Your mom has always been a stickler for stuff like that."

The familiar curled up against the boy and purred as he lulled them to sleep. Grim could accept this, his new 'little henchmen'.

Meanwhile, Yuu continued to bicker with her old guardian. Crowley wanted visitation rights, family vacations and a chance to see if his grandson might have magic. To which Yuu said no.

Grimm wouldn't be exposed to magic. Not the expectations that came with it or the people who use it. It's not a world made for him. Grimm had been through enough, he has his own trauma and she wasn't making magic part of it.

"I'm not sure you'll get a choice. Not with the gate now open."

"Grimm doesn't have magic. I won't let him be treated the way I was for it. He deserves better."

"Mama!Mama!" Grim shouted as he stumbled down the big steps. He clung to the railing with both arms to safely.

Yuu finished had cutting up Grim's pancakes as he made it down and ran straight to her. He threw himself at her as his arms wrapped around her hips.

"Careful, sweetheart. You almost knocked me over." Yuu picked him up and sat him at the table. Grimm's seat had a cushion to make it easier to see over the table.

"Cake! Thank you mama!" He smiled picking up his fork from his colorful placemat.

Yuu held back a squeal of joy. Her baby was so so cute and so polite.

"No, they are pancakes. We change the name to make it okay to eat in the morning.

"Cake is cake!" Grimm hooted back.

Yuu didn't argue.

"Mama, I had a dream. Nina was walking and talking!"

"Oh," Yuu said not having a better response.

She had a lot on her mind. The sudden appearance of Grim and Crowley disrupted Yuu's life. She was happy to see them but...it's a lot to adjust too.

She didn't even like the idea of Grimm learning about magic. She had dealt with her own resentment in the past when she was mocked for her status. It would be unfair to make him go through the same. She's a mother now and had to consider these things.

Maybe she was making a mistake.

Grim at least got to meet his little brother. It's too bad he needed to return with Crowley for the time being. Once Yuu was sure they would be a family again. Grim will always be the exception no matter her doubts.

(From this point the story goes on to show the first meetings with the twst boys. Each will be Grimm's first contact so there won't be continuity)

Riddle

"The Mentor"

No one believed Grim when he said he made a stable gateway to Yuu's world. All of them had tried and failed even Malleus couldn't do it. But Grim was different he had a connection to Yuu. If Yuu still had a strong connection a gateway could be made.

Grim now worked at the school helping Crowley and called everyone to deliver the news.

Riddle thought it would be appropriate to visit. He took the day off, his cases would wait one day. He had worked his way up to district prosecutor recently.

The first thing he noticed when he reached the scenic neighborhood was how peaceful it was. The house were spaced apart and it was clean. Lots of trees and gardens.

The second was one particular house where a young woman was kneading by a flowerbed. She was so focused on her roses that she didn't notice him but Riddle knew it was her. Just like him, time had changed some features. He had grown taller and lost some of his boyish looks but she no different. She was softer in appearance, glowing and matronly even. She grew out her hair but she tied it up.

Riddle reflexively straightened his suit jacket and shifted the bouquet he had brought in his arms. He wondered if she still liked these flowers.

Just as he tried to call her name a loud yelp rang out.

"Ma-ahh!" The exclamation became a wail of pain as a little boy appeared holding out a finger.

Yuu sprang up as she went to the side of a weeping boy. He had pricked his finger on a thorn.

"It okay Grimm. Don't panic, it'll only hurt a moment. You should never touch roses without gloves." She scolded gently. "You know better then that."

"But I wanted to see a red rose. So I thought if I painted one it would turn red. Like in the book." He whimpered as Yuu took out a bandage from her pocket and wrapped it on his finger.

"Grimm you know that in the story that red roses belong to the red king. And that sort of spell was done only by his loyal card soldiers." She admonished.

"Like The Ace Magician and The Spade Mercenary?" He asked.

"Yep, they had orders to do those tasks and you should ask permission to do it as well. Those are the rules. Don't you want to follow the rules?" Yuu asked.

Grim nodded quickly as he gathered his scattered paint and went to put them away like a good boy.

Riddle had hidden himself during the exchange. His mind raced. She had a son. Of course, she had a kid. Why wouldn't she? Anyone with eyes would want her. Anyone with a brain would fall for her. So seeing her married with a family is common sense.

Perhaps the flowers were too much?

"Hello?"

Riddle didn't get time to change his mind as his hiding spot was discovered.

"Hello, Yuu. I brought these for you." He tried to sound calm as he presented the bouquet.

"Riddle!" Her smile was still as warm as it was before. "Oh my, look at how tall you've gotten! You look amazing! How have you been? Come inside, I'll make some tea."

The pair talked amicably as Yuu put a kettle on. All the while a pair of eyes peeked out from a doorway. It was the boy.

"Grimm it's rude to stare. " She scolded.

"Sorry mama." He said but didn't move.

"Grimm? I bet you had to explain that one to your husband." Riddle tried to sound jovial.

"Not really, I don't have one. It just us here." Yuu smiled.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

There was a tug on Riddle's sleeve as Grimm got his attention. In his hand was a book; "The Lost Princess in the Red King's Court"

"Oh, do you like this book? I never read stuff like this at your age." Riddle said taking the book gingerly. He flipped through the pages as the pictures looked eerily familiar.

Grimm leaned on Riddle as he pointed at his favorite characters.

"Mama made this. The lost princess gets kidnapped by a giant crow and is dropped far away from home. She lands in the rose garden and makes friends with a magician and a mercenary who was summoned to work for the king." Grimm explaind

The story continued. The magician and mercenary protected the princess from a troll as they journeyed to see the king. The princess meets a magic cat that she kept. (no, this isn't Wizard of Oz) When they arrived at the Red Kingdom they were bombarded with rules and when the magician was asked to kneel before the king he refused. As punishment, the magician was sent to the dungeons. The princess was the only one not locked away so she frees her friends and challenges the king. The princess pleads with the king to see the dark spirit haunting and the gang banishes it. It ends happily when the king makes the boys knights and asks the princess to stay. She denied him so he told her about a neighboring kingdom that might help her get back home.

It was an extraordinary tale that Riddle knew by heart. Even if the details were changed. It didn't mention that Ace became the next "king" after Riddle graduated. Something Yuu complained about often after the power went to his head.

"That's quite the story. You must really like it." Riddle said hand it back to Grimm. "Do you have a character you like most?"

Grimm looked over to his mom be standing on his tip-toes and whispered into Riddle's ears.

"I like the princess."

"Really?" Riddle asked.

"I tried painting the flowers because she really likes red flowers like the princess. All the flowers turned white to red and the princess liked it." Grimm said proudly.

"I have an idea. I know a way to turn roses red. I could show you." He whispered back.

Grimm squealed in excitement and bounced on his fet as he turned to him mom.

"Can we play outside mama?"

Yuu pursed her lips indecisive of what to do next. She fought off the impulse to be suspicious. She trusted Riddle but did she trust him with her son. They hadn't seen each other in years after all.

She also wanted to be a selfish and keep him to herself. She hungered for the familiarity he brought back into her life.

But the warm gaze Riddle gave her settled her mind. She nodded in agreement and watched Grimm drag him away.

From the window Yuu watched as Riddle kneeled down next to Grimm. He had forgotten about trying to keep his suit clean as he pulled out his wand and handed it to Grimm.

Yuu immediately wanted to rush outside to stop him with every excuse as to why Grimm wasn't ready for magic but stopped herself. Grim wasn't her. He wasn't going to go through what she did.

Riddle taught Grimm how to hold the wand properly and asked him to imagine red roses in from of him. Grimm asked a million questions as Riddle calmly answered.

A good mother doesn't press her fears on her child. She wasn't going to traumatize him like she was. Riddle felt the same. He wasn't his mother and never pushed Grimm farther then needed.

A bit of wordless magic later the roses turned a brilliant ruby red.

"Mama! Mama look! Magic! We used magic" Grimm was in awe of this man.

Yuu cheered along when they returned inside knowing that Riddle did all the work.

"Don't you want to give them to the princess? You know that they are her favorites." Riddle smiled kindly.

"Princess? Mama?" Grimm looked to her with a questioning gaze before recognition lit up in his eyes.

Yuu felt her face burning so red that Riddle would be jealous. Which he wasn't but he couldn't help but think it was payback after all these years for her antics.

(This series might take a while to finish. I'm going to try to post more lengthy fics for characters)

Tag List:

@kamisatoaiko@professionalreblogs@kai200x@lianreine@loivre@jackalope08@code-roevember@growingupnrealizing@ryxmix@rainbowcake1212@blazestar0525@botswanasvetlana

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle #twisted wonderland riddle #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland grim #twst grim #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst divus #divus crewel

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serendipityandbenevolence · 1 year

Text

Tartaglia x Reader (gn) - SAGAU

Another day, another post! im praying that this one is easier to write than yesterdays because i spent nearly 2 hrs trying to write my 1k words. thankfully me and childe are besties (real, not clickbait) and he's also my main so i don't have to read about his personality for a hour on the genshin impact wiki.

Contains - childe being sickeningly in love with you and kinda soft (my boy is whipped) the other harbingers also lowkey hate him, also the yandere behavior makes him ooc so im sorry if hes acting a lil bit goofy, also this fic is a bit more funny and lighthearted then the other two, so let me know if you like this

The previous fic if you want context is here

And the Dottore version is here

So without further ado, I introduce you to...

"Tartaglia?"

The voices outside halt for just a second, before you hear scuffling and harsh but hushed whispers from a number of different voices. Maybe he wasn't there. After all, as the least senior of all the Harbingers, maybe he was not invited to whatever conversation they were having right beyond your door. You strained to listen, but although their voices seemed to be slowly getting louder and more irate, you could only catch tiny snippets of what they were saying.

"-not going-"

"If you-"

"SO HELP ME TARTAGLIA, IF YOU TAKE ONE MORE STEP TOWARDS THAT DOOR, I WILL PERSONALLY THROW YOU OUT-"

You flinched slightly at the sudden exclamation, which was abruptly cut off with some loud crashes and violent curses. As the noises didn't cease, you found yourself shoving off your layers of blankets and shakily getting to your feet. You were distantly aware that you probably shouldn't be moving around this much, considering how weak your body felt and the dull ache in the patched wound on your side, but you chose to ignore it in favor of investigating.

When you reached the door and nudged it open slightly, you were greeted with, not a hallway like you had presumed, but a fancy lounge area, the sort for receiving guests if you were a rich person and couldn't be bothered leaving your quarters. But more interesting than the décor was the two Harbingers fighting rather aggressively in the middle of the room and the other nine Harbingers watching on with various shades of amusement and disgust. They seemed totally oblivious to your presence, eyes trained on Arlecchino as she threw a chair at Tartaglia, before tackling him to the ground. You stood hesitantly in the doorway, not stupid enough to try and intervene, but also genuinely concerned for the safety of both of the Harbingers.

"Oh, Your Grace! What are you doing out of bed?"

You turned to the large group of Harbingers to find Sandrone staring at you with a rather worried expression. Her words caused everyone to stop and turn to you, even Arlecchino who appeared to be currently attempting to strangle Tartaglia. After a brief pause, Capitano turned back to two on the floor.

"See Tartaglia? Your childish actions have disturbed the Divine One. You are hardly fit for your title as Harbinger, causing such distress for our most beloved god."

"I'M DISTURBING THEM?! Arlecchino was the one who screamed at the top of her lungs with no care for Their Grace's slumber, why am I being blamed?"

Arlecchino paled slightly at this and stared at you with an uncharacteristically anxious expression.

"I didn't wake you up, right?"

You felt yourself sway slightly and grabbed onto the doorframe, embarrassed at how quickly your body seemed to be giving out on you.

"Oh no, not at all. I was already awake, I was just listening to you all discuss what's going on with the other nations. That's why I called for Tartaglia, I wanted to ask him some questions about what I missed while I was sleeping."

There was a slightly awkward pause as what you just said sank in.

"Wait, you actually called for Tartaglia? He wasn't hallucinating it? Or lying so he could go in and see you?" Arlecchino asked, an incredulous look covering her face as she got up off the floor.

"Yeah, I didn't mean to start a fight or anything but..."

Your vision blurred slightly and your knees buckled slightly as another wave of pain hit you. You heard a few worried murmurs from the Harbingers, but before they could do anything, you were swept off your feet and carried back into your room.

"Sorry about making you get out of bed for that. Are you feeling okay?" Tartaglia whispered gently as he cradled you in his arms, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Yeah I'm fine. I probably just need another nap, clearly I'm not as well healed as I thought."

He nodded at that, laying you down silently on your bed before grabbing at your blankets and laying them back over you.

"Sorry for causing you so much trouble, Ajax."

"Ajax?"

You hesitated, suddenly unsure of how he would react to his actual name. But he only smiled, with what seemed to be a slight blush covering his cheeks.

"I had no idea that you knew my real name! I mean, of course you do, but I just didn't think you would take much notice and-"

He paused, seemingly noticing your tired eyes.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I'll ramble another time. Please, if you so wish, call me Ajax."

"Perhaps not in front of the other Harbingers though. I wouldn't want to drag you into another spat." You whispered sleepily.

"Don't worry about that!" He grinned widely at you. "I can take them on, call me what you want."

He got up from beside you, with one last sentence before he left.

"Sweet dreams, Your Grace."

Glad to report that this one was a lot easier to write and I was actually giggling a little while picturing Arlecchino trying to beat Tartaglia. I might write Pierro's ending today, just because I have some time and I'm in a good writing mood. The order of the endings so far are Pierro, Capitano, Pantalone and Scaramouche. If you guys want to comment which of the women you want to go after Scaramouche, I'll add them to the list! (also no, I'm not writing Pulcinella)

#genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers

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nyoomfruits · 1 year

Note

i had to choose the clichéd prompt that's both the sweetest and the most hilarious 😚

"no more seats, guess i have to sit in your lap"

listen with the new press conference couch there really is only one way this could go lmao

From the moment they are introduced, Charles knows the press conference couches are going to be a pain in his ass. He can’t really explain it, but from the moment he sees them, he knows they’re a bad idea.

He’s proven right about three races in, when he shows up to the press conference to find hardly any available space for him to sit down.

“Uh,” he says, hovering at the arm of the couch, hoping someone will catch the hint and scoot over.

Someone does catch the hint. Unfortunately, that someone is Max, and even more unfortunately, his solution to the problem is to pull Charles into his lap.

Charles yelps, but there’s not stopping it, he’s already going down, and before he knows it he’s sitting on Max’s thighs, back pressed against Max’s chest. Max, the absolute demon that he is, wraps his arms around Charles’s waist and tucks his head over Charles shoulder like this is somehow a normal thing to do, as the rest of the couch and the reporters present dissolve into laughter.

Right, because this is funny. This is a joke. This is not. It’s not anything.

Eventually Max lets go of him, and the rest of the people on the couch scoot over so Charles can slide into the gap between Max and Pierre and desperately pretend like nothing happened. The couch is still a little on the small side which means Max’s thigh stays pressed against Charles’s for the rest of the press conference, making it hard for Charles to focus on anything else.

Here's the thing. He absolutely has a crush on Max Verstappen. He’s accepted that years ago at this point. But he’s also decided, years ago, not to do anything with that information. But Max is making it increasingly hard to do so. For a while, Charles tried to keep a distance. That didn’t really work. Then he tried leaning into it, seeing if that made it easier, maybe.

Turns out that just made it worse.

Max is talking to him now, gesturing animatedly and paying no mind whatsoever to the interviewer who is currently wrapping up the press conference, but Charles isn’t hearing a word he’s saying, still too focused on the feeling of his thigh pressing against Max’s.

The second the whole thing is done, Charles gets up off the couch and leaves the room, even though Max is still in the middle of his story and looks a bit confused at Charles’s actions. But he’s desperate to get away from Max, before he does something stupid, like lean into his touch or crawl back into his lap or kiss him.

“Charles?” Max asks, jogging after him. Charles tries to ignore him, but then there’s a hand on his shoulder and he’s physically being stopped, forced to turn around and face Max. “Hey, are you okay? Did I say something?”

“No,” Charles says. “No, you didn’t say something.” They’re in a mostly abandoned hallway of the press building, and this is probably not really the place to be having this conversation, with so many reporters crawling around, but fuck it.

Max frowns. “Is this about the lap thing? Because that was just a joke, I-“

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” Charles cuts in, feeling himself getting angry. “It’s all just some kind of fucking joke to you! Oh yeah, lets pull Charles into my lap, lets talk to Charles like all the time, lets pull him close in pictures and squeeze his neck and hug him like that because it’s funny! It’s a joke!”

“Uh,” Max says, clearly taken a back a little by Charles outburst. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

“Oh fuck you,” Charles says, and then lunges forward and kisses Max. It’s short, just a press of lips against lips, nothing more, before Charles pulls away again, glaring at Max. “That,” he says, heaving a little. “That’s what you’re missing.”

“Oh,” Max says, eyes wide. “Oh.” He repeats, more urgently, and this time it’s his turn to surge forward and kiss Charles.

Charles melts into the kiss, for just a second, lets himself have this pure moment of bliss, before once again pulling away. “Wait,” he says, placing his hands on Max’s chest to put some distance between them. “This is. Is this real?”

Max laughs, a little bashfully. “Yeah, Charles. This is real,” he says, and kisses him again.

This time. This time Charles lets him.

#drabble #lestappen #thank you for the prompt this was really fun to write !!!!

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zorilleerrant · 9 months

Text

"Is it okay?" Tim asks, "if I'm Robin?" He won't look at Bernard. He won't look anywhere but the wall, blank off white with nothing on it, gaze steady like he's trying to find every flaw in the paint.

"What does that even mean?" Bernard asks, crossing his arms. Uncrossing them. He's not sure how to sit, anymore, and maybe it's better that Tim steadfastly refuses to meet his gaze. Doing this almost but not quite face to face is easier. He still wants to get up and rummage through his pans and start cooking something.

Tim glances back in surprise, just for a second, just enough that Bernard can watch him look guilty before hiding his face again. "I'm. You know I'm Robin, right? I'm not just friends with him, I'm him. I thought you knew that." And Bernard wants to scream at the top of his lungs, because he doesn't know how many times they can do this song and dance.

So he says it, outright this time, just to be clear there aren't any misunderstandings. "Yeah, Timmy. A few too many superheroes on your boat for me not to notice. For, uh, maybe more than just me, I don't know. I think everyone might know." People were making comments, after the rescue. They were both a little too stressed to pay attention, but probably there was stuff in there about Tim and Robin. A few knowing winks, at least.

"I hope everyone doesn't know. What a mess." There's a long pause, and then Tim takes a deep breath, and scooches over to Bernard, and wraps him in a hug, going boneless against him and breathing against his neck. Bernard's never sure whether Tim is trying to smell his aftershave or just sighing at the closeness, but his breathing changes. "You'll let me do it? Be Robin, I mean."

"Let you? It's not my business," Bernard says, and when Tim tenses against him, amends it to, "I mean, obviously I care, and I worry and stuff, but I'm not in charge of whether you're Robin. Batman is, right? Or maybe he isn't, considering what everyone else gets up to." He relaxes when Tim starts laughing.

"I wanted to tell you," Tim says, quietly. And Bernard thinks did you? but doesn't say it, because he's being a supportive boyfriend, and that's kind of a bitchy thing to say in the middle of what might be a heart to heart if they can actually get to that part of it without one of them chickening out. "I didn't want to tell you. I don't know. I don't want to put you in danger."

"Babe, I walk around with arms full of knives trying not to touch burning things all day," Bernard says, adding nothing about the streets of Gotham. Tim has enough to worry about without reminding him it's never possible to keep everyone safe, that there's always something unpredictable around the next corner. "Yesterday I got hot sauce on my dick."

"You what?" Tim says, tensing again, but this time it's clear from his stuttering breaths that he's trying to hold in laughter. Which is rich, because Bernard saw what Robin was doing last night. Some enterprising Riddler goon uploaded video proof that the suit only comes with a soft cup, and Riddler's cane works well as a bludgeoning weapon. So it's not like Bernard was the only reason they weren't having sex yesterday.

"Sometimes," Bernard says, with a long suffering sigh, "you chop hot peppers, and you simmer the sauce, and it smells amazing, and then you have to pee. And you forget to wash your hands until after." He winces, of course, but he was already wincing at remembering the video, which is also kind of hard not to laugh at. It's an awkward feeling. Kind of like talking through the Robin thing.

"I can get you a comm," Tim says, curling into his chest, speaking just a little too softly to hear completely, but what he means is coming through loud and clear. Bernard strokes Tim's hair and rests a cheek against his back. Tim words reverberate against him. "You can listen in whenever you want. Make sure I'm safe."

#look i said something #my writing #batman #timber week 2023 #yes I am just writing these on the fly I'm working past my writer's block. it's going #this is for the identity reveal prompt but I'm not sure it fits entirely #just post series for tdr

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frozenjokes · 8 months

Text

Signing Back In, Apparently - 10

Prev/Next

I am so sick. but yay convex chapter. hope they kiss and get to be evil together

“Cleo! You didn’t tell me- can you also-?” Scar rushed forward and grabbed at their shoulder, but was promptly shaken off.

“I thought your reaction would be funny. I was right,” Cleo shrugged, shooing Scar further away, “Back on the wheel, boat boy, pay attention before we crash.” Scar yelped as he was shoved into the wheel. But there was absolutely no way he would be able to pay attention now.

“You can hear us?” Impulse pointed vaguely at himself before squinting to get a better look at the island, followed quickly by the rest of the ghosts. Well except maybe Mumbo, who declared he did not want to be here anymore before walking down the side of the boat and disappearing underwater. Grian followed him with an alarmed squawk. Always so dramatic, those two.

“Yup! This island is great , you guys are going to love it. It’s like ghost paradise. Probably? I mean, I think 90% of the ghosts there are certifiably insane, but they’re loving it. What are your names?”

“Oh, wow, it’s been awhile since I’ve had to introduce myself hasn’t it.. Well, I’m Impulse. The tall one who just went overboard is Mumbo, and the guy who followed him is Grian.”

“Pearl,” Pearl grunted, when Cleo looked her way, “Where are we going anyway? Clearly this involves us. What are you planning?” Her tone was accusatory as she stepped forward to tower over them. Cleo didn’t seem bothered at all.

“This is a gift! A ghost vacation, as Scar so aptly put it. Sausage is forcing him to be nicer to you guys, isn’t that sweet?”

“Alright, that’s enough, Cleo, you can navigate this better than me,” Scar left his station at the wheel, forcing Cleo to take his place and steer. He crouched near the edge, yelling into the water, “Mumbo! Grian! Get up here, will you?” Scar felt a chill over his back, turning to see Pearl standing over him. He scowled. “Did you just try and push me?”

“Wanted to know if I could touch you,” she deadpanned, looking extremely disappointed. Scar looked back just in time for Grian’s head to surface, flashing him what was probably meant to be a middle finger. Due to his disfigured water-hands, it was hard to tell. Mumbo surfaced next, looking quite resigned as he walked back onto the boat.

“Ay, why so down? I thought we had fun?” Scar mumbled, offering a small smile.

Mumbo closed his eyes. “Don’t.”

“Fine, fine,” Scar pulled back before Grian could lunge for him, settling at the sail, “Alright everyone, listen up. You’re here for some pirate mandated fun, and I’m here to be miserable and possibly die, which means all of you should be on board. Once we dock, you can go crazy, just stay the hell away from me. Enjoy it, because we aren’t coming back. Got it?” His answer was a resounding silence. “Perfect.”

“Inspiring,” Cleo rolled her eyes. “Well we’re here! Get ready to tie up the boat, Scar, the dock is pretty shit. Try not to fall through it.”

“Got it!” Scar grabbed the rope at the front end of the boat, leaping off as Cleo eased in next to the pier. It was weird hearing the ghosts talk amongst themselves. He tried to ignore it, a task made much easier when an anvil plummeted from the sky(?) and smashed directly next to him through the center of the dock. Battered by splinters, Scar fell back into the murky water with a scream. The water felt thick and warm, and he gasped as he surfaced.

“Cleo! What-?” Scar blinked in alarm as his hats began to float every which way, hurriedly wading around to gather them. Apparently, the ghosts were as shocked as he was given their silence, but Cleo didn’t seem fazed.

“Hey, Cub! Missed again! How long were you waiting here this time? Miss me that much?” Cleo stepped carefully onto the remaining edges of the dock, balancing until she could hop to shore.

“You brought someone new,” Cub, presumably, walked up to the water’s edge wearing a passive frown. He was short, wearing a lab coat that looked ever so slightly too big, but the detail that grabbed Scar’s attention the most was that he was a ghost. Maybe he.. should have assumed that one. He didn’t like the way Cub was looking at him.

“Yeah, and like four other ghosts, care to introduce yourself?”

“Nope.” Cub stepped into the water, reaching for the final hat. Scar snatched it away, but Cub’s expression didn’t change. Scar glared, but had a feeling this was a staring contest he wouldn’t win.

“Alright, Scar, have fun! Try not to touch anything!” Cleo waved.

“Hey- wait- how did you..” Pearl began, but Cleo gestured for her to join them on land.

“Someone else can show you, long story short, ghosts have a lot of power here. Let’s let Cub be, I’ve just given him a great gift.”

“You- you’re not leaving me are you?” Scar yelped, moving with great urgency from the water. The mud at his heels begged him to stay.

“Just let it happen, Scar,” Cleo waved.

“I am NOT-“

But Cleo put their fingers in their ears, yelling nonsense as she walked away into the fog. Pearl gave her an indecisive look, but quickly followed, dragging Impulse with her by the hand. Mumbo looked like he might stay, but Grian made sure to pull him away as well. Scar couldn’t escape the water fast enough to follow them, like the mud was working actively to pull him in the opposite direction. When he managed to scramble out and to the tree line, there was no sign of anyone through the fog.

“You won’t find them. The fog is confusing when it wants to be. And I want it to be. I can show you some pretty cool stuff though if you follow me.” Somehow, Scar wasn’t surprised to find Cub directly behind him.

“I am not following you. I have no interest in becoming part of your human taxidermy collection or whatever it is you do.”

“Taxidermy? No no, you’ve got me all wrong. I want a live specimen. And I certainly don’t have a collection, geez.”

“Live! You just tried to crush me with an anvil!”

“Well, maybe undead. The dead are easier to work with. In theory. I haven’t had the chance to test it on anyone, since no one ever visits except Cleo. Well, there was this one time I got to play around a bit, but Joe was watching, so I could only get a couple stitches in. I hope she gets horrifically injured again soon.”

“Stitches- are you talking about her face?”

“Yeah!” Cub’s intonation raised for the first time, and Scar couldn’t help but chuckle. “Now, let’s get out of here before Cleo tells Zedaph about you, he’ll have like a billion questions, and then the others will want to meet you and then they’ll get attached , it’s a whole thing.”

“Hm. Well I don’t like that.”

“Perfect, come on then,” Cub began walking into the fog, which Scar thought was rather arrogant, but he figured it might be better to keep an eye on him rather than just waiting to die. After all, Cub couldn’t touch him directly at least, so as long as he followed Cleo’s advice and didn’t touch anything..

Scar hurried after him, stumbling a bit over roots and mud patches that Cub could float over, “So visitors are pretty rare, huh? Human visitors?”

“Uh huh. Most sailors that try end up shipwrecked on the rocks,” Cub chuckled to himself, examining his own nails. Scar noticed with slight unease they were sharp. “We’ve had a couple ghosts join us that way. Though, it’s been awhile.”

“If you want bodies, why didn’t you just take them from the ships?”

“Oh, those have long rotted. The museum is a new venture, and I want someone fresh. Or, just alive I suppose. I’m not picky.”

“You know, Cub, I think you might have a marketing issue on your hands! No, no, this island is in crisis territory! Luckily, I’m an expert.”

“Oh?”

“You want bodies, right? Alive, dead, whatever, you want them. Well, I can make that happen for you, guaranteed. What’s the catch Scar? Nothing much, really, especially in exchange for my services. See, I’ve got a ghost problem. You saw them! When they’re happy, I’m happy, when they’re sad, my back hurts, so, as you can tell, not ideal.”

“I don’t have the power to cut ties between a ghost and the soul they’re bound to.”

“Ah, well then, I have a feeling I’ll be visiting again, and you won’t want me dead, no, no.”

“I don’t? Are you sure?” Cub turned, revealing a sly smile. Scar returned it with his own grin. This was his element.

“You need people now, and later, you’ll need other items that those ghostly hands of yours won’t have access to. There’s all sorts of things I could ferry back and forth for you. If I’m stuck here in an exhibit, especially when you could just as easily have someone else in a snap, I won’t be of any use. Well, besides looking pretty. But I guarantee I’ll draw more eyes with my other, wide range of skills.”

“I feel like a lot of this hinges on trust.”

“Well, sure, doesn’t everything? But I understand, I get it, why take a chance when the body you’re looking for is right in front of you?” Scar removed the hat at the top of the stack, presenting it to Cub in a dramatic bow, “These mean a lot to me. The hats of my old crew, my family, struck down in a storm on the wild sea. Consider it insurance. I will be back.” Scar recognized the twinkle of interest in Cub’s eyes as he tilted his head, reaching forward to touch it. His hand, maybe not surprisingly, fell through it.

“Hm. I’ll need my gloves for that.”

“So it’s a deal? You get my services, and I keep my life?”

“Not yet. I want to know how you plan on getting humans here.”

“Aha! Of course, of course. Now, as I was saying, this island has a marketing problem! The Haunted Island is possibly one of the worst names I’ve ever heard! I’m looking for something more.. exciting. And boy, you should know that I know my way around a rumor.”

“Alright, shoot. What should we call it then?”

“Hm, let me think. How about.. GHOSTS: A Trial in Terror. An Experience That Is Sure To Blow Your Fucking Socks Off! For short, Ghost Fucking Island. That’s what they’d put on maps at least, ideally.

“Haha, that’s awesome, man,” Cub stopped, hands in his pockets.

“You could call me an expert,” Scar puffed out his chest, placing his hat back in its place at the top of the stack. He didn’t see the wall before slamming into it, falling back with a yelp.

Cub snickered, “I never get tired of seeing humans do that. Bring a lantern or something next time, will you? Can’t appreciate the architecture if you can’t see a foot in front of your face.”

“Well I-“ Scar hurried to his feet, but stopped short as he followed Cub’s glowing form inside. Behind the massive front door was a dimly lit, but grand opening room, filled to the brim with all sorts of odd knickknacks. Scar might’ve stopped to read some of the labels, if he wasn’t so awed by how beautiful it was.

Cub smiled beside him, “Like what you see?”

“How did you do this? It-“ Scar broke off, leaning over to touch a table and then a picture frame, “It’s solid. How could you even move this stuff? You decorated, I assume?”

“There’s interactive exhibits if you insist on touching, otherwise, hands off,” Cub walked forward, far too fast for Scar to look at every little thing that caught his eye, but he wasn’t keen on falling behind, “This island works differently. The things that grow here, the rocks and minerals, and even the animals that are born here; all are solid to both ghosts and humans. That’s how we can build all this stuff. Only catch; some world ending disaster strikes the island every couple years or so and changes its form. So we start over. Build anew. Humans don’t like that, there’s a reason no one lives here. Besides the ghosts, of course.”

“Oh, wow. Mumbo and Impulse are going to have a field day with this. Grian too, maybe. Him and Pearl might just try and hit me in the head with a rock though,” Scar paused, taking another moment to look around, “This is amazing. Gosh, I’ll have to come back and see the outside! Light it up for me, will you?”

Cub chuckled, looking quite pleased, “Thank you. I’ve been collecting artifacts from our current.. season you could call it. I believe we’ll be nearing the end soon.”

“And you’ll lose everything?”

“Right. Don’t be too sad on my behalf, it’s always fun to start over. Come on, follow me. You can see the rest another time.” Cub bent down over a hatch near one of the walls, opening it to reveal a ladder leading down. How lovely and not sinister at all. Scar frowned, but he was in too deep now.

He wasn’t overly shocked to see a sterile looking lab space at the bottom, complete with fluorescent lights, dark countertops, and rolling silver tables. Just by being here, he was sure his chances of getting murdered and/or turned into some gruesome exhibit just increased tenfold. What a way to go.

“I thought you were into what I was selling,” Scar mumbled, examining the room for some sort of weapon. He had his sword, but that would pass straight through; not that any other weapon could do much to a ghost, but maybe Scar could at least slow him down.

“Oh, I still am,” Cub mused, sliding on an odd looking pair of gloves. Scar tensed as the ghost approached him, but Cub only plucked a hat off the top of his head. “Relax. Scar, right? I’m ready to make this deal, but I want one more thing from you. Sit.” Cub tapped one of the sterling tables. Scar didn’t move.

“I’d rather not.”

“Scar, if we’re going to be business partners, I’m going to need a little more. How much is your life worth to you, hm? I could live without, given what you’ve offered so far.”

“What else do you want, then?” Scar’s tone was flat. Wary.

Cub gestured vaguely with his head, turning to one of his shelves and gently pulling down a jar. Inside was.. Scar wasn��t really sure. It looked a lot like a ghost, but small and sharp, and quite angry. “This is a vex. They inhabit this island, although rare, and I’m quite fond of them. I’ve modified my body to fit some of their features, as you may have seen.” Cub tapped his clawed fingers on the glass, smiling with teeth for the first time. Sharp. Just lovely. “And this, with help of course,” Cub turned his back to Scar and unfurled small, spiked wings, seemingly from inside his lab coat. “Stitched to my back, right from the source.” Cub tapped the glass again, turning back around.

“You want to do that to me?” Scar breathed, feeling slightly ill.

“Not all of it today, unless you volunteer. I’ll be happy to work on you during future visits. I want to know what it will do to you, to combine the living and the dead. It might not work at all.” Cub set down the jar, sliding open the top and violently snatching the vex inside before tearing off its wings. His neutral expression didn’t fade.

“Is- is this going to kill me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That doesn’t fill me with very much confidence!”

“Well, you don’t have a choice. Besides, you’re the perfect subject! A bonafide conman with a silver tongue who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. I don’t see any reason why the vex wouldn’t take to you.” Cub held up the wings, dripping with.. something. The creature they came from writhed at the bottom of the jar.

“I don’t suppose this procedure includes any anesthesia or pain killers?”

Cub actually laughed, a reaction that was answer enough, “No. But if you promise to sit still, I won’t strap you down. Good enough?”

“Guess so.”

“Great. Now sit down and take off your shirt.”

#hermitcraft #pirates smp #hermitshipping #convex #goodtimeswithscar #grian #gtws #pearlecentmoon #impulsesv #mumbo jumbo #cubfan135 #zombiecleo #p!scar

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valkeakuulas · 1 year

Note

Fox/Thorn, 2, with relief?

Hi there! Hope this is to your liking. Also canon death, who? Not on my watch.

2. With relief

Thorn hissed when the ship landed on the platform, the smallest of jolts spreading fires of pain all over his chest. The edges of the oxygen mask dug into his skin bit tighter than they it supposed to but then again the evac from Scipio had been rather fast and messy, so Thorn felt lucky enough that he even was breathing still.

Besides, that particular discomfort was far easier to ignore than the mess that was Thorn's upper body.

Got more holes in me than the whole kriffing Rishi, Thorn thought a tad hysterically even as the hover-stretcher he had been placed started and lifted into the air.

The medics - Conduit and Flatline, Thorn had realised some time around hour four into the flight - jogged down the ramp, guiding the hover-stretcher between them, the noise of LAAT/is taking off nearby nearly drowning Conduit's bellow for people to make away.

The first and the most important rule: always listen to the medic, Thorn grinned to himself, listening to the sounds of troopers hastily moving aside as Conduit continued to test the maximum levels of his speakers.

Sheesh, so loud, Thorn winced, which had wincing again because, ouch, multiple holes in his chest. Wonder if the Kaminoans tweak with the lung-capacity of the medics just to make them loud enough - ?

Some kind of commotion brought the medics to a halt, which meant Thorn's stretcher also stopped moving. Conduit silenced mid-yell but when one medic got quiet, the other started speaking.

Thorn listened to Flatline's terse tone as they addressed whatever was the reason for the stop.

"We need to get moving, sir."

"I hear you, Flatline, I just need one second to - "

"One second. Sir."

Oh, there was only one person who would dare to face the wrath of Flatline or any other medic.

Opening his eyes, Thorn found himself staring blearily at the grey ceiling of a corridor, one of the many in the Guard Compound. He blinked, slowly, and tried to turn his head but it felt almost like an impossible task, the slightest of movements making him groan in pain.

Before Thorn could do more, the fuzzy edges of familiar red armor appeared in the corner of his eye seconds before Fox leaned over Thorn.

Blinking once, twice, Thorn managed to clear his vision enough to make out the details and almost immediately Thorn noticed just how haggard Fox looked.

The lines on Fox's face seemed deeper than they had been just a few cycles ago, and the circles beneath his eyes were dark enough to be declared as black holes.

"Hi," Thorn said rather stupidly, grimacing just how hoarse he sounded, "am back."

The ragged sound Fox made Thorn feel like an asshole. Yeah, he could've said something smarter than that.

He watched Fox close his eyes and take a deep, calming breath, before opening them again, glaring at Thorn with all his might. "Who the kriff gave you the permission to get shot?" Fox demanded but if his voice broke out as he spoke, no one was going to comment on that.

Thorn managed to grin wryly. "Was just doing my job, Fox."

"Your job's not being a kriffing idiot," Fox growled but despite the harsh words, there was nothing but pure relief in his eyes.

Fox lifted one of his hands, the gloved fingers trembling the tiniest bit as they traced Thorn's brow. The touch was feather light but it was enough for Fox's whole being to change, almost as if someone had cut off invisible strings that had been holding Thorn's lover up.

"Kriff, Thorn...," Fox swore silently and he leaned even closer, pressing his forehead into Thorn's temple.

"I'm sorry," Thorn murmured weakly.

"Five seconds," Flatline informed crisply, and Fox straightened his back, stepping away.

The hover-stretcher started moving again, and for a second surge of panic took over Thorn, not ready for Fox to leave him just yet.

"Fox," he croaked, desperate.

"It's alright," Fox assured Thorn as he started to walk beside the hover-stretcher and was quick to place a hand on Thorn's forearm. "Flatline won't kick me from your side until we reach the medbay, I promise that."

The said medic huffed but of it was lost beneath Conduit's voice, once again bellowing troopers to get out of the way.

Thorn felt the dread ease but still he kept his eyes on Fox the whole way to the medbay even as Fox's thumb start rubbing soothing circles on his forearm.

#Commander Fox #Commander Thorn #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #fanfiction #asks #nonbinariwankenobi #valkeakuulas writes AKA butchers English grammar #askbox writing prompts #clone shipping

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nervouslaughter05 · 9 months

Text

The Stars to Be Missed By a Lonely Moon Version 2: I'll crawl home to her

A/N: Those of you who voted on my Twitter and Tumblr many moons ago, here is the continuation to "The Stars to Comfort a Lonely Moon"! I am so excited to bring this to you-it was a joy to write! However, I will warn you, the vote of what kind of continuation this was going to be was split in half between happy and angsty soooooo...I did both...please don't be upset. Angst will be in the first version here, and the happy ending is in the second one (the one you're reading!). Also forewarning, there was no beta reader and I didn't proofread it very well considering my lack of sleep for the last couple months lol. Apologies for any grammatical errors or such. CW: aftermath of near death experience, some descriptions of injuries, angst WITH comfort Recommended listening is "Work Song" by Hozier. Socials: Art Insta: @timtoart05 Twitter: @Vegas719 Enjoy!

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I’ll crawl home to her

Death was something Simon no longer wanted to believe was the reality of the world.

He didn’t want to believe he was mortal-that the blood in his veins was one day going to run out in a crimson stream.

He didn’t want to think about the possibility that right when life had become something worth living for, it was being taken away from him.

He wanted to believe in a universe where he could live and breathe and love.

Love the stars surrounding the moon.

Love the way they twinkled and gleamed in the low light.

Love the comfort they brought in fits of loneliness.

Love her.

“-hear us.”

A voice?

No. That wasn’t possible. He was dead. He’d died in that field with Katelyn in his arms. He’d felt as the air left his lungs.

Hadn’t he?

“He’s wakin’ up!”

“Boys, I’ll be back.”

The voices were very clearly there and it was that of his teammates. But they hadn’t been on the mission-hadn’t even known about it. Laswell had sent him and Katelyn out in the dead of the night without even getting the authorization from Price, knowing he’d never let them go.

With considerable effort, Simon opens his eyes. He immediately has to narrow them back to slits, however, because the stark white of the hospital room he was in was harsh against his sensitive eyes. As he slowly comes to, his senses also return. The sterile smell of the room filters into his nose, a very sudden difference from the copper that had been coating his senses back in the field. He hadn’t been able to tell who’s blood it had been that was filling the air so intensely, but if he had to guess it was likely Katelyn’s.

Katelyn.

He sits up suddenly, wincing with a grunt as his head spins and his back screams in agony.

“Woah! Easy, Lt.”

He recognizes the voice as Johnny’s immediately, and doesn’t shy away from the hands steadying him against his back.

“Thank God you’re alright, mate,” Gaz says, and he also steadies Simon. “Had us worried.”

He wasn’t concerned about himself though–only her. Always her.

“Where’s Katelyn?” he asks, his core straining to keep him in the upright position. “What happened t’ her?”

“Ghost, ye need t’ lay down-”

Sharp panic was rising in his gut. “Where is she?”

Johnny opens his mouth to try to say something else, but the door to the hospital room opens. In walks a doctor and Price, who looked relieved to see him conscious. They step into the room and right as the door is about to close, another figure steps into the room.

“Laswell,” Ghost says as a way of greeting to her, voice cool.

“Lieutenant Riley,” she replies, voice level as she takes in his injured form.

That he had because of her.

“How are you feeling?”

Ghost scoffs at the question, wincing at how the action stirred the pain in his back. He can feel Price’s gaze, sharp as ever, on him at the motion. He realizes his mask was still off, likely for the doctors to examine him easier. However, it also left him very vulnerable and he didn’t exactly appreciate that.

“About as well as a man who nearly died can feel, ma’am.”

She has the humility to look the smallest bit sorry at that comment, and he is once again reminded of how Grizzly wasn’t here with him.

“Have the boys told you about Kate-”

“Staff Sergeant Ard,” he cuts in, voice betraying the animosity he felt. “Refer to her as Sergeant Ard or Petty Officer First Class Ard if you refer to me by Lieutenant Riley.”

He didn’t feel she had the right to refer to Katelyn by her given name after the hell she’d put them through. Logically, in the back of his mind, he knows that they both agreed to the mission willingly. However, that part of his brain had long gone quiet. It had been completely mute ever since he’d crawled to her prone body in the grass.

Laswell takes the interruption in stride. “Have the boys told you about Staff Sergeant Ard?”

“No, not yet.”

She looks to Price now, as if seeking permission.

It makes that ugly thing in his chest curl its lip and snarl.

The fact she was seeking permission from his captain now after she’d sent him and Katelyn into a hot zone without it was maddening.

“I’ll relay the news,” Price replies, voice low and the lieutenant can tell what he’d just thought isn’t too far from the mind of his captain. “I believe you mentioned having a debrief to get to?”

Laswell nods her head in farewell, and exits the room without receiving anything back from the other three members of the 141.

When the door closes, the attention returns to him. Ghost suddenly wishes Laswell was still in the room to avoid the piercing gazes of the three other men in the room. He pushes through, knowing he needed to deal with it to be able to find out where Katelyn was being held. Why she wasn’t in the same room as him was confusing considering they had been on the same mission, but he doesn’t let that deter him.

“Where is she?” he asks, slowly moving to sit more upright.

“Ghost,” Price says carefully, still standing away from his bed, unlike Gaz and Johnny who flanked him on either side. “When the two of you came in she was in critical condition. Hardly breathin’ at all. She’d lost so much blood that it was a miracle she made it back to the base alive.”

The ugly thing in his chest begins to stir again, shifting about in irritation.

“The doctors operated on her for nearly eight hours, trying to repair the damage to her internal organs and back. The bullet nearly severed her spinal cord.”

Dread began to unfurl in his gut, spilling up into his throat as it began to close.

“She’s down the hall,” his captain tells him, voice somber. “However-”

Ghost doesn’t hear anything else. Cotton and rushing water fills his ears, drowning out every other sound. Without comprehending the pain his body was in–it was mostly gone thanks to the painkillers anyways–he was up and out of the bed. The door slamming against the wall from the force with which he shoved it open was a dull thump in his ears.

He had to see his Grizzly. He had to see his Katelyn. He had to see his stars.

Even if the light was gone from them for good.

There was hardly any medical personnel in the hallway, a singular nurse ducking into a room housing another patient. Ghost scans the labels on the doors, searching for any indication of where she was. He barely manages to catch it and immediately turns on the door, pushing it open with as much force as what he used on the door for his own room.

There, on the bed, was Grizzly.

His throat closes at the sight of her, beautiful even in her motionless state. She looked peaceful, his Katelyn, despite the different tubes connected to her and the wires attached to the heart monitor beeping steadily-

Wait.

In the seconds Ghost had stood in her room taking her in, the woman stirred. With a groan she opened one eye, the other flying open at the sight of him. He probably looked a right mess, the lack of his mask leaving his black smeared eyes and tousled hair in full view.

He moves on instinct, collapsing onto the bed and pulling her close.

She presses into him, hands clutching at his shirt.

He tugs her closer by his hold around her waist, tucking her into his chest.

“Simon,” she breathes, her lips so agonizingly close to his own. “Oh Simon.”

“Katelyn,” he replies, closing the distance between them.

Despite any fatigue or pain either of them should be feeling, they come together fiercely. One of his hands was on the back of her head as they kissed, the other around her lower back. Her arms were thrown around his neck and she held him like a lifeline.

There's a thump and a gasp from the hallway, but neither of them pay it much attention since whoever had been surprised didn't intrude. Simon would later find himself thanking Price for moving Johnny away from the room before he could shout out something. For now, however, the two of them press close into one another with every ounce of passion they could.

“My Katelyn,” he growls into the kiss. “Death can’t have you.”

She presses into him, responding in kind. “Never. Only you can have me.”

Calming down a bit after seeing one another again for the first time in only God knows how long–Simon suspected the two of them had both been in some sort of coma state–the kiss begins to slow. The previous urgency was gone, being replaced with a desire to just feel one another. Simon was convinced this was some sort of cruel dream fate had decided he was to have, and that he’d wake up and hear the words “She’s gone”.

But he doesn’t wake up, and the words never come.

Instead, he’s here with her in this small med ward bed hardly big enough to fit the two of them.

He couldn’t ask for anything better honestly.

Simon pulls back a bit, receiving her peck to his crooked nose with a soft chuckle. He shifts in the bed, situating himself against the backrest with her nestled into his side. She curls into his form, a soft sigh leaving her lips.

One hand grasping his, she pulls herself up a little more, the other slipping to his cheek and leaning her forehead against his own. He supports the back of her head gently, breathing in the same air as her. She scoots closer, and he tucks her into his chest.

—-------------

Meeting her family was nerve wracking to say the least.

Ghost had already met her father before–they’d holed up in his place in Alaska at one point–but he’d never met her mother or any of her brothers. Her mother was an…interesting woman to say the least. She came draped on the arm of her new husband–he found out from Katelyn they’d gotten married less than a year after her parents had divorced nearly fifteen years prior–and was instantly bombarding him with questions about how he treated Katelyn and when they were going to settle down and when was the baby going to be born and-

“Mother,” Katelyn ground out, voice strangled. “A baby isn’t in the picture yet. Calm down.”

She had simply shrugged and wandered off with her husband.

The brothers were an amusing bunch, all except for the youngest, Andrew, reminding him heavily of Soap. Watching her interact with the eldest, Caleb was sweet, reminding him of how he and Tommy used to be together. The twins brought down hell wherever they went, and Ghost found himself very quickly being brought amusement from their antics. Caleb’s daughter, Sadie, took a liking to Ghost very quickly. If she wasn’t in the arms of her mother or Katelyn, she insisted on being on him somehow.

It was like she was a squirrel and Ghost a tree she felt the intense need to climb all the time.

She made him think of his little nephew, and having her around made things ten times easier.

She didn’t question the scars, poking them once and then focusing on his tattoos with awe. Sadie had insisted on coloring them in, making Katelyn laugh so loudly he couldn’t do anything but oblige. He’d do anything for that woman’s smile and laugh.

Later that night, they stood on the balcony of the big home her father had obtained for the boys, themselves, and him to stay in for the next week and a half. Overlooking the beautiful Alaskan woods, Simon stood beside Katelyn with his arm around her waist. She leans into him, sighing happily.

“I told you,” she says out of the blue.

He looks down at her. “Hm?”

“The moon and stars-they can’t be separated.”

Simon grins down at her and then looks up at the night sky, watching the stars and the moon twinkling together.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I guess you’re right.”

The darkness surrounds them, folding around them as a blanket of night.

He has no need to fear it–not anymore–not with her beside him.

It’s a welcome thing, and whenever the time arises for death to try and separate the moon from the stars again, there will be hell to pay.

#original work #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost call of duty #i love simon riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #original character #kyle gaz garrick #john price #cod fanfic #fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort #fluffy #fluff

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icharchivist · 2 months

Note

Sorry, but I fell in love with the "Seofon gets sick and refuses to tell anyone" prompt, so um. Sorry about the askbox

It starts with a cough. The other Eternals are concerned, minus maybe Feower who tells him not to spread diseases, but Seofon insists that he’s fine, this just happens sometimes and he’ll be good as new after some sleep.

It does not get better. Unfortunately, he keeps going on missions, despite the coughing gradually getting worse. Worse than that though is that he’s still absolutely performing, easily finishing off whatever foes come his way. He also refuses to have Fif called to help, asking the others to please not bother her with something so trivial, he’s fine, he’s got this.

The coughing gets worse. At one point an opponent he’s fighting literally stops and asks “Hey man, that doesn’t sound too good, should you be doing this? Like, I appreciate the attention from an Eternal, but seriously” and again Seofon is all “No, it’s totally fine, ha ha, don’t even worry about it” and takes them out and again drags himself back to HQ with aching limbs and looking like death warmed over. Anre and some of the others start pushing for him to stay back, to relax, if he won’t see a doctor at least let them handle his missions, but he insists that he’s fine and he’s stubborn, so there’s little point in trying to force him. Even Siero is starting to make a face when he shows up and tries to give him easier jobs that he can quickly finish so he doesn't overexert himself too much.

He keeps trying so hard to project that he’s fine, he’s acting like everything is good and only occasionally excuses himself during conversations to go to a different room to cough his lungs out like nobody can hear it and then returns and tries to keep going, even though his vocal chords are absolutely fried. It’s just all around painful to watch.

One day Niyon informs him that his constant coughing throughout the night kept her up and she’s not a doctor but she’s pretty sure she can hear something rattling in his lungs every time he takes a breath and he’s like “Okay, but you are not a doctor, so. Could be nothing”, but since he doesn’t want her to hear him struggle to bother her like this, he packs his bag to leave for god knows where so nobody can watch him slowly drive himself to ruin, but thankfully they called for Fif a week ago and she bursts through the door just in time, crying, yelling at him for being an idiot and how could he worry her and everyone else like this while fixing him up and then the entire crew tears into him for being reckless. He’s just a bit too distracted by the joy of having all Eternals in one place and thus doesn’t pay a lot of attention to what they’re yelling at him for. But he’s getting there. They’re beating it into him.

oh my GODDDD THANKYOU FOR THIS

i couldn't help but laugh at how he tries to brush it off, "nah i got this" - says man who hasn't got this.

his response to Niyon drives me into hysterics. He's such a trainwreck. Please listen to others.

and then by the end he doesn't even process the warnings because all the Eternals are here so he's just happy about it? he's such a mess. I love it. I love him.

thank you so much for this mini fic i can't believe how blessed we are to have you

thank you omg

#ichareply #ichafantalks gbf #anonymous

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clubwnderland · 10 months

Note

but also iris 💀

Warning: non-canon death

Pairing: Irene + Chris @moonlightchn

Some wounds never heal, this is something he's will learn the hard way as Chris finds himself caught up in another fight, exchanging blow for blow until he drops to the ground. He spits out blood, grinning as he lifts his head up to look at his opponent defiantly. "That all you got?"

Irene had asked, begged really, for Chris to stop picking fights. He doesn't heal as fast as Chan does, she couldn't handle him coming home black and blue from some bar fight he got into. He's been stabbed, ganged up on, had broken ribs, nose, bruised knuckles, everything really and even though Irene begged - he kept doing it anyway.

Little does he know that this would be his last time.

Word gets around eventually, a man constantly picking fights and being thrown out of bars that criminals and bikers go to will eventually catch the wrong sort of attention. Attention that doesn't only endanger himself but those he loves.

If only he listened.

"Kitten?" Chris walks into their home at some ungodly hour of the morning, the sun barely beginning to peek over the horizon to introduce the new day and Chris knows that something isn't right. There's a scent he doesn't recognise, the house is silent, the pets nowhere to be seen or heard and Irene.. even if she is mad at him, she'd still awaken hearing his key in the door.

"Finally," a deep voice says when Chris walks into view and sees a group of men in the living room, one holding a blade to Irene's throat while the others stand around with their guns pointed at both her and Chris. "You're a hard wolf to track down, Chris."

He doesn't recognise the man, someone he's probably pissed off in the past. "What do you want?" His eyes fall to the blade, relaxing a little when he realises it's not angel steel but not that much as he registers it as silver. "How did-"

"Patience, research and hoping that you'd step foot into the wrong bar." The man chuckles and grins as he puts more pressure on the blade, "your girlfriend here put up a good fight, took out a few of my men before we managed to bind her. Seems she's just like any other angel when it comes to celestial restraints." There's a low growl that emits from Chris' chest as he slides the blade along as if to imitate killing her.

And while every other villain in a story might ramble off their tale of revenge - it seems that this one knows how to kill a hero.

Several shots are fired before Chris even manages to take a step, to lunge, each bullet made from silver and mistletoe and stopping the wolf dead in his tracks. Irene screams, struggling against the restraints and cursing the men who hold her captive.

"Let me go, let me- let me get to him." They laugh as they watch Chris try and crawl over, still looking like he could kill them. "M-my love, my wolf, Chris- CHRIS!"

His body struggles to move as he inches closer, slowly but one final gunshot stops him in his tracks. Permanently.

"Well," the man chuckles, smug from victory, "that was anti-climatic. All these years and he was easier to take down that I thought." The man looks at Irene, her eyes filled with spite and murder, "guess we'll be seeing you around." They take their leave, leaving Irene chained to the chair with Chris bleeding out on the floor, making Irene watch her love die simply because a human couldn't let go of some years-old grudge.

Irene cries, wrists bleeding from her struggles, slowly freeing herself but by the time she gets to Chris - it's too late. "I'm sorry, my love... I-I-" She cries, holding him close and playing with his hair in the way he loved. "Don't go... please... stay with me... you promised... you promised you'd never leave without me again..." She begs, begs his departed soul to come back to her, clinging so desperately onto something she knows won't happen. "I love you, Chris, you knew that from the start... we were always meant to be... I'll find you again, my wolf... I will..." She mourns him, cries for him, hoping his soul would be taken somewhere peaceful and as each moment passes, her sitting there, holding her dead wolf in her arms, Irene comes closer and closer to a decision she never thought she'd make - breaking her own rules.

Getting revenge on the humans who took him from her.

#ask: irene #my wolf 🐺#non-canon #[ask game]

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hopeled · 2 years

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in the mourning--

warning: fgo 6.5:traum spoilers mentioned no i’m not okay thanks for asking

there’s someone you can’t trust on that ship.

she hadn’t wanted to listen to such a warning. how could there be someone who would betray them? after all they went through together, how could a single one of them be working with the enemy? it wasn’t an impossible thing, but a possibility that Ritsuka refused to entertain. no matter how foolish it might have been.....she trusted her team. she trusted those within Chaldea and always would. no warning could ever stop that.

and then the truth came out. it was nothing she could have ever anticipated nor prepared for. because Goetia had been right but he had also been wrong.

it is because we, Chaldea, will triumph.

“...you were wrong. “

Sherlock believed in them. he genuinely and truly believed in them to win, to come out the victor in the end. he wasn’t trying to play them. he hadn’t lied to them. he hadn’t been fooling them from the start. she had never been wrong in trusting him, no matter what anyone said or thought. her belief never faltered. how could it? he was their friend, their ally. and, just like everyone that came before him, he did what he had to in order to give Chaldea the chance they needed to win. a victory he had full faith in them achieving, for how else could he have smiled so easily in those last few moments? he defied his Master. at the most important moment, he defied his purpose.

Farewell to all my dear and wonderful friends.

the breath she releases is a shaky one, rushed by her lungs crying out for air. her vision is blurred, nothing in sight except hazy shapes and bursts of greens & browns blending together. these are tears. they rise and slip over the curve of her cheeks without restraint and without thought, dripping of their own will. like every fresh loss, her heart bleeds anew. sacrifice was necessary and inevitable with their mission, but it made none of it easier. and it was different-- this wasn’t just someone met inside a Singularity or Lostbelt. Sherlock...he had been with them since the conclusion of the Grand Order. he had been there through each Lostbelt, willingly putting himself in danger numerous times. he was a friend and losing a friend is never easy. it will never be easy for her.

it will never be something she could ever get used to.

a sharp intake of breath follows, the only sound that is covered by the rustling of leeves in the summer wind. shaky hands rise to her face, as if to stifle the noise but that is not the intention. here, nobody could hear her. more tears flow, unrelenting and unashamed as the hot liquid trickles down her hands. messed bangs stick to her cheeks from the wetness, but she can’t bring herself to care to wipe them away.

it hurts. like with Romani, da Vinci and Musashi-- it’s the exact same kind of pain that winds around her heart without mercy. even if he came back, it would do nothing to ease it. it would not change what had happened. and it would not be the same Holmes. knees are pulled tight against her chest, one arm curling around them as the mage lets her weight be supported by the harsh bark of the tree. she’s tired. she’s tired of losing people. she’s tired about much, but right now, it is this that brings forth the weariness. she carries the memory of so much loss with her and though Ritsuka knows she should put it down-- how can she? she cannot tarnish their memory like this. she cannot let them fade and be forgotten. but she is so damn tired because of it, angry that it keeps happening like this. angry that she’s kept in the dark until the last moment. but what can she direct that anger to? what can she use it for? here-- nothing. she has no choice but to hold onto it. there is nowhere to set it down, and so, it stays. (like a creature of the shadows, it sits and waits and grows.)

she’ll be fine later. she knows she will be. it is how it always goes: she mourns, she grieves, in her way. she lets the feelings wash over when she is alone, letting them toss her about like a rickety boat on the ocean. she lets the pain and anger and grief flow as they are intended to (always felt so intensely, so vividly) and then, she’ll get up. she’ll continue on as always. she’ll go back to her life with a heart that’s a little more weary, a little more torn, but still beating.

and she’ll survive.

but, for now...for now she is neither the Master of Chaldea nor the one who stands against gods. she is not Fujimaru Ritsuka, one of humanity’s last. no, she is just a regular human being, a woman with no titles and responsibilities, handling another loss the only way she knows how.

she stays. in the woods of Cotes, as the sun sets beneath the horizon, she stays. the dying light of ambers and golds trek across her person, leaving shadows in its wake as the evening gives way into the night and the only thing she can feel is the bark against her back and the earth beneath her hands.

#drabble tbt.#FGO SPOILERS #i'm so fine right now #i'm so fucking normal #i am on my damn hinges i PROMISE #anyways i updated my canon point and will make a post but i drop this first

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lightsshadowsandall · 5 days

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Awake.

"I was so desperate to be understood that I would grab people and shove them inside my heart- where they stuck out like splinters, and it would hurt every time I felt anything." --Eliot Knight

You know those nightmares where you're in danger and try screaming at the top of your lungs for help and nothing comes out? Or maybe it's muffled and distorted, and the more desperate and scared you feel the harder it is to get any sound out so you try harder, just eager for someone, anyone to understand the peril that you're in. But no matter how hard you try nothing comes out and what does doesn't make any sense. Now imagine that feeling but your eyes are open and the danger you're facing is your heart bleeding out but no one hears or understands your agony. Imagine though that your words aren't distorted, they're clear and concise and all you want is someone to say 'I hear you, I understand you.' You'll even settle for someone to just sit with you while clean up the mess but all you want is that understanding that while you're flawed and difficult, you matter; your words, thoughts, feelings, wants, needs and very being matter. Because they do and they always will regardless of people's ability to recognize that fact.

I've spent my life ready to not be heard or understood (which is a double edged sword in itself because that's also all I've ever wanted from people) because let's be real here, most people won't try to hear or understand you because they don't know how. And I get it, it can be hard to sit with the fact that we as people sometimes miss the mark and hurt others or affect them in a negative way so it's easier to shift into a defensive mode because it protects the ego. But it was only recently that I had the epiphany that other's inability to empathize has nothing to do with the validity of my feelings and experiences. There's no need to fight for the right to feel my feelings. The fact that I feel them is more validation that I'll ever receive. There's no need to explain ANYTHING to anyone who doesn't want hear me; their self induced emotional deafness isn't my cross to bear; it's their's and their's alone.

Life is too short and precious and I'm scared to look back and see that I wasted it begging to be seen. So I've reached a point where I don't care to be understood, I don't care to beg people to hear me. I just want to exist; whatever that looks like. Some days it's me being free, laughing and smiling. Other days it's me living in my head being reserved and to myself. And then on those heavy days, it's me just breathing and existing that gets me through. But fighting to be heard by people who are more determined to protect their ego than they are to actually listen to what I say isn't how I want to live this short life.

So those that want to understand and be understood, this is for you. We are awake and there's no more need to scream into the void. We are here and we matter; our light, shadows and all.

#words

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zoom-recording-studio · 2 years

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THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO IMPROVING VOCAL CONTROL

You can sing songs well and with more confidence. However, at some point in time, aspiring singers may feel that they aren't improving as quickly even though they are still practising. You sense that something is missing, but you are unable to identify what it might be.

Let me help you. It is your vocal control.

Vocal control is the most fundamental aspect of singing and mastering vocal control is not an easy task. However, to take your music career to the next level, you need to improve your vocal control. This article is a complete guide that will tell you about what vocal control means and how you can improve it.

Let's move...

What is vocal control?

As a singer, you must be aware of the term vocal control and how fundamental it is for singing. However, this concept is not universally the same for all artists. It differs slightly from artist to artist.

Unlike the flute, guitar, or trumpet, the voice is one instrument that you can't touch or see. In addition, you hear your voice differently than others.

Vocal control does not refer to a single aspect of singing but rather to a collection of them. Many techniques complement each other in singing, and vocal control is no exception. Instead of just practising breathing for singing, singing in tune, or singing in a mixed voice, vocal control encompasses everything.

So how do you improve it? To gain vocal control, you need to work with singing techniques that help you use every part of your voice.

How to improve vocal control?

The most important aspect of improving vocal control is learning to listen to yourself while singing and adjusting yourself if you know you can make a better sound.

After some time, you will find that this becomes natural to you. It's easier to do if you know the music well, so make sure you understand the song you're singing. Memorise the music first so that your brain does not get distracted by trying to figure out what you have to sing.

Control your breath: You can gain vocal control first by breathing and adjusting the speed and concentration with which it is released through the mouth and nose. Higher voices use a combination of chest, nose, and head depending on range, whereas lower voices use the chest much more. Get a good understanding of your range and parts of your body used to produce sound.

Breathe deeply and slowly: Even if the song doesn't require it, breathe deeply and slowly so you have enough oxygen for each phrase of the song. The more air your lungs can hold, the stronger the foundation for a good sound. With time and practice, you will understand and learn how to breathe more deeply and more quickly without causing any harm.

Open up voice box and throat: The voice box and throat should also be opened up to allow more air to pass through the trachea at a slower rate. Keep your neck and shoulders relaxed and your head in a natural in-lined position. This allows you to open your throat easily. In addition, you can fake yawning by pulling your tongue back as you breathe in. You should feel a cold sensation on the back of your throat, similar to how you feel before you yawn!

Allow air passage at a consistent rate: For voice control, allow air to pass through your throat at a slower and more consistent rate. Observe when you sneeze, you tend to breathe slowly at first, but the nose and mouth cause the air to come out extremely quickly. Because your lungs/diaphragm and nose/mouth work differently, avoid forcing the sound out through your nose and mouth too quickly. This can happen even if you breathe in slowly and deliberately.

Learn to sing wordless notes: Sing wordless notes, starting loud and moving to soft. Try to increase the sound as gradually and steadily as you can. Then repeat, switching from loud to soft this time. Make an effort to become as silent as you can without losing sound. Use various vocal ranges because some will be more powerful and comfortable than others.

Try to work on other techniques, such as articulation or vocal placement, as your vocal control gets better. Applying your newly acquired vocal control to whole songs will help it develop in a situation other than isolation.

Monitoring your progress is an essential aspect

While you are working on your vocal control, it is imperative that you monitor your progress from time to time. You can do this in many ways. However, we recommend you the two easiest and most accessible ways.

1. Listen to yourself

While you record, you are not able to hear exactly how you sound. So, recording and then hearing yourself is a better way. At first, you may find your sound quite brutal as your microphone picks up every nuance of the voice. But once you get used to it, you'll discover it's a helpful tool.

2. Get feedback

Ask for opinions from others, including friends, family, and your singing instructor if you have one. But be ready to get different kinds of feedback depending upon whom you ask.

Once you have gained voice control, it builds up the confidence that helps you to give better performance. Performing can often be uncomfortable, but having better vocal control will help you be more enduring. How your vocal cords feel as you produce individual or strings of notes, as well as how at ease they feel at the end of a performance, are things to consider.

Conclusion

Vocal control is something that all aspiring singers should learn because it can help you grow as a singer. Several exercises can help you to have more control over the sound, stamina, and versatility of your voice. After that, you can assist in keeping track of your progress by providing feedback, hearing your voice in recordings, and enhancing your performances.

ZOOM Recording Studio, a professional recording studio with its state-of-the-art facility and experienced and talented sound engineers, provides various music-related services. We also give tips to help you as an artist. To know more about music and its nuances, stay tuned with us.

Resource: https://zoomrecordingstudio.com/blog/music-theory/the-complete-guide-to-improving-vocal-control/

24 hour recording studio, music recording studio, audio recording studio, music production studio, rap recording studio in los angeles, professional music studio, music studios in los angeles, recording studios in hollywood,

#24 hour recording studio #music recording studio #audio recording studio #music production studio #rap recording studio in los angeles #professional music studio #music studios in los angeles #recording studios in hollywood

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rhinojulie · 2 years

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Cringy stories of unconfidence and where my newfound confidence came from...

I decided to share stuff more openly on social media in 2020. I made a cringy video and edited my spaces and ums out.

I didn’t keep up with it very well.

But little by little it got easier and easier to do.

This blog is about how to get more confidence and where it comes from.

***I would watch the video instead of read the blog…it’s more fun with some extra stuff…but some of you are readers and not watchers or listeners so I honor you with this written version that were just my notes for the video****

Yep, you guessed it, I’m about to share where I am now and then I’m going to share some super cringy examples of where I used to be.

But first…why do we care so gosh darn much about what people think????? Well, it’s because in the ‘olden’ days we would have been thrown out of our wandering tribe into the wilderness to be eaten by a bear if we didn’t fit in. And our thousands of years old brain has us programmed to fit in for survival.

Okay, now that we have that settled, back to the confidence topic.

Where I am now:

“I wish I had your confidence!”

I hear that a lot.

My boyfriend says I’m the most confident person he’s ever met. And he’s a musician.

Where I was then:

I used to eat lunch in the middle school bathroom because trying to fit in was so agonizing. I knew some nice girls but I always felt like they knew things I didn’t, knew how to act, knew what was cool, knew what to say.

I was so nervous before the first bootcamp I taught in the parks that I couldn’t eat or sleep.

I agonized over every little thing, replaying how the class went in my head and the things I should have done better.

When I started the first Henderson location, I put fliers on doors and got 12 women to sign up.

This was the first time I was going to have all of them show up at once. Before, I would have one or two trickle in to ‘try it’ but then they would leave so it was mostly my friends and family who weren’t paying.

This was different. They were paying $200 a month.

I was trying to figure out how I should treat them, how I should start the class and how I should end the class.

Mom said her aerobics instructor hugged everyone.

So I started by hugging everyone and being ridiculously cheerful and upbeat.

But that wasn’t me.

I mean, I like hugging people, but this was called ‘BOOTCAMP’ not Hug Camp.

So the next day I left the hugs at home and started the class with a hardcore set of rules for the class.

And we ended it bringing our sweaty hands in and yelling ‘BOOTCAMP TOUGH’ at the top of our lungs.

Much better.

Now let’s talk about dating.

Before, I would change myself to be more ‘likable’ for whoever I was with.

I would also cook, clean (okay, I’m not much of a cleaner but better than most dudes), and ‘serve’ them like the woman most of us were brought up to be.

I would pride myself on never arguing with them and always taking care of them.

Then I would break up with them because you can’t live that life for very long, you know?

With Denny I am 100% myself at home.

And it’s funny how often I CHOOSE to do things for him, but he doesn’t expect it.

We cook our own food, we do our own laundry, we are independent of one another but best buds.

And because I’m being myself in my relationship, I am flourishing in all the other parts of my life.

I never think ‘I should do x,y or z so he doesn’t want to leave me.’

Which is what I used to think until I got tired of it and then I would leave them.

I have some VERY humbling stories from when I was in pretty bad relationships that I will share with my mastermind if anyone needs to feel better about these things (LOL)

“Okay, okay Rhino, but what do we do to get more confidence?”

Well, you know I’m gonna tell you that it starts with loving yourself. Which is something we work super hard on in my Mastermind. And I have a lot of podcast episodes about it, too.

But don’t worry, there’s another way.

Because for me, loving myself took 33 years LOL. And you might want to go out of your comfort zone and do something cool NOW, not years from now.

The other way to get confidence is through repetition.

It’s by taking a tiny step that is uncomfortable and doing it again and again until it becomes comfortable and then taking a further step.

It’s just like learning to ride a bike or learning to drive or learning a new job. It’s tough at first, but then to quote my Grandpa, ‘Everything is easy when you know how.’

With writing, making podcasts, making videos, speaking, starting a new business…just take the first step knowing that it will get easier and easier.

Meanwhile, know that your subconscious is fighting you the entire way.

Because it’s trying to keep us safe.

Historically, new things could mean danger or death.

So whenever those thoughts come up that try to keep you from your new thing you are trying…ask yourself ‘is that true?’ ‘What is a truer thought?’

For example… you want to start a new business. Or you want to start putting yourself out there and making more content for your current business.

But something keeps stopping you.

Journal out the thoughts that come up.

Thoughts could be:

“I’m afraid my friends will laugh at me”

“I’m afraid I will fail”

“I’m afraid my idea isn’t as good as I think it is”

Then…ask yourself, ‘what’s a truer thought?’

“My friends will support me. “

“The only people whose opinions matter are the ones I’m helping with my new idea/content.”

“I do not fail, I only learn and grow.”

“I will try and learn from what I try so I can try again.”

“I love my idea, and it helped me. I’ll find more people who need my idea.”

These new thoughts become your ‘mantras’

They get written on sticky notes and places on a mirror.

Maybe you turn them into a little ditty you sing to yourself.

Personally, I just go through my thoughts every morning and make new thoughts. And if the same thoughts keep cropping up, I might make a sticky note or two.

What are your new thoughts?

Check out this episode!

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xstephaniebrown · 2 years

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Once upon a time in Wallachia

Hello everyone! I am glad that you are liking my drawings and fanfics.

Here I bring you something original and I would love to know your opinions, since it is the fragment of a novel in which I am working.

For her age, Yuna had extensive experience killing rampaging vampires. However, most of them were inexperienced neophytes, so confused by thirst that they used to behave just like a wild animal.

The vampire before her was wild and strong, yes, but also very smart. His eyes never left her and her weapons; the way he moved betrayed previous training, maybe even military, and the fact that he had the build of a building didn't make things any easier for her.

“Have you thought better of it?” Asked the blond with a strong russian accent, although his smile made him think that it was too late to run.

Yuna tightened her grip on the sword and lunged at him, hoping that with his size, the vampire wouldn't be so fast. She didn't manage to stab him as she had planned but she heard him hiss as the sharp silver blade passed across his cheek. It confirmed that their fighting styles were very different when he tried to catch her and she slipped behind him. He wasn't slow, but he was pretty stiff, and she would be safe as long as she didn't let him catch her.

“You little whore.” Iván growled when Yuna managed to cut the tendons of his ankle, leaving him on his knees on the ground. “So you are a student of the samurai.”

Yuna could not hide her surprise, which cost her dearly. The regeneration time of a pureblood vampire was minuscule, and for someone like Ivan, for whom pain was an old friend, it was not difficult for him to overcome. He grabbed her by the belt and slammed her hard on the ground. When he wanted to raise the sword, Ivan stepped on the blade and snapped it in half, breaking his forearm in the process and causing him to cry out in pain. Then she felt his other foot against her throat, choking her.

“I recognize those slithering snake movements.” the vampire growled, looking down at her contemptuously. Yuna watched him, feeling fear not for the first time that night. She had never faced something like this, nor had she felt so small and defenseless. “Well… Good. I know the samurai will be pleased to know that his precious apprentice did not beg for mercy.”

As if she could utter a word... or breathe. She knew that Ivan intended to kill her with a good stomp, just as he would kill a disgusting insect that barely deserved to dirty the soles of his boots. But Yuna was stubborn, she never stopped listening to it, and the idea of dying in such a pathetic way made her furious, showing the Russian a grimace of pure rage that showed her white fangs.

With her free hand she drew one of her twin daggers from her belt, which she rammed into the vampire's calf, causing him to drop her and back away. Yuna felt a strong dizziness when she stood up, because she still didn't get enough oxygen into her lungs, but that didn't stop her from throwing herself fully against Iván.

She knew that with a broken arm she had little chance; her forte had always been daggers and twin swords, and now she had only one blade to defend and attack. Ivan couldn't dodge at all. As he himself had said, she was like a snake that lashed out with lethal bites… only never enough to knock him out. Stabbing him in the heart was out of the question, since it would put her within his attack range, but if only she could reach his neck…

Just when he thought she had been able to reach him, she knew she had made a misstep, landing exactly on his hand open, which grabbed her jacket and threw her with animal force against the opposite wall.

Yuna felt her whole body crack from the impact, realizing the blow to her head a few seconds later, when she was unable to get up. She managed to hear Ivan's cruel laugh through the ringing in her ears, seeing his boots through a film of blood.

And in a moment, the boots and their owner disappeared in a blur of movement and noise.

She must have passed out, because the next thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the rotten wooden ceiling beams and off to the side, Nikolai's violet eyes.

Yuna POV

It wasn't the first time I'd been hit on the head, but I could taste the difference between the average hunter's right hook and the brutality of a viesczy who was having fun toying with his prey. Actually, it was hard for me to admit even in these circumstances that my pride as a hunter was hurt, just a little more than my body.

The last thing I expected when I opened my eyes was to find Nikki, who was looking at me as if he thought I had already passed on to a better life.

I had never seen him so worried. His mouth, usually as rigid as a white line, was twisted into a scowl that went very well with the lines around his eyes. He was crouched next to me, white hair falling over his forehead.

“Yuna” he called my name gently. “Yuna, do you hear me?”

Yeah, I could hear him clearly, but I was having a really hard time getting the words out. My brain was like a jelly floating inside my skull that didn't have enough consistency to respond.

I wanted to ask what he had done with Ivan, and how the hell he had found me in Romania. I wanted to know where Elrich and Charlotte were, and if Armand was around.

Instead, I just managed to mumble Nikolai's name, over and over, in a small whisper.

“I’m here” He told me in the same tone, gently taking me in his arms. “You're safe.”

In all the years I had known him, I’d never seen him treat anything so gently. Nikolai was a rough and sullen man who respected nothing and no one, not even his superiors in the hunting association. He was the kind of guy who slammed doors and took stairs two at a time out of patience; and now he had me there, snuggled against his chest like a precious fine china antique.

Of course, that didn't stop my body from replying with sharp stabs of pain. My arm rested on my stomach -still unregenerate- and I knew from how hard I was breathing that I must have had two or three broken ribs.

Okay, I said to myself, you've seen worse. Only right now I couldn't remember a time when I had such a hard time putting together a simple sentence.

As I tried to get over the pain, Nikolai pulled me out of the library. I didn't see Ivan anywhere, but I did see a lot of blood splattered on walls and furniture. The hallway was the same, frighteningly still and a few bodies scattered in grotesque positions.

I knew they were Armand's neophytes, those hideous creatures he had created from nosferatu blood. The smell was almost unbearable, even more revolting than when they were alive.

Trying to escape the stench, I hid my face in Nikolai's black coat, taking in the pleasant scent of rain, pine, and his unique body odor. He must have thought I was scared, because he held my head as if I were a child.

Then I caught a deep sound, as terrifying as it was familiar, for I had been listening to it all night since Armand had caught us in his castle. The growl of an angry vampire… but this one came from Nikolai.

I looked up to find his face contorted with savage rage. There was a possessive gleam in his gaze that I couldn't remember ever seeing in him.

For a moment I thought that Ivan would be ahead of us, or perhaps some surviving neophyte. In no way did I expect to meet Elrich, who was standing in the middle of the corridor looking at us.

He had a weary expression and was no longer wearing his jacket. His brown hair was tousled and two dark shadows had been drawn under his green eyes.

“Stop growling at me, Siberian bear.” he warned Nikolai, without a hint of the humor he used to have in Leeds. Then he looked at me and I wanted to ask him if he was hurt. To my surprise, his expression softened into a smile. “I'm fine, don't worry. Just a little bruised.”

Sure, telepathy. He was being really helpful now that I couldn't vocalize, but this thought made Elrich worry, coming over to take a look at me.

Nikki growled again, a clear warning that he didn't want him around, but Elrich ignored him and leaned down to examine my head. I was startled by the pain and his touch became even more delicate; he parted my eyelids to see my pupil and then put a hand on my forehead.

“She has a concussion.” He said in a low voice. I had heard that expression many times in the Leeds infirmary, every time a hunter hit himself in the head. “We have to get her out of here as soon as possible. Don't let her fall asleep.”

My concussion must have been serious, because it took me a long time to understand that he was talking to Nikolai. He was giving him instructions to get out of the castle without being seen. There was no friendship between them and ultimately my partner would be very happy to rip his head off, but even Nikki must have known that it was one thing to come kicking in doors and another to run away with an injured person in tow.

I wanted to beg Nikki to let me talk to Elrich, or at least convey my apologies to him through telepathy. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't have been discovered. If it hadn't been for me, we could have extracted Charlotte without a hitch. I think deep down I knew it was a stupid idea, because the mission had been daring and reckless from the start, but I felt compelled to tell him something.

Elrich's smile, somewhat sad and tense, made me think he caught my thoughts, but after making sure that Nikolai wouldn't forget his instructions, he disappeared into thin air.

Once again I heard the growl of a vampire. A sad and pitiful one, almost like a moan of pain.

This time, it came from my chest.

Armand's castle in Wallachia was equal parts impressive and terrifying, I'd noticed that ever since Elrich made me appear in one of his chambers. However, the path Nikolai was taking was a hundred times worse.

I knew a little about the history of Romanian vampires, the strigoi, and if these children of the night excelled at anything, it was intimidating their prisoners to death.

Considering that the legends about Vlad the impaler were absolutely true, it's no wonder his impalement methods were popular with the local immortals. Although a simple wooden stake couldn't kill a vampire, it was quite useful for immobilizing them almost permanently. The pain suffered was no different from that of any human, with the exception that the vampire would always be conscious.

There were stories of Strigoi impaling their enemies deep within their fortresses, not for the purpose of intimidating large armies like Vlad, but for the sheer joy of keeping them suffering for decades.

If there was any doubt that Armand embodied a good part of those stories, it vanished as we passed through a hallway lined with cells. All the doors were wide open, for such a restriction was absurd when the prisoners were impaled on one or more wooden stakes.

Although I felt discomfort growing in my stomach, I couldn't help but take a look. There were men as thin and pale as a corpse; only a few soft moans from them proved that they were still alive. The plague was not as putrid as that of Armand's neophytes, but the blood had accumulated everywhere through the centuries.

I put my face back into Nikki's coat, and Nikki whispered a curse in Russian.

I knew that he too was affected by the smell of blood. His sense of smell had always been sharper and more delicate than average, even for a vampire, and now it was working against him.

“Aid!” one of the prisoners shouted in english. I tensed in Nikki's arms, but he didn't slow down. “Pity help!”

“Nikky.”

"No." My companion's eyes, usually a purplish blue, glowed red like two rubies in the dark. His jaw was so tense that for an instant I thought I'd hear his teeth gnashing. “Their master showed them no mercy and neither did I. We have to get away from the castle as soon as possible.”

I could have argued that we wouldn't really be safe until the sun came up, but all I could think about was those frantic screams that were beginning to spread through the cells like a miserable chorus.

I even thought I heard the plaintive moans of a woman.

“Nikki, please…”

I couldn't do much for myself. Not when it took me so long to regenerate. Elrich had just given me blood five days ago, but for some reason, I didn't exhibit the ability of other vampires to heal me from any physical injury. Maybe it was because I was half human, which was giving me more trouble than good now, or I just wasn't a strong vampire. Either way, I was completely dependent on Nikki now.

I was sure that my companion would ignore my pleas and would continue walking until he found the secret door that connected the dungeons with the secret tunnels, according to Elrich's instructions. However, without warning, Nikolai stopped.

#original work #original writing #vampires #vampirism #gothic horror #vampirecore #monsters #vamp #gothic #romania #strigoi #nosferatu #painalli #painalli art

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