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berrypockets · 2 months

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Voiceless | Shadows of Betrayal

Tommy Shelby x Reader

The evening draped Small Heath in an eerie stillness as the Shelby family gathered at the Garrison. Laughter and clinking glasses resonated from within, creating a facade of normalcy that veiled the impending darkness.

Amidst the warm glow of the streetlamps, Y/N decided to head to the Garrison ahead of Tommy. He was entangled in a crucial call, his voice carrying the weight of negotiations and alliances. Oblivious to the shadows closing in, Y/N stepped into the dimly lit streets, the familiar path from the betting shop to the Garrison now taking an ominous turn.

Grace, harboring a malevolent intent, materialized like a phantom in the alley. A concealed gun gleamed in her grasp as she approached Y/N, her eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction.

"You stole everything from me," Grace hissed, her grip tightening on the gun. "Tommy, the attention, the admiration. You were nothing until he noticed you."

Panic surged through Y/N, her pace quickening into a desperate sprint. However, the alley transformed into a labyrinth, closing in on her as Grace swiftly closed the distance. The glint of the gun, a deafening shot, and searing pain erupted in Y/N's left shoulder, just above her heart. She crumpled to the ground, the cold pavement stained with her blood.

Unbeknownst to Grace, Tommy concluded his call, a mix of urgency and dread etched on his face. Oblivious to the unfolding tragedy, he hurried towards the Garrison, unaware that the shadows had descended upon Y/N.

As Y/N lay wounded, Grace reveled in her delusion. "You deserve this, Y/N. It would've been better if you had died the first time."

Tommy, alerted by the gunshot, hurried towards the scene. His eyes widened with horror as he found Y/N on the ground, clenching her shoulder in pain. Grace stood nearby, a twisted smile on her face as she uttered venomous words, proclaiming that Tommy should have been hers. "He should have been mine. He deserves to be with me."

Tommy, heart pounding, rushed to Y/N's side, his hands trembling as he tried to put pressure on her gunshot wound. The dim alley echoed with his desperate shouts for help, the air thick with a sense of impending tragedy.

Grace, in her delusional fervor, stood nearby, a twisted smile playing on her lips. "Tommy, leave her. She doesn't deserve you. Come with me, and we can start anew."

Tommy, appalled and furious, shot back, "You're fucking mad, Grace. Leave us alone!"

Y/N, caught in the throes of agony, fought to stay conscious. Each breath felt like a battle, the world around her fading in and out. Tommy, his panic escalating, continued to call for assistance, his voice strained and desperate.

The shadows deepened as the alley became a battleground of twisted desires and a fight for survival. Y/N, gasping for air, clung to consciousness, her strength waning with every passing moment.

Tommy, whose hands stained with Y/N's blood, refused to succumb to Grace's delusions, his loyalty unwavering.

The gunshot pierced the air, a dissonant note in the symphony of laughter and chatter within the Garrison. Customers, their revelry abruptly halted, exchanged alarmed glances.

Amidst the chaos, the familiar voice of Tommy Shelby shattered the uneasy stillness. "Help! Someone, help!"

The patrons, now unified by concern, rushed outside to find Tommy Shelby cradling a bloodied Y/N in his arms. Her face, pale and strained, bore the weight of pain and desperation.

"Hang in there, love. Help is on the way. Keep your eyes open for me," Tommy implored, his voice a mixture of reassurance and desperation.

Panic spread like wildfire, and the Shelby family, ever united, swiftly moved into action. Polly, the matriarch of the family, reacted instinctively. She rushed to Tommy's side, her sharp eyes assessing Y/N's injuries.

"John, get the car ready," Polly directed, her tone unwavering. "Ada, help keep pressure on the wound. Arthur, fetch some whiskey and clean sheets."

As the Shelby family orchestrated their roles, the onlookers were kept at bay, forming a respectful circle around the unfolding drama. The dimly lit streets bore witness to the Shelby family's unity in crisis.

Grace lingered nearby, whispering to her delusional pleas; attempting to pull Tommy away from the wounded Y/N.

The cold wind carried echoes of urgent footsteps, signaling John's return with the car. Ada, displaying a calm demeanor, worked alongside Polly, their synchronized efforts aimed at stabilizing Y/N until they could get her proper medical attention.

Meanwhile, Arthur, his usually boisterous nature subdued by the gravity of the situation, hurriedly returned with the requested supplies. The sharp smell of whiskey mingled with the tension in the air as Polly prepared to attempt rudimentary first aid.

Tommy, holding Y/N with a fierce protectiveness, felt a surge of gratitude for his family's swift response.

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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hrefna-the-raven · 6 months

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Web of faith

Masterlist- BG3 masterlist

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 6 - 7

Words: 3703 (sorry it turned out to be so endlessly long^^)

Warnings: smut (18+), more precisely smut including the drider version of Kar'niss

Summary: you finally entered the shadow-cursed lands and called out to your guide, but you didn't expect to know him...

Chapter 4

As soon as your tadpole reached out, you were taken aback to discover something familiar. You couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but the mind that responded felt incredibly comforting and recognisable, seamlessly connecting with your own. Drider was your first thought as you heard the clicking of spiderlegs approaching in the darkness accompanied by a pale white light. Your hand instinctively went to the hilt of your sword but your body froze as soon as the drider was in sight.

"Yes", the drider spoke with a raspy voice, "I hear them, your majesty. Calling us."

His enormous spider-like form would have instilled terror in most others, particularly the goblins, the half-orc, and your companions. However, your gaze was fixated on his face. It appeared different, yet strangely familiar. The eyes were engulfed in darkness with light brown irises, and there were five additional spider eyes on the left side. Beautifully cascading white hair adorned his broad shoulders, swept behind the ear on the same side you used to do it. And there it was, that unmistakable scar on his full, soft lips. He had changed, had become disfigured, but beneath it all, you immediately recognised an undeniable beauty. The same beauty that had captivated you back then in Menzoberranzan. You couldn't believe what you were seeing - he was alive. Your beloved was alive. Though your mind acknowledged that his transformation into a drider meant he had endured immense pain and suffering for failing Lolth's test, your heart could not deny the sheer joy of witnessing him breathing and relatively well before you.

Kar'niss hesitated to appear when he sensed the presence reaching out to him. It echoed the same tune as the other voice in his mind, that gentle melody piercing through the commanding tone of his queen, softer but irresistibly captivating. He desired to distance himself, to avoid committing any offense against her majesty, as it had nearly destroyed him before. However, he found himself unable to resist the allure of that melody and then he caught sight of that exquisite visage, seamlessly weaving through his fractured memories like a crimson thread. Though unaccompanied by a name, he was intrigued. If his queen permitted, he felt compelled to uncover more. Before he could utter a word, the half-orc stepped forward, breaking the uneasy silence.

"Greetings in the Absolute's name, you have been charged with guiding us", he said, deliberately avoiding meeting the gaze of the drider as his feet shuffled nervously.

"New flesh for you, my queen. But who are they?", he approached you, drawing nearer until his face was directly in front of yours, his body stooping low. The pale glow from the lantern cast an mellow light on your countenance as you stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Niss, is that you?", your voice quivered, unable to contain the mixture of agony and inexplicable joy welling up within you.

Your minds connected and you heard a whispered voice, unsure if it was the Absolute or just the echoes of his fractured mind reverberating in the dark but deep in there, just a fraction of a second, your own voice resonated alongside a fleeting image: delicate fingers tenderly brushing his hair away from his face. The connection abruptly severed, leaving Kar'niss bewildered, his face etched with confusion as he desperately grasped at the fading memory, only to find it eluding him. A bitter taste of shame gnawed at his very soul.

"Bless us again, majesty. Shine your light, protect us!", Kar'niss spoke with an agitated tone, spinning around and striding away, "follow us or die in the shadows!"

Your companions exchanged whispered words amongst themselves. It was clear to them that you had some connection to this drider, but you paid no mind to their inquiries. Your sole concern was Kar'niss in this moment. Hastening past the group, you positioned yourself by his side. Though he remained silent, his gaze shifted towards you, filled with curiosity and a tinge of unease. You were well aware of the anguish that accompanied the creation of driders. Not even the smallest traces of the person they were before the transformation rarely remained, instead they became monstrous husks, their broken minds barely holding them together, filled with shame, sadness and anger. Your heart shattered when you delved into his thoughts, witnessing the devastation inflicted upon your beloved and now infected by the mind control of the Absolute's cult. The weight of it all burdened you, threatening to drown you in a sea of sorrow. Yet, you clung to that one glimmer of hope as you heard your own voice and witnessed a shared memory. Deep down, you believed that the real him still existed, buried beneath layers of pain and madness. You were determined to dig him up again, even if it meant using your bare hands and dedicating the rest of your life to the endeavour. You swore to yourself that you would do everything in your power to reclaim your one true love.

"Niss, do you remember me?", you cautiously inquired, your hand reaching out towards him, however, before it could make contact, he retreated.

You suppressed a sob that threatened to escape your lips, battling the pain that surged within you at his rejection.

"Niss, please", you begged, almost whispering to ensure the others wouldn't overhear.

Kar'niss felt a tightness in his chest upon hearing your words, as if an invisible force had stolen the air from his lungs, leaving him bewildered. Who was this young drow and why did she address him with the same name as the other voice? Why did he feel so drawn to her? He understood that his loyalty should lie solely with his queen, the one who had bestowed upon him purpose and value. Yet, he yearned to bow before this drow, to worship and love her. The ease with which he entertained such thoughts of betrayal to his queen terrified him. He must not allow the drow to touch him; he must distance himself, seek guidance from his queen, beg for forgiveness, and determine the meaning of this drow from a safe distance. And yet, her melody echoed in his mind, growing louder and oh so sweet. How could he possibly resist?

"The shadows are strongest here, do not stray from the path, no matter what they promise", he warned, casting a glance at you before resuming his journey.

The remainder of the route was devoid of any noteworthy incidents, and you soon reached your destination: Moonrise Towers.

Kar'niss swiftly departed as the guards at Moonrise Towers greeted you, stealing a final glance before ascending the tower walls. Upon entering, a comforting warmth enveloped you, creating an almost inviting and friendly atmosphere, if not for your knowledge of the cult's true nature. However, the ambiance quickly shifted upon reaching the throne hall, where Ketheric Thorm sat in a state of irritation and boredom, standing next to him a half-orc named Z'rell, who was currently torturing some goblins. Your attention drifted away, leaving Gale to handle the conversation while you focused on scanning your surroundings with the aid of your tadpole, desperately searching for any trace of Kar'niss. Finally, you managed to detect his presence. The sound of your name being mentioned abruptly snapped you back to reality.

"Were you even listening to a word I just said?", Gale let out a sigh, but upon noticing the guilt in your expression, he decided not to dig further, "let's head to Balthazar's room and get that lantern."

You nodded, taking the lead and pausing in the middle of the library. You gazed upward, a faint smile appearing as you spotted an opening in the ceiling.

"Would it be alright if you grab the lantern and search for Balthazar? I have something I need to attend to here."

The rest of the group frowned in disagreement, but Gale nodded, offering you a warm smile. He understood the significance of what you needed to do. If there was even a chance to save the one you loved, it was crucial to seize it. He couldn't help but admire your unwavering determination and the fact that your love continued to grow, despite your beloved being transformed into a creature that would terrify most.

Your mind reached out to Kar'niss, imploring him to join you. Initially, there was no response, but then you sensed his reluctance as he attempted to shut you out completely. It was only when you sent one final desperate plea that he relented. Niss, please. Emerging from a hole in the ceiling, the drider descended on a delicate thread of spider silk.

"Tiny excuse of a drow", he grumbled, "bothering us until we give in."

With his hands firmly gripping your waist, he effortlessly hoisted you over his shoulder. As he crawled up the wall, returning to his secluded space, he held onto you tightly.

"We shouldn't listen to you, it's treason, our queen will punish us."

He almost threw you into his little chamber and you had to use all your force and balance to not fall flat on your face. You crawled upon the blanket and took in your surroundings. It was a small little space, almost hidden away from the other cultists, a woollen blanket spread out on the floor, while the moon lantern's light engulfed everything in a calming pale white glow. You almost started to cry as you realised that his broken mind seemed to remember happy bits of his past and, without being aware it, recreated them to give him comfort.

As soon as Kar'niss slipped through the opening, his movements came to an abrupt halt, his numerous eyes scanning the scene unfolding before him. In that brief moment, his mind fell silent, devoid of voices or commands from his queen, leaving behind a comforting emptiness as he absorbed the sight of you sitting on his blanket, basking in the gentle glow of the lantern. It felt incredibly familiar, offering a sense of solace akin to returning home after a long day.

"We-we-I don't understand", he stuttered as he approached you, his voice shaky, "what is this magic? What trick are you playing on us?", he raised his voice and his mind reached out to yours.

You saw through his eyes, witnessing yourself holding a piece of fabric and placing it tenderly against his lips while wearing a smile. You heard your own voice uttering the first words you ever spoke to him: fear not, everything will be alright. Rest if you need to, I mean you no harm. The connection severed once again, causing you to gasp as you opened your eyes, unaware that Kar'niss had drawn nearer and was now seated directly in front of you. Tears streamed down his two ordinary eyes, a wave of sorrow engulfing him, threatening to consume and drown him entirely.

"Tiny goddess of flesh", he cried, his voice filled with despair, "we don't her the voice of our queen anymore, we failed again, we will be punished again. What are you doing to us? Why can't we resist?"

It pained you to witness his anguish. Seeking solace, you attempted to establish a mental connection once more. This time, there was no resistance on his part, allowing you to delve deep into the fragments that composed your cherished memories. Though distorted and scattered, they still existed. And within this ethereal realm of thoughts, you beheld it all. You relived the very first encounter, sensing his nervousness as he mustered the courage to confess his feelings. The warmth in his heart when your lips first met. You nearly became lost within the recollection of your final moments together, seeing yourself through his eyes. The touch of the ring on his fingertips stirred conflicting emotions of doubt, love, and the hope of marriage that spread within your own mind. And then, his thoughts suddenly struck against you, enveloping you in a sinister mist that seeped into your being, rendering you immobile. As the mist dispersed, you felt his heart racing in his chest, fear coursing through him, while a strange female voice called out your name. Looking up, you beheld the awe-inspiring yet terrifying figure of Lolth, demanding your demise as proof of his loyalty. His body trembled, and he let out a scream, unable to comply with the request. He pleaded for death, rejecting his goddess, and everything descended into darkness. The connection severed, leaving you gasping for breath, as you took a moment to reorient yourself and realise that you were still at Moonrise Towers. Your gaze fell upon Kar'niss and you sobbed, shuffling towards him, desperately grasping his face as if it might fracture at any given moment and you'd loose him again.

"We have failed," he wept, his voice choked with sorrow, "we always fail; we are insignificant... I... I am nothing."

Your heart was about the shatter into a thousand pieces, all these years of thinking he died where as he had been through the most cruel torment, simply because his love for you was stronger than any faith. You drew his face closer, your lips colliding with his in a passionate embrace, encapsulating all your sorrow, newfound happiness and everlasting devotion in one single kiss. It mattered not what he had become; he was present, he was alive and you would unleash chaos upon the world if necessary just to keep him safe. He made his selfless sacrifice for you long ago and now you would demonstrate that you were more than prepared to do the same for him.

Kar'niss' soul was silently screaming as his thoughts raced and clashed in an unending cycle. Whatever you did within his mind, it gradually reassembled fragments of his former self and without the Absolute poisoning him, the fog in his head cleared and he began to remember everything. Memories flooded back, capturing every fleeting instance of joy shared between the two of you, each intricate detail etched into his consciousness until the very moment he defied his deity to protect you. The rest was still enveloped in shrouds of darkness but it mattered little to him, all that was important to him was here, within his small space, kissing him deeply. Despite his doubts, he felt the radiance of your love piercing his very essence and even though he wanted to reject it, all too aware of the monster he was now, he simply couldn't, he'd take this moment of bliss for he was afraid it might be the last one for the rest of his miserable life. Kar'niss broke the kiss, gently removing your hands from his face and holding them tenderly as he gazed at you. Numerous thoughts raced through his mind, yet his lips remained silent, leaving you to break the silence.

"Yes", you said softly, a giggle escaping your lips at his bewildered expression, "the answer to the question you wanted to ask me the day before your trial, it is yes."

For the first time, Kar'niss let out a nervous chuckle, it was broken and yet it sounded the same as back then in Menzoberranzan, never failing to melt your heart away.

"It was", his voice cracked, exposing the dread and sorrow hidden within, "we are not the same, we are", he gestured towards the spider part of his body, "broken, not worthy, even less than before."

"Niss", you tenderly brushed a strand of his hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear, "nothing has changed. I still love you and I would still say yes if you were to ask me now. I don't care how you look, you're my beloved still if you'll have me."

"But we are, we are-"

"Worthy", you finished his sentence, "you've always been."

You pressed your lips against his once more and this time he responded eagerly, his fingers tangling in your hair. Breaking the kiss first, you gasped for breath. You had missed this, missed him, and there was so much lost time to make up for. Kar'niss turned to the side, retrieving something from the floor before taking your hand and clumsily sliding a ring onto your finger with his trembling hands. Your mouth fell open in shock, speechless as you stared at the ring.

"We....I kept it", he placed a kiss on your hand, "never knowing why but it felt important, so we-I held on to it."

You hugged him tightly, pulling him down as you both descended to the ground. Kar'niss placed one hand on the floor beside you, careful not to put too much weight on you with his spider-like lower body. His breath hitched as he felt your legs wrap around his lower torso, urging him closer. Trying his best to keep a neutral expression, his pedipalps delicately caressed your sides, evoking a smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. In that moment, with your beloved lying atop you, his soft hair falling across your face, it felt as if time had stood still and this was just another blissful moment of togetherness like the many you shared in your past. Kar'niss couldn't help but grin, his fangs visible but not detracting from the gentle happiness in his smile. Sensing your mind reaching out to his, he closed his eyes and welcomed you in. This newfound form of intimate communication was something he cherished, as it allowed both of you to share emotions without the need for words.

At first, there was a sense of hesitation and confusion but then it became more apparent to him. The emotion that you were conveying to him was not just a simple connection; it was desire, a longing to be intimately close to him, projecting images of him kissing you. The intensity of your feelings was evident in the quickening of your heartbeat and the heat that emanated from your body as you pressed your hips against his. Overwhelmed by the moment, he let out a deep groan and momentarily lost himself in the embrace, nuzzling his face into the tender skin of your neck and peppering it with gentle kisses. Just as he thought you were about to pull away, thinking that you had come to your senses and were going to reject him, you surprised him by tenderly caressing his cheek.

"Would it hurt you if we...", your voice grew quiet as your gaze darted between your hips and him, "can you still do...this?"

Kar'niss blushed, his fair complexion turning all crimson as he raised his lower body slightly and extended one of his palps towards you. Without hesitation, your hand reached out and delicately caressed it, reconnecting your desires. Overwhelming waves of lust surged through you as you continued to stroke him, his eyes closing as he let out a deep groan. His other palp pressed against your clothed arousal, the desires of both of you intertwining through your connection. Sensing your hesitation, he opened his eyes, afraid that you might reconsider, but instead he felt you shifting beneath him, eager to remove your clothes. Kar'niss took a step back, his hands fumbling eagerly to help you remove your clothing until you were completely exposed beneath him. With a light touch, his hands traced over the contours of your body, careful not to harm you with his sharp claws. He licked his lips hungrily, battling against his inner demons to resist ravishing your body like the savage creature he had become.

"Niss please", you pleaded, echoing the same desperate request you had made in Menzoberranzan when he was about to make love to you for the first time. He lowered himself, positioning his face between your thighs, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your arousal before he eagerly indulged in your wet folds, licking and sucking as if starved for it. Your voice filled the air with sinful moans as you called out his name. It felt heavenly to be touched this way after all this time as you never let anyone close to you after you thought your beloved to be dead. Unable to hold back any longer, you succumbed to the pleasure, your legs trembling as you experienced your first orgasm. Kar'niss let out a primal growl, feeling the intensity of your climax through the deep connection you shared, his desire growing uncontrollable. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you closer and positioning you at the perfect angle. Whispers of a protective spell escaped your lips, hoping it would avoid you being sliced open from the inside as your bodies were not entirely compatible anymore to indulge in these kind of pleasures. One of his palps rested at your dripping entrance as the other was pressed against your clit. The intense connection between your bodies and the shared anticipation in your minds threatened to push Kar'niss over the edge but he restrained himself. He couldn't bear to disappoint you, not when you had willingly come back to him to love him again. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed himself inside you, overwhelmed by the pleasure of your tight walls squeezing around one palp and the other teasing your sensitive nub simultaneously. The sensation of him filling you was almost too much to handle, and despite your desire to take all of him, it was simply impossible. Moans escaped both of you in perfect harmony, as if you were synchronised in every way. He momentarily halted his movements, afraid of causing you any pain. You gave him a reassuring nod and he resumed his movements again, slowly thrusting into you. Both of you moaned loudly, the sensation heightened by your shared connection and it didn't take long for you to come undone at the same time. Your walls clenched around him and he growled your name, palp twitching as some liquid silk dripped out of his abdomen. The connection broke and, exhausted, Kar'niss laid down beside you, pulling you close in an affectionate embrace, his face buried in your soft hair, murmuring sweet words of affection. As you both drifted off to sleep, the tranquillity was shattered by piercing screams and the reverberating clash of weapons coming from the lower floors...

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #kar'niss #bg3 kar'niss #karniss #kar'niss x reader #kar'niss x you #smut #bg3 smut #trauma #happy ending

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jamespotterthefirst · 1 year

Text

Fearless (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart, Year 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 850 Rating/ Warning: Teen/ Mentions of mental health

Premise: The effects of the attack become harder to ignore when she succumbs to a panic attack.

Note: Hurt/Comfort

Lilac's hands shake as she struggles with the cuff. In the midst of the chaos shattering within her, she notes how pale her skin looks, almost ghostly. The frenetic drumming of her heart reclaims her attention, thundering so fiercely against her ribcage that she is convinced its beats are numbered.

“Fuck!”

Numb fingers drop the blood pressure cuff.

Calm down.

Weak knees finally give out and Lilac barely feels the hardwood floor against her knees.

Breathe.

Breathing hurts. Breathing feels like a lungful of ice. A breath is akin to setting her insides on fire.

The bedroom spins around her.

Her heart is relentless, violently beating against her throat.

Beat, beat, beat…

It won't stop.

Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat.

Each one faster than the last.

Heart attack?

The drumming is all she hears.

Stroke?

It tries to keep her alive.

Asphyxia.

It tries to kill her.

“Fucking—”

The words cut off in a strangled sob. She is destined for that hospital bed again. Her fate is to die there.

Tears burn her skin as they fall. Each breath is a terrified wheeze.

“Lilac?”

Strong hands guide her up, anchoring arms and warm chest steadying her.

“Breathe,” his rich voice instructs. It's like a distant echo, a faraway light piercing the darkness.

“Ethan,” she breathes. “Something is wrong.”

“Focus on the present, Lilac.”

Danny and Bobby are on the linoleum floor, gasping. Her own lungs scream for air.

Rafael is on his hospital bed, his eyes closed. Lilac shuts her eyes tight but it feels like broken glass prickling her lids.

The silent killer courses through her as she stares at a plastic cover. A cold, desolate hospital room will be the last thing she sees before she dies. She's going to die alone.

“I'm here,” Ethan says. “You're safe, Lilac. Remember that and breathe. You're safe.”

“I'm dying, Ethan,” she tells him, panicked. “My blood pressure... My heart—”

Lilac breaks off, feeling her pulse rise like the slashing of a violent storm.

“Focus on my voice, Lilac. Breathe in and out slowly. Take your time.”

Breathing is agony but his voice guides her. Very carefully, she inhales a breath, terrified of the pain… except there is no pain. Just the beating of her terrified heart. The air leaves her in a shaky sigh.

“Concentrate on what you can feel and see. Bring your mind back to this moment right here.”

Unyielding, cold hardwood against her knees, cooling her sizzling skin.

The soft, thick wool of his favorite knit sweater.

Ethan's concerned face as the fog clears, blue eyes assessing her with the diligence of a doctor and all the love of a partner.

More air fills her lungs, her pulse steadying as it leaves her.

“That's it,” he encourages. “Take a few more deep breaths, Lilac.”

After a few more minutes, the thunder of her heart recedes and she can hear the busy Boston street in the distance once again. Lilac closes her eyes, the relief weakening her knees almost as much as the panic had. Ethan's arms anchor her in place.

“Better?” he asks quietly.

Eyes still closed, she nods.

“Better,” she assures him in a whisper.

“You're safe.”

The words, uttered like a promise for the third time that evening, make her feel weightless.

“I know that,” she says, opening her eyes. “Logically and medically, I know that but when a panic attack happens I—”

Her throat clamps up painfully. It takes all the strength in her weak body to keep the tears at bay. Ethan notices.

“Shhh,” he comforts her, pulling her close. “None of this is your fault, Lilac.”

At that, she cries, giving up the fight with a tearful little sob. It's not the words that make her crumble but the resolute conviction in his voice.

“I just hate feeling this way,” she cries softly. “My mind is always reliving the attack, thinking of the many things I could've done differently. Or fearing that the toxin could still somehow be in my body, even though I'm a doctor and I know that's not true. I hate feeling this scared and weak.”

Gently, Ethan pulls back to look her in the eye.

“You're not weak,” he tells her firmly, the truth shining in those blue eyes. “You're the bravest person I know.”

His lips against her forehead punctuate the proclamation, so delicate and tender that Lilac sways briefly on her feet. They fill her with newfound courage, inspiring her to face the undeniable truth— the same she had been running from since the attack.

“I want to see someone about this.”

Ethan contemplates her for the briefest of moments and then, he nods.

“I'm in contact with many outstanding colleagues who can help us. There are some I admire who would provide the best care.”

Lilac only nods.

“Thank you.”

“It's no problem. I can email them right now.”

She grips his hand.

“Not just for that. Thank you for being here.”

Ethan pauses only to push a wayward lock of hair behind her ear.

“No need to thank me, Lilac. I'm here for you. I always will be.”

Note and disclaimer: This is based solely on my own experience with anxiety, panic attacks, and PTSD.

Thank you so much for reading!

PS. After this, I hope to write some holiday content. Wish me luck!

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices

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atqh16 · 8 months

Text

For my Minato lives au

Minato wakes up with Kushina’s name on his lips and Sarutobi’s heart breaks for him. He’s seen his fair share of grief and tragedy. He’s fought in 3 different wars ever since he was a teenager. Life had rarely been painless for him and his people.

Still, it never makes it any easier.

Minato is not conscious enough to receive a reply and before Sarutobi can even get up from his seat, the man has already fallen back into a more peaceful slumber after several nights of restless, feverish, nightmares.

At least the worst has passed, he thinks as he leaves, hoping that whatever waited for his protégé when he awakes will be enough to root him to the earth. Right now, Konoha needed him more than ever.

When Minato finally breaks through his dreams the first thing he feels is surprise before he’s speared by a pain so deep and visceral that it’s a shock to him when he sees no wound on his chest where the agony was tearing him apart. Truthfully he knows why he’s feeling the way he is. His memory is not merciful enough to have blocked out the reality he’s being made to face but as he’s learned over the years, awareness doesn’t take away grief. Nothing can and that is another fact that has him choking on his own breath. Before the nurses can even be alerted of his waking, tears are already falling in unbidden streams that soak the pillow beneath him. Every part of him hurts but the pain is not enough to distract him from the horrible picture in his mind that replays like a haunting nightmare he can't seem to break through.

He can feel with unwavering clarity how it felt to have his hands sticky and wet, soaked with Kushina’s blood even as she smiled in his arms, dark blue eyes never leaving the sight of their son that he’d placed so delicately on her chest.

The nurses seem to understand without words because as soon as the doctor left after a short evaluation, a crib was wheeled into the room and suddenly Minato felt like he’s fallen back into a dream but one that’s managed to pierce the darkness and loosen the knot around his chest.

Naruto feels almost weightless when the nurse finally places him above his heart, so much so that Minato doesn’t think he’d believe his child was even there were it not for his own eyes assuring him of the truth.

“Naruto”, he whispers as the tiny life fusses and whimpers in the blue wrap he’s bundled in.

A part of him wants to sit up so he can fully feast his sight on his son. But even being awake for a bare few minutes has depleted his strength. Still even as his eyes fall to a close, his grip on Naruto doesn’t loosen.

“I love you. I’ll take care of you. I promise. Till my last breath”

““Lord Fourth, I must insist that this is not a conduct fit for a Hokage”

Minato doesn’t even look up from where he was reading through a report on his desk, his right hand twiddling a pen while his left pats the bottom of the wrap that was strapped over his shoulder and side just loose enough to comfortably nestle his 3-week-old son. Naruto’s annoyed grumbling tapered off back to sleep soothed by his father’s touch.

“Lord Fourth-“

“Inside voices Shimura-San. If you’d be so inclined”, Minato whispers back in his usual calm demeanor but no one in the room misses the sharp way the words are uttered.

Minato can almost hear Danzo gritting his teeth.

“Lord Fourth, I must insist that it is both unnecessary and unsuitable for a child to be guarded by the Hokage when we have perfectly competent caretakers to look after him while you work and anbu to protect him”

“I don’t think Naruto’s presence has caused any disturbance in my work ethic as of yet. Is my son’s presence bothering you Nara-San?”

Shikaku, who’d been standing idly by the filing cabinet, can barely hide the smirk threatening to lift the corner of his lips.

“Not at all, Lord Fourth. I say Naruto being here creates a much calmer atmosphere and helps you focus without being distracted by worry for his well-being should he be cared for by anyone else”

“Thank you Nara-San. And I trust that you will be honest and straightforward with me if Naruto’s presence does create a problem in your ability to commit to your work?”

“Of course Lord Fourth. I wouldn’t be so disrespectful as to be less than truthful to you”

“That’s settled then”, Minato says cheerfully but his tone falls with a firm finality in the air that brooks no argument. The very thing that had made Sarutobi choose him as his successor and also the very thing that was the bane of Danzo’s existence. Minato’s refusal to ever let anything pass his awareness without strict scrutiny.

Minato drops his eyes back onto the document lying so ‘invitingly’ on his desk and it's as clear as a dismissal as it can get.

Shikaku barely manages to catch the door in time before the older man can slam it shut behind him as he leaves the office.

Still, Naruto ever sensitive to even the smallest disturbance, begins to fuss in annoyance but he calms quickly when his father presses him just a tad tighter against his chest.

“I don’t think I need to warn you about getting on the man’s bad side”, Shikaku tries to scold in a grave voice but Minato knows his friend well enough to decipher the hint of mirth peeking behind his words.

“I’ve been on his bad side since day one. Why stop now? Besides, watching out for his schemes and machinations is your job isn’t it?”, Minato jokingly replies and his smile widens when his advisor gives him a mournful look.

“You put too much work on me. Can’t you leave me unbothered for once?”

Minato graces him with a cheeky smile, “I’m sure you’ll have more than enough time to spend at home afterward to pass on your wisdom and philosophy to your son. But until then, call Fugaku in will you?”

Shikaku gives him a playful salute as he leaves, careful to open and shut the door without so much as a squeak.

As soon as the door closes, Minato brushes his fingers through his hair before massaging his forehead and letting out a lethargic sigh.

“One at a time. One at a time”

@maelstrom-of-emotions thoughts?

#minato namikaze #naruto uzumaki #hiruzen sarutobi #danzo shimura #naruto #mine #ficlet #my writing

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mischiefandmedicine · 2 months

Text

Very Full - Chapter 5: Lullaby for Melara

Summary: The story picks up with Loki finding Melara at the hospital. In a tender moment, Loki intervenes. Despite the surreal and dramatic elements, the underlying truth about Melara's past with the condition is painfully real, leaving both Loki and Saoirse dealing with the complexities of their intertwined stories.

Word Count: 4,028 words

Chapter Warnings: Hospital, illness, pain.

Soundtrack Link

This Chapter's Music Inspiration:

Imperfection by Evanescence

Very Full MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter

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“Really, Loki?!” Saoirse shouted in his direction, a half-smirk pulling at her lips. “Mom stood on a stool to kiss you? Ugh,” she mused.

Loki sat in his chair amused by his daughter’s reaction to his account of their first kiss. “I suppose I should also spare you the details of your mother’s insatiable appetite for yours truly?” he asked with a grin.

“Fuck yea,” she dipped her head realizing what she had done. “No. I-…Just no. I don’t want to hear about…blech,” she scrunched her face in utter disgust and frustration.

Another laugh escaped his lips, reveling in the fact that Saoirse had now become fascinated by the story he was telling and that she was less focused on avenging her mother. “Ok, ok…I get it,” he chuckled.

***

Loki had stretched the truth a bit, as was his nature. It was not Melara’s appetite that was insatiable for Loki, it was Loki’s curiosity for this intoxicating woman that was limitless. He lay sprawled on his opulent throne, a sly smirk etched across his features from their most recent encounter. The exhaustion of having created an avatar in her timeline had finally caught up with him, compelling him into a slumber that was anything but peaceful.

In his dreams, Melara’s presence infiltrated every corner of his mind, refusing to be ignored. She had kissed him, so intimately, so gently with air of shyness mixed with Loki-like mischief, but he had not had to work his charms on her. Her essence lingered in the air, an intoxicating blend of coconut and an enigmatic allure that had ensnared his curiosity.

The visions that danced behind his closed eyelids were not mere dreams but vivid recollections of their time together. He recalled the intensity in her eyes, a mesmerizing glow that hinted at untold mysteries, drawing him into a hypnotic trance. Her gaze held a depth that defied explanation, a magnetic pull that roused his ever-inquisitive nature.

In his reverie, he revisited the tactile sensations of her presence, visions of her manifested in vivid detail down to the ethereal quality of her dark hair. Each strand seemed to possess a life of its own, defying the ordinary laws of physics as it cascaded around her, framing her face in an otherworldly grace. It floated weightlessly in the invisible currents of air, an enchanting dance that teased the edges of possibility, an alluring mystery he yearned to unravel.

In the depths of his sweet slumber, Loki’s pleasant dreams took a sudden, tumultuous turn. The tranquil scenes of his encounters with Melara warped into a surreal landscape. As if caught in a whirlwind of chaos and passion, the vision of her presence flickered and transformed into a tempestuous tableau.

Melara’s figure shimmered, glowing brighter until she burst into flames before his eyes. He watched in horror as her body wrapped in an inferno that blazed, threatening to overtake him as well. Flames danced around her form, casting a glow that both mesmerized and unnerved. Her eyes, once shrouded in mystery, now blazed with a intensity that seemed to pierce the very fabric of his subconscious.

Amidst the roaring flames, her voice echoed with a haunting intensity. It was a sound that resonated through the labyrinth of his dreaming mind. She screamed his name, her voice a cacophony of passion and agony, each syllable reverberating like an ancient incantation.

“Loki!” Her voice carried an urgency that shook the very foundations of his dream, igniting a visceral reaction within him. It was a scream that held both a plea and a declaration, a symphony of emotions entwined in a haunting melody.

Caught in this surreal vision, her engulfed form reached out to Loki, her gaze boring into his soul. He yearned to free her from this torment yet despite his efforts, he remained agonizingly out of reach of her scorching fingertips. The searing heat overwhelmed his body, causing his own flesh to radiate a deep blue hue and his eyes to grow with reddish intensity as Melara’s flames intensified.

“Save me,” she whispered one last time before curling into a ball of radiant energy, exploding into a beam of light that seared into him, wrenching him abruptly from his slumber.

As Loki emerged from the depths of the harrowing dream, beads of sweat glistened upon his brow, each one a testament to the intense heat that seemed to have seeped from the dream world into his waking reality. His fingers instinctively tightened around the luminescent strands of the timelines, which now glowed with an intensity that surpassed anything he had ever witnessed since ascending this golden throne. He blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of the vivid nightmare that had left him reeling.

Struggling to regain his bearings, Loki was astonished to find himself nearly transformed into his full Frost Giant stature, the lines between his Asgardian form and his true lineage blurring in the disorienting aftermath of Melara’s fiery apparition. The sensation of being overtaken by an elemental force lingered, an echo of the scorching heat and the overwhelming power he had felt in the dream. It had been so tangible, so real, that even as he tried to separate himself from its influence, its residual effects clung to him like an ethereal cloak.

In that fleeting moment of disarray, near the edge of complete chaos, Melara’s agonizing scream shattered the stillness of the chamber. It echoed across the vast expanse of the multiverse, penetrating the barriers between worlds and timelines. Without hesitation, spurred by a deep-seated concern and an urgent sense of responsibility, Loki projected himself back into Melara’s timeline once more, guided solely by the echoing cry that resonated within his ears.

The transition was abrupt and disorienting as he materialized in a place that bore no resemblance to the cosmic grandeur he had known moments before. Instead, he found himself in a starkly contrasting setting – a sterile, fluorescent-lit hospital room. The clinical scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, mingling with the distant hum of machinery and the muffled shuffling of footsteps in the corridor beyond. Loki’s gaze darted around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, searching for any sign of Melara or the source of her distress.

In the chaotic flurry of a hospital room, Melara’s piercing screams clawed at the air, sending ripples of distress through the medical team attempting to contain her anguish. Loki’s eyes widened at the scene before him, a visceral surge of concern enveloping him as he pushed through the bustling crowd, the urgency of her cries pulling him closer to her side.

The medical staff, consumed by their efforts to restrain Melara’s convulsing form, appeared oblivious to Loki’s approach. Several nurses wrestled to keep her in place as another attempted to insert an intravenous line carefully. Their efforts to calm her proved futile against the sheer force of her agony as her body spasmed. Loki’s heart raced with a mixture of desperation and determination as he reached the cot where Melara lay, tears streaking her flushed cheeks.

Without hesitation, Loki brushed past the personnel crowding around Melara, his focus singularly fixed on the woman whose suffering echoed through the room. He approached the cot, a cascade of green energy swirling around his fingertips as if responding to the distress pulsating from Melara’s trembling form.

As he neared her, a doctor moved to block his path, attempting to intervene. However, with a subtle flick of the wrist, Loki halted the doctor’s movements, freezing everyone in place except for Melara, who writhed in unending torment. Her wild, desperate eyes found Loki’s, a silent plea for respite from the unbearable pain.

With a tender yet determined touch, Loki clasped Melara’s hand, his gaze filled an unwavering resolve to ease her suffering. He leaned closer, beginning to sing softly in her ear, though barely audible amidst the cacophony of distress that enveloped the room. Melara’s grip on his hand tightened, her screams continuing as a desperate call to stop the torment that had taken over her body.

Sleep, dear child, in starlit arms, Where cosmic whispers quell alarms. Asgard’s watchful eyes above, Embrace you with eternal love.

In that charged moment, locked into an intimate connection, Loki felt a surge of raw, empathetic power coursing within him. His mind focused solely on Melara, the tendrils of energy extending from his touch, seeking to comfort her, to alleviate her pain. He willed the swirling currents of emerald energy to envelop her, to soothe the torment that ravaged her body and soul as he continued to sing gently.

Dream, within celestial sphere, No anguish finds a place in here. In galaxies that softly sigh, Rest, while constellations lie.

As the melody reverberated in the room, a calming aura emanated from Loki, casting a gentle iridescent glow that continued to overtake Melara’s body. Her cries begin to soften, her movements gradually easing as if swayed by the enchanting rhythm of the song. The lullaby, a forgotten tune from the annals of Asgardian lore, wove a protective cocoon around her, lending a temporary respite from the pain that had overtaken her.

Close your eyes, in quiet night, The universe cradles, holds you tight. Peaceful slumber, gentle flight, Through worlds of wonder, dark and bright.

The song’s verses spoke of celestial guardians watching over the troubled, promising sanctuary in the embrace of guardianship. Loki had poured his soul into each note, infusing the melody with an essence that only he could as each note transcended the confines of the hospital room. As the final strains of the lullaby echoed softly in the air, a tranquil hush blanketed the room as time resumed for the medical personnel, who continued their efforts.

Melara’s cries fade into quiet sobs, her eyes closing as the tormented creases on her forehead ease. The room, once filled with chaos, now holds an eerie calmness, the melody lingering in the air like a tender caress – a momentary reprieve from the agony that had besieged a now limp Melara just moments earlier.

In the aftermath, Loki remained at Melara’s side as they admitted her into the hospital. His gaze did not waver as he settled into the chair beside her bed as he observed her resting. He had watched as the medical team hooked her up to various machines, one of which was a continuous line of pain medication that the doctors credited as keeping her comfortable, though he knew the truth.

A stark contrast to the fiery image that had haunted his dreams, Melara’s pallid complexion worried him, hinting that she truly was mortal. As the first rays of dawn began to filter in through the hospital window, Melara stirred, her eyes fluttering open. Frail and weakened, she managed a slight smile upon seeing Loki by her side, a flicker of recognition lighting up her tired face.

“Hey,” she rasped, her voice barely audible. “I hoped that was you.”

Loki nodded gently, his own concern hidden behind a mask of calmness. He smiled wordlessly as he grasped her hand tightly.

“Stay with me, Loki,” she whispered.

He nodded again, “Rest now, you need your strength.” As she opened her mouth to protest, Loki pressed a finger to her lips to calm her fears. “I promise, I will not leave your side.”

Melara nodded faintly, allowing her eyes to flutter shut once more, succumbing to the fatigue that enveloped her exhausted body. Loki sat there in the hushed hospital room, an unusual stillness taking over him as he kept watch over her slumber, the rise and fall of her chest a reassuring rhythm amidst the whirs and beeps of the machines connected to her.

As the minutes passed into hours, Loki’s mind whirled with thoughts, pondering the gravity of the situation. The vulnerability in Melara’s weakened state elicited an unexpected protective instinct within him. His gaze fixed upon her, a silent sentinel standing guard against the encroaching shadows.

Later in the day, as the signs of her awakening became apparent, Melara’s eyes flickered open once more. She looked at Loki, her expression relieved as a hint of her usual spark glowed from her eyes as they sparkled in the fluorescent light.

“You’re still here,” she whispered, her voice fragile yet filled with hope.

“I promised,” Loki said softly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “How are you feeling, ‘Lara?”

She managed to shift herself in the bed slightly to peer at Loki from a different angle before answering weakly, “A little better, but I have a feeling you played a part in that.”

Loki chuckled lightly, a rare sound in such a solemn setting, “I may have intervened a little. These healers of yours don’t know anything.”

A weak laugh escaped Melara’s lips, stifling a groan before smiling again, a sign of her gratitude towards the god who had inexplicably appeared in her life. “Thank you for being here, Loki.”

Loki leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Melara with concern etched across his features. “Do you know what happened? Why were you in such…agony?”

Melara shifted uncomfortably in her hospital bed, attempting to steady herself to explain. “It’s a neurological condition,” she began, her voice strained. “The pain – it’s unbearable at times. But this…this was the worst it’s ever been.”

She paused, taking a shallow breath before continuing, her voice trembling with the memory of the excruciating episode. “My neighbor heard me crying. He…he called for help. I couldn’t bear it anymore…nothing was helping.”

“But what brought all this on?” Loki asked, unable to wipe the concern from his face.

“Remember David?” she asked weakly.

Loki nodded.

“This…this condition…it’s what I get for surviving him,” her voice trailed off, gaze fixed on the ceiling as she silently recalled the near-death experience at David’s hands.

Loki’s expression darkened at the mention of David, his brow furrowing in displeasure. A troubling silence hung in the air as Loki processed her words, his mind contemplating the situation. He reached out and gently clasped Melara’s hand, a silent reassurance for her in a delicate state. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, there was a knock at the door, before it swung open slowly.

“Mom!” Melara exclaimed in a hush.

Loki stood tall, a composed smile on his face as he observed the woman who appeared to be a much older version Melara entered the room carefully and quietly, setting her things down before kissing her daughter gently on the forehead. The air seemed to shimmer with tension, the familiarity between the two women evident yet laced with a hint of caution.

The woman’s gaze shifted toward Loki. A look of suspicion and curiosity flickered across her weathered features, scrutinizing him with a piercing gaze that seemed to be able to see through any façade.

“And who is this, Melara?” Her tone was polite, but beneath it lay a discerning inquiry.

Melara glanced at Loki, a mixture of apprehension and subtle plea in her eyes. She cleared her throat, attempting to maintain composure. “Mom, this is…a friend of mine,” she murmured softly, a touch of uncertainty in her voice.

Loki, standing guard at Melara’s side, offered a courteous nod in acknowledgment of the older woman. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said politely, his tone respectful yet holding an air of charm as he extended his hand in greeting.

The woman frowned, regarding Loki with a cautious expression, her gaze lingering upon his hand for a moment longer than necessary before she blurted out, “And you don’t have a name?”

As the woman’s question lingered in the air, Loki retained his composed demeanor, though subtle amusement played at the corners of his lips in response to her directness. She reminded him of his own mother, Frigga, in her demanding almost regal tone as she eyed the man standing over her daughter.

“Loki,” he responded smoothly, meeting her scrutinizing gaze with ease. “And please, call me Loki.”

Melara’s mother, deepened her frown, her lips forming a thin line in a contemplative manner. Her eyes appeared to be assessing Loki, alternating between him and her daughter, as if seeking answers within their shared expressions.

“Loki, I’m Evelyn, her mother,” she said in a near-scolding tone. “What brings you here?” Her tone carried curiosity but also an unmistakable note of guardedness, rooted in maternal instincts.

Loki’s response remained poised, his expression friendly yet guarded as he sat back in his chair. “I’ve known ‘Lara for some time now. We have been…friends,” he explained vaguely, careful not to reveal too much. “I thought I’d check in on her. Make sure she’s alright.”

Evelyn continued to regard him with a piercing gaze, her scrutiny a clear testament to her assessment of his words. A tense silence hung in the air, an unspoken standoff between them as if each was wrestling with unvoiced questions lingering in the room.

Sensing the need to ease the palpable tension, Melara intervened softly, attempting to diffuse the atmosphere. “Sheathe your swords, you two,” she interjected, casting a quick reassuring glance to both parties aiming to protect her in this vulnerable state. “Loki is a good friend, mom. It’s ok, you can trust him.”

Evelyn’s expression softened marginally, a trace of understanding flashing in her eyes. She glanced at Loki once more, her gaze less skeptical but still guarded. “I see,” she remarked, the tension only slightly easing. “Well, if you’re responsible for putting her in here, I’m not afraid to beat a man to death right here in this hospital room.”

Loki’s gaze met Evelyn’s with an amused glint dancing in his eyes, acknowledging her veiled threat with a twinge of mischief. “Ah, well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, Evelyn,” he replied a playful grin crossing his lips. “You certainly seem to be a formidable opponent. Now I see where Melara gets it from.”

His tone was light, his smile disarming, as if he were sharing a jest among family. He leaned back comfortably in his chair, a casual elegance in his posture that exuded confidence. Yet beneath the playful banter, there lingered assurance – a subtle promise that he harbored genuine concern for Melara’s well-being.

“Oh my god, you two!” Melara whispered harshly, snapping both her mother and Loki back to focus their attention on her. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

Evelyn’s initial wariness seemed to soften slightly, a hint of amusement mingling with her concerned expression as she comforted her daughter. The air around them shifted from one of cautious tension to a more relaxed atmosphere, as Loki’s effortless charm and Melara’s pained laughter diffused the lingering unease.

“Baby girl, can you blame me for going mama bear after what that monster did to you? The doctors said this was your worst episode yet,” Evelyn said softly as she brushed Melara’s hair out of her face.

“Evelyn, if I may be so bold as to tell you that I would lay waste to the universe itself to ensure Melara’s safety,” Loki said, his tone deep and hushed as he turned to Melara. “I swear on my throne to do everything within my power to prevent her from enduring such pain again.”

Melara’s heart skipped a beat at Loki’s impassioned vow, the weight of his words hitting her deeply. “Loki,” Melara whispered, her voice barely carrying across the room. It was laden with a mix of emotions – gratitude, awe, and an underlying current of her fear for the future. Her eyelids fluttered as a wave of dizziness swept over her, a stark reminder of her vulnerability in the moment despite grand promises being made on her behalf.

As the room began to spin, she reached out for something stable, her fingers brushing against Loki’s hand. The touch was grounding, and for a moment, she steadied, anchored in his presence. The weakness that threatened to pull her under ebbed slightly, held at bay by the warmth that radiated from his skin.

But it was a fleeting respite. The darkness at the edge of her vision crept closer, and her grip on consciousness wavered. “I believe you, Loki,” she managed to say, each word a struggle as the effort to stay awake became overwhelming.

With Loki’s name still lingering in the air, Melara’s strength gave way, and she succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness, her body going limp as one of the monitors beside her began alarming. In that critical moment, Loki’s reflexes kicked in, catching her head in his hands as Melara slumped backwards in bed. With a swift but gentle motion, Loki found himself cradling her in his arms as the room began to swarm with nurses.

Evelyn’s face blanched with worry, but Loki’s calm demeanor reassured her as he carefully adjusted Melara’s position, making sure her head was supported as the medical team lowered the head of the bed, ushering him out of the way. Loki stepped back to allow them to work, his hand remaining intertwined with Melara’s, a silent sentinel as they worked to stabilize her. He was so intent on keeping watch that he barely acknowledged Evelyn as she backed out of the room, tears overtaking her as she whispered, “Keep an eye on our girl, I can’t watch her like this.”

***

“Wait a minute,” Saoirse interrupted with a concerned look on her face. She had been so intently listening, but there was a detail that gnawed at her. “That doesn’t make sense. Grandma said she never met my father.”

Loki’s eyes, for a moment, reflected the depths of the cosmos – all the stories he had ever touched, every thread he had woven into the fabric of reality. “Saoirse,” he began, his voice a soft cadence, “stories and memories are much like the strands of time – they can be frayed, lost, or woven into a new tapestry. Your grandmother’s memories are her own, seen through the lens of her experiences and emotions.”

He paused, letting the words hang in the air between them, a bridge across generations.

“In every story, there are versions that diverge, paths that split and converge. It’s possible that in one thread of reality, I never crossed paths with Evelyn, never stood by her side in that stark room of white and shadows. Yet here, in the story I share with you, our lives are entwined, our narratives enmeshed.”

Saoirse’s gaze held onto Loki’s, searching for the seams in his tale, the places where the fabric might give way to reveal the truth beneath.

“Perhaps in some forgotten fold of time, Evelyn chose to remember differently, to protect you or herself from the pain of the past. Or perhaps,” Loki’s expression softened, a hint of sorrow in the depths of his eyes, "it was I who altered the strands to shield you both from the complexities of a tale too burdensome to bear.”

He reached out, the air shimmering as if he could pluck the very threads of the story they were discussing, rearranging them before their eyes.

“What is the most important, daughter,” Loki’s voice grew firm, “is that we understand the power of stories. They can change us, guide us, and sometimes, they can protect us from the truths we are not yet ready to face.”

Saoirse leaned back, processing his words, the layers of meaning, the weight of histories both revealed and concealed.

“So, what is the truth?” she asked, the question a key turning in the lock of countless doors yet to be opened.

Loki smiled, the enigma that he was, always a step between worlds, between truths and fictions. “The truth, Saoirse, is what we choose to believe, what shapes us and guides us forward. Your truth is what I set before you now, an open book – if you wish to read it.”

Saoirse’s eyes, mirroring the resolve and depth that so often flickered in Loki’s, narrowed in thought. She allowed the silence to stretch between them, a canvas upon which the threads of her mother’s story continued to weave themselves into her own. “But my mother does not die there, you and I both know that,” she finally said, her voice holding the edge of a blade – sharp, clear, and precise.

---

Tags: @mischief2sarawr

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki #loki series

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crisiscutie · 1 year

Note

May I humbly request a Pt. 2 of the situation with Darling feeling uneasy, please? ó.ò What happens after OG and Dissidia Seph take her away? You wrote that Dissidia Seph noticed an apprehensive glance in OG Seph's eyes, which had me worried, because when OG Seph is concerned about his Darling's welbeing, then there must definitely be something wrong. Also... I don't like how AC Seph is the 'quiet kid' in this situation... I've grown wary of his behaviour x_x

(HoS Story Arc Episode Ask You Say? Part 1 here)

The Crisis Cuties were so taken aback by their intense emotions that their rational thought was temporarily blocked. For some, the transition back to reality will be especially hard to handle due to the chaotic nature of the situation. What can they do to cure their darling?

༻❁༺ The Darling's Condition...

OG Seph stays completely focused on getting his darling better and figuring out her mysterious disease. He'd consult Jenova, use any Materia he can get his hands on to see what was going. The darling would sometimes be in such agony that he carefully lifted her onto his lap, using his psychic abilities to reduce her pain. He tolerated her embrace of Thea, as the doll's presence appeared to be one of the few sources of solace for her..

Dissidia Seph's calm demeanor was put to the test for the first time.. With his OG Counterpart refusing to cooperate with him and the darling's failing health on top of her chronic pain, he knew it was fruitless to stay idle. Action must be taken. He does his best to keep the forte under control, but his mission to ensure the wellness of the darling is top priority.

Poor C.C hasn't slept much or eaten much in days. His hands would grip the door handle, desperate for a touch of his darling, A fleeting glance of her and some interactions could only quell his need for her for so long... He finally started to depart at the darling's gentle insistence. He absorbed her soft words of advice to look after himself and be a good boy, for his mother's sake… But he will always return later.

One day, Dissidia Seph looked at him with a piercing gaze, as if he was trying to convey his pity. He sternly lectures his young counterpart, reminding him that if it wasn't for OG Seph and his own interference, the other Sephiroths would have disposed of him without a second thought.

He expected C.C to become enraged, but instead C.C only looked down, his voice trembling as he uttered "mother" repeatedly, a throbbing headache radiating through his skull. Dissidia Seph gives a short shake of his head, steeling himself for the mission ahead.

༻❁༺ How the Troublemakers Cope...

7R Seph felt an overwhelming sense of despair wash over him… And a strange pang of guilt for the darling's troubling condition. Could he possibly done this to her? He enjoys her suffering by his hand, but not when it's unintentional. This internal conflict would make him seek C.C out, increasing his torment of him to cope.

As the two met again, C.C. felt a jolt of rage when 7R insinuated that the darling's condition was his fault, and this time, he couldn't just ignore it. As the two summoned their blades, another deep, familiar voice called out to them: AC Seph.

He attempted to diffuse the situation by using his charm and mature attitude, reminding the Sephiroths that the darling was already under so much stress that a fight was unnecessary. He pointed out that the darling's mysterious illness could be derived from the peculiarities of the house, and her own distinct coding of Jenova DNA couldn't remedy her. Which could be true, right? The Sephiroths had done so much for the darling, yet she seemed to be no closer to recovery. He'll recommend the ideal next solution is to have the darling absorb more of Jenova's essence, eventually turning her into another extension of her.

C.C was so desperate for the darling to get better at this point. To him, having one mother become the other was the ultimate combination of both worlds. 7R Seph was torn, wanting to accept the proposal but also mentally questioning why Jenova couldn't just cure the darling and put an end to this? As he stops C.C from immediately agreeing to the proposal, he will press his counterpart for a more detailed explanation.

༻❁༺ Another Ally?

Dissidia Seph stood in the backyard, illuminated by the faint glimmer of the moonlit sky. He waited for the man who could potentially help him, as he pondered the mystery of the darling's illness. Her Jenova cells should have kept her from getting ill, right? Unless her cells are the cause of the illness…

KH Seph materialized from the darkness, surveying the area with a curious expression on his face as he noticed one of his counterparts waiting for him. He hadn't been around the house in a while, so he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Dissidia Seph informed him of the darling's ill state and inquired if he had any insight.

KH Seph smirked in response, although the news was distressing, it also presented a stimulating opportunity to battle the only man that could rival him.

So he made a proposal to him: Fight him and he *could* very well have a cure for the darling's ailment, as he whips out his Masamune, the longest of any Sephiroth in the household. Dissidia Seph summoned his trademark Masamune with a smoldering glint in his eyes, the air thick with anticipation of the upcoming battle…

Stay tuned for part three~!

#House of Sephiroth AU #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #sephiroth headcanons #ff7 sephiroth #yandere sephiroth #yandere sephiroth x reader #c.c rambles #crisis cutie #final fantasy 7 #ffvii

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tavyliasin · 3 months

Text

BG3 FicFeb SFW - Day 9

This was really hard to write as SFW, and without just recreating the whole scene. I also didn't include any part of it in ATG so perhaps assume this is what should have happened somewhere in the early story? I will write some proper spice with our ATG Tav and Abdirak at some point, but we will see when~ Slight CW on this for violence, implied trauma, talk of scars, blood, and the general heavier emotions and physical pain that come with the territory with Abdirak. ----- -----

9. Meeting Abdirak, the Loviatar priest in Goblin Camp

There was something about the look in his eyes that felt far softer than the brutal outfit he wore, adorned with a myriad of viciously sharp spikes and barbs. Abdirak, he introduced himself, even as he saw right through to the depths of the suffering in her soul.

Tav felt in that one moment as if her entire heart had been bared before steel blue eyes that seemed to be their own pale mirror to the scars that ran deeper than her skin.

“Dear One.” An endearment that was uttered both with softness and intensity, woven through his conversation as he explained the devotions and their purpose. Each word he spoke was laced with danger, even as he offered to alleviate agony by providing it.

“I must see this, don’t you dare say no.” Astarion’s encouragement was hardly needed - Tav was familiar with the potential for peace to blossom in pain’s wake, how the sensation of the body could momentarily silence the screams in a troubled mind.

“Very well.” She had easily agreed, taking off her armour in the next moment. “I assume this will not be needed?”

“You are bold, Dear One, this will be fun…for both of us. Choose, which do you wish to feel?” Abdirak gave her the options, weapons spread across a table, each with the potential for a different sensation of pain.

Whether her flesh was bludgeoned, slashed, or pierced, one thing was for certain. The devotions to the goddess Loviatar would not be for the faint of heart.

When she had faced the wall, Tav braced and centred herself, bringing the pain of her mind as close to the surface as she dared, praying it could be washed away. She held strong against the first blow, feeling the heat of blood pooled beneath the surface of her skin in fresh bruises that went deep into her muscles, alongside a hot trickle on the surface.

It wasn’t enough, and her boldness reared its head with all the ill-deserved confidence of a drunken farmer poking a fully grown and soon to be enraged owlbear with a wooden sword. But the priest seemed to like that, demanding more of her even as the vampire goaded them both on.

Gale looked concerned, but did not look away, while Lae’zel kept silent watch over the proceedings as if it was as normal as eating a sandwich in the park.

Tav felt the rush as the pain crashed into her from the second strike, her knees shaking, her voice defying her efforts to hold it in, and her mind betraying her body as she once more proclaimed Abdirak’s efforts insufficient.

His laugh echoed around the cold stone walls of what should have been a torture chamber, the joy and excitement at fully devoting his mind and her body to his goddess taking over.

Tav remained on her feet, holding firm, a peaceful haze beginning to blur the edge of her mind as her brain fought to soothe her body with a flood of adrenaline and endorphins to quieten overwrought nerves. And yet again…she demanded more.

It wasn’t enough, not until her senses were drowned with the bliss of the loving hand of Loviatar’s devotions.

Abdirak’s praise was exuberant, declaring her to be a most worthy recipient of his Maiden’s blessings. His hand, now free of a weapon, drew her back to the moment, to the room they were in, with a delicate touch on her shoulder. She barely registered his voice at first, feeling like the blood that trickled down her back even now carried with it a deeper anguish from her heart, all ready to be washed away.

“Dear One…that was exquisite.” Finally, his words could reach further than the pointed tips of her ears.

“That was… I apologise, I shouldn’t have pushed so hard. Should not have taunted and belittled your skill.” She was still breathing hard, even as Loviatar’s blessing wound around her with his casting. “Thank you. There’s… There was a weight that has been eased.”

He passed her a potion, bidding her to drink. “Thank you, Dear One, for a fine offering to Loviatar. She is quite pleased, as am I. It is rare I find one so willing to endure the force of her affection, even for so short a time.”

“There’s still…it isn’t all gone.” She looked up at him hopefully, even as her flesh began to knit back together.

“Now, don’t be greedy, my sweet and penitent child. You have had your share for today.” He gestured to his own body, the scars and bruises marking every limb with the evidence of agonised devotion. “Besides which, it will never all be gone. Your suffering remains a part of you, much as you try to run from it, to hide from it, there it will remain.”

She frowned, looking closer up and down, noting how some wounds were fresh and other scars looked many years older. “Is that why you are so devoted, even now?”

“Partially.” He replied, neatly dodging the main question. “It can be alleviated, for a time, but it is the full breadth of your experiences that makes you who you are, the memory informs you how to act. Pain teaches valuable lessons, be sure to learn from them.”

“I’ll try…” She sighed, strapping armour on over deep bruising. “Where will you go? After your business here, that is.”

“Wherever I am needed, Dear One. But I do hope our paths have the good fortune to cross again.” Abdirak smiled, cleaning the blood from his weapon with a leather cloth. “Perhaps next time your audience would like their turn.”

Tav almost doubled over laughing when she saw the pale elf somehow turn even paler beside her.

“Yes, well, lovely as it has been we really should be going. Come along, darling, don’t we have a fool to save next door?” Astarion was already guiding her towards the door as she pulled the last straps of her armour tight.

“Oh, Abdirak? You may wish to leave a little sooner. It might become less friendly around here soon, I wouldn’t want to see you hurt. At least, not in a way you didn’t choose.” She grinned over her shoulder as he nodded his thanks. It might not have been the most appropriate time for humour, but the truth was her heart felt lighter than it had in over a century.

#bg3ficfeb #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #abdirak #astarion #tav #bg3 tav #a tav's guide

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icequeenlila · 9 months

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A Son for a Son

Chapter 3

Jake's pov.

“Where’s Lo’ak?”, Kiri asked when she couldn’t find her brother anywhere.

She looked at Jake, her eyes big, pleading.

“Where is he, dad?”

The numbness took over again, almost paralyzing Jake. Tuk coughed when her mouth and nose sunk below surface for a moment. She lifted her head from where it had been resting on Jake’s shoulder, her eyes moving between him and Kiri.

“Is he okay?”, Tuk asked, looking up at her father with big eyes. “Daddy, is he okay?”

Jake looked directly into her eyes, finding them pure and open and so full of hope that he felt something shatter inside him. A cold pierce of pain finding its way through the numbness. He had to look away.

But it was of no use.

His eyes met Kiri’s. She was staring at him, realization written all over her face. It was like she went into rigid shock. Her eyes big, tears swelling but never falling. Not yet.

Kiri looked Jake directly in the eyes and found her answer there.

Slowly, her shoulders sunk, her ears following. She was shaking her head, softly, not willing to accept, not ready to do so.

“No”, she whispered, her voice thin and broken. One single tear falling from her eye, opening the gates for more to follow.

She put a hand over her mouth, still shaking her head no. A sob slipped past her fingers.

“No.” The word came as a stretched out wail this time. In it, Jake could hear realization, no hope left inside his daughter’s heart.

She buried her face in both her hands, crying fully now.

Spider put one hand on her arm and one on her knee, trying to comfort her. Underneath his mask, Jake could spot that the boy was crying himself. Tears silently falling from his eyes, his features contorted in grief.

Kiri put her hand over Spider’s that was resting on her arm, her sobs growing more violent, her shoulders shaking from the force of them.

“Kiri”, Tuk said, her voice confused. But Jake could see the realization slowly seeping into her features. “Why are you crying?”

But her sister didn't answer, so Tuk turned to face her father again.

“Where is Lo’ak?”, she asked again, her fingers clenching and unclenching against his shoulders, her tail flicking underneath the water, causing little waves. “Dad?”

Jake looked at her, helpless.

“You saved him, right?”, Tuk went on, her voice growing more and more breathless. Her eyes were searching his face, panic shining clear inside of them.

“He’s fine.” She grabbed at his hair, pulling. “You saved him and he’s fine.”

“Tuk.” He could barely get it out, his throat closing at her name.

His daughter’s eyes grew even bigger, her mouth falling slightly open, her ears flicking in alarm. Jake hugged her even tighter, taking a shuddering breath, forcing down his own tears.

“I couldn’t save him, Tuk”, he said, his voice sounding alien to his own ears. “I couldn’t find him.”

Her small body went slack in his arms. Tuk was staring up at him, utter disbelieve written all over her face. She kept staring, like she was waiting for him to keep talking. Her tail went still inside the water, the tips of her ears slowly sinking with realization.

“Lo’ak … is gone?”

Jake couldn’t fight his own tears anymore. His little girl’s voice wasn’t supposed to sound this broken. Her eyes weren’t supposed to look this numb. Her body wasn’t supposed to hang lifelessly in his arms, all power drained from her.

“Yes”, he forced out through a barely constricted sob, putting a hand to her head and pressing his thumb against her temple. “I’m sorry, Tuk. I couldn’t save him.”

The numbness faded from her eyes, replaced by shock, replaced by understanding, replaced by pure loss. Tears formed and fell, and his daughter started crying like the weight of the world had been thrust upon her.

Tuk’s arms found their way back around his neck, hugging tight. And then she cried and cried and cried. Her little body shaking with violent sobs, her voice giving out as she screamed out in agony.

“It’s not fair!”, she cried, her fingers clenching and unclenching against his back. Reaching for something that could never be reached.

“It’s not fair! It’s not fair! It’s not fair!”

Jake hugged her tight, one hand on the back of her head.

“I know, sweety”, he cried, not able to hold back anymore.

No child her age should be able to make such sounds of grief. No child her age should have to suffer such pain. It broke his heart. It broke all of him.

Tuk cried and screamed and wailed, until her voice was nothing more than a raspy screech, until her limbs grew weak, until all power left her body. Not able to form more than indistinct sounds of grief and pain.

Jake held her through it, unable to do anything else. Unable to help her. Unable to take away her pain.

They kept floating there. Tuk in his arms. Kiri and Spider now hugging each other tight, both staring ahead into the silent night.

At some point, Tuk passed out on his shoulder.

Caption:

After Neteyam's death, Lo'ak keeps praying to Eywa to take his life for his brother's. He knows his efforts are in vain, until one night he is heard.

A life for a life.

A son for a son.

Or: A Lo'ak centered fic that also brings back Neteyam. It's basically how everyone would react to Lo'ak's sacrifice. There's gonna be a happy ending, but first everyone must suffer. (We live for the Angst!)

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44201029/chapters/111150181

#tuk sully #tuktirey #ao3fic #ao3 #atwow #avatar #loak sully #jake sully #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #kiri sully #angst with a happy ending

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nightfall-by-jacqui-natla · 10 months

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Previous Chapter Next Chapter

1. FLAME HAIR

SEATTLE WAS CURRENTLY UNDER SIEGE AND the death toll continued to rise. This has been reported in the newspapers for several months. I didn't pay much attention to it and thought it was just a way for the newspapers to grab attention. However, unlike the newspapers, I am not noticed.

Metaphorically speaking, invisibility had been a constant in my life for as far back as I could recall. Whenever I spoke up or took action, such as raising my hand, those around me would turn their heads and utter phrases like "where did you come from?" or "I didn't see you there," despite my proximity to them.

I was being pursued by three male bikers and I attempted to escape from them.

“Come on, sugar cakes," one of them yelled in a rough voice.

"We just want to have some fun," another one chuckled sickly.

What they wanted was not going to be enjoyable. It would be enjoyable for them, but not for me. I then stopped in an alley and continued running, my feet pounding on the damp ground. I kept running until I reached a brick wall and stopped. I heard one of the bikers laughing and then stopping, staring at me with confusion.

“Wait a minute," the man with auburn beard said. "Where is she?"

What? They couldn't be serious. I was standing right in the middle of the wall. How could they not have seen me?

The man with the bandana said, “She ran down this way.”

The short blonde man added, “She can't be far.”

Suddenly, a woman with flaming red curly hair landed between me and the bikers. The men laughed at her and one of them wolf-whistled. But she killed them one by one with her bare hands and teeth, like a bear tearing apart three fish. I watched in horror as the flame-haired woman slaughtered the bikers.

After her attack, she turned around slowly, revealing blood on the corner of her mouth and her eyes matching the blood. Her red eyes widened as if surprised by my presence, then she smiled creepily at me.

“I didn't see you there, did I?” The woman spoke pleasantly to me.

Normally, I would have been irritated by her response, but I was frightened. I was unable to move my body. Suddenly, she sprinted towards me and seized my neck. She shoved me against the brick wall and turned my head to the right. My breathing became rapid as my nerves heightened in terror.

"You would make a great addition to my army," she growled in a whisper, her teeth just inches from my neck.

Her sharp teeth pierced my skin, and I felt a burning sensation inside me. It was like acid coursing through my veins and body. She hurled me to the ground and watched as I writhed in agony.

The sensation of burning overwhelmed me as I stared up at the flame-haired woman. A male with red eyes and sharp teeth emerged from the shadows, poised to attack me. However, the woman stopped him with a command. My body convulsed as an unknown substance coursed through me, feeling like acid. The acidic water consumed my organs and bones, causing unbearable pain.

All I could think was "It burns. It burns so bad."

Despite wanting to beg for death, I could only scream until everything went black.

My eyes burst open, and the world came into focus with a clarity that was almost blinding. It was as if I had been transported into a high-definition television set, every detail sharp and vivid. I found myself lying in a strange place, the unfamiliar surroundings staring back at me with a cold, unfeeling gaze. I turned my head, trying to get my bearings, and slowly rose to my feet.

"Good, you're awake," a woman's voice echoed through the room.

I spun around, my eyes locking onto the woman with flame-red hair. Her face was paler than I had expected, but her eyes burned with a fierce intensity that sent shivers down my spine. A Cheshire Cat smile crept across her lips.

"What's your name, newborn?" she asked me.

Newborn? The word echoed through my mind, and I struggled to remember who I was.

"Tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine," she said, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness.

"V-Violet?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Violet," she hummed, her eyes glittering with amusement. "I am Victoria, and you are my third in command."

"Wait, what?" I asked, my confusion mounting.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Victoria giggled. "I'm creating an army to get back at my enemy. You see, he did something to make me sad, and I want revenge."

I stared at her, my mind reeling. "What are you? What am I?"

"We're vampires," she said, her voice lilting with a musical quality.

"But vampires are myths," I protested weakly.

"Ah, but we're real," Victoria said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She turned to the blonde male with red eyes. "This is Riley, my second in command."

"And mate," Riley spat out, wrapping his arm around Victoria's waist possessively.

Victoria smiled at him before turning her gaze back to me. Riley's eyes bore into me, as if daring me to respond. All I could do was stare at them, my mind struggling to comprehend the impossible reality that had suddenly become my life.

"Do any of you happen to have a mirror or something?" I inquired of my companions.

Riley gestured towards a battered car with a shattered window. "There's one over there, but it's seen better days."

Undeterred, I strode past them towards the decrepit vehicle. As I approached the still window, a reflection began to form. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't my own. The woman staring back at me had luscious raven locks cascading down to her chest, a complexion as pale as freshly fallen snow, and piercing blood-red eyes that mirrored those of Riley and Victoria. She was clad in a black leather bomber jacket, a dark grey top, ripped black jeans, and black converse shoes. I blinked, and my reflection mimicked my actions.

It was then that Victoria's voice cut through the silence, her tone stern and unwavering.

"As a newborn, there are two rules you must follow," she began, her eyes fixed on me. "Firstly, avoid sunlight at all costs. It will be the end of you. And secondly, do not cause any disturbances amongst humans. We must keep our existence a secret."

I nodded, my lips pursed in agreement. Riley interjected, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"Sunrise is approaching. We must find shelter," he warned, his voice urgent.

Without hesitation, we ran. The wind whipped through my hair, and my heart pounded in my chest. It was as if I had been granted superhuman abilities, straight out of a comic book.

As the sun began to rise, we found refuge. And with that, my life as a human came to an end.

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speedruntechnically · 9 months

Text

More writing from an old scrapped v2gabe thing I wanted to finish but never did

There’s pain. Searing, stinging, aching. Intense. About as intense as their processor can handle. It stems out from their chest, radiating in sharp waves, coming and going with the pump of their artificial heart. Their heart, which holds less and less blood with each cycle, pouring from the gaping hole in their plating. Severed wires spark and torn tubing flutters in the wind as the Mindflayer above them coos, the electronic hum almost soothing if not for its sinister undertone. Blood mixes with seawater in the empty spaces of their body, uncomfortable and strange, their legs collapsing under them with a cacophonous crash.

V2’s helm hits the ground hard. A spiderweb of cracks spreads across their lens in an instant, glass creaking with a sickeningly shrill sound. Warnings clutter their vision, flickering spots of static and the rocking of the ferry turning the world around them into a smear of colors and shapes. They attempt to get their legs under them, hands fighting for purchase on slick floorboards that groan under their weight, but another burning ball of heat sends them back to their stomach. Shards of glass pierce layers of rubber padding, mixing with gore to grind between their joints. The side of their wingpack buzzes, alight with agony. Something thuds next to their helm, filling their audials with fuzz. A blow to the head makes the sound ramp up in both pitch and volume. It must have knocked something loose as well, because their vision starts to rapidly fade, glitching in reds, greens, and blues, critical alerts fighting for their attention.

Systems begin to shut down against their will, their body desperate to conserve power while their mind screams at them to free themself, to not give up so easily. Frantic hands scramble for a shotgun just out of reach. Even as they try to crawl, overwhelmed by the feeling of miserable defeat, they find the task of moving their limbs harder and harder. Their balance is off, one side of their body much too light, and they collapse to their side again.

Tendrils snake up their body, tightening around their wrists and neck, sharp points threatening to press in.

Unwilling to face their demise head on, V2 closes the shutters over their optic. The Mindflayer continues to hum her electronic song, V2 finding themself suddenly jealous of even her most basic vocal capabilities. If they could speak, at least then they could utter something, anything, some sorry display of final words.

This isn’t how they should die. They shouldn’t be dying in the first place, but especially not like this. A death at the hands of an inferior machine is nothing but pathetic.

“Machine?”

The words are strangely clear, voice oddly familiar. V2 flinches at the noise, waiting for it to crash harshly into static.

Footsteps stop inches from their head, heavy, echoing, loud. “Ah, I see.” A pause, smooth silence. “Are you… conscious?”

The shuffling of fabric and clinking of metal is their only warning before a hand is on their shoulder, warm, solid, gentle. So different from the hard plastic bodies of Mindflayers, different enough to make V2 jump, optic snapping open and springing to their feet.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The voice is strained, just slightly.

V2’s hand darts to the edge of their wing, fingers twitching, ready to grab their revolver at the slightest movement.

The figure in front of them is large and imposing, composed of defined muscle and sturdy armor bathed in shadow. His hunched form towers over them but remains perfectly still, posture one of more concern and confusion than intent to attack. Their optic darts between his hands, still outstretched, and the swords hanging from his hip.

“I apologize for startling you. I thought you might be your… predecessor, I assume, from your similar build and designation. I see that my former assumption was incorrect.”

V2 narrows their optic, gaze now focused on the golden cross hovering inches from their face. They take a half step back, wings hiking high. Doubtful as they are, they hope such a display of threat works, knowing their wingspan must pale in comparison to his own, massive cyan wings folded neatly behind his back.

The figure now stands up to his full height, nearly twice as tall as V2. As he folds his arms over his chest, armored plating clacking with strikingly soft sounds, their eye follows the movement of his halo, the same mellow blue as his wings, washing them in gentle light.

“Be at ease. I have no intention to harm you. I am not sure whether that is even possible.” His voice is low and calm, flowing over them with an air of confidence that tells them this Angel might be in total control here. And yet, even with the subtle shifting of their feet, desperate for just a little more distance between them, V2 finds that their feelings of fearful deja-vu have begun to melt into something more peaceful, more content. “I was merely curious to see another being here. Especially one of your nature.”

V2 lets their posture relax just the tiniest amount, hand dropping to their side, but they keep watching, keep tracking, the Angel’s movements. He seems to be telling the truth, but they can never be too sure. They’ve been wronged before. They point, slowly, to his swords, studying the way the gilding on the scabbards catches the light.

The Angel’s gaze follows their hand. “My swords? Yes, I am armed, but, as I said, I have no intention to harm you. You also appear to be armed. I find I am not understanding your point.”

Still slow and deliberate, V2 slots a hand into a wing. Grip light, they pull their revolver out and hold it at arms length to their side. With their other hand, they point again to the Angel’s swords and drop their gun.

His shoulders sink, heaving a sigh. “Alright, very well. If you are going to disarm yourself, I suppose it is only fair I do the same.” His hands work over his waist, deft and quick, movements small and precise, until he pulls back, letting the scabbards fall with a dull thump. “Happy?”

V2 picks up on a slight change in his tone, voice falling towards annoyance. They wonder how quickly he angers, and what that would mean for them. But they nod, less on edge now that they don’t have to worry about losing yet another limb.

“Good.” He turns his head, staring at something off in the distance. Whatever he’s looking at, V2 can’t make it out.

The pair slips into relative silence, V2’s body hissing and vents expelling air, the Angel’s soft breathing barely audible. V2 commits his form to memory, filling in their databanks, noting gaps in armor and breaks in chainmail, tears on leather and scars on skin. They are near fascinated with how easily silver turns to gold, metal plates lovingly crafted with skill no human could replicate.

The Angel speaks again, still calm and soft, voice echoing and reverberating off itself. He doesn’t turn to meet their gaze, not even when V2 inquisitively tilts their head.

“I must say, for some-” Hesitation, mere milliseconds, but V2 catches it nonetheless. “-thing that has recently -- for lack of a better word-- died, you seem to be taking this all quite well. I am perhaps a little embarrassed to admit I was less composed than you currently are.”

V2 nods slowly, unsure why he is telling them this. It does not aid them in battle, nor do they think it would aid him. Even if his words are true, even if he truly has no intention to fight them, surely such an exchange of information between Angels and Machines is meaningless.

They file the concept of death, his, theirs, away for later.

“I suppose I tried to escape, in a way. I was not ready to die. I knew it was coming, I had accepted it in some ways, but still I did not wish for it. I was… angry.”

The Angel turns to meet V2’s gaze, perhaps waiting for a response they cannot give. Instead, they sit, joints clicking and fans humming, gesturing beside them, inviting the Angel to sit with them.

He does not.

“I

#I kinda fucked myself by ending in the middle of the dialouge cause I have no idea where I was going #also. this one IS in html #mine #my writing

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hrodvitnon · 2 years

Note

Sorry it took a couple of weeks, but I’ve finally got the next portion of this done! I went into more detail on this part, and I’ll be curious to see what you think of it. 😄

– – –

My Biollante!Maddie AU, Part 3

A deep growl rumbles in Godzilla’s chest as he accelerates through the depths of the ocean, homing in on the source of the plaintive, wailing cries that are echoing across the world. He cannot tell exactly what this strange new creature is — its calls are erratic and distorted, making it difficult to pick out any details — but those calls sound far too much like a member of his own kind for it to be a coincidence. But this one does sound quite different from the two adolescent males that he’s taken under his protection in the past few years, so he can’t afford to drop his guard in case it turns out to be something else entirely.

Far ahead of him, tucked inside the base of a gigantic rose-tree, Madison Russell shifts restlessly in her sleep. In her mind’s eye, she is tangled in a mass of twisted, thorny vines that leave trails of fiery pain along her limbs with each movement she makes. She can see a faint light filtering down from someplace far above her, and she desperately fights to free herself, trying to rise up towards it, but the thorn-covered vines keep tightening around her in a smothering embrace, biting into her skin and pulling her down into the darkness. Some of the vines are tipped with tooth-lined pods that sway back and forth above her tethered form, uttering a chorus of soothing murmurs in echoes of her own voice as if they’re trying to comfort her, but drops of green acid leak from between their teeth and rain down upon her, burning her skin wherever they make contact. Her joints grind and crunch with each movement, cracking sensations rippling up and down her spine every time she convulses within the vines. She screams, pleading for help as she continues thrashing within her bonds, but there’s no one there to hear her.

After what seems like an eternity of this torment, however, something changes. For a moment, she hears something else, like the chime of a bell that pierces through the fog of darkness surrounding her. The vines’ grip loosens, the pain recedes for an instant, and she looks up towards the faint light filtering down from above as she recognizes the sound: a familiar voice, calling out her name.

“…Maddie…?”

Her eyes widen. Aunt Viv?

But then the voice fades away, the vines wrap around her again, and Madison Russell is dragged back down into the darkness and the pain.

– – –

The Monarch team erupts into a chaotic mass of shouting as soon as San’s message finishes crackling over their boat’s radio. Some people don’t believe it, while others are too shocked or horrified to think straight. Mark Russell is in the latter category: he’s gripping the railing of the Monarch boat with white-knuckled hands, his entire body shaking and a silent scream playing inside his head over and over – Please, god, no, please not Maddie, please let her be okay, I can’t lose her too – as his mind replays all of the bizarre symptoms that Madison had displayed prior to her disappearance, going over them again in a new, horrifying light.

Monster X’s female half feels the same way. They sink to their knees in the shallow water, the glowing light of their green eye going almost completely dark, a silent, numbing rush of horror chilling them to the bone. The chorus of haunting, echoing wails that are echoing from the plant Titan’s many mouths, and the telepathic calls that accompany them, are sending shocks of agony and horror through Vivienne’s half of their mind with each haunting cry.

Help me… Please… It hurts so much… I don’t know where I am… please…

Sister! A mental jolt from San finally snaps Vivienne out of her horrified trance. Focus! She needs our help! He’s just as shocked as she is, of course, but his memories of the brutal atrocities that his former self participated in for millions of years mean that he can recover from a nasty shock more quickly than she can. I know, he tries to reassure her. I’m so sorry. But… we can’t help her if we lose ourselves. Need to stay calm, as much as we can. For her sake, if nothing else.

With a great effort, Vivienne manages to pull herself back from the edge of panic. You’re right, she agrees, her voice still shaky but more determined now, as her green eye returns to its normal bright glow. Thank you.

San performs one of the little tricks that they’ve figured out after a decade of sharing a body as a way to physically communicate with each other, quirking up only the left corner of their mouth to form a distinctive half-smile. Just doing my job, little sister. We protect each other, no matter what.

No matter what, Vivienne agrees, nodding as their gaze shifts back to the giant plant that’s still calling out in Madison Russell’s voice. And the same goes for her. She’s the closest thing to a daughter that I’ve ever had… and there’s nothing I won’t do to protect her.

– – –

Once Monster X has confirmed their discovery, the Monarch team tries to overcome their astonishment and figure out a way to deal with the situation. Mark almost collapsed when they reaffirmed what they’d heard; he was already in shock, but at that point he suffered a full-blown panic attack, came extremely close to having a complete mental breakdown, and is now sedated and unconscious in one of the bunks on board, while the rest of the team are trying to figure out what to do next. Considering what’s happened, nobody on the boat blames him.

“I don’t get it,” Rick Stanton mutters as he leans against the boat’s railing, staring at the giant plant in disbelief. “How the fuck did Maddie turn into that? I know she was having some weird symptoms after that Bio-Major lab accident, but there are weird symptoms and then there’s something like this.” He’s coped with the shocking news in his typical fashion, and is already on the third refill of his personal flask.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Ilene Chen quietly admits, shaking her head and holding the rail firmly to suppress a trembling in her hands. “But… I do have a theory, based on what happened to Maddie in that lab.” She glances up at Monster X, who is sitting cross-legged in the shallow water next to the boat so that only their head and shoulders protrude above the surface and is listening to them via a customized radio system that the team have set up on board. “According to what she and the G-Team squad found in that facility, the Bio-Major scientists there had been using samples of Godzilla’s DNA to create a gene-therapy mutagen serum that could be used in making new types of resilient, fast-growing crops. But when Maddie dove into that vat to escape the fire, and ingested some of that liquid…” She shivers. “My best guess is, once the serum got into her system, it started mutating her genetic code the same way it had for the plants, mixing her DNA with Godzilla’s and with genetic material from the roses that they had been using for the experiments. Then, some kind of shock – maybe from those two Bio-Major agents breaking into her safe house, either something they did or just the adrenaline rush of being in a life-or-death situation – kicked that mutation process into hyperdrive, causing her to physically transform into a hybrid Titan.”

“So… she’s part-human, part-rose, and part-Godzilla?” Rick whistles dryly, taking another swig from his flask and exhaling heavily. “That’s a weird combo.” He frowns. “Okay, so… is she gonna stay as a giant rosebush forever, or…?”

“I think we can actually answer that question now,” Sam Coleman speaks up as he emerges from the interior of the boat’s cabin. “We were finally able to get some good internal scans of… that thing… and I think you’re all gonna want to see this.”

Using a projector screen that’s set up on the back of the boat so Monster X can see it (a method that’s become standard procedure on missions where they’re involved over the last few years), Sam displays the images that the team’s sensors have picked up, showing a three-dimensional layout of the massive plant. While more than half of the plant rises above the surface, the water where it’s taken root is still almost two hundred feet deep, concealing the lower half of its trunk. A large root system splays outwards from the base of the trunk like the roots of a mangrove tree, growing down into the seafloor. As they’ve already seen, those roots are wrapped protectively around what appears to be a glowing, membranous sac, roughly spherical in shape and as large as a twelve-story building. But the internal scans reveal that tucked inside that glowing red sac, curled in on itself in a fetal position, is the thermal outline of a large, loosely-humanoid figure. Due to the sac around the figure, the finer details of its appearance are difficult to make out, but it has two arms, two legs, and a head, and it appears to be at least as big as Monster X.

“Maddie…” Vivienne’s voice whispers, crackling faintly over the boat’s radio. Even through the static, her voice is shaking, and it’s clear that she’s fighting extremely hard to hold back tears. God… please let her be okay.

“So… that’s the real Madison?” Rick frowns. “Then what’s the big rose-thing supposed to be?”

“Maybe… some kind of defense mechanism?” Sam shrugs. “If that’s her real body inside that core-thing, then the larger plant could just be an extension of her. Like, maybe it’s just a mechanism meant to help her absorb energy, or to protect herself while her main body finishes growing. There’s no way to be sure; we’ve never seen anything quite like this before.” He glances over towards the plant, noting the visible red glow that’s filtering through the water from the pulsing core at its base, before looking up at Monster X. “But, ah, Vivienne… San… you guys said it sounds like Maddie isn’t actually awake in there, right?”

“That’s right,” San’s voice confirms. “We can hear her, but it’s like she’s… dream-talking to herself. We’ve tried talking to her, but I don’t think she can hear us.”

“He’s right,” Vivienne adds, her voice much more shaky than his. “From… from what she’s been saying, it sounds like she doesn’t actually know what’s happened to her. It’s like her conscious mind is dormant somehow; maybe she’s in some kind of hibernation coma while her body finishes growing and changing. Something similar happened to us, when Mothra helped us to grow into our second form.”

“I mean, thinking about it, that does kinda make sense,” Rick muses. “Changing like that has to take a lot out of anyone, even a Titan. She probably won’t wake up and pop outta there until she’s done growing.” He sighs. “Unfortunately, that means… that plant’s probably gonna keep trying to kill anything that gets too close to her until that happens. Which isn’t great.”

“Also, we have another problem,” Ilene cuts in, her expression becoming more concerned as she emerges from the boat’s cabin, having received a phone call a couple of minutes earlier. “I just heard from Castle Bravo. Godzilla’s still on his way: they’re still tracking him, and he’s a couple hundred miles south of here at the moment, but if he maintains his current speed, he’ll be here in less than two hours.”

“And based on how badly Maddie’s rosebush buddy reacted when it was just us getting into her space… imagine how she’s gonna react when the big guy gets involved?” Rick grimaces, a sentiment that’s clearly shared by the others. “That’s not gonna be pretty.”

Monster X’s stomach turns and a horrified chill runs up their spine at the idea of a fight between Maddie and Godzilla. They scramble to their feet, rocking the boat with the resulting waves, and turn towards the looming giant plant with its pulsing red core. Their twin minds are racing, frantically trying to think of a way to defuse the situation without anyone getting hurt.

Finally, a potential solution presents itself, and they turn back to the people on the boat. “Tell us something,” their voices echo out of the radio, speaking in concert this time since they’re not bothering to take turns. “If Madison’s real body is inside that core-thing at the base of the plant, and the rest of it is just an extension… could we remove the core from the rest of the plant without harming her?”

The scientists exchange glances, considering that idea. “Theoretically… we probably could, yeah,” Sam agrees slowly, still thinking it over. “But… we’d have to figure out how to do that safely. And I don’t think that plant she’s created is going to just let us remove that sac from it. It attacked you guys just for getting near her; there’s no way it’ll just sit there and let us perform surgery on it.”

Monster X nods. “We’ve got an idea for that part,” Vivienne’s voice crackles through the radio. “For now, keep scanning that plant, and try to make sure that there aren’t any vital connections between Maddie’s real body and the rest of it. We’ll be back soon.”

After moving far enough away from the boat that they can take off without displacing enough water to capsize the vessel, Monster X spreads their wings and leaps out of the water, rising swiftly into the darkening sky before flying south as fast as they can. A storm is rolling in over the Keys, and for this plan to work, they need to intercept Godzilla and explain the situation before he gets too close. If this is going to work, they're going to need his help.

Hang on, Maddie, Vivienne thinks to herself, taking comfort from San’s reassuring presence beside her but unable to fully suppress the acid tinge of fear in her guts. Everything’s going to be okay. We promise.

Ooooh! And no worries about the time gap, writing ain't something you wanna rush; and the addition was well worth the wait!

Whatever plan's been cooked up, I still can't help having a feeling something's going to go wrong even with Godzilla's involvement; inevitably BioMaddie's going to change into Beast Mode somehow, and she needs Viv n' San to be there for her once she's regained consciousness (whenever that happens), so one can only hope the outer body doesn't cause trouble that could lead to any harm...

#shadowblade217 #biollante!maddie

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crimsontrxcks · 2 months

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@impalakiing plotted STARTER.

The branches scraped with their claws on the dilapidated boards of the old abandoned hut they had chosen as their place to rest. The darkness was full of hidden life, fully awake and lurking. In anticipation, impatient and hungry for the bite of the hunter's soul they craved. The lullaby touched his ears like many nights before, arranged and planned. . . but the ivory hand did not contain the same commitment as before. The deceptively sweet smell of the candle whose flame fluttered on the antique nightstand was supposed to ensure that he wouldn't wake up. Jade colored irises watched the man's sleeping face. . . and hatred and condemnation were eroded by a guilty conscience. It was much easier than before, to get to the canvas of his body on which she traced those cursed symbols, inscribed his skin like a writer does to a page with ink. In the beginning he didn't trust her, they didn't know each other, he was understandably wary. Ruby haired woman had spent so many nights waiting for Dean to fall asleep, relying on the ghostly whisper hidden in the wind to assure her that the sandman had done his part and sent him to the field of dreams, before she made it through the open window and lit that same candle to shackle him with heavy sleep before she begins the deadly ritual. The nights they spent sleeping in his car, where she was supposed to be keeping watch but was actually swallowing her patience until his eyes closed. It worked. The circles under the eyes and the pale complexion heralded impending doom. Then she believed in what she was doing. . . then the plan was crystal clear and the act honorable. Discomfort and division gnawed at her insides, while the blood pump ached as she crushed the bone of a long-dead dark force hunter into powder.

A sound like a muffled scream caught her attention, and the hairs on the neck stood up. It was not the language of the people, but she understood it. Leaving the half-crushed bone and walking towards the window on the left side of the hut, Clare pulled back the dusty curtains, soft digits pushed the heavy creaking window open. The shadows danced an eerie dance, the cold wind stung the cheeks, and the soul shuddered with guilt when the ghostly form wriggled like a snake along the edge of the window frame. Coral haired woman stood still, firm, not allowing her simmering dilemma to reach the surface of her face. Light feathers fluttered, a gentle being was born from the night, landing on her wrist. A butterfly, as black as the gloomy clouds that embraced the bright moon. She looked at the small creature fascinated, remembering why the mysterious and ominous is truly misunderstood and beautiful. . .

" Is it time ?. . . " The hiss of a disembodied being echoed in her ear canal. Clare blinked, jaw tightened.

" Soon." An almost inaudible voice left full lips the color of ripe cherries. The hiss grew into a harsh growl, filled with contempt and disapproval.

" We need him. He belongs to us. "

Woman flinched on the statement, teeth gritted.

" It takes time. " She tried to buy time. The answer did not come with words, but with something much worse. The innocent and fragile being on her wrist shivered, falling off the skin and onto the windowsill, losing every ounce of life inside it. Anger gripped her heart as she watched that painful scene.

" It will speed up the process . . . do it . . . and you will be free . . . we will be free . . ." Liberation. Affiliation. No agony piercing the broken heart. Clare shuddered remembering the deal she had made with those infernal creatures. They promised salvation, an escape from the demons born within and growing along side her. Uttering no response, fingers picked up the poor dead butterfly, turning and bringing it back to the table to finish the mixture. Crushing the small wings and combining it with the dust made from bones, woman came closer to the sleeping man. Nails sharper than razor blades gently dived into the mixture, before they landed on the neck of the hunter. Careful not to touch the small part of his neck where the rhythm of his heart danced, to remind her that he is more than a walking corpse, Clare once again created a line of ancient symbols on the warm skin. With the next morning, when the sky bleeds its colors, the written doom on his skin will vanish, but their curse will remain, poisoning his soul.

#JDOIFEDIFHE HERE IT IS BUDDY!!!!!! I CAN'T WAIT #impalakiing: dean #ft. clare

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jonathanvik · 2 years

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Starlight Dream - Chapter 34

“Colten! It is you!” To her bones, Seina understood this as an indisputable fact. Though, how he’d gain magical powers and a human form was beyond her.

“Uh, well.” Paliah dithered, taken aback by this pronouncement. She stared at him, daring him to lie to her face and deny it. He sighed and capitulated, admitting the truth. “Yes, it’s true, Seina. I’m your partner, Colten.”

“But how?”

“It’s a long, complicated story,” Paliah said.

“Wait, what?! This guy’s your fairy partner?!” Miko gapped, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Yep, this is Colten,” Seina said, confirming the truth.

“…” Chō stared, eyes wide. This sudden revelation was just as shocking to the usually unflappable magical girl.

“Yes, explain!” Miko said, outrage creeping into her voice. “This shouldn’t be possible!”

“Well, you’re not getting one!” Paliah said, smugly. “It’s a secret!”

“Whatever,” Miko said, snorting. “All the more reason to kill this monster! I-it’s just unnatural!”

“Your face is unnatural.” Paliah shot back.

“Shut up!” Miko’s face turned red as she backhanded Paliah across the shore. With a rough hand, she grabbed him by his long white hair and put a blade to his exposed throat. “If you’re a fairy, it makes sense I wasn’t able to kill you.”

Blood pooled down Paliah’s armor as the knife’s tip nicked into his jugular. Miko continued her speech, her tone conversational. “As long as Seina lives, you can’t die. Well, whatever. You can survive as just a head.”

“Colten!” Seina’s hackles raised, fury guiding her as she fought against the robots restraining her. While she struggled to get leverage, her captors were having great difficulty holding her. No one hurt her fairy partner!

My power is strength, right? That means nothing should have the power to contain me! She focused her energy on herself, refusing to be contained.

“Shoot!” Miko said, tossing Paliah aside to address Seina. “I’m forgetting who’s a greater danger.”

Liquid agony passed through her as knives dug into her chest, each aimed at a different vital organ. The pain caused tears to string Seina’s eyes, but it only fueled her determination to save her friend. The entire coast shook from the impact as she stomped one foot on the ground. Her robot captors flew sideways, jolted out of place. With their grip slackened, Seina ripped herself free. With a dismissive slap, each shattered to dust. Seina staggered as a kunai pierced her heart, but she only sent a baleful glare toward her attacker.

“...”

“What a monster.” Miko’s ever-dominant confidence became speckled with doubt. But such hesitations faded, replaced with certainty. “You’re right, Chō. She’s too much of a hassle to bring in alive. Killing her is our best option.”

“Bring it,” Seina said, her tone frigid. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her staff hard.

“Careful,” Paliah said. “Miko’s ability can detect any weakness. She’ll always strike where you’re the most vulnerable!”

“Thanks, Colten.” Seina gave her friend a half-smile before redirecting her baleful glare back toward her opponents.

Without preamble, she darted toward Miko with her wand prepared for battle. Despite Seina’s nimbleness, Miko’s knives always seemed to know where to strike her. Seina’s knees buckled as several kunai stabbed her legs, but no amount of pain would deter her from her goal.

Sweat dripped down Miko’s forehead as she tried to keep her distance, but Seina’s ceaseless persistence dogged her. A kunai dug into her dominant hand, causing Seina to almost drop her weapon. It didn’t stop Seina from whipping her wand toward Miko’s chest.

“Monster,” Miko gasped, blood dripping from her mouth as the blow connected. Her knees wavered as she struggled to keep standing. Her fight against Paliah had weakened her almost to utter exhaustion. Even magical girls had their limits. Before Seina could finish her opponent, Chō boosted her mecha forward to protect her ally.

“You’re nicer than most. Other magical girls would have abandoned their ally without hesitation.” Seina said, surprised by the sudden act of loyalty.

“...” Chō only tightened her grip on her controls, ready to fight.

Before Seina could engage, her steps paused as something unusual happened. The sky, which had already shifted into daylight, darkened, turning a deep red. No, it’d gone blood-red.

“This is your doing?” Seina asked, somewhat confused. This didn’t match either magical girl’s power set. Instead of responding, pure fright appeared on each magical girl’s face. What was going on? What had spooked them?

“...”

“I agree,” Miko said, whipping the blood from her lips. “Do it.”

Before Seina could ponder this mystery, Chō’s mecha’s arms opened to reveal two missile launchers. Seina braced for battle, but the other magical girl aimed them toward the ground instead. An explosion blasted sand everywhere, choking and blinding. When the dust cleared, both magical girls had vanished.

“What was that about?” Seina blinked, searching in vain for the other magical girls.

“This is not good!” Paliah said, limping towards her.

“What’s going on?” Seina asked. “What spooked them?”

“This sky must be due to another magical girl,” Paliah said, voice grim. “I think it’s blocking any escape from this universe.”

A sneaking suspicion drove ice into Seina’s heart. Little wonder Miko and Chō had been so terrified. “Reiko, she must have found us!”

“I hope not,” Paliah said, alarmed. “Though I’m not sure why she’d announced their presence like that.”

“I don’t like this.” Seina cursed, daggers of worry stabbing at her heart. “Let’s get back to the others. We can’t afford to be caught alone, especially if it’s Reiko!”

In a poof of smoke, Paliah transformed back into regular, old Colten. While bruised, he seemed otherwise alright and perched on her shoulder. The poor little guy needed a rest, but Seina figured their nightmarish day had only begun.

---

The city of Osaka was a jumble of pent-up nervousness as Seina and Colten walked back toward the Prime Minister’s apartment complex. People gave the unusual-colored sky nervous glances, fearful of what it might portend. Otherwise, the citizens tried their best to resume daily life.

Wary of getting caught unaware, Seina remained in her magical girl form. It was an unexpected blessing, ordinary people taking comfort in their guardian’s presence. While they walked, Seina listened to her fairy partner’s wild story.

“Really? And drinking her blood made you like that?” Seina said, amazed. It’d been brave standing against a foe such as Lotus Butcher. If Colten hadn’t intervened, Dreven might have gotten super powerful with Emiyo’s blood.

“The next day, I noticed I had time powers! I experimented with them in secret. With some effort, I figured out how to assume human shape. I absorbed some humanness from Emiyo? I don’t really understand how this whole business works. Something about taking her blood changed me, altered how my natural magic works!”

“Huh.” What a remarkable story. “So why the mask and secret identity?”

“I thought it’d be cool.” Colten sighed, giving a chagrined smile. “A mysterious protector! A cool guy with a sword fighting from the shadows. Pity, it failed so badly.”

“Well, I thought you were really cool! You’re so strong, Colten!” She giggled as her partner turned to beat red from embarrassment and stuttered his thanks.

“I was going to tell you, eventually! When the time was right!”

Seina chuckled, wondering how long he would have stalled telling her. Or would she have figured it out? With Colten and Paliah never appearing in the same place together, she was sure she would’ve picked it up eventually.

“Mind if I tell the others?”

“No, go ahead,” Colten said, resigned. “No point in hiding it.”

“Still, I’m glad to have you on the team! It’s great to have you at my back!” Seina said, with feeling. She blinked as Colten frowned. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure. Do you hear something?” Colten said, ears flicking.

They both screamed bloody murder as a plane came out of nowhere, scissoring the nearest building in half. People shrieked in panic, fleeing for their lives. The next few moments were utter chaos, with dust and debris flying everywhere. The plane continued barreling forward, almost crashing into her. It landed in a scream of metal, devastating anything in its path. It had reduced the area into a complete disaster zone. During the entire time, Seina thought she’d heard someone laughing in glee.

“Are you okay?” Seina said, choking on dust. Smoke was added to the flavor as the engine caught on fire, adding to the misery. Around her, people wept and moaned, some seriously injured as the shockwave blew them clear.

“I’m fine,” Colten said, trying and failing to crawl back to her shoulder. With a plop, Seina placed him back in place.

“What happened?” What a mess. It’d be a lucky thing this hadn’t been that populated an area. But Seina wasn’t sure about the building the plane had crashed into. The impact had caused it to implode, little remaining besides concrete rubble and support beams. With so much devastation, Seina wasn’t sure where to begin helping.

After a split second of consideration, she headed towards the plane. There might be some survivors. But she wasn’t optimistic, the machine was reduced to smoldering twisted metal. She grimaced when she spotted a dangling leg covered by rubble, crimson oozing like a waterfall. Metal shrieked in protest as it tore away from the plane’s roof. As more bodies appeared, Seina’s hopefulness dimmed. Nobody appeared to be breathing.

“Any luck?” A granny said, yelling up toward her.

“I’m not sure. You have better ears, Colten. Is anyone still alive?”

Her partner’s ears twitched, nodding. “I hear someone breathing outside.”

“Don’t move them, dears.” The granny said. “Help’s coming!” Already, they could hear emergency vehicles zooming toward them. The recent recovery efforts after the vampire’s defeat had made humanity good at quickly addressing disasters. Her occasional fights with vampires sometimes caused considerable damage. But what had caused this crash? Another mischievous vampire?

A whole plane, too. Those things aren’t cheap.

“What the heck?” Colten called from higher towards the plane’s nose, distracting Seina from helping the trapped person. “A crash didn’t cause that.”

Seina turned, finding what he’d been talking about. Her partner pointed towards the cockpit at a man slumped in the pilot set.

“What the?” A chill went down Seina’s spine as she saw the poor pilot’s state.

“That rocked!” A voice said. Seina yelped in surprise as a figure burst from some nearby rubble.

“Wha?” She blinked her eyes, uncertain her vision was working right. The girl was wearing an oversized fireman’s outfit, its sleeves flopping about as she flailed her arms. Dust fell from her green hair as the girl shook her head like a dog. Much to her confusion, there wasn’t a scratch on her.

“Are you okay, dear? Were you thrown by the crash?” The older woman said, concerned.

“Get away from her!” Colten said, pure panic in his voice. In a flash of insight, Seina realized why.

“Do you know this magical girl?” Seina asked. A fairy popped up from the rubble confirming her theory!

“Riding that plane’s roof was so much fun!” The girl said, doing a dance. Her bizarre outfit bounced with her steps. “So epic!”

“Too right!” The fairy fist-bumped her partner.

The granny blinked, uncertain if the girl was okay in the head. She stepped back, sensing something was wrong.

“That’s Yuuka Tsujikawa!” Colten said, his voice quivering. “She’s one of the Devil Princesses!”

“Yep! Call me Geranium Mania!” Yuuka said, not turning to address them. Instead, she studied the carnage she’d caused with utter delight.

What’s with this girl? While the other magical girls of Starlight Dream were evil, this one seemed beyond callous of the havoc she caused.

“That’s far enough. Your reign of terror stops here.” Seina said, entering a fighting pose. Much to her irritation, the girl continued to ignore her.

“Er,” Seina stood awkwardly, waiting for the other magical girl to respond.

“Attack her now, before she can transform!” Colten said, showing an uncharismatic amount of ruthlessness.

“But,” Seina hesitated before nodding.

Against such a foe, they couldn’t afford to show any quarter. Thankfully, the older woman realized the situation and fled for her life. Sirens approached closer, increasing Seina’s urgency to defeat this monster.

But she faltered, her instincts screaming Yuuka wasn’t as vulnerable as she appeared. The Devil Princess’s posture was utterly unconcerned, making Seina hesitate further.

“You’re smarter than you look,” Yuuka said, turning to address her. “But I don’t mind if you attack. I don’t need my full magical girl powers to defeat you.” She said this so casually. It terrified Seina even further.

Yuuka spread her arms wide, inviting attack. “Go ahead, hit me with everything you’ve got!”

I can’t afford to hold back. She’s underestimating me. I’ll use that to my advantage.

The earth shook as Seina dashed forward, aiming a punch toward the Devil Princess’s exposed head. But a fist casually blocked it, like a toddler had thrown it. Her next attack only struck open air, Yuuka dodging with ease.

“What?” None of her attacks worked, Yuuka casually deflecting each one. Seina yelped in surprise as a sudden kick tripped her to the ground. Darn it. And her tiredness from her previous fight wasn’t helping.

A sudden jab to the throat made Seina gag, howling a gargled cry of pain. She retaliated with a kick, but Yuuka only slipped aside. Blood coughed from her mouth as a fist impaled her chest.

“This is the reason I wear this jumpsuit,” Yuuka said. “So much easier to clean up bloodstains!”

A kick sent Seina flying, the pain making even standing up impossible. She heaved, powerless against the Devil Princess’s might.

“Seina!” Colten said, utterly helpless to assist.

“How dull. The greatest threat to Starlight Dream? Please.” Yuuka said, hunching down and sulking to herself. “I rushed here for nothing!”

“We can still have some fun!” Yuuka’s partner said, floating behind her. “There is plenty of stuff to destroy.”

“Maybe,” Yuuka said, her mood still deflated.

“Didn’t Reiko say she had allies?” The fairy continued. “We could make a game of it!”

“Yes! I love games!” Yuuka said, her eyes sparkling.

“People’s lives aren’t a game!” Seina said, her heart blackening with rage. It brought back terrible memories of the sick games vampires had played with their slaves for their amusement. They’d once forced her to compete in one against their greatest champion in a contest she couldn’t logically have won.

“Oh no, little one, they are! And you’re a contestant!” A fist made Seina’s head ring like a bell, thrust into the street’s pavement so hard that a deep crack had formed along it. “And this world will be the arena!”

“But what will be the rules?” Yuuka swung Seina’s head around in an absentminded gesture. Seina hissed, her neck throbbing something fierce from the jerky movement. “It should make things entertaining.”

“And everyone should play! It’s fairer that way! You have other magical girl friends, right?” Yuuka said, words coming out of her mouth as soon as they appeared in her head. “Have they tried to stop me from killing everyone on the planet? Naw, too easy for me. No! I have it! You can be the cops. I’ll be the robber!”

“Eh?” Seina said, trying to reorient herself to look into Yuuka’s eyes.

“I’ll run, cause mayhem and you’ll try to stop me! To make things fair, I won’t use my magical girl form. If you’re lucky, you might kill me!” The Devil Princess snickered, fighting back laughter. “No, I’m kidding. That’s ludicrous! The very thought!”

“I’ll give you a day to stop me,” Yuuka said. “And don’t worry about killing me. You just need to tap me on the head three times, then I’ll surrender and leave your universe! I super promise!”

Doubtful. Would the Devil Princess really leave that easily?

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you some time to recover!” Yuuka said, giving Seina three patronizing pats on the head. “Because I won’t make it easy for you. You may get a little bitty hurt trying to catch me. And if you fail to win, I’ll kill you all and destroy this entire universe!”

A chill went down Seina’s spine and stabbed daggers in her heart. How could anyone say that so casually?

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat. I’m in the mood for Mexican! Think this universe has a Mexico?” The Devil Princess chatted with her partner, talking about nothing.

“Um.” The granny said, peeking over some rubble. She gave Seina a worried glance, terrified by her injuries. “Don’t worry, dear. I…” Blood spattered in an explosion of carnage as Yuuka blew her head off with a casual swipe of her hand. With a smirk, she tossed the woman’s decapitated head toward Seina.

As the kindly grandma’s head rolled to a stop, Seina stared into her dead eyes. Her breath came out in pained heaves, her emotions exploding with pain, grief, and terror. With stiff muscles, she scrambled away, not wanting to continue seeing such a horrible sight.

“And that’s just a taste of the carnage tomorrow, Seina,” Yuuka said, her eyes gleaming. There was no humanity within them, only madness. “You better entertain me. You won’t like the consequences otherwise.”

#slice of life #stories #satire #starlightdream #battle #comedy #cute #anime stories #action adventure #action #young adult #anime #vampires #literature

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sasorikigai · 2 years

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"gods die, and when they truly die they are unmourned and unremembered." Goddess Liv @ Scorpion because ANGST

#AMERICAN GODS : || @somniaxperdita || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Shirai Ryu Compounds had been where abundant love and rhyme of compassion sweetened against the throbbing onslaught of passing ephemerality of time; but now, within Scorpion’s iridescent white eyes, there is a little hint of a vast field of greenery, which used to delineate Hanzo Hasashi’s sought-out serenity. Seemingly for eons, this weary, suffocated and vindictive soul journeyed through cold and woe of his grief, searching for a place rebelliously, albeit eternally entrapped in the Nether filled with the stench of death, decay, and dirt. Perhaps the wraith was a desperate wanderlust, with an insatiable fancy with provoked curiosity to see what his withered body and heart could conceive out of his spectral nothingness.

Despite the predicament of his manifestation in the world no longer saturated with kaleidoscope of beauty and splendidness, Scorpion still finds himself coveting enlightenment as he continues to be chiselled in bone and scar tissue, enticed by his perilous pursuit of finding life amidst the putrescent scorch of ash and dust. For the eddies of his existence still remains with the Hasashi legacy, as onslaught of emotions pierce him straight to his bones and his still-human heart. It used to resemble the null of his voids, and speak the cacophony of his eyes amidst excruciating torment and agony. Scorpion may be a nonexistent wraith to some, but to selective handful, he still is a tangible, pronounced living thing that echoes the haunting tragedy, singing the undying memories of an unsung song.

Nothing else in the world is intense, despite all the stinging salty pain and an aching heart. The invocating vehement mountain of his thoughts remain so powerful and potent collide with the raging oceans so immeasurable and full of feeling, as his hellfire becomes a powerful creation against the wretched usurpation of Earthrealm, as it materializes as the defiant organic bulwark that would withstand even the harrowing, bone-chilling despair and finality of death that would leave anyone powerless and motionless. Would Hanzo Hasashi’s demolished and disintegrated world fall in complete and utter silence? Would there be a fleeting peace or would the voices inside scream more to be heard? The heaviest of his trials and tribulations may remain heavy on his realization, but still, a sparky veil remains entangled in his veins, revealing such delicate and fragile hope. Despite the everburning hellfire being a vengeful sun, it still serves as a symbolic presence of the Shirai Ryu warrior who wielded and still wields a burning heart and soul, overbrimming with resilient passion, dedication, and willpower.

“Worry not, for the veneration of the Sun Goddess will continue to be eternal; for the sun is the bestower of light and life to the totality of the cosmos. With her unblinking, all-seeing eye, she will serve the universe with the duality of the sternness, exacting justice, while the resplendent light with enlightment or illumination will serve as the source of wisdom. These qualities - sovereignty, power of beneficence, justice, and wisdom - are central to humanity. Rulers held the power of the sun and countries claimed to be descent from the Sun. Even with your absence, your essence will never be damaged and broken, for no humanity likes to be filled with dreary dread and cruelty of eternal darkness,” Scorpion’s somber, yet earnest timbre echoes through the shared space, and his reflection oozes the consuming memories of his own disowned death.

For the Goddess had become a radiant light shattering Scorpion’s deepest darkness, and served as a beacon in stormy sea, a star in a labyrinth full with despair, but no longer empty. Perhaps that is why his unblinking stare does not speak of the metaphysical dread of the Goddess, as he unyieldingly and cuttingly rejoinders against the falsity. With the same vehemence tinged in his gravelled, deep baritone, Scorpion continues his argument. “Gods, in any forms and manifestations, serve to humans as an inexpressible value. Rob the humanity of love and loyalty, and what would they become, if not the hollow shell of what it used be? Don’t sell yourself nor the ubiquitous concept of godhood short.” ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ hellfire fibrillating beneath his skin (iv)#✗ successions of binding music (olivia winter || somniaxperdita)#somniaxperdita

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

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Fallin’ For You // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: I saw that your requests were open I was wondering if you could do something with Anthony x reader maybe the reader gets Injured somehow or something? Just fluffy worried Anthony really 😂 - @nicole198205

A/N: More mindless fluff! I’m sorry it isn't more substantial, but I had my first covid vaccine yesterday and I can barely move my arm. Anyway, I hope you all like!! <3

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Warnings: female reader, injuries, minor injuries, nothing overly serious, worried Anthony.

Word count: 1.9k

For all of the education allowed to women of your station, even your governess would be shocked at the litany of swear words leaving your lips as you do your best to limp across the stretching, green lawn of Aubrey Hall.

A morning walk. A lovely, morning walk where you could observe the grounds of your marital home – that was all you wanted, all you had really planned of your day. You weren’t to know of the tree root sticking up from the ground; its limbs gnarled and mangled as it stretches out across the forest floor.

You felt something rip as you fell to the ground; your left ankle trapped within the tree root, a pained yelp leaving your lips as you scraped the palms of your hands on the rocks littering the floor. Wounded pride, wounded hands, wounded ankle – you took a quick inventory of your injuries as you let the tears fall in privacy before dragging yourself to your feet, briefly wondering how much more damage you would do to your ankle before making it home.

The closer you get to the grand seat of power of the Bridgerton family, the straighter you force your posture, determined to hide the worst of the pain until safely hidden away in your bedchamber where you could release the waiting sobs and cries of agony. The main door is too far away, and the thought of limping to the heavy wooden doors almost sends you to the floor once again. Instead, you hobble to the side entrance to the kitchen where not even the delicious aroma of shortbread could keep the tears at bay.

“Lady Bridgerton!” The cook, Mrs. Black gasps as she catches sight of your muddied gown and the pained expression on your face. “Are you okay? Should you be walking?”

“I’m alright, Mrs. Black,” You smile painfully, attempting to ignore the piercing pain spreading through your foot and ankle.

“You’ll tell me anything!” She cries, flapping her teatowel at you. “I’m going to get Jenkins. Do not move,” She warns, fixing you with an unimpressed but concerned look.

“I don’t think I could if I tried,” You admit, leaning against the wooden frame of the doorway for support, relieving your injured ankle of your body weight.

You let your eyes slip closed, letting yourself fall into the pain for a single moment, slowing your breathing as you feel the first tears slip down your cheeks.

“Lady Bridgerton!” Jenkins’ concerned shout has you opening your eyes, meeting the aged grey eyes of the butler that had looked after you since the first days of your marriage to Anthony. His eyes run over you quickly, assessing the situation with a speed decades in services has gifted him. “Do you think you can walk to my office?” He asks quietly; his voice almost a whisper.

Mrs. Black answers for you; her Yorkshire accent becoming thicker the more upset she becomes. “Walk! The poor girl can barely stand! Walk, my great aunt,” She mutters, rolling her eyes as she settles her hands on her hips.

Jenkins closes his eyes for a count of three; letting Mrs. Black have her rant before shaking his head with exasperated fondness. “Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Black – would you please help Lady Bridgerton to my office.”

The order is given, and the respected butler turns away, heading to his office to grab a chair and something for you to rest your ankle on.

Mrs. Russell and Mrs. Black each take an arm, holding you steady as you hobble your way to the butler’s office.

The room smells like old paper and tobacco; it puts you at ease as you settle into the chair already set up for you in the middle of the room. Jenkins remains close to his desk; his eyes fixed on your ever swelling ankle.

“There you are,” Mrs. Black whispers softly.

“Thank you,” You whisper to the beloved cook.

“It’s no issue, my lady. I’ll bake you something special and sweet for dessert tonight for managing to walk back to the house in your state.”

You smile at the cook; your bottom lip beginning to wobble as she squeezes your arm once before taking her leave. Sighing painfully, you wince as you adjust the ankle resting on the small, green ottoman.

“What happened, my lady?” Jenkins asks, remaining close to his desk.

“It’s all so silly,” You begin, “I was on my morning walk as I told you about this morning over breakfast with Anthony. Anyway, I was just beyond the tree line when I must not have looked, and I tripped over a tree root. I couldn’t simply stay there, lying on the floor so I made my way back to the house, but the main door is so far away. The kitchen was closer and I’m so glad because you got to me quicker.”

Jenkins nods once; accepting your story for what it was: the truth. He kneels down beside your injured ankle, meeting your gaze. “May I?”

You nod once, biting your lip to keep from whimpering pain as Jenkins makes quick work of examining your injury. “I’m going to have to get the Viscount, my lady,” Jenkins sighs, his gaze meeting that of the Head Housekeeper, Mrs. Russell.

“Are you sure?” You question, not wanting to pull Anthony away from his work. You try not to wince as you move your ankle to the left and the right. “See!” You gesture, “I’m moving it just fine.”

Jenkins shakes his head, doing his best to hide a smile at your stubbornness. “With all due respect, my lady, I can see the bruise beginning to bloom. I don’t think you’ll be walking for a few days.”

You sink further into the chair, groaning. “I had so many plans for this week,” You whine, covering your face with your hands as you fight off the first wave of tears. “That damned tree root!”

Jenkins blinks once, twice, three times at your use of such language before releasing an amused chuckle. Mrs. Russell shakes her head at the sight, stepping further into the room. The aged Housekeeper settles a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly before uttering, “I shall go alert the Viscount. You do not move from this chair.”

“Yes, Mrs. Russell,” You promise, flashing a watery smile at the woman as she leaves the room.

Jenkins’ hand settles on your knee as more tears threaten to fall. “It’s alright, my lady. We’ve all injured ourselves.”

You sniff, drying your eyes with the caring butler’s handkerchief. Jenkins’ shifts back to his desk; resting on the edge of it as he awaits the arrival of the Viscount, knowing full well that Anthony would soon be flying through the door to his office.

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

“(Y/N)!” The Viscount all but shouts as he rushes down the stairs of Aubrey Hall. Mrs. Russell had explained your injuries, but it had done very little to quash the unadulterated worry settling deep within Anthony’s gut.

“(Y/N)!” Anthony bellows once more, rushing through the large kitchen to Jenkins’ office where he finds you settled on a chair with your left ankle propped up on a small, dark green ottoman.

“Darling,” He gasps; the breath rushing from him in one movement. He falls to his knees beside you; his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “What happened?”

“I feel so foolish,” You whisper, voice breaking as fresh tears begin to line your eyes.

Anthony’s thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “An impossibility. You could never be such a thing.”

“I fell over a tree root, Anthony. Not exactly graceful.”

He clamps his lips shut, determined not to let the relieved laughter fall from his lips. Anthony had only known such fear upon Mrs. Russell’s announcement of your injury once before; the anguished cries of his younger sister Eloise, the one to find their father dead in the garden. To see you sitting in Jenkins’ office, the only injuries being your ankle, scraped hands and your pride, Anthony could have wept in relief.

“You don’t have to be graceful,” Anthony whispers, “You just have to be okay.”

“I’m okay now that you’re here,” You whisper, leaning in at the same time as your husband.

Anthony kisses you as if there wasn’t an audience at the door. Unhurried, Anthony holds you close, his hands moving from your cheeks to your neck before settling on your shoulders.

He breaks the kiss; dropping one, two, three quick kisses to your mouth before pulling away completely. “We’ll call the doctor tomorrow morning. For now, I want you to rest. Let’s get you somewhere comfortable.”

“You can’t carry me all the way to our room!” You laugh, “I’ll have to hop part of the way.”

“Not a chance, darling.”

“I can do it,” You state, crossing your arms stubbornly.

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just saying you won’t get the chance because I’ll be carrying you the whole way.”

“Anthony, my love, that’s too far.”

“Watch me, darling.”

With that, Anthony scoops you into his arms, your head resting comfortably against his strong shoulder as he begins the climb to your shared bedroom.

-----------

The bed feels close to heaven as you settle on top of the covers; the lush fabric greeting you like an old friend as you sit back against the headboard. Anthony grabs the first pillow he can reach, gingerly lifting your ankle and apologising profusely when you wince in pain as he tucks the pillow underneath.

“Will you need help changing, my lady?” Your Ladies’ Maid, Annie, asks, having followed Jenkins and Mrs. Russell through the house as Anthony carried you.

Your husband answers for you. “No, thank you, Annie. Take the rest of the day off, I’ll look after Lady Bridgerton.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Annie answers, curtseying before leaving the room; Jenkins and Mrs. Russell following.

You fix your husband with an interested look. “What?” He asks, a smirk beginning to grace his lips.

“You’re going to look after me, are you?”

“What kind of husband would be if I didn’t?”

“Touché,” You answer with a laugh, “So you’re going to get me changed?”

“As if I haven’t undressed you before,” Anthony smirks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he begins to undo his cravat.

“Anthony!” You laugh, throwing one of the many pillows on your bed at your beloved husband. He catches it with ease, throwing it to one side before crawling up the length of the bed, taking care not to jostle your ankle.

Anthony props himself up by his elbow as he gazes up at you. Your tears have long since dried, but your eyes still show the pain you keenly feel. Anthony frowns; if he could take away your pain, he would – he’s adamant that you should never feel an ounce of pain, but even he couldn’t help the occasional sprained ankle.

“You scared me half to death this morning,” He whispers, reaching for your hand.

“It’s a sprained ankle, my love. We’ll summon the doctor first thing tomorrow like you said and he’ll confirm our suspicions.”

“Still,” Anthony breathes, bringing your joined hands up to his lips upon which he places a multitude of kisses.

“I have no plans on leaving you prematurely,” You promise, reaching to stroke a hand down his cheek. At the last moment, Anthony turns his face, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. He closes his eyes at the feel of your hand on his cheek; he inhales the familiar, comforting scent of your floral perfume. Rose standing out amongst the rest; he lets the scent take him somewhere calmer as his heart finally begins to slow down.

“No more walking the grounds alone,” He states, eyebrows furrowing with the severity of his words.

“I won’t need to if you join me,” You tease, “Think of all the trouble we could cause in the great outdoors.”

******

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley @spideysz @iammirrorball @writeroutoftime @joyfullymulti @nuttytani

Anthony Bridgerton taglist: @multifandomfix

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagines #Bridgerton #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fanfiction

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