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valyrielwrites · 4 months

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As The Heavens Move - Chapter VII

Chapter 7/9 (full fic available on Ao3)

Relationship: Zhongli (Genshin Impact) / AFAB Reader Word Count: 4387 Summary: The Archon war rages across Teyvat, leaving untold chaos and destruction in its wake - as you earn the ire of a Chi that has stolen your home and all you hold dear, you take solace in a contract that the Lord of Geo offers. Warnings: Smut, 18+ themes

Pink and amber hues stretch along the horizon while the wind gently carries you through the skies above the river, an unusual quiet settles across the landscape as if the world already knows of the impending battle to come.

You sit atop Morax in his dragon form, the fingers on one hand woven loosely through his dark amber mane whilst your other hand softly strokes circles against the smooth scales of his neck, the mountains growing ever more distant behind you as the Adepti finally approach your stolen home.

“I will leave you a short distance from the boundary line, and go on ahead,” He tells you as he begins his descent. “The Chi will not notice if you enter on foot whilst I trespass the skies above. Remain here until I signal otherwise.”

“Be careful.” You warn.

“I ask the same of all of you.” He replies.

“As always, My Lord.” Skybracer gallops elegantly through the air beside you with ease, as if the clouds themselves were solid stepping stones and not just swirling mists. He keeps pace, despite carrying Madame Ping on his back. “We shall find Cloud Retainer and bring her safely home.”

Unease settles in the pit of your stomach as Morax lands at the centre of a large ruin a short distance from the road that lined the shore, your legs shaking as you slip down from his back and feel the rubble of a collapsed wall crunch beneath your boots. It hits you then, just what you’re getting yourself into - that the safety you felt at Morax’s side was not guaranteed, that you might be returning to find that there was no longer a home to return to…

People had lived here once too, you thought. Families, friends, neighbours.

Would there ever be a time when that could be possible again?

“We shall cleanse the path as we go,” Madam Ping’s voice pulls you from your trail of thought. “Look for any signs of a struggle, things on the path that are out of the ordinary - Skybracer and I shall protect you, but you must flee if we command it.”

“Yes,” You nodded. “I understand”

Your chest tightens as Morax leaps into the air without a second glance, the fear that this might be the last time that you ever saw him gripping you so tightly that you could barely bring yourself to breathe or think beyond his ever shrinking figure in the distance.

He flies low across the water. A threatening hiss ripples from his throat that seems to shake the very earth beneath as he crosses the boundary of Qingce’s domain.

You take a few steps forward, craning your neck to see the end of his tail follow the bend in the river before he disappeared from your sight completely.

“He will be fine, Mortal.” Skybracer says. “He is the strongest of us.”

You had seen him broken before, yes, but undeterred - and he had swore to you that the Chi would be destroyed. You had given him so much of your heart, your body, your admiration… What good would a God of contracts be if he did not keep his word?

“I know.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and accept that no matter what, fate will have its due.

An unnatural thick black fog obscures the air as Morax makes his way along the shoreline alone, almost as if it were clinging to the still waters in order to mask his approach - or to conceal something that dwells in the depths below.

The familiar taste of old ash lingers in the air, the scent of ancient blood and dirt that sullies the lake, it triggers the muscle memory of a thousand battles that he has won but is destined to repeat if he wants to see his dreams realised by the heavens.

Morax lets his power flow freely as he flies through the smoke, releasing a threatening growl and heavy huffs of breath in order to attract his opponent, his righteous fury sending shockwaves through the stone in challenge.

He takes a moment to think of you, to imagine your family and friends that he has never met, the common people of your home… what may befall them if he fails as he did at Guili, what may happen if he does not live to face Osial one last time.

He does this for them now, for Liyue, for you.

The rumble of thunder beckons him deeper into the Chi’s lair, passing the battered bamboo lined path where the two of you fatefully met, towards a break in the fog that reveals a small island in the middle of the lake. A long shadow snakes around it beneath the surface of the water, twitching, distorted by the waves as it begins to thrash and jolt when it finally breaches the surface.

Qingce screams as it sees Morax, its jaw unhinging itself wider as it dives towards him, the hunger as insatiable and all consuming as the unending void behind its blackened eyes. It had spent too long in the corruption, picking on the flesh of the fallen and rotting, to resist the urge to claim the prime of Adepti as its next meal.

But Morax would not flee.

The Chi’s needle-like teeth crack against the barrier that Morax summons, black blood oozing from its festering gums as it screeches and bellows again and again, slamming its head against the golden screen of light as Morax simply hovers above the water and watches.

“You have terrorised these people for far too long.” He hisses. “This ends now!”

Just as he wills it, the silt and earth below bends and breaks, a dozen stone pillars jutting up beneath the beast to scrape its slimy grey scales as it struggles against the land like a caught fish desperate to escape back into the water.

He would trap it here, make things quick - or at least he hopes to.

But Qingce lets out a blast of hydro against the rocks from its foul mouth, cracking them under the pressure of concentrated water and giving itself enough room to wriggle free and slip back into the river - diving underneath the barrier to burst forward and lunge for Morax.

A foul wind whips past as he barely manages to move away in time, his heart racing as he quickly summons another barrier at his right side and sails out of reach to try to trap it again - letting out a frustrated roar when the creature simply dodges and weaves past his defences and attacks.

There's no time for this, He frets. Cloud Retainer could be in serious danger, the people of the village could be caught in the crossfire, but if he couldn’t save his power to spare them in the clash how would he be able to kill the Chi fast enough?

He soon realises that he has no choice but to stay and wear the beast down, or put events into motion quicker than he would’ve liked - for an easy victory is nothing compared to the lives of all that he cares for.

Morax shakes his tail at Qingce as he flees, taunting, tempting him to follow as he swerves to avoid torrents of hydro shot in his direction, slowing his pace just ever so slightly to ensure that he keeps its attention before he whips his body around to catch Qingce’s neck between his own teeth and claws - ripping and biting, desperate to tear through to the flesh as he ascends.

The distant screams and the clash of battle makes your stomach turn, remembering the way that it had looked when you saw Morax fight for the first time, your imagination filling the gaps with each terrifying roar that echoed from the north.

“Look!” Skybracer lifted his antlers toward the heavens, his little nose pointing in the direction of a comet that flashed across the horizon. “That’s our signal.”

Your sense of awe briefly cuts through the fear you felt - the marvel that the man, the God, that you cared so deeply for was able to do something so beyond yourself… you wish that you’d get to see this again, see him again… that you would have the chance to learn the very limits of every wonder that he could do.

“Let's make haste.” Madam Ping says, and that is what you do.

The three of you make your way out of the ruin and head up toward the road, watching closely for any signs of Cloud Retainer’s presence along the path, taking care to watch for any monsters or areas that are corrupted.

The thick fog that covers the landscape is easily dispelled with a ring of the cleansing bell, although the darkness fades not an inch further than the sound travels, you know that home lies on the other side of it - that Morax does too.

“Adeptus Cloud Retainer?” You call out as loud as you dare, although you doubt that Qingce would hear it over the battle that rages on ahead.

“She is nearby. I sense it.” Skybracer confirms.

“Alive?” You ask.

“Yes - although her aura is faint.”

You pause. “Do you know where exactly?”

“The fog is distorting everything!” Madam Ping lifts the bell high again and whips her arm back down as if to ring it as hard and as loud as possible. “I’m struggling to pinpoint Morax and the Chi as well. It's almost as if it's intentional.”

“It wasn’t like this before,” You explain as the fog shrinks again. “There was some smoke from the other side of the river but the rest of the area was clear.”

“She must be using it to disguise herself from the Chi.” Skybracer concludes and then gallops on ahead.

You and Madam Ping jog behind, calling out for Cloud Retainer and scanning your surroundings until you come across the shallows where Morax had fallen that day. Half washed away blood still stains the shore in some areas, but all other traces of the two of you seemed to have been swept away with the current.

“This is where you found him?” Madam Ping asked.

Perhaps not all traces then, perhaps not the ones that the Adepti could still see.

“I thought he might die.” You whisper, shuddering at the memory of his charred and bloody body lying in the silt.

“But he didn’t,” She reminds you. “He won’t.”

“Thanks to you.” Skybracer bows his head and you suddenly feel yourself choke up.

You avert your gaze for the briefest of moments to collect yourself, looking toward the bamboo culms that line the path ahead until a small flash of white catches your eye against the sea of green.

“Wait.”

You alert the Adepti and step forward, carefully following the breeze that coaxes you along until you reach the edge of the cleared fog, crossing the stone bridge to see a single dirty white feather stuck to the side of a rock as the stream gurgles below.

You reach down to pick it up, fingers trembling as you touch the quill and gasp as a disembodied voice fills your mind.

“Help…”

Your head snaps up toward the nearby waterfall, to the hidden cave where you had tended to Morax, and your heart begins to race.

“She’s here!” You yell as loud as you can, leaping from the bridge to land on the rocks and clamber your way up the entrance. “Adeptus Cloud Retainer!”

Within seconds the two Adepti are already at your side, crashing through the veil of water to find the Crane lying in an awkward and unnatural position - her coat of feathers soaked through with dirt and blood.

“Wing… broken.” She wheezed with what little strength she had left.

“Don’t speak.” Madam Ping hushed and knelt down beside her.

“There’s things that we can use as bandages in the back.” You rush toward the crates, pulling out a stretch of fabric and tossing it towards the pair.

You watch as she tends to Cloud Retainer, wrapping her wing and transferring some of her power to speed the healing up, and feel a wave of relief wash over you. Morax would not lose another friend today.

“She’s strong enough to move?” You ask. If she could leave, she ought to.

Although this cave had provided Morax with a safe place to recover, you weren’t quite sure that Cloud Retainer would have the same luxury of time and space whilst the battle raged on downstream, and her condition seems much less dire than his had.

“Soon, once the bones have set.” Madam Ping said as her careful hands hovered above the Crane’s body.

“I shall remain here and accompany her to safety,” Skybracer began, “If you wish to find your people Mortal, now would be the time.”

“But the fog-”

A deep rumble in the distance interrupts you, shaking the foundations of the earth so suddenly that for a moment you believe that the ceiling might cave in as dust cascades from above.

“Go with this one’s gratitude, ____.” Cloud Retainer did not make an attempt to move as she addressed you by name now, but slowly extended her wing to confirm that the healing had worked. There was warmth and recognition in her usually cold blue eyes. “Save your people as you have already saved Rex and I.”

Madam Ping stood now, breathing deeply as if to recentre what was left of her energy, and turned to you one last time.

“The fog can be cleansed, but it is you that must forge the path ahead.”

You feel the sting of tears behind your eyes, a mixture of relief and confusion washing over your exhausted brain as you blink and try to mask the emotions on your face. You had always thought of your contributions as nothing more than trying to make the best of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they meant something.

Your choice to leave the village that day, to stumble across Morax - to help him, to trust him, to fall for him … Your small human choices have made all the difference and brought you all to this point.

“Then we go now,” You would not waste your chance. “I shall see you again when my people are free.”

Cloud Retainer nods in approval as you bow deeply and make your way out of the cave.

Morax finds himself reeling as he crashes into the dark waters, Qingce dragging him below the frigid surface as he thrashes and resists under the weight of the Adepti’s locked jaws. All of the light and joy in this world is suddenly gouged from his soul, leaving behind a gnawing void that was empty, wrong and endless.

For a moment he forgets himself and what he was meant for, forgets his light and ambition in the face of the intoxicating nihility on offer - there would be no more loss, no more fighting if he gave himself over to it - but the distant toll of that familiar bell cleanses his mind of all doubts.

He feels his blood heat as he clamps his jaw down harder, ignoring the pained screams of the creature he is desperate to destroy, and uses all his strength to throw his opponent back against the jagged rocks that line the far shore.

Qingce let out a terrific wail as the stone shreds its sailfin and rips through scale to cut into its flesh again, a thick cloud of festering black blood pooling around it in the shallows as it wriggles away to recover.

Morax violently shudders as he rises, his celestial body itching and caked with sludge as the filthy water drips off him with every laboured breath.

He’s tired, and can feel the pollution lingering on his skin, but it isn't over yet.

In the distance he can sense the panic of the people, their frantic footsteps in the earth as they scramble in their homes, he can sense you running through the bamboo forest with fear at your back and purpose in your heart.

The water that promises oblivion could never give him the peace that he longed for.

It was nothing to the man that was everything.

“Morax!”

You stop and scream his name until your voice is raw but he does not turn his gaze to you as he hovers still against the water. You want to tell him that you found Cloud Retainer, that she is alive and safe, that you believe in him, but his focus is still fixed on Qingce.

He can’t afford to be distracted just yet, even if the news might strengthen his resolve.

You take a moment to brace yourself, to catch your breath, to trust that he knows that your hopes are with him until the end, and when the cleansing bell rings you start again - racing towards home.

The clouds burst open at the breaking of thunder as you find yourself back in your village.

You had left Madam Ping behind with Morax to focus her efforts on stopping the fog from spreading, although it now seems as if the skies themselves have joined you in wanting to wash away the last of the filth and ash.

The rain feels fresh against your skin, cooling the sweat that soaks your brow as you double over and let out an exhausted groan when a dull pain shoots through your side. You have never run so hard and fast before, pushing your body to its limits just to make it to this point - with no thought of what comes next.

Nobody notices your arrival in the panic - the usual hustle and bustle of the market increasing tenfold as some of your neighbours frantically try to load carts to chance an escape, whilst others search for their loved ones so that they might spend their final hours together.

Nothing is how you left it.

“Mother?” You call out, voice breaking toward the end as it's lost amongst the crowd. “Mother? Father?”

You frantically scan your surroundings for your family, for anyone that might know where they are, but can barely register who any of these people are through the worsening wind and rain. They look haggard - at their breaking point - as it begins to pour relentlessly and the sound of fighting grows closer and closer.

You force yourself to push forward, attempting to weave through the crowd to your home at the centre of the village but your boots lose their footing in the mud. You slip and fall into someone, stumbling to the ground with a pained yelp as your wrist bends at the wrong angle and takes the full weight of the impact.

“Are you alright? Wait -” A familiar voice speaks as you feel a pair of strong arms slide around your ribs to pull you up. Your uncle brings his muddied hands up to cup your face. “____? You’re alive? My sweet child, we thought you were dead! Your Mother is beside herself!”

“I brought help!” You immediately sobbed, the pain in your wrist and your reunion less important than making sure that everyone makes it out alive. “Where is she? Where is Father?”

“At the shrine on the mountain, making offerings to the ancestors… to you -”

Relief shot through you like lightning as the storm continued to rumble overhead. They were safe.

“Gather everyone! We must leave now - to higher ground before the village floods.” You explain. “Morax has come to free us from Qingce.”

His face pales. The Prime of Adepti’s reputation as a God of war precedes him. “Morax? You brought him here?”

You hear screams as the river bursts its banks, water rushing across the market to wash over your ankles, submerging your feet in filth and sludge.

“I don’t have time to explain - Uncle, please… help me get these people to safety.” You plead that he sees reason, that he lives long enough to see all the good in Morax that you have come to know. “I made a contract with him to save our home.”

The ground shakes as Morax and Qingce crash around the bend in the river, wrestling and clawing at each other again as they come into view. They’re so close now. Dangerously close. There’s no more time to delay.

“Everyone!”

Your voice strains as you push away from your uncle and make your way towards an abandoned cart that has caught in the mud, heart pounding as you pull yourself up with your remaining good wrist and clamber on to gain some height.

“People of Qingce village, Listen to me!”

You scream over the panicked wailing, stomping your feet against the wood to make yourself as loud as possible despite the fear that has infected the crowd as they wade through the rising waters.

“____ has returned!” You feel the cart shake as your uncle joins you with his bellowing male voice. “Stop panicking and listen!”

“Leave your belongings, head to the mountain shrine,” You roar over the sound of the torrential rain. “Any able-bodied man must carry the sick and injured - if you want to live, go now!”

Qingce releases an ear-splitting shriek as a blast of hydro intended for his opponent comes careening toward the town, cleaving through the rockface of a nearby cliff - uncaring as the stone comes tumbling down to crush the people below.

A wave of screaming goes up to the heavens - but the rocks never come down.

A screen of golden light suddenly illuminates the sky above, flashing with every impact as the rockface collides with, and then bounces off, the barrier that Morax managed to summon to protect the village.

Your heart almost gives out in relief - but not for long. You were all lucky that he had been able to react in time, and there was no guarantee that it would happen again.

Your presence here was a distraction from the fight and now Qingce knows it.

“Rex Lapis protects us so that we can make our escape!” You call out again with a newfound resolve. “Everyone must leave now, while we still can!”

You cradle your wrist as you jump back down into the water, wincing in pain as you and your uncle go to gather the people and shepherd them toward the mountain path. This time there’s no hesitation as the villagers rapidly move into action, picking up stragglers as you all march ahead with little more than the clothes on your backs - helping each other, working together to make sure that elders and children alike aren’t left behind.

The further up the mountain you climb, the more intense the fighting below becomes. Eventually, you steal a glance over your shoulder to see Morax has pulled back, dodging Qingce’s blows rather than attacking - as if to try and avoid causing further damage to your home, or to buy you more time to get as far away as possible before he loses his edge in battle.

But you can’t bring yourself to leave him, to not see the outcome, especially after that first time you had seen him fight and fall so broken against the shore.

So you step to the side of the path, allowing your friends and neighbours to pass you as you turn your whole body to face the rain. This is not like last time, you tell yourself, But if it is… I’ll be there to find you again.

You watch him dance through the air to avoid each strike, to lure the beast onto land, but with every passing moment the waters rise to wash more of the earth - more of Morax’s advantages - away. He had expected this though, prepared for it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hope that he wouldn’t have to take such a risk.

But your words on Mount Aocang echo in his mind, and he knows what must be done.

If it won’t be pushed from the water, he thinks, I shall have to drag it out kicking and screaming.

So that’s exactly what he does.

He knows that you watch him from the side of the mountain, he knows that you see him as he rears his proud head back and surges forward, claws outstretched to grab his opponent one final time, wrestling with and snapping his jaws shut around its neck as he leaps up into the air.

Qingce’s screeching intensifies as Morax climbs back up towards the skies, soaring higher and higher until he passes through the torrential rain and cooling mists, stopping only when they reach the space above the cloudbank.

He struggles against the Chi for a moment, biting down harder as if to stifle its violent convulsing, but then he feels it… a small spark in the distance that fills his entire being with fire when he closes his tired eyes and allows it to flow - a single dream that you had entrusted to him, now echoed across Liyue in all of the hearts of people below.

“You’ll build a more peaceful and prosperous Liyue as an Archon,” You had told him once, and he was determined for you to see it.

Qingce stills suddenly then, its strength finally failing as Morax uses that borrowed power to pour elemental energy into its broken body, submitting only when its scales begin to calcify and its insides turn to stone - frozen in every aspect.

Morax’s jaw opens at the same time as his eager eyes, releasing the defeated Qingce as he looks toward Celestia and makes his triumphant vow.

“To build our safe harbour, I will be the law of everything in this land,” his commanding voice echoes out in every direction, travelling through the earth and skies as easily as he breathes, “And as the heavens move, everything in this world shall bow before me.”

Half a heartbeat later he descends beneath the clouds, pursuing the petrified creature as it plummets to the earth, the air cracking in his ears as he whips his tail down and strikes the stone with all the strength he has left.

Radiant heat bursts forth from the impact, releasing a gilded light that evaporates the rain and fills the sky with brilliant gold as Qingce’s form shatters into a thousand scattered pieces on the wind.

#zhongli #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli #morax #rex lapis #genshin #genshin impact #原神 #dragon zhongli #part dragon zhongli #afab reader #reader insert #my writing #as the heavens move #athm #ao3 #ao3fic

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clover-hoe · 3 months

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Imagine, for a moment, you are Kote.

You are mer, killed by the humans from up above hundreds of years ago, your ancestors working to find peace deep within the sea. The humans rarely go this far out to sea.

You are bored, your father had, once again, out looking to find your soulmate. You leave the golden castle, looking for your favorite fish and shipwreck.

You are searching the area around your childhood home, the place, and see a wreck, new and broken. No more than a month down.

And something is floating above it.

Rays of light never seem to make their way this far down, but its not even that fr down.

Yet the body is fully illuminated.

What is that Kote? your fish friend asks

I think, Holy shit Flo. I think its a human

Imagine, for a moment, you are Kote.

You just found a human. Dead, but you found one! They never come out this far now, and you have never seen one before. And, if you use enough of your majic, you might be able to bring them back.

You just need to go to land.

It would not be your first time. Your father forbid anyone from going near the surface, yet you felt drawn to see the stars.

You swim to the human, your golden tail shimmering in the rare rays of sunlight. The human is pale, little dots running all over the face.

They look peaceful, long red hair flowing around the face and eyes closed.

You can practically feel your body flush, because the only thing you knew about humans where that they where bloodthirsty monsters, and this one is nothing like that.

Their cute.

Ignoring the feeling, you grab the human, and, much to Flo's distaste, head up to the surface. It is night now, so no-one will see the golden head of a mer and the human you are carrying.

It takes nearly all night to find the human kingdom, but you find it.

Imagine, for a moment, you are Obi-Wan.

Your father is, once again, displeased of the fact that his only son, you, has a soulmate. And, no mater how hard he searches, no one can find the other half.

All his life, the little blob on your head has caused you trouble. The only child and sole heir of the kingdom should not have a soulmate.

So you do the only thing that calms you down these days. You braid your hair back, and head for the docks.

Sailing helps.

But your have a mission today. Find your soulmate. No mater what.

Then your ship is hit.

You didn't tell your father where you where going. You didn't know where you where going.

The waives crash into the sail, and your ship is overturned.

Darkness takes you only after you let it.

Imagine, for a moment, you are Kote.

You took the human to the shore. Its almost morning, and its to dangerous to be the first mer seen in hundred of year because of a human, no matter how cute.

You place your hand on their chest, trying to remember how to heal someone.

Father had always boasted that humans where weak, easy to kill because they had soft skin and not scales.

You can use this. Scales are hard to heal, but not fish-skin.

The human's chest rises. Their eyes flutter open. You didn't know they did that. Is that bad? Fuck.

You lift your hand, ignoring the slime-like goo your tail made.

You jump back into the water, and swim home. Hopefully father wont mind you being gone for so long.

Imagine, for a moment, you are Obi-Wan.

Death took you.

Yet.

Now you are laying on the beach, shimmering gold blob in front of your face.

Then it is gone. The sun shines hard and bright on your face. The glass beach under your skin is cool, yet burns.

You need to get back to the castle. your father will not be happy.

#codywan #mermaids baby #BABE I LOVE IT #most romatic thing one can do?#bring someone back to life!#obviously #star wars #its basically the little mermaid but gay

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ramayantika · 10 months

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~ The one deceived

»»————> ◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐◐<————««

O lovers, enchanters of your sweet maidens, must you keep in mind to never displease the queen of your hearts.

'She who adorns herself in fine silks and jewels, awaits you at night hiding from the entire town in the heart of the forest where fierce beasts lay, she must never be kept await for long and certainly must not be left alone if ever your eyes droop for a night. Who knows someone else might snatch the beauty away?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

With dark eyes not blue lotus

she fashions a welcome garland.

Petals she strews—

not various species of jasmine

but smiles.

Water she offers from ripe

moistened breasts

rather than ceremonial jars.

With only her own body

she makes for her

lover an

auspicious welcome.

~ Erotic Love Poems from India

A tightly knotted braid pinned by jewelled pins moves like a serpent by her waist. She carefully arranges flowers in her hair, just the way he likes. She spent months apart from him, and now is the time to bring long lost romance back into their lives -- of sweet nothings, stolen kisses, teasing words and the bliss of just being around your lover.

The morning was spent in perfuming the hair and the body. His favourite scent: the rain perfused soil. It always enchanted him when she passed by the busy market place in front of him. She usually preferred a light scent of roses, but today she has to make him heady as soon as he catches a whiff of air around him.

A necklace decked with moonstones sits on her making her look dazzling. Her wrists are adorned with glass bangles, and a shy smile teases her lips when her friends tease her on the various ways glass bangles can be broken tonight.

"Quiet. You must not speak like this. He's a gentle lover," she admonishes them with a stern look that soon melts into a beautiful blush and her friends once again start teasing her.

"You look perfect now. If you decorate yourself anymore, your dazzling form shall blind him as soon as he enters the house," says a friend, dabbing a kohl dot behind the jewelled maiden's ear to ward off the evil eye.

»»——⍟——«« ♧♧ »»——⍟——««

The letter in betel leaves 🥀

Handmaiden bears a large plate on her tender hands.

Soft silks from lands far and wide,

jewels crafted in nothing but perfection,

perfume extracted from only exotic flowers and oils,

But what pleases the bejewelled beauty?

A silver box revealing a richly stuffed Kaushal paan.

'In separation I have burned for several moons, and my heart wailed in agony. Where do I carry this ocean of love when you are the shore that binds me to you? Oh, my dearest, my lovely moon, it is you I desire. Come meet my by the riverside near the sweet-smelling jasmine bower.'

.・。.・゜✭・»»——⍟——««.・✫・゜・。.

झांझर झमके सुन झमके आधी रात को

उसको तोको न रोको तोको न रोको

आधी रात को।

𝐎𝐡, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭,

𝐌𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬,

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞,

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬...

'We sipped on moon-gleam at midnight.

And the moon rose in our eyes, at midnight.'

-- Delicate as the moonstone, bangle laden wrists

alert the love god who stands ever ready with love arrows.

She traverses down the narrow forest path,

Her feet leave behind fresh red footprints on earth,

And jingling anklets make the serpents steer off her way.

-- The jasmine bower fresh and fragrant as ever,

Fireflies adorn the bushes like earthen lamps in a house's courtyard.

The moon unveiled shines on the resplendent maiden

And like the chakora, she fills her eyes with the moonbeams,

In each, a vision of the man prisoned in heart.

-- The forest grows still.

Doe eyes search for him in every corner of the forest.

Is he playing games today? Must I walk and search for him now?

The love god too has dozed off, his bow and arrows discarded beside.

The garland around her neck now frail,

Tiny buds fall down and mingle with the earth...

»»————>○○○○○○○○○○○○<————««

And, rasikas, here we behold a man who did not keep his promise. Sends the extravagant betel leaf and promises of giving a beautiful night, but gives in to the sweet embrace of slumber while the beauty awaits in the forest, her once radiant face now pale in fear and annoyance.

Oh, the pain of shattered dreams filled of love, sweet words, passionate touches and long nights. How can one scorn a woman this way after long nights of loneliness?

Chuckle in mirth my friends, for the man dreams of kissing her lips in his sleep. Who shall tell him about his lover's wrath at dawn break tomorrow?

*******

Breathing hard into the lotus calyx

Annoyed at his care less actions,

She wipes an angry tear from her soft cheek.

Tosses away the wretched droopy garland,

Flings the silver anklet far across the room.

Red lips that should have been kissed curse the sun.

Arms that should have been curled around his neck

Lay bare bereft of bangles on the silken sheets.

Her bosom that should have carried drops of perspiration from a sweet night of love

That should have been kissed tenderly, Adorned with a chain of bites

Now heave in anger, wanting a respite.

The love god scoffs at the man yet deep in sleep

Who makes love the scorned woman in waking.

The love goddess pitifully caresses the heart broken girl,

And winces when the moon-like beauty sends

A silver box encasing an empty betel leaf and a lone anklet

»»——⍟——««

Tags: @ratna-the-furball @swayamev @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @pulihora @arachneofthoughts @krishna-priyatama @yehsahihai @reallythoughtfulwizard @ketchup-jar-ka @manujanolavu @morally-gayy @celestesinsight @desi-cleopatra

I used a lot of references from kamasutra for this and probably this is one of my in a way most explicit lol

#samridhi writes #love poems #ancient Indian aesthetic #nayikas #indian academia

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mathiwrites · 14 days

Text

And for the second prompt of Day 3 of @tamlinweek: Flower Language.

Content warning: Grief, war, allusions to torture, graves/graveyards, depression and PTSD.

Read Potentillas on AO3 or beneath the cut:

Where are you?

Days, months, years have passed, and he still cannot find him. Through the thicket and into the brush, Tamlin speaks to the whispering moss and the little creatures hidden within. The smallest things carry the greatest knowledge, often unseen and unheard, but Tamlin listens.

He’s always listened.

They tell him of the eagle and the bobcat, and of the new silver lace vines that have taken root in the North. He follows the trail they lead towards all the changes of his father’s Court. Maybe today, he’ll find what he’s looking for.

White flowers on shining pale gray stems greet him, honoured to be noticed by Spring’s prince. They bloom, showing their very best side. He asks their name, and though he is kind and caring, his heart shutters with disappointment. Not here.

The forest is his home; the war has made him restless and he rejects stillness. When the body does not move, the mind begins to race, and his mind lives among the dead.

He knows every inch of this place, from the growth of the trees, to the war of the weeds. He wakes his great-grandmother from her willow, and asks if she has seen anyone new, too. The souls always come home, so why isn’t he here? He loved the forests just as much as Tamlin did. He taught Tamlin to look, to listen and to respect. The Green should have welcomed him by now.

It has been days, months and years since Tamlin failed to bring Iolin’s body home, and he will not rest until he’s found his spirit.

***

The Middle is a barren place, ravaged by war. The soil is dead, poisoned by the iron of blood and the toxicity of faebane. Few things grow here, but they do not bloom—they claw their way out of the ground, all sharp edges and dark stems. Their leaves are shades of black, gray and rotted brown.

It has been a long time since Tamlin dared to venture here, and he does so against his better judgement. Shame isolates him, making him too afraid to reach out for help in this desperate endeavour. What will his friends say when the realize his crime?

I let my brother die.

That’s it.

Tamlin knows it, his family knows it and it’s only a matter of time before everyone else knows it, too. Cold seeps into his bones, a needling sensation that only ever takes place here. He pulls his cloak closer to himself and begins the trek.

Bones litter across the ground, half-devoured by vicious plants who thrive not on sun, not on song, but on the hard calcium of the dead. His mind shutters, withering under the weight of memories. This graveyard is of his making.

But Tamlin does not sop. He never learned how to. He only ploughs forward.

Further, and further, until he reaches the western shore close to where the King had stationed his temporary palace. The air grows thick, and Tamlin has to stop.

I can’t—

I can’t do this.

He promised he would bring Iolin home; he failed the first time, and he will let this attempt kill him before he fails again. Tamlin forces himself back to his feet, and keeps walking. He remembers exactly where he collapsed, where Iolin’s body had slipped from his arms and rolled down an incline, breaking him even more than he was already broken. He was already dead by then, succumbing to Amarantha’s wrath.

He was already free by then, leaving Tamlin in this interminable hell.

The gnawing in his chest is too much; he clutches it, as if he can reach his heart and throttle it in hopes of making it work again. It keeps failing, just like his lungs that can’t ever find enough air.

Please, please, please, I don’t want to be here.

Out of the corner of his eye, a glimmer of bright yellow sings softly to him. He knows that voice, and its gentle cadence. Iolin had always been kind, even when he was hiding from his father’s harsh gaze beneath the mask of duty. Iolin had always been the one to find Tamlin when he was running from something. He was courage itself.

Tamlin picks himself out of the dirt, walking with heavy steps towards the only bloom in the heart of this hellscape.

“Potentillas,” he whispers, touching the five petals lightly. “Of course.” His voice falters, and the breath that escapes him is shaky. He sits beside his brother’s resting place, and lets the relief wash over him. Iolin had always been his safe haven.

“The flowers of resilience. Crush the petals and steep it in tea, and you’ll find strength for another day,” he recites his brother’s words back to him. “I miss you, I miss you so damn much.”

#i promise tomorrow will be less emo #probably #tamlin week #tamlin #acotar fanfiction #acotar au #pro tamlin #my fics

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ginoeh · 2 months

Text

Welcome back to the third part of my entry for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang 2024! All the beautiful art was done by @lalaithquetzallicaresi !

Due to a technical mishap a couple hours ago, gdoc decided to swallow my penultimate chapter. I haven't managed to convince it yet to spit it back out, so you'll have to be content with only chapter five of seven for tonight! I'm so sorry for the delay, I swear I will post the rest of it tomorrow even if I have to rewrite the whole next chapter!

The story is also available on AO3 where I'll post it chapter by chapter!

To the Edge of Night

Explicit HobGadling/Dream of the Endless Part 2 of 4 6k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*** *** ***

Chapter Five

They leave the throne room in haste.

There’s no less debris and decay on the balcony Lucienne brings him to than inside but at least it's under open sky and the overwhelming press of power seems easier to bear than in the throne room, less magnified. The feeling of freedom held in fresh air, no matter how saturated by rain, clears his head breath by breath.

“You may want to make the storm stop, Sir,” Lucienne shouts over the din of the whipping winds. They’re under the awning of the large opening that leads out onto the balcony.

“That’s a thing I can do now?”

Lucienne smiles a little.

“Is this truly the first time you have influenced the weather here?”

Hob thinks back over the months he spent travelling the distant shores. Maybe he could. Maybe he'd simply not noticed the connection because there's been no reason to suspect anything. The sky hadn't ever inconvenienced him after all, it had always been -

Ah. It had always been the perfect weather for the kind of travel he'd done.

“I suppose not.”

Lucienne watches as Hob tries to concentrate. It’s hard to gather himself in the face of the day he’d had.

Slowly, the rain slows to a drizzle.

“Don’t think I can do anything about the thunder, though,” he says apologetically over the ominous rumbling in the distance. “I’m… pretty upset to be honest. I’m glad we’re at least not getting drenched anymore.”

“Understandable, Sir,” she says as they cautiously leave the awning’s shelter.

Hob leans against the balcony railing, trails his hands over it and watches, fascinated, as the broken pieces of masonry slowly start to come together again. It’ll take time to become used to the excess of power, he thinks, in contrast to the insistent and slow care he’d expended before, when reassembling the broken things of the Dreaming.

“What next? My Stra- Drea- Lord Morpheus is still gone.”

And there’s the thing that has been hanging unsaid between them since Lucienne had confirmed what Hob had feared.

“You said he’d never freely part with the stone - I definitely got the same impression there. So that means he-”

“It must mean that our Lord hasn’t left by his own free will.”

There’s an excited hope in Lucienne’s voice that Hob doesn’t understand at all until finally, she starts talking.

*** *** ***

Hob wakes in his armchair in the exact same position he'd taken before willing himself to cross over into the Dreaming. Morning has already risen, foggy and dreary, and the hub of London’s morning rush hour is a quiet drone in the background.

Hob feels unreal.

His body is a too tight jacket, not at all big enough to house what he now carries. The mirror isn’t his friend when he mechanically starts to make himself presentable for the tasks he knows he has to do here in the Waking. There are shadows hollowing out his cheeks that don’t have anything to do with bathroom lighting; his eyes are too dark by far, nearly black and on every second blink he thinks his pupils bleed into the whites. He furiously wills them back into the gentle brown he knows. They comply only grudgingly.

Hob can’t do a single thing about the too sharp, black nails.

The Dreaming tugs at him insistently now, a pervading longing to return to it that makes him uncomfortable with his own, human world. Unfortunately, there is no way to find his Stra- Dream from within the Dreaming.

Lucienne had tried at first, back when it was clear that her Master wasn’t coming back and the Dreaming was still nearly at its full power. Nothing had come up in any of her searches.

The Dreamstone is the first trace of him that has appeared in all the years since he vanished. They need to find out how it had come into Hob’s hands, they need to trace it back to the moment when it left Dream’s possession.

There used to be books, Lucienne had said, the possibility to trace every dreamer but it’s long since gone and vanished back into raw dreamstuff. Hob hadn’t been able to find it despite Lucienne’s hopeful insistence that he try. He hated having to disappoint her.

So old-school legwork in the Waking is what it has to be. Hob'll have to go back to Mayham Storage's paperwork. If worse comes to worse, he’ll have to show up in person. But contrary to Hob’s expectation it’s a simple, unexciting phone call that yields the first success.

It’s nearly too easy to be true.

“A Mister John Dee,” says the voice of Riodan Laughlin, once scrawny emergency manager of Mayham Storage. His voice is tinny over the long distance call and tired besides.

“There’s no current address, of course. I don’t know which prison he was sent to. Will you come and terminate your lease? You’re one of our biggest customers.”

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Is there a reason you asked about that one storage unit after so many years?”

Hob frowns at the phone. Such a weird question.

“Not really. I’m simply writing some things down these days, for the grandchildren, you know? Getting maudlin as I get up there in years, I suppose.”

Riordan grunts affirmatively and then audibly hesitates. “He’s been convicted in Springfield, Clark County, it says here.”

“Thank you, Riordan. I’m glad to see that you managed to work out your troubles back then.”

“Thanks Sir. Same back, really.”

Hob ends the connection and stares at his phone for a long while. All the power at his fingertips, all the fantastical possibilities of the Dreaming and yet it’s his existence as a mere human that makes, for the first time in over a century, headway into solving the mystery of the Dreamlord’s disappearance.

It’s nearly ironic.

He could have done that at any time in the preceding years. He could have simply investigated on his own once he’d realised that the ruby was more than a simple gem. His body aches with the storm his anger makes of the ruby’s power. He doesn’t want to look into the mirror now; he’s not sure he’d recognize the reflection.

It’s a mundane task to organise tickets for the next flight to the US. There’s nothing Hob needs to pack, nothing he needs to take with him but a wallet and his passport. He forces himself to slow down once his flight schedule is clear. He makes himself a coffee and throws together a cheese sandwich with the pitiable contents of his fridge.

Both taste like nothing.

The churning emptiness in his stomach isn’t hunger. He forces the food down anyway and just hopes that it won’t make him nauseous in the long run.

When he’s already nearly out the door he remembers, with uncomfortable apathy, that he should probably inform at least his friends about his disappearance.

‘My uncle died’, he writes, ‘might be gone for a week or longer.’

Hob sends the message two times, for Emily and Oswin, then forces himself to be more mindful when writing another one out on paper for Martin. If he leaves it in the New Inn’s staff room, the man will find it easily. Then, he sets the phone onto the kitchen counter. He doesn’t think he’ll need it for the rest of his mission; and in any case he isn’t sure if he’s in any state to field condolences over the death of an old part of himself.

When he leaves he closes the door behind him noiselessly. Bertholt Grant has reached the end of his mostly fictional life.

***

Travelling turns out to be… interesting.

The waking world seems to bend around him. He draws eyes, more than he usually does, and he doesn’t know if that’s due to visible changes the ruby and the Dreaming have wrought or if there’s something else, as well. He feels as if he’s trailing fears and nightmares and all those things he can’t rightly contain underneath his too tight skin.

But attention is the last thing he wants and as soon as he tries to stay undetected and be forgotten, nobody notices him at all. As if he’s a centre of gravity and his mere presence and wishes influence the reality of those around him.

It doesn’t help at all with making the Waking seem more real to Hob.

No one questions it when he slips unhindered past the security officers at Heathrow Airport. No one notices or cares that he has a gem worth more than their yearly salary around his throat. They don't see it, don't see him because Hob doesn't care to be seen. He wonders if that is how his Stranger always felt. Alone and untouched in the middle of humanity. Among them, but separate. He's not sure he cares for it all that much. For now though, it serves him well.

So this is how Hob finds the protocol of John Dee’s arrest officer, standing in broad daylight in the middle of Springfield’s police station, a mere 36 hours after leaving London, and going through their arrest protocols from late 1993 backwards.

The constant use and control of the Dreaming’s power to bend the world around is taxing, though, exhausting on a level more than bone deep. It takes something that he can replenish by neither sleep nor any of the food he forces himself to eat on the way. For now, he’s strong enough. He’ll see this through to the end, at which hopefully Dream of the Endless, his old friend, regains his Kingdom.

Hob finds the protocol without any problems and no one the wiser and while it doesn’t help him in finding John Dee immediately, it gives him the name of the involved officer. Finding him is absurdly easy.

It’s what comes after, that turns his world on its head once more.

***

It’s early evening when he finds himself in Springfield’s suburbia. It’s a middle-class dream of picket fences, well-kept lawns and clean streets. Hob hadn’t thought something like this still existed in the 2000s. It feels stifling, somehow. A leftover of a time that reminds Hob of the anguish of many of his lovers and friends, of sad tales of a childhood home in denial, of being cast out of families for the sin of loving wrong. He’s aware that he’s likely inferring too much and too indiscriminately - he doesn’t know the people who live here. Not without letting himself fall into the crashing waves of power he contains and searching out their sleeping minds. But that isn’t what he’s here for.

The house he observes is no different from the others. There's a well-kept pick-up truck in the driveway, abandoned garden tools lean against the veranda balcony and through the living room windows he can see the blue flickering light of a TV.

A cartoon is on; a kid’s bike leans against the garage wall. There is a kid where Hob had expected only an old, pensioned officer and at most a wife. This complicates things.

“Eric Watson?”, he asks when the man he’s looking for opens the door.

“Can I help ya? We don’t buy anything.”

Hob smiles but judging by the way Eric Watson narrows his eyes, it looks threatening more than charming. He’s really off his game.

“I wanted to ask you a few things about an arrest you made in the late eighties.”

The man’s eyes rove over Hob, evaluating and then disregarding him as a physical threat - not something Hob is used to. He knows the figure he cuts; usually at least. He doesn’t know exactly what the ruby makes him appear like at the moment that he seems physically nonthreatening to a mid-sixties pensioner.

“I’m not talking about old police cases. Please leave.”

“It’s about a man named John Dee-”

Eric’s face shutters instantly.

“Get off my lawn.”

“Mr. Watson-”

“I said,” the man repeats quietly and leans in, clearly thinking he has the upper hand, “get off my lawn or I’ll make use of my right to defend my house and property.”

Hob retreats. It might be easier once his wife and the grandchild are asleep. He’s not here for violence after all and the thing Eric Watson fears are the ghosts of his police work coming to haunt him and claim the lives of those he loves. He has many, many nightmares about it.

Time moves at a crawl afterwards.

Hob waits and waits and then, finally, he slips into the sleeping house, unseen only due to the power he employs and not the care with which he moves. He’s much too impatient for any kind of caution at this point.

His Stranger, his friend has had to wait much too long already.

The night embraces Hob like a blanket, a caring extension of the Dreaming. He feels like wisps of the Dreaming's power escape from under his skin and diffuse into the dark of the quaint house. He feels blurred, only half-real. The ruby throws its ominous glow across the interior and makes his own skin shimmer eerily red.

He’s gentle when he wakes Eric Watson where he has slumped on the couch. There is a can of beer and a gun on the couch table. The man rears up, wide awake within a second. He’s not amused at all and Hob really can’t fault him for it. If this were him, he’d take no prisoners.

“How did you get in?”

He’s tense, frozen on the couch but he clearly reconsiders the danger Hob poses to him and his loved ones. His fear is bright and loud and Hob feels discomfited.

“Who- what are you?!”

Hob doesn’t like this. Not at all. It feels like violence, after all.

The light of the ruby pulsates slowly, threateningly. Eric Watson’s fear hightens, blares across Hob’s senses and for a moment he loses all sense of where he is.

Next, the man has the gun pointed at his head and Hob just reacts.

Or maybe it’s the Dreaming that reacts and the ruby. He throws himself forward, throws his power with him and then Eric slumps, suddenly lax, gun falling to the side and Hob falls as well. He tumbles onto the end of the couch, barely aware of himself at all, teeters at the edge of something and then he gets pulled into a cold current.

He knows the feeling intimately. It’s the same cold and wild current that had drawn him into the Dreaming. This time, it's not the Dreaming at the end of the ride. Or, it is but it's a part of it Hob has never seen or interacted with before. With the mental equivalent of his ears popping he steps into a nightmare he knows.

“Hello Sir,” says the Nightmare of Lost Loved Ones. “I thought I’d offer my help. The twins are keeping the child and wife under. They are gentler than I am.”

“What- what is this,” Hob breathes but even as the question leaves his lips, he already knows. The emotions, the distorted sounds, the amalgamation of unlikely scenes of unimaginable sorrow - and Eric Watson in the middle of it, moaning voicelessly.

This is the man’s dream, his nightmare and fear. And Hob is a spectator to it all.

More than a spectator.

“I can influence his experience, can’t I?” He asks the nightmare at his side but the answer is clear in the threads of the power he feels around him. This is what the ruby can do.

No, this is what Hob can do with the ruby.

***

It is…nearly easy to get the information he seeks. It is a nightmare after all, perfectly willing to help and bend to Hob’s needs. In his nightmare, Eric Watson complies to Hob’s demands and answers his questions.

But manipulating dreaming minds is taxing, he finds - more than just physically exhausting.

Hob comes to in the darkness, a headache blooming behind his eyes. He’s still kneeling on the end of the couch. Eric Watson’s skin gleams with the sweaty sheen of fear. Hob feels detached, lost, more shadow than human. The strain of bending his power in such a way has taken something from him and like an athlete who doesn’t replenish the lost calories, Hob feels weak, empty.

He’s hungry.

***

Hob enters the facility that holds John Dee unseen.

It’s a high-security institution, more of it underground than above, both in the literal and in the metaphorical sense. It’s where the truly dangerous go - and those that could be truly dangerous to someone in a multitude of ways, but where that someone has enough money to make sure it doesn’t get that far.

Hob’s not entirely sure where John Dee falls on that scale but given what he’d seen in Eric Watson’s nightmares, he’s sure that with a woman like Ethel Cripps as the orchestrator of his committal into this institution, John Dee will have little chance of acquittal.

“Who’re you?”

John Dee sounds hostile. He lays on a plain bed, bolted to the floor like everything else in his brightly lit room. There is sterile white and surgical steel and not much else inside it.

He is old. Older than Hob expected.

There’s something uncanny about him. Something less and more than human. To Hob’s senses he’s… hollow. And too full at the same time - too many nightmares, not enough dreams, too much power, not enough strength. The ruby burns where it hangs on its chain. An eerie familiarity seizes Hob, a resonance that feels sinister and hypnotising. It’s entirely repulsive.

Hob is glad that there is glass and steel between him and John. The ruby’s power swirls wildly, disturbingly undirected. It’s a far cry from the focussed intent he’d felt just hours prior in Eric Watson’s dreams.

Yes, this man has had the ruby in his possession. Maybe he’d even tried to use its power. Hob doesn’t like the thought and neither does the ruby - or so it feels like. There’s anger there, hurt and a sort of longing that strikes Hob as artificial and fake.

“You have it, don’t you? I can feel it from here. It’s mine. I made it into my tool. For my perfect world.”

Yes, Hob is unbelievably glad for the security door that separates him from John Dee. He doesn’t want to know what would happen if the ruby fell into John Dee’s hands.

“You made it? It isn’t yours, John.” He knows the man can hear him even though he whispers.

“I made it mine. It’s my birthright.”

John Dee rages against the cuffs he’s restrained with.

“It’s mine,” he hisses again and pulls so hard on the cuffs that Hob can see his shoulders distorting under his flimsy pyjamas where he’s on his way to pulling them out of the sockets in his rage.

Somewhere an intercom crackles and then alarms start blaring with flashing red lights.

There’s not much time left until the wards will arrive and sedate the frothing man. He needs the information and he doesn’t know if induced unconsciousness is a state he can even feel with the ruby much less access like he did with officer Watson.

There’s not much choice. John needs to sleep.

Hob feels along the ruby and into the place where the Dreaming Sea laps at his empty insides. He’s had no trouble falling into Watson’s dreams. An accident, yes, a reaction born of anger and discomfort but still something the ruby had leapt at eagerly to do.

Now, it is nearly reluctant.

But John Dee needs to sleep and so he will. Hob pulls hard at the ruby, throws its power at John and pushes him under. John slumps, hanging off his bed with his shoulders painfully stretched.

It works but it doesn’t feel natural. Pulling people from one realm to the other isn’t something that the ruby and the Dreaming can easily do, Hob realises. Maybe… maybe the ruby isn’t the right tool for that.

Still, it is done now and time is of the essence. There are the sounds of footsteps coming closer through the labyrinthine corridors that lead to John’s holding cell. He needs to finish this before either a sedative might take John out of his reach or he is woken up and taken out of the Dreaming.

This time, he doesn’t need to be pulled to find John’s sleeping mind.

When he enters John’s dream, Hob immediately wishes it hadn't worked. He wishes he could unsee what John dreams about what he hopes for. He wishes the man hadn’t ever been subjected to the power of the Dreamstone. There is no sanity left in John Dee -there hasn’t been for the longest time.

It’s nearly too easy to find the information he’s after, a name and a location. John raves about it, after all, about his power and his dream and his birthright. He’s spewing the name and the location at Hob with the barest of prompting and that’s all he wants and everything he needs.

The rest, though, Hob would rather forget.

John Dee has made a nightmare into his perfect world and if given a chance, Hob knows that he would make that dream come true. When he exits the dreamscape, horrified and numb at once he’s deep within the currents of the Dreaming Sea and the bubble of John Dee’s dreamworld glimmers darkly before him.

“Sleep well, John,” he murmurs as he reaches for the waters around him.“Your dreams will be your ultimate truth. A world like you envisioned, for the rest of your life.”

Then he presses the bubble down and down and down until it is swallowed up by the endless darkness of the Dreaming Sea. He can feel it still faintly, buffeted by the gentle but unrelenting pressure of the deep sea. It won’t leave any time soon.

John Dee will likely never wake up again.

***

Hob manages to keep it together until he’s finally far enough away that he dares to stop the rental car and tumbles out. He heaves but there’s only bile in his stomach and so he waits on his knees at the roadside until the worst of the shaking has stopped.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

Hob doesn’t regret it, not at all. He’s still incandescently angry and horrified in equal measure whenever he thinks of the nightmarish vision John Dee had created. His perfect world - no lies, no hopes, no dreams. He’d been so close to achieving it as well with the ruby. It would have been a perversion of unspeakable level.Hob is infinitely glad that instead he was the one who had found it.

When he finally feels steady enough to at least make it to the next motel without crashing the car, he heaves himself back behind the wheel. He only makes it another few miles before he gives up - he’s nauseous, trembling, the ruby beats a furious tattoo of screaming power against his insides and he has nothing but the roaring of the sea in his stomach.

He’s so hungry.

He doesn’t remember checkin in at the sorry excuse of a motel that he finds himself in. As he stumbles along the badly lit corridors he tries to think whether he talked to anyone at all or if he just snatched a random keycard from the counter. He doesn’t care either way.

His head hurts. He’s angry. There’s a black haze across his vision and when he rubs his eyes, his hands come away with smears of black tears.

Something is terribly, horribly wrong.

The room the key card opens is stiflingly small. The floral print of the musty bedsheet swims before his eyes. There’s gnawing hunger eating at his insides, he needs to eat - something, no matter what.

Hob nearly bashes his head open on the edge of the wardrobe when he staggers to the tiny fridge and haphazardly throws its contents onto the bed. The crisps taste like nothing; neither do the peanuts. The chocolate bar makes him nearly throw up from its consistency alone and still - there’s no taste to anything, nothing makes him feel less hungry.

He’s still ravenous. He’s still angry. He’s still so very afraid for Dream, for his friend.

In the end he gives up and falls bonelessly between the torn wrapping papers, stomach churning and twisting with the push and pull of the Dreaming Sea. He’s given so much, he thinks. He’s given so much and is willing to give much more to help his friend but he suspects that he might not have a lot left to give after all. He’s hollowed out and scraped clean and he knows on some level that he needs to replace that which he has given with something else.

“Sleep,” he rasps around too sharp teeth and wills himself to Lucienne’s side with a gentle flex of power.

She’s waiting for him in the cavernous room that leads onto the balcony. There’s apprehension in her eyes and hope when she hurries to Hob’s side on his uncoordinated arrival.

“I have a name,” he gasps and pushes himself upright where he’d nearly fallen.

“Are you alright, Sir?”

Hob shakes off her hand. There’s no time to lose; impatience and anger itch underneath his skin. On the balcony, the dreary weather unloads in a deluge of rain and lightning.

“I have a name and a location,” he repeats,” The ruby was originally in the possession of Roderick Burgess of Wych Cross, Fawney Rig, London. A magician who summoned and captured the devil in his basement.”

Lucienne rears back and Hob is vindicated in the rage and burning hope he sees mirrored in her.

“You found him,” she whispers, something unnameable in her voice. “You really found him.”

He’d been so close. All these years Hob had been so close. He wants to scream or cry or maybe both. The Dreaming screams for him instead with booming thunder. If only he’d looked, if only he’d thought to search for his friend after he’d found the ruby. His vision wavers in a black edged haze and he knows that his fury that runs through him is black as tar.

“I need to go back to England. I need to get him out, Lucienne.”

And fast, he thinks. If Dream had been held and captured at Roderick Burgess’s manor for more than a hundred years… He shudders with rage and nausea. Lightning strikes and static runs in bright arcs across Lucienne’s skin. She doesn't seem to notice at all.

“Travelling will take so long.” Hob can’t fathom the horror Dream might have gone through in the magician’s house. He shouldn’t have to wait even one more second. “And I’m not sure I can - corral this power for long enough to go back, right now.”

It’s hard to admit but Hob feels weak with the exertion he’s expended.

“You could try to travel across dreams. Or even nightmares if that's easier for you. But there is still your human body to consider.”

Hope is fever-bright in Lucienne’s eyes. This is loyalty, Hob thinks, loyalty and love. This is all for his dear Stranger and Hob wants so much for him to see it, to feel it, how brightly it burns in Lucienne. They haven’t left him in the magician’s hands willingly, no matter how wretched and guilty Hob feels for not acting sooner.

The pull of the ruby suddenly gets harder and the Dreaming Sea roars deafeningly in his ears. His hollow insides gape emptily in ravenous hunger. All three conjure up the image of the Dreaming Sea.

“I think there is another solution,” he whispers. “Using the Dreaming's power is … exhausting. To do even more, I’d need to… to regain some of the energy I’ve spent. I'm… hungry,’ he finally admits, defeated,”but the food of the Waking world hasn’t helped at all.”

The Ruby glows brightly where it hangs on its golden chain.

Lucienne’s eyes narrow and she looks him up and down, considering.

“You are right, Sir,” she finally says slowly, “Your story isn’t only one of a journey but it’s also one of metamorphosis. And those like to go full circle. To be of help, you need to finish changing.”

“What are you saying, exactly?”

“I think you might know that better than I do, Hob Gadling.”

He does. He has accepted the ruby and it has taken the place of his heart. He’s yet to fully accept the Dreaming Sea, the nightmares that have brought him here and guided him.

“How fast can we reach the Dreaming Sea from here?”

Lucienne smiles and it's a ferocious, joyous thing. “With the power you brought back into the Realm? Very fast. Follow me.”

***

They step out of a nondescript door at the end of a winding corridor. It vanishes the moment Lucienne closes it behind her. Before Hob lies a welcome, nostalgic sight: endless water, endless sky and between them both a well-worn walkway. The sea is completely still underneath the planks, as smooth as the surface of a mirror.

Lucienne next to him inhales softly. “It’s awaiting you,” she whispers. “The Dreaming… it has waited for you to come back to its very source, can you feel it?”

Hob nods mutely.

There is a strange resonance; the power beneath his breastbone lies quietly waiting. Within moments they are at the end of the walkway, where Hob had once woken so many years ago.

Hob kneels and bends over the edge to peer into the beckoning darkness of the sea.

“Sir?”

“It’s alright,” he hears himself say distractedly, “you were right, Lucienne.”

There is a figure rising from water’s depth, a reflection that slowly gains shape as it emerges. Hob knows it already. He’s seen it before, once, when he’s offered a crown to the Monarch of Dreams. Only this time he’s not so sure if it’s a distorted image at all or if it’s him, Hob Gadling, in the form the Dreaming and the ruby have made him take.

It is wearing the flower crown and a sharp, wild smile.

Then it flickers and wears the face of his Stranger instead, high cheekbones under black-dripping eyes and a sharp-toothed slash of a smile. It stretches both hands towards Hob, and on a paper-white palm it cups a small heap of obsidian black pearls.

Hob mirrors the motion until they nearly touch at the water’s surface.

“You are hungry,” the sea, the Dreaming, its Lord croons softly.

“I am,” Hob whispers, “ravenous.” And the sea shudders where his fingertips gently breach the water.

“We do not share,” the sea whispers back. “This is forever. There is no compromise.”

Hob smiles. He hasn’t expected one. After all, nothing about his Stranger has ever spoken of compromise. Neither has his ruby in how it has nestled itself into the place that belonged to Hob's heart and taken it over.

“I know.”

“Then eat your fill.”

He's Persephone, this is Hades. This is the last choice.

He’s Kore and in love with the sea and there is no choice worth considering.

He takes the pearls one by one, rolls them between his not-quite human fingers, contemplates the stains they leave, the black smears that sink into the groves of his skin where they run and flare like darkest ink. When he brings them to his lips, the reflection smiles, the sea hums and sings and churns.

Waves flood over the dock. Behind him, he hears Lucienne shout something but it is drowned out by the sudden storm.

The pearls taste like the sea itself - of the salt of tears, the sharp cut of high winds, of dreams and cruelty and heedless adoration - condensed into them lies all the purpose and weight of the Dreaming Sea. They are cool on Hob’s tongue. He chews slowly, deliberately even as they lose consistency, expand and fill his whole mouth. It forces him to swallow fast and then faster to keep from choking.

“Sir!”

This time he hears Lucienne’s anxious shout but he’s unable to answer. It’s impossible to draw enough air in between the gulps he takes to even think of talking, the water runs down his chin, his hands - it’s black and cold and heavy as the deep sea.

Hob swallows and swallows but he doesn’t try to stop.

His body burns. The dilapidated motel room flickers before his eyes, and is instantly replaced by dripping shadows. He feels his hands meet the wood of the dock and the sheets of the musty motel bed at the same time. There is water in his mouth and nose, it travels down his throat, lines his stomach and lungs and veins.

He can’t breathe.

he can’t breathe-

he can’t breathe!

‘Yes,’ the sea croons with the voices of a thousand and Hob feels it lap at his insides and hollow him out until there is nothing but black endlessness between a vast sea of blinking stars. He exists, for a mere second, lying in a bed that reeks of mould, in a hotel on the east coast of the US and then -

He is gone.

There is darkness and water, a current that cocoons him, runs through him, as it propels him forwards, down and down and down until worlds float by in shining bubbles full of impossibilities.

He is spat out at the dock, on his knees, while around him black waves crash back into the sea of nightmares and dreams. Before him stands Lucienne, something adjacent to shock fading from her eyes.

“Welcome to the Dreaming, Hob Gadling. Sire.”

He stands slowly, unused to limbs that should be familiar but aren’t. Where Hob is expecting strong, tanned hands with chipped nails, there are pale fingers - his own but not quite, tipped with black claws that look like the ones his little nightmare has. It’s fitting, he thinks, for he has drowned himself willingly to finalise this metamorphosis.

His legs are shaky, tangled in something that looks like clothes but feels like an extension of the Dreaming woven through with shadows. The fabric is warm and comforting, his favourite jumper and the manifestation of nightmarish fear at the same time.

He's not hungry anymore. There is nothing in him that feels hollow. Finally, he has replaced that which he has given with what the Dreaming has offered in recompense.

“Sire.” Lucienne repeats, voice is deferring, and Hob becomes aware of more than himself in increments.

He is in the Dreaming; wholly and completely, for the first time. He has accepted the Dreaming’s offer, and has become complete again after giving and giving and giving to the ruby and the Realm.

“Lucienne. What am I now?”

He lifts his strange hands, pats over his strange clothes and wonders if there is enough of his human parts left to leave the Dreaming; if there’s anything that’s able to go back into the Waking and live there, thrive in it as he had done for centuries.

He doesn’t wonder whether it was worth it, though.

There is conflict in Lucienne’s eyes as she regards him over her glasses, hope and awe warring with apprehension.

“I don’t know, Sire. A transformation, of course - you are here now, after all. There is no part of you left in the Waking. But beyond that?”

She scrutinises him, eyes lingering first on the ruby and then on something on his head. When Hob reaches up, he nearly dislodges the object that has caught Lucinenes attention before he manages to grab it. He hadn’t even noticed it.

It’s a crown of flowers. The crown of flowers. It lies heavy in his hands, a promise and responsibility at once.

“What…”

Lucienne's eyes don’t quite meet his, in deference more than avoidance Hob thinks.

“No one but Lord Morpheus has ever dared to wear a crown in the Dreaming. For the Dreaming to give one to you…,” she trails off and suddenly bows, deep enough that it makes Hob uncomfortable just on principle.

“I don’t know what it means either,” he says and doesn’t mention how he’d offered that same circlet of thorny flowers to a too dark pond in the nightmares’ country or the words he’d spoken with it.

Instead, he brings them back to the most important matter.

“Tell me how to travel between the realms, now that I’m not bound to… to a human body any more.”

Lucienne obliges eagerly and with a vicious smile on her lips.

#hob gadling #dream of the endless #centennialhusbandsbigbang #centennial husbands big bang #the sandman fanfiction #ginoeh writes

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bookwormscififan · 2 months

Text

The Amethyst Files, Part 8

Read on AO3!

First part | Previous part

A/N: Let's find out who shot Mad, shall we?

Warnings: Gruesome description of bullet removal.

He was falling. Why was he falling? The ground kept giving out under him, and he just kept falling. There was a ringing in his ears, a dull echo reminding him he could still hear things, and the wind whistled past his face as he fell. Everything seemed so dark, so cold, except the burning in his shoulder, and oh, that ringing isn’t ringing, it’s—

Mare yelled in anger as he charged at the figure on the other side of the clearing, wrenching the gun from their hands as he tackled them to the ground, hand against their throat as he snarled in their face. His heartbeat roared in his ears, and he turned his head to snap at Phantom’s arms as his brother tried to pull him away.

“Mare, let him go!” Jackie’s hand on his shoulder finally dragged him away, shaking his head at Mare’s rabid snarl before turning to look back at the person on the ground. “Go tend to Mad. I’ll deal with this.”

Mare gave a final growl, looking at the man on the floor, before his gaze softened and he ran back to Mad’s side, brushing his hair off his sweaty forehead and propping him onto his lap. He held Mad’s hand tightly as his free hand pressed against the bullet wound in his shoulder, shaking his head to dispel any tears threatening to fall.

“Mad, darling, please don’t die,” he begged, leaning over the vampire to check his back for an exit wound. “No exit wound. Bullet’s in there still.” Tearing the sleeve of his shirt, Mare pressed the fabric against Mad’s back, applying enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Help Mare,” Jackie told Phantom, not looking up as the human crouched beside him. “This is my own mess for me to fix. Go help your brother save his mate.” Taking a steadying breath, Jackie turned to the man on the ground, setting his jaw as he crossed his arms. “We thought you were dead.”

“Very nearly,” the man replied with a chuckle, dusting off his jacket as he sat up, frowning when Jackie’s hand on his shoulder forced him to lean back. “Jackie, it’s just me. There’s no need to be scared.”

“Robert,” Jackie began slowly, looking into his eyes, “You should have written once you’d reached the shore. Chase was so sure you were dead that he practically went insane. You just shot a friend,” he emphasised the word with a squeeze to Robert’s shoulder, gaze changing from angry to helpless. “My only friend in this country.”

“I don’t trust him,” Robert confessed, shaking Jackie’s hand off his shoulder so he could sit upright. “There were… people, they wanted this land to develop weapons. They wanted a way to overpower him. To weaken him, so they could experiment on him. Jackie, he’s dangerous.”

“He’s lived on his own for over two centuries,” Jackie replied, looking at Mad across the clearing. “He didn’t make trouble for anyone, focused on protecting himself. I’ve seen his home; he just wants to exist without being hunted. The only thing dangerous about him is how much he cares for Mare.”

“Mare’s the one that attacked me?” Robert asked, frowning at the two men hunched over Mad’s body. “How long has he been a vampire?”

“At least a year,” Jackie laughed softly to himself, hanging his head in amusement. “His brother’s still human, been looking for Mare for a few months.”

“He can’t be dead,” Mare said helplessly, looking at Phantom as he held Mad close. “He’s too smart to be killed by a gunshot.”

“Mare, the best we can do right now is try to get the bullet out,” Phantom stated, focusing on helping Mad instead of dwelling on his brother’s broken sobs. “I need you to help me get him to the creek, so I can wash his back and get the wound clean.”

“If he dies, I’m going to rip that vampire’s throat out. I don’t care how Jackie knows him,” Mare growled, effortlessly picking Mad up and carrying him to the creek, setting him on his lap with his back up so Phantom could clean.

“Do whatever you want,” Phantom replied, cleaning Mad’s back before biting his lip. “This is going to be hell.” Giving Mare a short nod, he poked his fingers into Mad’s wound and searched for the bullet, pulling a face as he pulled it out.

The twins flinched at the animalistic yell Mad let out as Phantom pulled out the bullet, Mare clutching his mate to his chest while Phantom essentially ripped the bullet out, both covering their ears as Mad’s yell turned into a screech, echoing through the clearing and making the birds fly from the trees. Just as Mare and Phantom thought they’d lose their hearing, Mad went deathly silent, going limp in Mare’s lap with an occasional twitch to his fingers.

“What… the hell was that?” Phantom asked, setting the bullet down and dunking his hands into the creek to clean the blood off them. A glance across the clearing told him Jackie and his friend were heading his way, so he tied a torn strip of Mad’s shirt around his back to cover the wound.

“I have no idea,” Mare said breathlessly, staring at the unconscious Mad in front of him. “He’s never made that sound before, but I kind of like it.”

“Mare.” Jackie’s voice distracted Phantom from his brother’s words, and he turned to look at the vampires curiously. “This is Robert. He’s a member of my family that we thought were dead. He wants to help.”

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

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

#writing #fanfiction #nwtb fanfiction #jacksepticeye fanfiction #madmare #phantomhero #vampire au

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heatherxmp · 1 year

Text

Break the Surface 🌊 Self Para

hold me, I want to go home

🌊

He’s not there.

Heather is not there in his classroom. He’s not tucked away in a quiet corner of the library reading, nor is he cozy at home with all his familiar things. He’s not cuddled up with Kaz and their cat at Kaz’s place, nor is he out in the park sunning himself with his noise-canceling headphones seated snug over his ears. Nope.

Heather is where there is no one but himself right now.

Out far off in the cool and clear sanctuary of Mount Phoenix’s surrounding ocean waters Heather is floating calmly on the surface, his body relaxed and truly at peace as he drifts in idle wherever the water deems fit to take him. There he is the safest with his eyes closed and all his senses reconnecting with the tiny molecules of water, the breath of his creation, that glide over his skin. His roots are here.

A lazy current moves and Heather turns himself over and dives down under the water. Small patches of scales are along his neck, his arms and down his uncovered back, a small testament to the fact that while he looks the part of human, he’s not all the way there. No one here on the island is but it’s kind of beautiful when you think about it. Heather thinks about it.

The siren lets himself sink down a bit, taking in water to his lungs. Their functionality switches easily, his body adjusting like those of his kind do to the water intake. Peace. Total peace finds him there under the surface. Opening his eyes Heather looks up toward the surface. Light comes in shafts down into the blue around him making shadows and highlights on the life therein. He sinks further down as a small school of new fish swims undeterred by his presence as he is not hunting currently.

Underwater plants tickle at the soles of his feet as he stays suspended in this limbo. How many times had he broken the surface in his lifetime? He turns his head as another fish swims through his hair and away. How many times had he tried to love those on the land? Heather looks back up at the rays of light that slip further and further up and away from him. He had loved Navi- complex and unstable Navi who left him alone with the shell of his heart. He had loved Izzy- when they were both young and sweet. Before they both knew how to hurt each other. Heather smiles a little remembering how he loved Gemini too— a wild and fleeting thing that blossomed and blow away like petals at the end of spring. He’s in love now again.

Lifting his hands Heather plays with the ripple of light nearest him before floating himself a little away again, movements easy and slow. He’s in no rush to rise right now. He’s happy below the surface drifting in his memories. Bringing his arms back to himself he wraps them around his body and draws his legs up making himself small here. Here it is safe. Here he doesn’t have to know everything or anything or do or say or be anything more than a part of something greater.

The water holds him, as it always has, when he needs it’s security. At ease he sinks to the bottom of this part of the shore like a clam shell finding rest and lays unbothered on the sands. For a long time he does nothing and thinks nothing anymore, just is. Heather is happy here as he unfurls himself once again after the pause and slowly floats back up. Limbs loose, hair waving in the water he rises until he’s just beneath the surface, eyes closed and face serene.

I’m wholly myself, he thinks before his eyes slowly open again. And I’m happy. So much lives in those eyes, battles he’s faced and hurt he’s carried deep inside their dark brown wells but before all that is an optimism that lives on his surface.

I’m happy.

I’m going to be so happy.

And he will.

Heather moves then and breaks the surface with a splash and a laugh. On the shore is the wealth of his friends and he hollers at them, “Come on! The water feels great!”

It does because home is where our heart is.

#🌊: Break the Surface #[droplets suspended in time]#;\self para\

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outofangband · 2 years

Note

I know you said you want to branch out a bit would you be interested in doing Restraint and Battered for Finrod?

From this prompt list here! Still accepting them

CW: captivity, implied torture, impending and implied death

On the Isle of Wolves

There was once a time Finrod Felagund knew the names of each little flower that grew upon his island. Those he had not known their names, he had named himself, weaving the words into the little poems and songs he sang absently to and from the isle, at least until a new companion of his brother had offered the names in their first language

Most he had not brought himself but has been in bloom upon his first visit or had been carried by the spring winds from either side of the river and spread as wildflowers were want to do.

They were nigh gone now.

A shadow had come over Tol Sirion. A sickness that let things fester in the darkness and left foul winds batter the usually peaceful shores, leaving naught but broken, plaid driftwood and bone in the wake.

The interior of Minas Tirion had no more been spared. The lanterns mounted for long, watchful nights had been snuffed out. Torches glowing with an eerie white flame took their place, inviting in the shadows and their wolven kindred

Oh, Finrod had heard their howls, mingled with the winds as the moon rose behind dark clouds. He saw the movement in the gloom as him and his companions crept towards the center. It has been them who had first lashed out, had cornered and devoured one poor man within minutes of his fall.

A thin, creeping ivy had started its slow invasion of the cracked stone but it was far less successful of an opponent than the forces of Morgoth and when Finrod went to touch it, it was dry. Even the choking weeds were dying.

Finrod crouched in the subterranean chamber he had not built himself. The earth itself has parted to form great pits, the bottoms littered with bone and scrap and chains that hung eerily from the slippery sides. Several men too hung limp in those chains, blood dripping steadily from desecrated bodies.

Rusted shackles, (and how could there be rust in the earth with no exposure to the winds or rain? Finrod could only believe the island itself was deteriorating) linked around his neck, around Beren’s wrists and one leg as the man lay senseless on the cold ground

He had not moved since their wardens had thrown them back down here. His wrists were bleeding from the horrid chains that seemed to grow into his very skin. The question of how they would ever remove them seemed so devastatingly meaningless.

Beren was breathing however. Whatever had been done to him when Finrod had been taken from him had not yet killed him. But he was clearly weakened greatly by the torment. Even with some motion in his hands, when the wolves came next, assuming their hosts had found Beren useless as they had all the others, there would be no fighting it.

In his darkest moments he thought of killing the man himself. He was sure he could do so painlessly and he had seen enough death to know he had no desire to see the only son of Barahir eaten alive in the pits of a fallen sanctuary.

But he could not, not without Beren’s leave. And the man was barely aware of his surroundings in the brief moments of consciousness Finrod observed, let alone able to determine something so profound

All he could do for now was to brush the grime and blood off of Beren’s face, press what scrape of cloth he could to still bleeding wounds and hum a song weakened by his defeat by the Maia. So he did.

Beren stirred again, his mouth opening slightly as he groans, lips painted a darker red than they should have been. Finrod’s hand pauses just above his friend’s face when he tries suddenly to sit up, a frenzied urgency in his uncoordinated movements, clearly struck by a nightmarish realization

“My cousins,” he murmured, gripping the elf’s hand, expression so far away Finrod could see the shadows of fire in his eyes.

“They are too young to fight, my mother will not reach them in time.”

“You are dreaming,” Finrod whispers as he had to Beren before. But there is no safety in waking he can coax him back to now. Only more soft song which seems to settle him slightly. He lays back at least and Finrod breathes a sigh, feeling his legs relax onto the cold ground.

There was a shifting in the gloom behind him. Finrod’s fingers twitched as he strained against the shackles

#the silmarillion #Finrod #beren #Sauron #beren and lúthien #short writings #what’s up folks I managed to put a reference to Morwen in this #Morwen

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aroace-polyshow · 4 days

Note

OK so I know it isn't a vocaloid song but I've recently been thinking... and "Little Talks" by Of Monsters and Men is a h☆w song to me...

Like. Hear me out. It's a conversation between h☆w members trying to comfort each other

(The second lines – the "replies", I'm putting them as the other hw member I feel would work the best for that, but it could be full unit or member + vocaloid too)

I don't like walking around this old and empty house

(So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear)

So the first line could be both Emu and Tsukasa but... if u think of the Wonder Stage as a place Emu felt at home at, and the fact that now it's old, broken, in need of repairs and, most importantly, empty. Because no-one is performing there anymore and it's abandoned and closed down. So while Emu loves this place so much, it must still pain her to be there and see the state it's at

But then h☆w come and oh. there's someone actually at her side telling her it's OK to be upset over that and are willing to be with her and comfort her and fight with her for her dream. I put this as tsks because of - as i understand it - his involvement in reclaiming the Wonder stage later and him being the one encouraging hw to try again and being there for them constantly if uou get what I mean. Like he's holding their hands and saying to keep going, I'll be here with uou to support you

The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake

(It's the house telling you to close your eyes)

Hngnhhh imagine if tsukasa, aside from the normal hw night activities, has trouble falling asleep if he hears any noises at the house at night becsuse he instantly feels this anxiety rise up in him that Something happened again and that in a second he'll hear rushed steps and painful breaths and it'll be another late night hospital visit and–

Also smth about the house being so quiet u can hear these sounds and that making him feel like he's alone bc it's so silent

But then he's reassured and reminded that. It's okay now. He's not alone and there's nothing wrong (and also to take care of himself and get enough sleep hshfh) I like to imagine this line as emu because she seems like the type who would say something so sweet and also whimsical like "it's the house's lullaby!" about the creaking or smth if she ever hears him maybe complain about it on call or something

And some days I can't even dress myself

It's killing me to see you this way

OIYHHH HW RUINENE.... Nene struggling with her appearance (I imagine she has trouble looking in the mirror sometimes... especially with the hair and all... maybe its unbrushed often because she doesn't want to think about it...)

And also her being so demotivated and with so much anxiety that she switched to homeschooling and sometimes just having the same clothes for days, maybe even not dressing up at all, staying at home all day because she's too scared of going out and meeting people and being judged... especially during the worst days

And oh rui who's been there for her the whole time and who sees all this and there's nothing that pains him more than seeing his best friend like this and who doesn't know how to help much and just wishes so much he could do something to comfort and help her out yknow...

'Cause though the truth may vary

This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

This is just. All of hw. They're each others' safe space and they carry and support each other when one isn't strong enough to handle their struggles and no matter what might happen, this one fact doesn't change

There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back

Well, tell her that I miss our little talks

AND THEN RUI with his whole villanising himself because of all the rumours about him and what everyone around calls him, thinks about him that's made him give up shows because he's so scared of hurting someone else (im looking at u hw wonder halloween), so scared of dragging others into his mess, so scared of someone being treated wrong just because they're with him. Again. And he can't help this thinking and it's just completely freezing him

And again Nene. Who's also been there the whole time. Who remembers putting on shows together as kids and how happy they both used to be, how free rui was about his inventions and ideas, how fun it was just to talk and discuss their little plays and how she misses that. How she misses that Rui. But still she feels so guilty bc she blames herself for how he is toox and yet also wants to help him so so much too

Soon it will be over and buried with our past

HNNG.... WONDER STAGE... EMUS DREAMS AND HER GRANDPAS BASICSLLY BEING LEFT BEHIND WITH IT SHUTTINF DOWN...

We used to play outside when we were young

And full of life and full of love

Again ruinene kind of... looking back on how free and unbothered and they used to be in the past but how hard and empty it is now...and how much closer they were but now there's this rift between them because of this guilt they share and self depreciation and thinking they're at fault for everything and oughdhjh....

Also something about Tsukasa's dream – and himself tbh – being more "full of life & love" when he was younger bc he remembered the reason for his purpose. And his acting being more to play and make others happy than about not failing another audition and finally succeeding and being famous. And so he was more sincerely determined. And because he didn't experience all that failure yet so he was brighter. He didn't have all those darker thoughts and broken hopes and deeply etched loneliness making him unwilling to let himself open up about his struggles and let himself be loved too

Like he's still his enthusiastic self but. It's not the same as when he was younger. Am I making sense

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right

Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear

I honestly can't decide

It could be. And this is the most fitting to me? Emu with the Wonder stage worrying if she's even right for trying to fight for it and grandpa's dream becsuse that's "not right for the business" and "stupid" and "childish" and all but then hw joining her and making her realise its not just OK, it's worth it

It could be tsukasa with his dream? And the whole "u don't have what it takes to be a star" thing making him doubt himself and if he's even right for this and what else is his purpose even and was he wrong for fighting for all of this. And then rui woukd be replying bc of whatever the ruikasa scene ure planning for main story is

Could also be ruinene and their whole thinking they don't deserve the other and were they even right to do what they did foe the other in thr past? Nene agonising over inviting rui to that troupe which ended terribly and he was just ostracised more, rui over "rubbing off" his bad reputation on nene and ruining her relationship with the troupe bc he tried to protect her. Yknow. And idk how u plan for them to deal with all that but I'm guessing emukasa somehow help so they could be the reply. Or they could be replying to each other really bc they both feel guilty but also both try to reassure the other they did nothing wrong

The chorus is mostly vibes and could be sang by all of them but

Don't listen to a word I say (Hey)

The screams all sound the same (Hey)

These are just. ALL OF THEM being Physically Unable To Talk About Their Issues and brushing off the concern of others and thinking the others have it worse and they don't need help and everything. I hate them so much

But then

Though the truth may vary

This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore (hey, hey)

Already covered this but. Even despite everything they're still trying to support each other however they can and slowly helping others and also letting themselves open up and accept help

You're gone, gone, gone away, I watched you disappear

All that's left is a ghost of you

EMU 👏 AND 👏 HER 👏 UNPROCESSED 👏 GRIEF 👏 and pxl and the Wonder stage being the only thing that's left of her grandpa but all that still being taken away from her and on its way to disappear too. Like a ghost she can't touch or feel and almost doesn't feel real bc of how it's almost dead

Now we're torn, torn, torn apart, there's nothing we can do

Just let me go, we'll meet again soon

Just. Ruinene. And their screwed up relationship. And both thinking it can never rly be fixed bc they'll always feel too guilty themselves and like they'll just ruin it again bc they don't deserve the other and HNNDNFJKFOUTGHHJJFJHH

But still the last line makes me think like. That they'll "meet" again soon with like. Their true feelings. They'll face each other with what they really feel and learn how to mend it all and they'll focus a bit on themselves too. Learn to also let go of the other a little bit to also think about themselves and what they need too yknow. Am I making sense

Now wait, wait, wait for me, please hang around

TSUKASA. Tsukasa who hasn't given up on his dream as the last one. Tsukass who hopes to tell them "don't give up on your dreams yet", tsukasa whos trying to say "if you wait I'll show you it can be done" but he needs time, he just needs to succeed for once, so please hang around and I'll show you and give you your hope and dreams back (also again smth about not wanting to be left alone. "Please wait for me (don't leave)" even when he fails again and again even though they dont know that)

I'll see you when I fall asleep

This isnt anything special really its just. Hw meeting at night HAHDHAH... maybe it could work for their sekai too as a metaphor or smth...??? but anyway basically just that. They all sing it

Then the chorus just repeats and I already talked about it so... yeah...

That's it hdhshd it's been on my mind a lot I love this song and it's just so comforting when u think about hw... them all supporting each other....

I love your au so much thank uou for making it sorry for the long ass ask HASHH

i am going to explode /pos KERI THIS IS SO GOODDDD URBEDBAHBDBANA i dont have like. additions here really. this is great ty. although. something abt the “now wait wait wait for me please hang around” line and hw being Abandonment Issues: The Unit JNFKSNDKANJDJWK

#asks #hollow ☆ wonderland #long post

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aleksanderthemesschild · 11 months

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Md dream has the spine piece right, like the mc in edgerunners, he go sped with it. The problem is when the spine piece is broken. A small dysfunction, a broken cover shard, which was supposed to get fixed before the mission but didnt. They thought it was fine, that he wouldnt suffer cause of consequences due to that. Oh were they wrong. The building they fought on collapsed, the fight that was inside a few minutes prior having damaged the building. While he and top hero ghost and blaze fought on the building, the piece that he and blaze stood on broke off, both being plunged into the dark sea beside them. Usually thatd be fine for both, both have purposefully jumped of bridges and into the water multiple times, but this time wasnt like usually. The electricity that got exposed at his spine reacted to the water, big currents reacting, dream got burned at his entire neck and upper back area cause of the electricity. The sparks jumping off his spine piece were massive and made the water around him light up. dream went unconscious because of the currents, sapnap swam dazed in the water while the other sank lower. Both got saved by their respective team partner, sam and punz easily pulling the two out of the dangerous water. Sapnap returned to work a week later, once it was sure he had no Further damage. Dream had to stay out for a bit more than a month, half of it spent in a coma like state while the other half was reinforcement and improvement "training". He returned to the battle field with a better, more Improved spine piece and less mercy. The others were overwhelmed with the sheer amount of power he fought with while they could all vividly remember the picture of sam dragging him out of the water, holding his limp, weak body protectively.

Oh and sam went bad shit crazy that day. He saw the young boy fall into the water and sparks of electricity, which sam could handle just fine but dream for sure couldnt, filling the space between boy and land. He jumped in with no second thought, knowing the electricity wouldnt hurt him but rather fill him with energy, fuelling his anger further. He pulled the other out of the water with more power than needed, just standing above him once on shore, looking at the dull eyes of his prisoner. He could hear guns loading behind him knowing full well they were pointed at him. He just showed his spider claws as a warning, knowing full well they wouldnt be able to overtake him. "Cmon, surrender! We can help your little friend." Sam didnt listen to Ghosts voice, picking up Dream and throwing him over his shoulder with ease, hearing the others gasps at the sight of Dreams wound. He started to walk towards the forest, easily getting away from the heroes who despite being more, didnt want to lose more man than they already had to Sam. He stopped at about half way to the safety car, sitting down, pulling dream towards his chest, holding the boy rather than carrying him around on his shoulder. He held his pris- his friend close while he heard the sirens from afar searching for them, but never finding them. He sat there for 10 minutes, holding dream, till his arms were covered in red blood, before he finally stood up, picked up dream again and walked them to"safety". It was hard for him, but he had to for dream

#mantis dream au

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incotheghost · 1 year

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Rusted Silver

It happened far in the north, at Silver Shore. It happened without warning. It happened… so fast.

We were a nation of peace, uniting all lords of mankind under treaty. A treaty that would ensure our safety after being plagued by wars for too long. On the day of the signing, feeling almost like a blessing, our waters became clear. Muddied no more, and now healthy for the people. And the bone-filled seabed became the whitest of sand, shining back the dawn upon us. We named it Silver Shore, for its peaceful majesty.

The woodfolk, loyal as ever, warned us of something stirring. Trees were dying in unusual patterns. So we readied our defenses and steeled our minds, in preparation for whatever was coming. I was one of the scouts, sent to look for nearby signs of danger. My kind were always scouts, in thanks to our agile bodies, and great wings. We were few left, but we were proud.

We readied up for the first trip. I was assigned to accompany Alred in this outing. The one who first brought me to Silver Shore. Both of us, battered and beaten from the warfront. And since, he has had my back better than no other. I greeted him with a friendly clap on his wings, but remained serious in tone. We both knew that preparation was useless against an unknown danger.

Tour after tour, we flew. Soaring the skies and keeping a watchful eye. It must have been weeks, while the woodfolk warned of the danger growing greater. No longer were only the trees dying, rocks were crumbling too, and dead fish washed up in yet greater numbers.

Alred and I landed in a secluded area. He was contemplating flying away while we had the chance. We would not survive what was coming, we both knew that well. Deserting would give us a fighting chance. Or at least a week longer to live.

The idea was tempting. I did not want to die, none of us did. But we were bound by honoring the treaty. Protection at all costs. Crestfallen, Alred agreed to continue our work. At least for the time.

More calamities occurred. Every day gets harsher, as nature falls around us. Something horrible is stirring. Yet out of sight. Our crops have died. Livestock has fallen to plagues. The dirt hardened. There was no more that could be taken from us, other than ourselves. The sky has even darkened. I have not seen the light of day for weeks.

I felt something. Seems every one of my kind did. A pulsing feeling moving through my wings. We leapt to high places to look around, yet we saw nothing.

Then the sky cracked.

Like split in two, the great darkness that has taken our sky, suffered a great rift. As if splitting in half. No more than seconds had gone by before the darkness was gone completely, and we were blinded by the return of light.

Our joy was short-lived, however. As my eyes adjusted, I witnessed a great beast fall upon us. Large as a mountain, carried by six wings that were woven by pure dark. Descending upon our land, I saw panic spread in the faces of my fellow people. Whenever the beast swung its wings, death followed. I grew ever weaker, as I saw my friends be torn apart by the inconceivable force of the wings.

My town lies dead. I do not. Why did I live? The earth was blackened around me, sizzling with death, yet there I stood.

My wings are broken, but I must reach the kingdom. I have written this letter to warn of coming times. I will find a way to deliver it before I arrive.

The land is dying. Silver Shore is no more, reddened and blackened by the powers of death. The only waters left lie still with a deep orange mud. We must never return.

#Fantasy #dark fantasy #OC #story #storytelling #apocalyptic fiction #monster #horror #original #Original Work #I spent my workday on this rather than actual work #I watched LOTR for the first time and I am inspired

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amazingdancingmoonpie · 1 year

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The Horns of Retribution: Episode One (Fast Friends on a Field of Fel)

story of how Moonpie met Ryo. Primarily written by Ryo with Moonpie parts by Moonpie.

((Sound track: 70s Cop Show Music))

She’s a warrior of the Light who’s a dancer at night…

He’s a demonic detective determined to set things right…

He’s always on top of the case!

She has a Light-blessed mace!

Together they’ll fight the good fight, the only way they know how…

Action, suspense, drama, out of place long winded noir monologues, and hitings things in the face with a mace!

Moonpye and Ryo Fateshifter together they are…

‘The Horns of Retribution’!

Episode One: Fast Friends on a Field of Fel

Over the many years of my very long life I had locked horns with a lot of dizzying dames, but until the day I met my partner that phrase had never been quite so literal…

The massive rocky Infernal demons crashed upon the sand creating shockwaves not unlike the ocean waves crashing against the Broken Shore. Ryo, propelled by demonic power, Fel Rushed forward and glided through the air carried by his wings. With loud a *THUNK* he stabbed his warglaives into the stone demon’s back and siphoned away its energies. The Infernal struggled in pain as it tried to swat the attacker away, but the Demon Hunter was hanging on dear life.

The Legion had returned. The Illidari were called to the fight. We had answered as had others…

Moonpye, paladin champion of the Light, threw her shield to hit the center mass of a hulking demon charging at her. Her battle grin was fierce as her swings with her glowing mace were powerful, sweeping another demon aside. Her shield bounced back to her and she caught it in time to intercept an attack from a third fel warrior. She was at the center of a churning melee with colossal Infernals, vicious felbeasts, and warrior demons all thirsting for the blood of her and her comrades. She was loving it.

Like the waters slamming onto the sand, our tide was rising. The forces of the Legion were being routed and run off inch by bloody inch. I was elated. This was the sort of fight I lived for. I know it isn’t healthy… but sometimes the only way to feel alive is to be on the precipice of death. To be in the heat of battle knowing your one mistake away from death. Of course, that notion fades quickly when the mistake actually happens…

The Infernal finally went inert and fell to pieces as Ryo sucked out the last of its demonic energies devouring its corrupted soul. The telltale shrieking whistle pulled his gaze upward where he spotted a fresh wave of meteoric monsters incoming. On pure instinct with but a heartbeat to spare, he Fel Rushed blindly to the left to avoid being crushed. It was at that same moment Moonpye was standing up from having delivered a coup de grace. There was a clattering of horns and the two suddenly found themselves joined at the side facing opposite directions. “What the…?” Ryo called out as he reflexively tried to pull himself free.

“Ahhh! Oh for the love of the Naaru. You have to be joking!” cried Moonpye as she was almost jerked off her feet by the pull of the demon hunter on her head. “How does this fuckin’ happen?!” She began to twist and jerk her body to untangle herself but their uncoordinated efforts just made things worse. It was also very distracting, a dangerous thing in the middle of battle.

The battle was still raging on all around us. Demons of the Burning Legion… as you can probably imagine, were not exactly the polite sort that would wait for two of Azeroth's defenders to resolve their tangle so the fight could be continued properly.

“Imp on your left!” Ryo called out then took a quick step backwards so his temporally tangled teammate could defend herself. It was a struggle to move around. Ryo was taller than his partner so in order for her to stand up straight he had to be at an odd angle.

With the reflexes of a warrior used to fighting in groups, she responded without having to look, lifting her shield to meet the bouncing maniacal demon. As the creature rebounded stunned, she swung her heavy weapon with the other hand. It moved in an upward arch to catch the creature on the chin and nearly take its whole head off with the power of the blow. “Thank you! Now how do we get out of this ridiculous lock? This isn’t how I typically dance, and it's a bit early for the victory party anyway.” Her words carried a sense of humor despite the incongruous circumstances.

“Yeah hold… okay maybe if we--” Ryo fell silent as his eyes shot wide open.

I spotted a caster readying a spell to fling at us. I couldn’t hope to move out of the way in time while dragging a fully armored Draenei by the horns. I threw one of my warglaives, but with my awkward positioning I missed, and my weapon went sailing past. I quickly activated the ‘Mago-magnetic-weapon-retrinator’, a nifty bit of magitech supplied by my gadgeteer brother Zen, and pulled the flying warglaive back to me. It hit the warlock in the back sinking deep enough to pierce his heart, ending him and causing his deadly spell to fizzle away. He slumped forward allowing the glaive to pull free and return to my waiting grasp.

“Nice one!” the blue skinned woman cheered appreciatively as she caught the action in her peripheral vision. She held her smile as she tried to scan the field for the next threat without moving her head and pulling them both off balance. There were a few fel fighters within sight but the battle was nearing it’s close, her side’s forces the clear victors. She took a deep breath then froze as she heard the crunch of heavy footsteps coming near from off to her free side. “Something’s coming, do you see it? Get ready.”

Ryo glanced about using his Spectral Sight to scan for demonic energies, he spotted several auras, but none with that tell tale Fel green. “Whatever it is, isn’t demonic, I think we’re safe for the moment.”

Once we were out of immediate danger, Moonpye and I set to the task of dis-entangling ourselves.

“Okay, lean forward a bit and try turning your head to the left.” I felt a stab of pain as her horn jabbed into my neck. “Ow ow ow! Other way! I meant my left, so your right!”

“Ah! Ow! For fuck’s sake this can’t be real. Thank the Light none of my compatriots are here to see this. But damn if I didn't wish I had a clear view of this comedy.” She laughed at the absurdity. “OK let’s try maybe moving this way…” she spoke as she moved. She contorted herself with surprising flexibility for an obviously strong and heavily armored woman. It however did not help their situation and she jabbed him with her long horns yet again and managed to wrap her hair around his for good measure. “Fuuuuck!” she said exasperated.

Ryo let out a sigh and ceased the struggle letting out a few choice words of his own in demonic. “I don’t think we can fix this ourselves.”

Thankfully help soon arrived.

Moonpye sighed as she leaned her weight against the larger fighter. She closed her eyes with a sigh then shot them open as she heard footsteps again. She saw an odd figure and blinked her eyes rapidly to make sure she didn't have something in them clouding her vision. “Nope that’s real,” she muttered to herself. “Hey buddy, there appears to be a lion or a tiger wearing goggles coming towards us. He with you?”

“Ryo, when I suggested we find some pretty ladies to hook up with… this was not what I meant.” The demon hunter sighed as he recognized the voice of his ever-so-snarky brother, Zen Fateshifter the Feral Druid Engineer. “Yeah… he’s with me.”

Yes, he literally has ‘Zen Fateshifter, Feral Druid Engineer’ on his business card. He’s pretty much what you would expect from a bombing throwing madman that spends a not inconsiderate part of his day being a cat.

Moonpye snorted out a laugh. “Yeah you both wish you could pull a hottie like me. I must be tired… of course it's a druid. What’s your name, Fuzzy? And for that matter, what is your name Mr. Big-Fella-Attached-to-Me?” There was still plenty of humor in her voice. “My name is Celeste, but please call me Moonpye.”

“Ryo Fateshifter. And you’ll have to forgive my brother, he thinks he is a ‘cat-median’. Now get over here and help us, Zen!”

With some help from Zen and a bit of horn filling we were finally freed and for the first time I actually got to see Moonpye in full. To my brother's credit he did get one thing right… that dancing draenei dame looked like a tall cool glass of water to a man lost in the desert, especially when she had a shield.

Ryo smiled to Moonpye “Gotta say you I’m impressed how well you fight even while trying to win an impromptu three legged race.”

“What can I say? Adapt or die, right? You did quite well, yourself. I appreciate you watching my back as it were.” She snorted a laugh again. “In fact, let’s catch a pint after this is finished getting mopped up. First round is on me. Let’s get to know one another.”

And that as they say, was the beginning of a beautiful partnership.

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vinvantae · 2 years

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The Only Exception [One Shot/Drabble]

Pierre Gasly x Reader

Even in the darkest times, when it seemed the whole world felt against you… there was always him

Words: 1681

Rating - Teen

Warnings - Mentions of sexual harassment

****************************************************

The night air was cool against your skin, the sand warm around your feet as you sat on the beach - the only sound was the ocean crashing softly against the shore. You hadn’t been able to sleep again, but instead of moping about you decided to take yourself on a walk, ending up sitting on the dark beach - only a distant lamp post and the far off lighthouse providing light. You could feel the prickle from grains of sand lightly being blown against your skin from the wind.

It wasn’t any surprise that your sleep schedule was messed up; your brain was running wild with all of the absolute shit the universe has decided to punish you with all in the space of a few short weeks. It made you question everything, everyone. It felt as if everyone was out to hurt you, break your heart until nothing but a dark pit remained in your chest. You weren’t a bad person right? Did you deserve all of this?

You heard a soft crunch behind you; a responsible person would be scared, but you patiently waited for the shadowy figure to sit beside you, draping a jacket over your shoulders as he joined you on the sand.

“If you’re going to go walking off at night, at least keep yourself warm, ma chérie.” His voice was soft, closing the distance between you to wrap his arm around your waist.

A soft sigh left your lips and your eyes finally met his - the blue being illuminated by the dim lights, but you could read every emotion on his face. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You know you can wake me, right?” He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You could feel the warmth of his body against your cold skin and if you could get closer then you wouldn’t hesitate.

“I know, but you’d just got back from a double race weekend, you needed the sleep, Pierre.” You whispered, eyes closing as his forehead came to rest against yours.

His thumb brushed up and down your side as the pair of you cried softly, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. You were so grateful that he was home for a little while; Pierre was the only person who you trusted, the only person who you were sure didn’t have ulterior motives. He simply wanted to love and be loved by you.

“I’m sorry that I was gone.” He lifted his forehead so he could press a kiss to your cheek. “If I knew-“

“Pierre, you couldn’t have known. I didn’t even know…”

“They didn’t deserve you. You worked your ass off at that place.” You could tell he was trying not to get angry, but his voice quivered a little.

You’d been fired from your job due to ‘budget cuts’, but everyone knew it was because you filed a sexual harassment claim against your boss. He’d always been a bit of a creep - lingering hands, dirty jokes, but you’d brushed it off, until one day he called you into his office after hours and tried to force himself on you. Thankfully, you managed to get away without any physical injuries but the emotional and mental damage was already done - and after you were fired, all of your colleagues, your friends, called you a liar and sided with him because he was ‘harmless’ and ‘he’d never do that!’

Pierre almost stormed down there to get his two words in, but you’d convinced him to stay home with you and just hold you. You could tell it was hard for him - he’d never been one to bite his tongue when he was angry but you needed him. You felt so broken.

“I just… I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.” Your voice cracked. “I don’t trust anyone. I feel like everyone is out to get me… can I just live in your pocket.”

“I’ll sew a pocket on all of my clothes specifically for carrying you in it, mon amour.” He hummed, cupping your face - brushing his thumb across your cheek bone. “In fact, I’ll even contact the engineers and ask if they can put a compartment in my car to keep you in.”

You whined and gave him a playful shove as he chuckled softly. “Not funny. I know it’s not healthy but I don’t want to be with anyone else right now.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You can come to races with me until you’re ready to take another step okay? I know it’s not ideal but you can stay in my driver’s room so you don’t have to be around other people if you’d like too.”

You smiled a little; there were no words to truly express how grateful you were for how accommodating he was of your needs. Instead, you lent in and pressed your lips against his in a sweet kiss.

“Now, how about we get you home, hmm? It’s fucking cold.” He laughed. “I can’t feel my ears.”

“Fine. Fine.” You grumbled, letting the Frenchman help you to your feet.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even put shoes on!” He scolded playfully, bending over a little. “Hop on, ma chérie."

You giggled softly and hopped onto his back, wrapping your legs around his middle - scooching to get comfortable as his arms came to rest underneath your bum to hold you up. “How did you know I’d be here anyway?”

He hummed softly. “Well I noticed you didn’t take shoes so I know you couldn’t have gone far so that ruled out any bar or pub that’s open at this time. So it was either here or the docks and I know you hate the noises there at night.”

Your cheeks flushed and you buried your face into his neck - he knew you so well.

“Well, thank you for joining me.” You whispered, yawning a little as he carried you the short way back to your shared apartment. “I’m so grateful for you, Pierre.”

“I’m grateful for you too, y/n. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He placed you on your feet to fish his keys from his pocket. “Get yourself to bed, I’m just gonna grab you a glass of water. Or else you’ll get a headache from crying.”

“Kiss first, please.” The Frenchman smiled softly, tilting your chin with his finger to angle you up into a kiss - his lips sweet against yours, having a habit of stealing your flavoured lip balms.

“Bed now.”

You slipped into the bedroom; stripping off before sliding under the sheets - just listening to the soft pads of Pierre’s footsteps around the flat. No matter where in the world you were, he was home; but him being in the house you shared definitely was something special. This was your space - no one else’s. As he stepped into the room with a glass of water, you snuggled further into the bed.

“Nuh uh, sit up. You need to drink up.” He chuckled softly.

As sexy as he thought you were naked, as the sheets pooled around your waist when you sat up - he just appreciated how safe and comfortable you felt around him, that the two of you could be naked together and just enjoy each other’s company without it constantly being heated. You sipped the water as he took off his clothes too, climbing into bed beside you.

You placed the cup on the dresser and curled up into his side, resting your head on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair soothingly. The silence was comfortable between you but you felt guilty that he was still awake after his busy weekend.

“You’re thinking too hard again.” He whispered softly.

“Sorry, I just… I feel bad for waking you up.”

“Look at me, mon ange.” You tilted your head up, just able to make out his features in the dark room. “Don’t feel guilty, okay? I want to be with you when you feel like this… you never ever have to be alone when you’re down. I'm always going to have your back, even at 2, 3 o’clock in the morning.”

“I don’t deserve y-“

He pressed his lips to yours to stop you talking, his hand coming up to hold the side of your face.

“None of that.” His voice was tender. “You’re more than deserving. I’d give you more if I could, you deserve the world.”

You blushed dark, his lips curving into a fond smile. He placed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before readjusting you both so you were laying flatter in bed. He nuzzled his nose against yours and you smiled softly - you finally felt at ease. He’d helped to calm your troubled mind just enough to make the tiredness slowly creep up on you.

“You gonna get some rest now, mon amour?” He purred softly, stroking your jaw with such a tenderness - you thought you’d melt straight into the mattress.

“What time do we have to be up tomorrow?” You yawned.

He chuckled quietly. “We don’t. Sleep as long as you need, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

As you slowly began to drift off into a slumber; you couldn’t help but feel, despite everything, that you were going to be okay. Somehow, even with billions of people on the planet - you were lucky enough to love Pierre and be loved back. Even when it seemed like the whole world was against you, he was the exception. On the darkest nights he brought you warmth and compassion, holding you close until you finally felt grounded. You knew that even if he could steal you the sun and moon that he’d still be out there trying to catch you a star.

You were still just about conscious when you heard his voice once more. “Sleep well, ma chérie… I promise to never let anything bad happen to you ever again.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple before pulling you close to his chest and finally, you fell asleep.

*************************************************

I have no idea what this, was just in the mood to write something for Pierre. Hope you enjoy 🧡

Also, didn’t let my fave Pierre simp proof read this so surprise @reidslefteyebrow 😂

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #Gasly x reader #oneshot #Drabble #x reader

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little-diable · 2 years

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Waves, cover up what I've done - Jasper Hale (2/2)

Part two, here we go. Thank you for the overly positive feedback on part one. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The Cullens are always right there to protect their loved ones, even if the reader begs them for help to cover up what she has done. And sometimes - just sometimes - even Charlie Swan will break the law for the ones he loves.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, talks about murder and blood, abusive boyfriend

Pairing: Jasper Hale x fem!reader (2.5k words)

Part 1

A few hours ago

She had been driving around for what felt like hours, hoping to find a good spot to dump his body. Perhaps she should have acted as if somebody else had killed him, hoping to fake her sadness in front of Charlie and the other officers - but by now it was far too late, by now she was in too deep - with a body in her trunk and her heart roaring in anger.

“Fuck, why did you have to be such an asshole?” As if she was waiting for a reply, her eyes flickered to her rearview-mirror, waiting for Jack to speak up. Nothing but an eerily silence engulfed her, even the sound of raindrops dripping onto her windshield drowned out the heavy breaths that left her like a helpless cry.

Should she dump him on the beach? Making it seem like he had died while being out drunk? Should she leave the state and dump him in the forest?

Her eyes caught the sight of the near cliffs, perhaps she’ll simply push him off there, in hopes of his body sinking to the ground of the ocean. The wound her knife has left in his throat should be deep enough for air to leave his system, hopefully he wouldn’t float to the surface, hopefully the waves would cover up what she’s done.

No other cars nor people could be seen as (y/n) parked her car, for a moment she stayed seated, eyes watching the waves clash against the rocks, rolling to the shore like children being chased by their parents, screaming in delight as the sun was burning down on them. But no screaming children could be heard, only her racing heart and the blood rushing in her veins.

With her windbreaker zipped up to her chin, (y/n) stepped out into the icy afternoon, eyes struggling to stay open with the wind blowing through her clothes and the rain clashing down on her frame. She could only pray that the rain would cover her frame, keeping her hidden in the rising fog.

Trembling hands opened her trunk, eyes set on Jack’s blood covered body. A heavy sigh split from her lips as she wrapped her arms around his body, she heaved him out of the trunk, only to let his body crash to the ground. He was too heavy for her to carry him, too heavy for her to push him off the cliff.

God, she shouldn’t have been as impulsive, should have come up with a plan before she had pierced her knife into his chest, ending his pathetic excuse of a life.

“Alright, Jack.” (Y/n) pulled his body along the wet ground, skin ripped open by the gravel, leaving blood stains behind. Before she could take another breath she rolled his frame off the cliff, her eyes didn’t dare follow his falling body, she was standing still, waiting to hear the big splash of his body meeting the ocean.

It felt like an eternity till the sound echoed through the air, finding its way to her like a hand being placed on her shoulder, reassuring her that her suffering had found its end. Her darkest secret would be kept by the night, forever hers if she wouldn’t spill anything to her friends and family.

(Y/n) didn’t turn back once, she didn’t even clean out her trunk, set on making it back home before her walls would tumble to the ground, broken apart by a push of her hand. Fuck, he was truly gone, forever buried beneath the waves - a fair payment for the awful things he has done to her and her soul.

The moment she parked her car in front of her house, she ripped her jacket off her upper body, throwing it behind herself. As if she was trying to free herself from the crime she has committed, (y/n) stood in the rain, letting it wash away the reminders of the past hours. But his blood kept sticking to her hair and hands, small specks she couldn’t get rid of.

Her body forced her to run towards the forest, feet meeting the mossy ground with her lungs screaming in pain. She had to see him, had to see them, before she would lose her grip, before she would break with the world fading to black.

Present

“I did, I,” her words were hanging in the air, filling the biting silence that wrapped itself around them. She was preparing herself for the words Charlie would speak, forcing her to her feet with handcuffs finding their way to her wrists. (Y/n) would have to say goodbye to her family, to the ones she wanted to ask for help, hoping that they’d show her a way out of the grave she had dug for herself.

“Where is his body?” Emotionless as always, Charlie kept staring at her, arms crossed in front of his chest. For a second (y/n)’s eyes flickered to Bella’s, hoping that she could read her father and the emotions dripping from his voice.

“I threw him off a cliff.” Charlie didn’t reply, at least not for a while, he kept staring at her with his dark eyes. None of the Cullens dared to move, not even Carlisle, scared that Charlie would snap, that he’d give into the rules a good officer was supposed to follow. Charlie Swan was a good man, with a pure heart and soul, he wasn’t a criminal, wasn’t a blood hungry predator like the Cullens, no, he was a simple man with a simple life.

“We will report him as missing. (Y/n), call his parents and friends, ask them if they have seen him. We have to make sure that his body won’t resurface, Bella you should talk to Jacob, he has to make sure that Sam won’t call the police if Jack’s body is found.” Charlie’s eyes didn’t leave (y/n)’s once, he kept staring at her, trying to read his friend.

“What?” Her timid voice broke through the silence that followed Charlie’s orders, not understanding why he wasn’t arresting her.

“He has hurt you, multiple times, mentally and physically. We didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him, but now you’re free. I won’t take you in because of that.” With a cry bubbling out of her, (y/n) stumbled into Charlie’s chest, arms tightly wrapped around his middle. She didn’t dare let go, didn’t dare to lift her head off his chest, focused on the tune of his beating heart.

“Thank you, Charlie.” Both Carlisle and Jasper shook his hand, silently communicating as Bella and Edward left the mansion, hoping to catch Jacob before the night would end.

—-

About an hour later (y/n) found herself pressed against Jasper’s chest, she had just finished calling Jack’s friends, hoping to pull them into her lie. No longer did she worry about the massive waves of guilt suddenly pulling her under, as long as she was surrounded by her family she’d be able to swim, not drowning on her own.

Jasper’s golden eyes burned straight through her layers of skin, he could read her every emotion, every expression that crossed her features, “Now you’re finally mine.”

His words hung in the air, it took a few moments for them to settle in. Yes, she was now truly his, didn’t have to hide, no longer running from a broken relationship. Jasper was her new home, the one she could turn to when she was lost and had strayed from her path. Cold fingers danced along her jaw, he pulled her in for a kiss, drowning out the gasps spilling from her lips.

With his hands pinning her down on the bed, Jasper hovered above her, staring down on her with his eyes turning dark. The house was empty, allowing the two lovers to give into the emotions buzzing through their veins like lightning striking a cloudy sky. Somewhere between hovering above her and undressing her trembling body, Jasper found himself murmuring those three sweet words that had been burning on his tongue since the moment they’ve crossed paths.

(Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close as Jasper kissed her now naked chest, tongue flicking her nipples, showing attention to both hardening nubs with his cock rubbing against her clothed heat. They were a mess of tangled limbs, with a heart racing in anticipation and a dead one singing a tune for her and the love they were sharing.

Moans filled the room like a bird waking a day, singing for those that were still lost in their dreams, not finding their way back to reality just yet. Skilled fingers worked on their clothes, impatiently ripping them from their frames, exposing their naked bodies to their hungry eyes.

“I need to feel you, just fuck me, please.” (Y/n) couldn’t care about foreplay, couldn’t drag this out any longer. All she needed was Jasper and the feeling of his body being connected to hers.

“Relax, darlin’. I’m right here.” His raspy voice shot shudders down her spine, accent thickening with every syllable that split from his cold lips. Jasper’s dark eyes burned into hers, he spat into his palm, pumped his cock a few times before he settled between her thighs. Her jaw fell slack as she felt his fingertips brushing through her slit, spreading her arousal on her folds.

She was dripping for him and his touch, desperately needing to feel her lover. The lover that would protect her from the ghosts of past times, haunting the woman that had ripped herself free with a blade piercing through layers of skin, drawing blood from a vile man with her heart in her throat and sweat pearling on her skin.

“Jasper,” she called his name, hands searching his with her lips ghosting over his. “Thank you.” It was a simple sentence, just two words that had rolled off her tongue, but they carried more meaning than she could form into words herself. (Y/n) had been rescued by him, the one that had entered her life when she had needed him the most. Her salvation, her way out.

“Always, forever and ever, my sweet darlin’.” He pushed into her, cock engulfed by her heat, by her tight walls. Their bodies moved in sync, giving into the lust guiding their every movement, forcing them to pick up the speed of his thrusts and the fluttering of her walls.

Jasper’s hips snapped against hers, every thrust was more ferocious than the one before, ripping her apart with his lips pulled into a thin line and his eyes burning in excitement. They were rewriting her story, erasing mistakes she had made, adding commas to sentences that have grown too long and complicated to follow. A new path to follow when the night would grow darker.

Both their moans echoed off the walls, louder than the roars of her heart. Forever they could stay buried beneath blankets with their bodies connected, but tonight they’d give into the feeling, tonight they would set themselves free with their pleasure guiding them through their highs.

(Y/n)’s hands found their way to his golden locks, tugging on his roots as his thumb began to circle her clit. He was teasing her closer to her release, wanting to push her over the edge with his lips searching hers. The kiss they shared was slower than the speed of his thrusts, sharing emotions that couldn’t be put into words.

She came with her head thrown back against the pillow and her back arched off the mattress, Jasper couldn’t help but stare at her, how she parted her lips with her eyes pressed shut. The pleasure running through her veins was written clearly on her features. Her walls clamped down on his cock, silently begging him to give in, to fill her with his release as he’d groan for her.

“Fuck, I-” Jasper’s pace began to falter, he pressed his forehead against hers, was still lazily rubbing her clit as his orgasm hurled through him, making him feel as if he was just a mere human being, with a racing heart and his body trembling from the intense feeling. Another kiss was shared before he pulled out of her, reaching for a towel to clean her up.

But just as he wanted to part his lips, to share another few sweet words with her, the sound of his phone ringing ripped them out of their trance. She watched him with curious eyes, and could only pick up a few words he shared with the other person on the line. Not once did his gaze stray from her features, hooked onto her slightly glassy eyes.

“We’ll be there in a few.” Jasper hung up the phone with his hand reaching for his shirt, starting to redress himself, “They’ve found his body.”

—-

No words were shared as they drove through the dark forest, eyes set on the road ahead. The moon was hiding behind a thick body of clouds, barely offering them any light to make it through the night. Jasper drove slower than usual, but (y/n) didn’t dare speak up, lost in her own thoughts and the memories that were now burning inside her.

Charlie’s car was parked next to a few others, he was the first person that greeted the two, with his arm wrapped around her middle, he guided her towards the beach. An eerily silence engulfed them, the other Cullens were standing with Jacob, staring down on the body bag that was lying to their feet.

“We will burn him. In a couple of months we will tell his family that we don’t have any evidence and that the case will be closed.” Charlie spoke softly, as if she’d break any moment now, but (y/n) only nodded her head with her eyes set on the black bag. Her heart was skipping beats, unsure what to feel with all their eyes focused on (y/n).

“Do you want to say goodbye?” For a moment she froze, wondering why she should say goodbye to a man she had killed, a man that had abused her and turned her into a lost version of a woman she had once been. But with a silent “yes” bleeding from her lips, (y/n) took a step closer.

She waited till the others were gone, waiting for her near their cars. Slowly she sank to her knees, sitting next to the bag with her eyes wandering to the dark ocean. And for a few moments she was just sitting there, in silence with a smile tugging on her lips.

She was free, finally free.

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

INTO SILENCE – Final Part

A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC

Featuring: Emmett x Reader

Words: 1,347

Warnings: Pregnancy, Fluff

Two Years Later…

It has been two years since you almost passed away that night, giving birth to your son after having lost a significant amount of blood.

It took several blood transfusions to get you back onto your feet and, for about three nights, no one knew whether you would be going to make it or not. But you did, and now you had become stronger than ever.

Two months after your son was born, you began to work at the infirmary on the island while Emmett often travelled to the mainland with a group of men and women, including your eldest brother, to gather supplies.

Just during their last run six weeks ago, they returned with new survivors, a man by the name of Ivan who was a priest and his sister Elenore.

The community was growing bigger slowly but steadily and you were grateful for what you had as the creatures continued to loom across on the mainland.

Nonetheless, every time Emmett left, you worried. You never knew if he would return and you had no way of communicating with him while he was gone.

For the past three days, you were waiting impatiently as he had gone for much longer than you had expected until, finally, you saw the island’s boat approach on the shore.

‘Look John, daddy is home’ you said eagerly as you saw Emmett at the front of the boat with, what seemed to be, even more new arrivals.

‘It’s alright, go on, you can talk here’ Emmett said to a young girl who must have been about seven or eight years old. But she didn’t speak and looked confused.

‘Daddy’ John shouted out as you walked over towards Emmett and the young girl and Emmett was quick to give you a kiss and take John into his arms, giving him a big a hug.

‘Oh, I missed you my little boy’ Emmett said as he gave John a kiss on the cheek. ‘And I missed my little girl too’ Emmett then said as he placed his palm over your rather large belly and was rewarded with a kick from his daughter which was due to arrive on this world in less than eight weeks.

‘What is your name?’ you asked the young girl as she stood beside you, but she didn’t answer and quickly held onto Emmett.

‘Alright, uhm, are you hungry?’ you then asked and the girl nodded, while pulling on Emmett’s jacket who, in turn, gave her a quick nod and told her that it was alight to talk to you.

‘Good, do you like spaghetti?’ you asked and she nodded again, which encouraged you to tell her to follow you. But again, there was no reaction from her until Emmett took her hand and told her to come along.

‘What about her parents Emmett?’ you whispered quietly and Emmett shook his head and told you that her father didn’t make it when they found them.

You nodded somewhat saddened and, without questioning, offered her a room at your new house in which you were living with Marie who had recently turned 14, Emmett and your two-year-old son John.

It was obvious to you that she had built a connection with Emmett and was rather afraid of all the strangers around her.

Marie was quick to offer her a shower while you prepared the food and finally found some time to ask Emmett about what happened.

Emmett told you that he had found her in an old factory building up north. Her father must have passed away a few days earlier and she was on her own. They had found his body and when Emmett asked her about her mother, she shook her head.

You wondered whether she learned how to speak or whether she wasn’t able to. No doubt, time would tell and you were both determined to give her some time.

***

And time it took. For weeks, the little girl said nothing and you didn’t even know her name. You made her as comfortable as you could, providing her with a home and taking her out to explore the island.

‘So, I was thinking that, perhaps, tomorrow night, you could look after John and our new little friend here?’ Emmett said to Marie who was chopping up vegetables for preserving.

‘You are finally going to do it, aren’t you?’ Marie asked after she ensured that you weren’t around.

‘Yes and I even got a ring’ Emmett said with a smile as he pulled out a small jewellery box.

‘You broke into a jewellery store. Nice work’ Marie laughed, causing Emmett to shrug his shoulders.

‘I don’t think the owner would have minded’ Emmett explained.

‘Of course, I will watch the kids’ Marie then said which was when the young girl shook her head. She didn’t want to stay with Marie.

‘Maybe I will take them both’ Emmett then said, pouting as he did.

***

And so he did. He got John ready along with a basket full of food before telling you that you would be going down to the lake for a picnic.

‘You will make me waddle all the way to the lake?’ you chuckled and Emmett nodded eagerly.

‘It will be worth it, trust me’ he then said and you responded with a quick ‘ok’ before putting on your shoes and following him and your little nameless friend.

When you arrived at the lake, Emmett spread the blanket out across the green grass and took John in to the water for a quick dip. It was a warm day and John just loved playing in the water.

‘Did you want to go in? I did bring you swimmers?’ you asked the little girl, but she shook her head and reached for another apple as she watched John and Emmett play in the water with a smile.

After about ten minutes, John had enough and Emmett brought him back out before drying himself off.

‘You know, I often remember that night at the river. Our first night together’ Emmett whispered so that no one could hear while you got John dressed in some warm clothes.

‘Me too. And look at us now’ you said with a smile, which is when Emmett began searching through the basket for the small jewellery box.

‘Well, I think it is about time that I ask you a very important question’ Emmett then said as he pulled you up from where you were sitting while John was sitting on the picnic blanket and eagerly watched the situation unfold.

‘Uhm…damn’ Emmett then said, lost for words before dropping onto one of his knees in front of you.

‘Damn?’ you laughed, waiting for him to say what he wanted to say.

‘I didn’t think I would do this again’ he said nervously and, just as he did, you could both see the little girl giggle, standing there and watching Emmett all so nervously mutter out some words.

‘He wants to know whether you want to marry him’ the young girl then blurted out, laughing and giggling.

‘Uhm yes, do you?’ Emmett then asked slightly amused but still nervous.

‘Yes, of course I do. Of course want to marry you’ you said with a wide and bright smile just before he put the ring he got from the mainland during his last run onto your finger.

After Emmett and you finally shared a passionate kiss, sealing your engagement, you turned around to the young girl, looking at her confused and full of questions.

‘My name is Emily and I guess you will be my new parents now that my real parents are dead’ she said before giving you both a hug.

‘I am so sorry’ you just managed to say before returning the hug and suggesting that you head back to the house soon as the rain was coming in.

‘That sounds good’ Emily responded before picking up John and carrying him piggy bag.

‘Looks like we are going to be one big family, eh?’ Emmett said as he took your hand and you both followed Emily and John back to the house.

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