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humanpurposes · 11 months

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Karma is a God

Chapter 12: Harrenhal

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: spoilers for F&B and future seasons of HotD, canon divergence, descriptions of violence, death

Words: 4400

A/n: The truth comes out. Also available to read on AO3.

It is said Harrenhal is cursed.

Harren the Black’s rule over the Riverlands was marked by tyranny and brutality, ruling from a seat built to fuel his own pride. Generations of Rivermen were taken as slaves and forced to construct the very symbol of their subjugation, a castle the size of a city, five towers of black stone looming over the God’s Eye.

It is said blood was mixed into the mortar; Death lives within the castle’s very walls. Aemond feels its presence as he felt it back in the Red Keep, the Stranger breathing down his neck as his father decayed, as his grandfather ordered the executions of those who were loyal to the false Queen, as he spent restless night in his chambers staring at the red cloak hanging over a chair by the fireplace.

He feels it now. It has been over a century since the flames of Balerion roasted Harren Hoare and his men alive and melted the castle into the ruins it lies in today, but everywhere he goes air is thick and tastes faintly of smoke. The silence is heavy here, especially in the tower. There are no sounds of people like there are in the city, no birds or rustling trees, just the soldiers and nervous servants. No one ever raises their voice here, and if there is a short burst of laughter it is snatched back, out of fear of disturbing the ghostly quiet.

Harwin Strong died here, less than a decade ago. He understood the loss as a boy, the sadness in Jace and Luke’s faces on the day of Laena Velaryon’s funeral, mourning an aunt they never knew and a father they could not speak of.

He has never thought to find the room. In a place scorched by fire, every room looks the same.

It is said that every family and castellan who has held Harrenhal will meet a gruesome end. Aemond dismisses this as superstition. A gruesome end comes to most, regardless of the castles they do or don’t hold.

But then again…

“Retribution will come with fire and fury,” Alys still whispers in his ear.

Since he has had news of King’s Landing he cannot bring himself to lie with the witch. She sleeps in his bed, and he does not sleep at all. Granting himself rest would be an insult to his mother, to Helaena, to Aegon and Maelor. The only solace he has is that Daeron will be with the Hightower host. He has written to his youngest brother, instructing him to wait at Tumbleton until they can formulate a plan to retake the capital.

For now he waits.

The wind howls against the walls of the tower. His mind tells him it is the Stranger, taunting him, or the castle’s ghosts impatient to see what his gruesome demise will be.

He watches the flames in the hearth dwindle and die. By dawn it is cold, not so much as an ember left glowing, just charred firewood.

Alys groans from the bed, telling him it is time to begin dressing. She wraps herself in a black robe and moves to the window, while he removes his shirt from the previous day and reaches for clean clothes.

A sliver of early morning light pierces the room as Alys draws the curtain back. Aemond has his back to her as he fastens the final buckle on his jerkin.

“A dragon, my Prince.”

He feels his eye widen.

“Which dragon?” he says, though the possibilities are small. If it were one of Rhaenyra’s, they would be dead by now.

Alys says nothing.

He huffs and walks towards the window, ushering her out of his way as he drags the curtain back fully. The cobalt blue scales and bronze belly of Tessarion gleam in pale sunlight, gliding over the God’s Eye, towards the courtyard.

He hurries down the endless spiral of steps to meet them. Alys’ footsteps echo a few paces behind him. He reaches the courtyard as Tessarion’s rider dismounts, a young man with silver curls, dressed in black and gold armour.

He hasn’t seen Daeron since he was a thin and clumsy child, before their grandsire sent him to Oldtown. That was before Aemond himself had claimed Vhagar, while he still thrived on stubbornness rather than pride, while he still had both of his eyes.

But any sense of hope his brother has brought with him fades when he spots the gashes in Tessarion’s hide, the marks left behind by the teeth and claws of another dragon. Daeron fares a little better. His mouth is bloodied, his skin and hair dusted with ash, his eyes red and heavy with exhaustion. He clutches his chest as he takes staggered steps towards Aemond, wincing at the effort.

Aemond finds himself rushing forwards, holding Daeron at his elbows and brings him to stand straight. “You’re hurt,” he says.

Daeron shakes his head. “I’ll be alright. We made the flight at least.”

Until now Daeron has only been a memory to Aemond, an infant he can barely recollect, a name always spoken like a question, half a lifetime of neatly written letters. And yet he is so familiar. His eyes are shaped like their mother’s, his face lean like their grandfather’s and his mouth quirks like Aegon’s does when he’s nervous.

“What happened to you?” Aemond asks.

Daeron’s eyes trace over the scar and his sapphire eye. “Mother tried to describe what happened to you that night, in her letters,” he says, “but I could never quite picture it.”

The courtyard is starting to fill now, but the men linger as close to the walls as they can, away from the injured dragon and the Princes. Criston Cole is the only man who dares to take a few steps closer. Daeron looks around them, his gaze lingering on the woman in a black robe, beyond Aemond’s shoulder.

“Daeron,” Aemond says, tightening his grip a little more.

His brother looks up. The colour violet shines brightly through the redness in his eyes and the spots of black and grey on his face. “We were ambushed,” he breathes, “near Cider Hall. Four dragons.”

Cole is beside them now. “What of the Hightower army–”

“Which dragons?” Aemond asks sharply.

Daeron looks to Cole, then back to his brother. He swallows thickly. “Moondancer, Seasmoke and two of the wild dragons. Sheepstealer. Grey Ghost.”

Aemond sneers in anger and disgust. “Rhaenyra sent her heathen dragonseeds to slaughter you and the Hightower host?”

Something about Daeron’s expression is unsettling. He won’t stop looking at Aemond’s scar, gazing at it in terror like a child, as though he hasn’t fought off four dragons and watched them burn an army of thousands.

“Aemond…”

He is just tired and frightened, he must be. He is more of a child than a man. Their mother had warned against involving Daeron in this war.

“Did you kill any of the dragonriders?” Aemond asks.

Daeron stares at him in bewilderment, like there’s something Aemond is missing and it irritates him.

“She let me go,” Daeron says.

Aemond’s fingers feel numb. “Who did?”

“She… there was a strange moment, Tessarion resisted me, I felt it. She threw me from her back and caught me as I fell. I thought I was going to die. But she let me go.”

In the corner of his eye he sees Cole turn his head to him, a look of confusion or curiosity, Aemond doesn’t spare him a glance.

“It’s been so long,” Daeron says, “but I know it was her.”

Not Baela. If it were, Daeron would say her name. Instead his eyes are darting around, between Aemond’s violet and sapphire eyes, trying to summon the courage to speak.

The numb feeling begins to spread, through his arms, coursing through his blood and creeping towards his chest like venom. “Who?”

Daeron’s mouth hangs open slightly but no sound releases.

Aemond’s throat rasps at the strain of his sudden shout. “WHO?”

Daeron winces, hunching his shoulders and attempting to retreat into himself, but Aemond will not relent.

“TELL ME!”

The wind stings his skin and creeps under his leathers at the neck, but he does not hear it. All he hears is his own heartbeat, drumming in his head, pulsing in his chest and veins.

Daeron’s answer plunges him into coldness, like his body has been thrown into the sea before he has a chance to take a breath.

“Lucerra.”

His scar burns as it had done when the wound was fresh, while Luke still held the knife in her hand, her face covered in blood— her blood, his blood— the two were indistinguishable.

His throat closes. His heart feels as though it might burst under the strain.

“Aemond,” Daeron says, trying to shuffle away from him, “let go of me.”

Then he looks at Cole. He has never seen his old swordmaster to seem afraid. What would Criston Cole have to fear while he lived within the Red Keep? Instructed to guard the Queen and her children, to guide them and recount stories of the days when he was a true soldier, the horrors he saw, the men cut down in the name of glory. His response to danger is anger, always. Now he looks up at Aemond like a child.

Some feeling finally starts to come back in his fingertips as they squeeze around Daeron’s arms, hard enough to bruise. “How…”

He searched Shipbreaker Bay for hours, and flew her further out, his vision blurred by the rain pelting down against him. He had seen a torn wing tossing about on the waves and followed it as it washed up on a beach below Storm’s End. Vhagar had grumbled at the other pieces of Arrax’s flesh, but there was nothing of Luke.

And then he saw it, a flash of red riffling in the water where the waves met the shore. The cloak was the only trace of her that remained.

She couldn’t have survived the fall. She couldn’t have.

“How…”

“I don’t know,” Daeron says. He struggles against Aemond’s grip but not to escape it, to place his hands on his brother’s arms in return. “But it was her. I know it was.”

He cannot think past the noise in his head, but he clutches at words, memories, two little headless bodies and his sister’s screams.

“Jaehaerys and Jaehaera…”

Fire and the dying cries of a dragon, the armour melting into Aegon’s skin, the stench of burning flesh and a body charred beyond recognition.

“Rook’s Rest…”

The Gullet. Jacaerys and young Viserys. King’s Landing. His grandfather. His family left scattered. A throne fought for, paid for with so many lives.

“We should have known,” Aemond utters into the deathly silence of the courtyard. “We had spies at Dragonstone. Larys has spies in every corner of the Kingdom…”

The icy feeling under his skin starts to burn.

Larys.

With a thrust of his arms he sends Daeron stumbling backwards. His sword sings as he draws it and marches to the ruins of the Wailing Tower, down the steps to the crypt, where two guards stand by an iron gate.

The crypt lies deep underground to accommodate the needless height of its ceiling. It was built to match the rest of the castle, a vast hall held up by pillars and arches. Like the rest of Harrenhal it is impractical, impossible to light or keep warm.

The entirety of House Strong is huddled together on the floor.

“Open the cell,” Aemond says quietly.

The guards do not hesitate to obey. Aemond snatches a torch from its place by the stairs. Behind him he hears footsteps and murmurs of confusion. The gate clatters in its frame when he slams it shut.

Slowly, he turns to the Strongs, the flame of the torch scolding the scarred side of his face and catching in the polished edge of his blade.

The men rush forwards and the women push the children behind them, quietly begging for them to stop whimpering, stop crying. Do not fuel the simmerring rage or prompt a reaction from a Targaryen Prince.

Simon Strong fronts their group, and another man, tall with broad shoulders stands beside him. “My Prince,” he says in a defiant voice, but he falters. In all the weeks they have been prisoners, Aemond has not stepped a foot in the crypt that serves as their cell. “To what do we owe the… privilege?”

The tall man clenches his fists and widens his stance. In any other moment, Aemond might have smirked at their presumption, but he has no room for pride now, no anticipation for joy or satisfaction as he stalks towards them.

Some of the others follow his lead, and some glance down at the ground, but there are only waterskins, slabs of stone sealed into the floor and dust— nothing that might be used as a weapon.

He can feel his right hand shaking and grips his sword tighter. Fear is a feeling Aemond is unaccustomed to and it fills him with a searing rage. The more he withholds it the more it burns. “You said you were loyal to our King,” he says.

Ser Simon cowers at the sound of his voice. “Yes, we are–”

“You said Lord Larys was loyal to our cause.”

He looks to the men standing by his sides, his sons, nephews, cousins, then back to the Prince. “I believe him to be so, yes.”

Aemond tuts. Cole used to tell him to be selective with his mercy. Some men deserve death, while others deserve a chance to redeem themselves. “We pass judgement by the guidance of the Gods,” he had told Aemond on a quiet morning in the yard in the Red Keep, “but mercy is a gamble. Leave the root of a threat and it will come back.”

He had given House Strong his mercy, and how had his kindness been repaid? With lies and deceptions…

He can hardly bear to think. A pain pulses in his head and there is so much noise.

The girl he murdered is not dead.

She has another dragon.

She has decimated armies.

She spared Daeron.

Daemon and Rhaenyra had no mercy for Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. They had no mercy for Otto Hightower. If Aegon and Maelor are still alive, they will have no mercy for them.

But if she is alive then the bloodshed has all been for nothing. If Lucerra Velaryon is alive then this war began on a lie.

He breathes deeply through his nose, focusing on the hum of the torch in his hand and the pain searing through his head and the scar.

And suddenly his mind seems clear.

He lifts his gaze to the Strongs, his blood boiling with anger, fear and disgust. “Your family are traitors to the crown,” he says, coldly.

The tall man clenches his jaw and lunges forwards, only to be yanked back by Ser Simon.

“No,” the old man hisses before he turns back to Aemond.

Perhaps the tall one is Ser Simon’s son. They have the same glare, evident even in the low light.

“We have done as you have asked. We did not resist you when you came to our home. We have sat in silence and in darkness, with no way to count the days but the delivery of food and water. Our house has committed no offence to you, to argue otherwise is to argue against reason.”

Aemond feels his mouth break into a sneer. “No offence?” he utters.

His scar stings at the heat of the torch and that same pain throbs deep inside his head. The pain that has haunted him for eight years, pain that came at the hands of a Strong bastard and was dismissed by his own father for her sake. A girl of their blood.

“NO OFFENCE?” he roars. “Lord Larys has lied to me! Who knows what other secrets he has been hiding? What part could he have played in the downfall of King’s Landing? In the disappearance of the King and my nephew?”

“So punish Lord Larys!” the tall man shouts, brushing off Ser Simon’s protests as he takes a step forward. “We have done nothing!”

“Ah,” Aemond breathes, “but if only it were that simple.”

He tests the weight of his sword one final time.

“No… I see now the scourge of House Strong must be rooted out in its entirety.”

He hears the collective intake of breath. They seem to understand now.

The tall man moves first and in one swing of Aemond’s sword, his head slices from his neck and thuds against the floor.

It doesn’t satiate his anger, it only feeds it.

The rest is a blur. He hears screaming and spurts of blood through the darkness. He feels the impact of his blade through flesh and one by one, he purges himself of House Strong.

None are spared. The ones who try to fight him die first. The others run to the iron gate but they have nowhere to go. Finally he picks off the children, attempting to hide in the shadows and far corners of the crypt.

And when it is done, as the cloud of anger begins to fade and he catches his breath, there is no relief. His hand releases his sword and his knees fall against the damp stone beneath him.

Blood floods the floor and the air is thick with the stench of death and dust. He chokes on it, gasping for air that seeks to poison him. He cradles his head in his hands and even still he cannot escape it. He hates himself for the hot tears that spill into his palms and recoils at their bitter taste.

He returns to his rooms. He can feel the bursts of blood lingering on his face and in his hair, it feels thick and heavy. Through the gusts of wind howling against the tower’s walls, he hears their screams ringing in the back of his mind.

Alys is standing by the foot of the bed, waiting for him, her hands clasped before her. Those once hauntingly bright eyes seem duller than they did before, the lines around her mouth and forehead set deeper.

He stalks towards her, each step he takes a challenge, a test to see what she will do.

She is unphased, stepping into him to undo the buckles on his jerkin. “Allow me to help you bathe,” she says.

He snatches her wrists in his hands, staining her pale skin and the cuffs of her sleeve red. “And wash me of the blood of your own kin?” he hisses.

She drags her hands away from him but he grabs her again, by her neck, firm enough that he can feel her heartbeat under his hold.

“Perhaps I should have you join them,” he says, numb to the feeling of her fingernails clawing at his hands. “She is alive. Lucerra is alive.”

“Not by my doing,” Alys seethes through the constriction on her throat.

Aemond leans into her with a snarl. “You knew.”

The harder she struggles and digs in her nails, the tighter his grip becomes, his thumb ghosting over the spot they both know could end her life in minutes.

“You lied to me.”

“I have told you no lies,” she says.

“But she is to be my retribution, yes? Luke will come to me, with fire and fury.”

A cruel, knowing smile spreads across her lips.

The ghost of a dragon. It was damaged, and is rebuilding its strength through anguish.

“Answer me!” he cries.

Alys shakes her head as much as she can underneath his hold. “I believe you already know what awaits you.”

He releases her with a grunt and shouts for a guard. “Get her out of my sight,” he orders, “throw her in the crypt with the rest of her house. Leave the witch to rot.”

A servant draws him a bath and he dismisses him soon after. He scrubs the darkening blood from his skin, and keeps scrubbing until his flesh is red again.

By some mockery of the Gods, it is the first night in days he has been able to find sleep.

He dreams of a gloomy chamber, a stone floor below him, fingers gently threading through his hair.

He tips his head back to look at her, the soft and unassuming face of his sister in her youth. Her pale blue eyes beam at him– blue, not the grey they were when he left her. She was gentle and solitary back then, and she had less to mourn.

She drags her fingers through his hair, twisting strands into braids, just as she did to him when they were children, and as she used to do with the twins.

There is so much he would say to her, regrets, apologies and the sheer noise that clouds his mind. But he says none of it.

Her hands drop from his hair but he doesn’t want her to go.

Instead her hand cups the left side of his face, her thumb brushing over the edges of his scar while her eyes are fixed on his sapphire.

She whispers to him, words he’s heard before. “Bonds of blood are so easily forgotten...”

He remembers the way she held Maelor when he returned from Storm’s End, how she turned her son away from him.

Because he was dangerous. Because she thought him a monster.

He told her he would protect them, but everything he touches turns to blood or ash.

What would Helaena make of the bloody mass of bodies in the crypt below Harrenhal?

He whispers back to her “...never forgiven.”

He stands by the lakeshore, looking up at the castle as their army marches through the gates, each man dressed for battle. Cole leads atop a white horse at the front of the company.

A growl rumbles through the air like thunder and every man turns his head to the sky.

The rising sun goes black when Vhagar flies before it, circling the ruined towers of Harrenhal before she lands by the lake, the ground trembling under her.

Tessarion rises from the courtyard and lands further along the shore. She rears her head when Vhagar growls curiously, and Daeron tries to calm her, keeping a tight grip on her reins and smoothing his hand over her snout. The sheer size of Vhagar would not allow for such delicate gestures.

Daeron dismounts and walks slowly to Aemond, his spine straight and his hands behind his back. He has recovered quickly from his injuries, as has his dragon; keen, young fighters, the pair of them. He cannot look Aemond in the eye for more than a few moments before his gaze falls to the ground.

“Will she be safe to ride?” Aemond asks. His voice has felt different these last few days, rough and visceral.

“I am sure we will be,” Daeron mutters back. “She held firm when we were attacked.”

“You are not to engage should you encounter another dragon,” Aemond warns him.

“I know. We will be swift and stay hidden, you have my word, brother.”

Daeron’s route south has been planned meticulously by Cole’s order. He is to avoid flying over castles and towns, especially as he flies over the Riverlands. The ageing Lord Tully has kept his banners at Riverrun, but once word of the Strongs starts to spread, he doubts they will find much support in the Riverlands.

He is to fly to the Reach and find whatever remains of the Hightowers, and Cole and his men will follow. Ravens have been sent to Borros Baratheon and Jason Lannister. The Baratheon banners are amassing in the Stormlands, while the Lannisters will march north to the Twins, to hold off the Starks, should Lord Cregan ever make the journey south. The rest of the war will be a waiting game.

He watches his brother mount his dragon. Tessarion leaps into the air with a flourish of her blue and bronze wings, disappearing into the clouds.

When the sound of the marching fades too, all he is left with are the waves in the water, the pulsing in his head and the hum of Vhagar behind him.

Even so far removed from the castle his stomach churns at the lingering stench of blood in his nose. He can still feel its weight on his skin and in his hair.

What place would he have with his brother, who cannot even bear to look at him. What place will he have with the Hightower host, restlessly waiting?

He has spent half of his life training for the inevitable war, he rides the largest dragon in the world, as Regent he wore the Conqueror’s ruby crown, and it means nothing. Cole was right, they should never have left King’s Landing. The stubborn and irritable blood of the dragon will not allow him to follow Daeron and Cole as they move south.

No, fate has another path for him.

The noise in his head keeps rising. The screams of his sister, his brother, the men he kills at Rook’s Rest, the Strongs as he cut them down one by one. The cries of dragons in pain and anguish. Flashes of thunder and lightning, the rain pelting down against his leathers, the sound of the sea as he stood on the shore below Storm’s End.

It rises and rises until it splits his skull.

He unleashes it, bathing fields, forests and towns of the Riverlands in dragon fire.

He finds no solace in the lands he leaves charred, in the lives he takes, but what difference does it make? His mother never looked at him the same after Storm’s End, nor did Helaena. If they could not forgive him, what should it matter what the rest of the world will make of him?

He is Aemond Targaryen, the Kinslayer, the one-eyed Prince; death, destruction and cruelty are written into his blood, burning through his veins like fire.

If the Tullys will not make their loyalties known, then their people will die the deaths of traitors. Rhaenyra will either watch the Riverlands burn or send her dragonriders. Perhaps she will send her bastard dragonseeds, or perhaps he’ll hear the piercing whistle of Caraxes when Daemon comes for him.

But he thinks one dragonrider will leap at the chance to kill him.

Not a day goes by when he does not feel her or see the marks she has left on him. Perhaps they have always been fated, born to differing sides of family doomed to tear itself apart, bound by childish affections, but finally welded together with their blood on each other’s hands and faces.

Everything he is comes back to Luke, perhaps it is only right they should be each other’s demise.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series taglist: @boundlessfantasy @toodlesxcuddles @starwarsslut @skikikikiikhhjuuh @arcielee

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc #aemond x fem!lucerys #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond x original female character #aemond x reader #my fics #karma is a god

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ichig00 · 5 months

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Enemies LOVERS

A/N: I do not hate Ada (no one should because she's a great character and made the game more interesting!) I LOVE ADA. Her character here is ONLY FOR THIS STORY'S PLOT.

WARNING: cheating, violence, revenge, anger, etc.

Your mouth agape opened, shocked upon what you have witnessed. Ada, pinning a random guy in a bathroom stall while kissing him.

"I fucking new it." bursting the door out open as you enter the comfort room, Ada and the guy look up to you. Ada smirked. "Oh, I'm sure you knew it." Ada, move away from the guy with a smirk on her lips as she stands feets away.

"You're cheating on Leon!" Your voice echoes across the women's comfort room. She let out a laugh.

"What you gonna do now? Run around? shouting everyone the great news you found?" Without fading the smirk, Ada spoke. Your hand curling into a fist as you glared back to Ada.

"You run to us, ruining our relationship and cheating on him!" You took steps to close off the gap between you and Ada. Both of you now stand close to each other face to face, the tension becoming hotter as the atmosphere around becomes heavier.

"Leon is the one making the choice. It's not my fault you're not good enough f to satisfy him." Ada's words make you chew your inside cheek, gritting your teeth while trying not to smash her face at the sink of the restroom.

After finding out that Leon cheated on your, Leon had decided to break ties with you. Afraid that he might hurt you more if he continues his relationship with you. Now you found his 'new girl' that he cheated on you, cheating on him too. How karma works so mysteriously.

You love Leon very much. Even until now, you still love him, but there's already emotions mixing with it. You still care for your ex-boyfriend after he cheated and broke your heart into tiny pieces.

How pathetic you are.

"He chose you, and you wasted the choice he made." You replied with gritted teeth. It hurts you so much, knowing that he would be hurt after knowing it.

Your heart is still in pain after he broke it a month ago. It hurts how Leon can waste years of being together just to be with another cheater.

You hissed when Ada pulled your hair from the back of your head. "A word from you wouldn't change anything to us." She whispered then let go of your hair. You pulled yourself together, trying not to fight back because that wasn't you. You don't fight back physically. You're smart enough not to raise a hand to anyone.

She walked out of the restroom with the guy tailing her around. You rolled your eyes and landed on the mirror. You sighed and fixed your hair.

She's not getting away with it. They're not getting away.

It wasn't Ada's fault. Atleast not everything of it. It's Leon's fault for letting himself submit to Ada and for not considering everything in your relationship. You gave everything, you gave him love. Provided care and was always there for him when he needed someone.

But you can't help but blame Ada, too. She already knows that Leon's already in a relationship but still went for it.

You're not letting yourself hidden in the dark. Vengeance is on the way.

"Stunning as always." Said by Chris, who's standing at your front door. "I know. You look good as always." You complimented him back and kissed your parents goodbye.

"Show them what you got, baby!" Your Mom cheered as you walked out of the door with your longe evening gown wiandarm curled up to Chris biceps.

"We will!" Chris shouted back as he opened the door of his passenger seat. You went inside with Chris' help.

Chris isn't whom you expected to be your escort in the prom. Leon and you were very excited about this that you two even do windowshop for the one you will wear on a very special day, but all those went down the pit when he cheated.

You arrived at the prom, greeted some of your friends. "Good thing Chris had already someone to go with the prom with." Claire teased after you greeted her, everyone in the group laugh.

Chris has always liked you eversince before you dated Leon. Of course, you knew about that. He was so obvious when he's with you until he admitted it one day. But Leon is whom you love, Whom you wanted to be with. Gladly Leon returned those feelings but unfortunately broke it down, too.

"Now, don't be falling too hard, Chris." Jill added knowing about Chris feelings. He shook his head with a chuckle in response. "Too late." He said and lifted your chin up and kissed you, which you gladly kissed back.

"'Atta boy!" Carlos cheered, followed by the cheer of everyone else in the group. The kiss broke off , and you followed it by kissing Chris in the cheek, which he smiled softly to.

Now, you and Chris are not dating, but there is something between you two. You started to grow fond of him as the bond between the two of you deepened. He console you and been with you since the break up. He's taking the chance, and you're using it. He knows that you haven't moved on from Leon. He accepted that he was second in your heart and probably would be there for the rest of your life. He respects you a lot and respects your feelings towards Leon.

He tried moving on from you when you dated Leon, but he couldn't. He loves you too much, so he let those feelings flow and grow.

And he must say, it is totally worth it because know you're in his arms and he would cherish you so much while you're at it.

"I'll borrow your love for a while." Ashley pulled ypu away from Chris, Chris nodded and sat down with Carlos and the others.

Ashley pulled me at the drinks table. "Surely, you haven't moved on, have you?" Ashley, ask whispering in your ear as her arms wrapped around yours.

"Does it matter now?" You ask, grabbing a drink from the table. Ashley frowned her brows while she looked at you like you've said the dumbest thing she heard in her life.

"Well, your plan is working. Leon already knows about Ada cheating, and he is mad." Ashley whispered once again. You smiled.

Of course, it was under your fingers. You told your friends about what happened the other day, and your friends always got your back and did their job to spread everything to the whole campus without mentioning your name.

This was only the taste of your vengeance. The after-party would be good at Luis house later.

You saw Leon and Ada enter the venue, your eyes met, but you didn't look away or smile. You just stared into his soul, shooting daggers.

The prom really went well with Chris and friends. It was really fun. You enjoyed the night as it went on. Leon and Ada got named as the King and Queen of the night. You clapped but didn't let that affect you. Your eyes met Luis, and he smirked as you smiled.

Your friends really got your back.

In Luis house, everything is going smoothly as planned. Everyone is enjoying, and Leon and Ada are here, of course. Your eyes are everywhere, taking notes of the things that might ruin your plan.

"Ready for the show?" Luis asked as he handed you a glass of alcohol. You smiled. "You know I love drama." You replied, taking a sip at your glass.

You see your target couple seating and making out at the couch, and here comes the bait standing behind the couch while shooting signals to Ada, who literally took the bait as she excuses herself to Leon and went up the stairs. The guy smirked at you before following Ada upstairs. Your eyes met Luis, and Luis let out a small laugh.

Minutes later, you're standing near the staircase drinking with your friends as Leon starts to look for Ada.

"Oh, I think I saw her upstairs." Claire answered him with a smile and drink on her hand. "Don't worry, man, she might be with her friends." Carlos said, assuring him while being aware of the whole plan.

"Let's look for her, Amigo!" Luis said then wrapped his arms into Leon's shoulder, Leon hesitated at first but let out a soft chuckle before sparing you a glance and went up the stairs.

"Working well, huh?" Chris whispered in your ears as he wrapped an arm around your waist. You turned to look at him and pulled him in a kiss. "It always works well." You whispered back after pulling away, he smirked.

Chris liked the plan you have set up. He thinks Leon deserves this after breaking your heart.

"Let's watch the drama!" Ashley excitedly said and pulled Claire and Jill upstairs. You followed from behind with Chris and Carlos.

"What the fuck?!" You smiled upon hearing Leon's voice at the first room you saw at the second floor. Some people started to gather at the doorway. You made your way through the crowd.

Your eyes widen as you do not expect Ada to be almost half naked in the bed, while the guy is already topless.

Your eyes met Ada, she glared as she fixed herself up. "It's all because of you!" Ada shouted, looking directly at you, eyes shooting daggers. Your mouth agape opened, as the crowds spared you a gaze but then back to Ada.

"What the fuck are you talking about Ada?" Leon growled as Luis is stopping him to throw hands. "You're already caught red-handed." Jill commented.

Everyone started to murmur, confirming the rumours about Ada that's been going around the campus.

"I can't believe it, Ada." Leon stated again, Ada looked at him before running out the room, followed by the guy.

Leon eyes met yours. It was filled with pain and anger, like how your eyes were when you found him cheating on you. Leon walked out without saying anything else and disappeared from the crowd as you stood there.

The vengeance itself.

"Oh dear! Honey! Get down here!" You immediately emerge down your room upon hearing your mom downstairs. You stopped in the middle of the stair case upon seeing your "unexpected" visitor.

"Are you drunk?" You asked Leon and went down the stairs, and he immediately pulled you into a hug. Your mom gives you a meaniful look, you smiled as she walks away.

You heard Leon mumbling your name over and over again. "What happened?" You asked, you felt your shirt getting soaked. He's crying?

How dare he cry because of Ada when he didn't even shed a tear over you.

"Come, upstairs." You pulled the drunk Leon to your room, set him down the bed and comforted him.

"I can't believe... I cheated on you to get cheated on." You rolled your eyes mentally as Leon cried out. You patted his back and sighed. "Why are you here then?" You asked after he rant all of his heart out.

"I missed you... I miss you so much, and I hated myself when I hurt you." He sobbed. You're the only one who saw Leon at this state. Weak and pathetic, just like how you cried over him.

He got you confused. Is he crying over you or Ada?

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have cheated on you." You smiled softly. You hate seeing him like this, but at the same time, it felt good.

'Do I really have to hurt you before you run back to me?'

"It's alright, Leon."

'I know you will always run to me.'

"What about Chris?" Leon asked, looking at you while he's leaning down; elbows in his thighs for support.

"He's just a friend." You said, of course you would lie if you want Leon to chase you again.

"Then." He said, sitting up, his hand went to cup your face. "I can do this." He then kisses you, you kissed back. He tastes like liquor, and you love it.

He's back to you now, but your love will never go back the same way as before. It was his fault, after all, for hurting you a lot.

"Can I go back?" He asked, his eyes pleading after you pulled your lips away from him. You smiled softly.

"Of course." He smiled after hearing your answer. "But not like before."

The game of flames begins now.

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anemonet · 8 months

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hi hi, hello hello sorry if you've already answered but reverse iterators au? (Saw it and started squealing, kicking my feet, twirling my hair it looks so so so cool and the vibes are immaculate)

hi hi hi!! no need to be sorry im shaking out of my skin in excitement to talk about this :DD

so i got a couple different asks about this so im doing it in categories so in this one ima talk a bit about map changes and stuff!! if you want a general explanation go to this post :))

Just as a general rundown, the idea of the reverse au is that instead of moon being accidentaly screwed over by pebbles, its moon accidentaly screwing over pebbles, and pebbles is now stuck in a half way collapsed iterator can suspended high up in the sky, moons structure is semi fine except for the mold colony in her gut!

Ok first off im just gonna drop this here

its a veerrry vauge idea of how i imagine the five pebbles region would look in this au, its also totally tailored to my region prefernces but it be like that,

quick summery is that some of pebbles legs collapsed and hes now leaning against the sky bridges by chimney He collapsed for reasons explained here and also sidenote, its not gonna be a saint era pebbles kinda deal, shaded is still moslty fine (with some smushed areas but overall whole, actully would be a bit brighter without pebbles blocking all of it) - and is instead a result of metropolis collapsing onto a side leaning pebbles, mixing the regions of five pebbles, metropolis and the exterior. This is fueled by my own love of doing jumps between pipes high up in the air, so alot of the region is gonna be that.

The area now being divided into a couple different types of terrain, with where the wall was is now still connected to chimney but with the structure leaning sideways making the parkour much harder, also im obbsessed with the idea of having a gate hang in the air so thats how the chimney entrence looks, also its the gate from top of pebbles, that fell down, so the karma requirment stays at one in both directions - both for the mechanic of making it less punishing if you die, and also because i think theres something in having the first karma being the only requirment to meet pebbles , which actully drives me crazy in normal rain world to but anyhow - also having upsidedown dens like the one on top of metropolis but flipped over would be sick. you will then find pebbles at the top of it all

Second theres collapsed metropolis which, while still similar to normal metropolis also has alot of areas like the open air pipe swinging in chimney canopy and is much more accesible, as other slugcats than artificer needs to be able to traverse the area. This area is probably the most creature infested with the scavs still hanging out (they would be able to make it back to metropolis after artificer murdered them all, seeing as the citizen drone gate is lying crushed somewhere) there would also probably be some fun funky merged structures because of how the living blocks work - i asume they try to repair and mend damages, presumebly leading to accidental merging between collapsed buildings - and then theres pebbles own guts, whith all his chambers, antigravity is overall gone, even if i think it be nice to leave less damaged areas still with wonky gravity, but overall its a crambed tunnel maze with the occacional open mega rooms, this is probably where the yellow lizards set up camp, super fun, also probably lantern mice who crawled up from shaded to the partially collapsed underhand and then up to pebbles.

other area things worth of note is that i coulnt help but sprinkle in the karma murals up by pebbles in the broken down metropolis, most of them got shattered but i think it would be ironic if the fifth (survival) karma stayed intact \/

it also raises the question of what happens to the echos, while the echo by the wall is likely hanging out, im kinda like wondering about the echo up in metropolis, the question being if the echo is tied to the specific coordinate - high up as fuck - or if it will follow the structure it resides by, the tallest tower - i dunno but well im voting for them following the place in this case (and not just because i think it would be sad to be trapped miles in the sky surrounded by nothing at all) so the echo is staying, even if the dialouge would be different.

Also for anyone curious im saying that moon in this au is resposible for the scav king, she tought it be fun to make a scav enlightened and it scampered up to pebbles, pebbles is not happy about this.

another general note is reverse pebbles is still above cloud levels and rain is not a factor in the usual areas of pebbles and metropolis, also also im banning vultures after a certain point, specificly in the worst parkour areas high up with hard jumps that totally exsists, im doing that because fuck vultures, and also because i genuinlly think they ruin the thrill of making hard jumps, i am misrable about how the priciple bridge turned out because a vulture can just fuck up a cycle. anyhow!!

Moon on the other hand is much the same, similar to spearmasters campaign but with some parts infected with the rot similar to unfortunate developments and sans the wonky gravity..mostly, also the priciple has collapsed and you cannot go between moon and pebbles

also her chambers would be much more active, with alot of overseers hanging out , not just her own but neighbor itertors also, seeing as pebbles lockdown woudlnt have happened, also there will be the semi often ERROR and red blinking messages which is from pebbles cyber attacking her, hes petty like that. Also think it be funny if she had a livefeed of different creatures in her facility grounds.

other notes would be that shoreline likely would stay as waterfront facility, the acid pits would probably still disapear, same goes for garbage wastes, but the brother long legs would not be there anymore. but thats the major changes to the map from this au, really its just to have pebbles misrable high up in a broken box unable to escape!!

I was about to go into detail about how the story route would change because of this reversal, but uh i already talked alot so ima not do that!!

so thats all i had for you, hope my confused ramblings on game levels was....semi fun, but anyhow thanks for the ask! also you wont belive how hard i fought to not have all drawings just be this kind of shot of a leaning wall, but have the one that survived!! have a great week :D

#rain world #asks #reverse iterator au #long post

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yopapiishere · 10 months

Text

01. Reborn

Just Breathe: Modern Warfare II x Reader

Holy hell, first time committing to a fic, bit of an explanation.

You died and have been “reincarnated” in the world MWII, your age is nineteen and the boys are the same age as they are in the game. haven’t decided if this is going to be a heavy X reader with characters yet. Lmk if you want spice.

Word count: 2,919

I do not give permission for anyone to repost anywhere.

Warnings: Mention of death, swearing.

(Y/n) POV

My body sinks into the soft grass, and a gentle shiver runs through me as I make contact with the ground. The blades of grass seem to enwrap me, creating a cocoon of comfort. Despite the initial shock, a soothing numbness spreads, allowing me to focus on each steady breath.

Did I just fall from the sky? My body feels oddly numb, as though I've finished a marathon and crossed the finish line. Gently gasping for air, it's as if each breath is a reminder of life's vitality. A curious sensation lingers, almost as if I'm suspended in water, a symphony of bubbles replacing words as I attempt to speak.

Something incredible unfolded. I recall being in my car driving on a bridge, a memory that's vivid yet dreamlike. I don’t think I could survive that. It's hard to fathom. Now, here I am, grappling with the reality of this moment. This can't be the afterlife, it's far too tangible, too vibrant. Every pulse of life seems to reaffirm that I'm truly here.

Amidst my confusion, a haunting thought creeps in—the possibility of reincarnation. The idea that life's end might not truly be an end, but rather a transition into another existence, adds a layer of melancholy to my disbelief. Could this be why I find myself here, a mere echo of who I once was? If such a cycle exists, the notion that my actions from a past life dictate my present circumstances is both eerie and sorrowful, casting a somber shadow over my thoughts.

The enormity of the situation hits hard. I'm aware that I died—my body, my senses, they all confirm it. The memory of water rushing in, the coldness, the seatbelt that was supposed to safeguard me now feels like a cruel restraint. It's as if these sensations etched themselves into my very being. The concept of karma hangs heavy, and a flurry of questions swirls through my mind, each one laden with its own weight and uncertainty.

Reincarnation often conjures images of beginning afresh as a newborn, with past memories wiped clean. However, your experience diverges from this norm, for you still retain your sense of self and are barely past the age of eighteen. This could imply that your rebirth has occurred with a distinct twist. Alternatively, there's a fascinating possibility that you've found yourself in an entirely different realm altogether, one that permits continuity of self. Unraveling the intricacies of your circumstance might shed light on whether it's your familiar world or an uncharted territory you're now inhabiting.

Raising my head from the soft grass, a thought crossed my mind: the possibility of encountering a tick. With a wry smile, I shook off the notion, letting my body sit up. As I did, the surroundings unfolded before me, revealing a clearer perspective of where I had found myself.

The azure skies stretched out above, devoid of any human presence. However, my gaze was drawn to the majestic mountains that dominated the landscape before me. The sheer size and grandeur of these peaks captured my attention. Growing up in northern Wisconsin, I knew the land well, and it struck me that these imposing mountains were a far cry from anything I'd ever seen there. The incongruity of the scene left me bewildered, a strange mix of familiarity and alienness.

I covered my ears as a loud engine noise filled the air. Looking up, I realized it was a military plane flying over me. It took a moment to register the significance of the sight.

"Where the fuck am I?" I blurted out loud. The whole situation left me baffled and disoriented, the recent memory of my death still fresh. The plane's sudden presence added to my unease, making me feel as if I were under some sort of personal assault.

Ghosts POV.

I found myself standing in the briefing room, my gaze fixed on Laswell as she addressed the team. There was a familiar expression on her face, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty that I'd seen before during complicated situations. Just as Soap entered the room, Laswell cleared her throat and opened her black military laptop, ready to begin her talk.

"Your mission is to bring this girl back," Laswell declared, projecting a somewhat blurry photo of a girl standing in a field onto the screen. Despite the lack of detail in the image, I scrutinized it, trying to absorb every bit of information I could. The picture didn't provide much, mostly capturing what she was wearing.

"Why's she important?" Gaz asked, squinting at the picture and clearly not seeing much to go on.

"The military wants to reach her before anyone else does—other military folks, like potential enemies," Laswell explained, her voice tinged with weariness as she rubbed her forehead. A brief pause hung in the air before she carried on.

"Here's where it gets weird. I've pored over the footage repeatedly, and there's no logical explanation for what we're seeing. The government wants to keep this operation completely off the books," Laswell elaborated, her arms crossed as she heaved a deep sigh. She carried on speaking to us, the weight of the situation evident in her demeanor.

"Take a look for yourselves," she directed, opening a file that revealed an unfamiliar location—mountains and a small field of grass.

"What's our focus here?" Soap inquired, leaning in to examine the image closely, his forehead creasing with puzzlement.

In a blink, a light descended from above. My heart seemed to pause as a girl materialized from the clouds, descending gracefully to the ground. The wind whipped around her with a ferocity that seemed surreal. Her form, captured in a pixelated video, appeared serene as if she were in slumber. Just as she landed, the video abruptly cut off.

A hush fell over the room, thick with astonishment.

"What the hell?" Soap exclaimed, his voice shattering the stillness as he strode over to the laptop and hit replay on the video. He turned back to Laswell, a mix of disbelief and urgency in his eyes. "Is this legit?" he questioned, his gaze fixed on her as the video played once more.

"Seriously, how the bloody hell is this even feasible?" Price questioned, stepping forward with a mix of astonishment and concern.

Laswell cleared her throat, refocusing the room's attention on her.

"We're in the dark here. Multiple experts have analyzed the footage, and no one can provide an explanation. This is an unprecedented anomaly, and that girl," she gestured toward the video of the girl's graceful descent, "poses a potential threat. We need information on her urgently. Bring her back, and we'll extract the answers we need." Her arms remained tightly crossed, underscoring the gravity of the situation.

"Maybe she's an alien?" Gaz pondered, his eyes locked on the video.

"It's not our concern. We follow orders," I interjected, catching Gaz's eye and receiving a confirming nod.

"Laswell, regardless of her origins, she's unlike anything we've seen here. She might not even be from this planet. The potential danger she poses is significant," Price added, his gaze fixed on the video.

"That's why Graves and his team are being dispatched as backup. The location in the video is Greece. As far as we're aware, she's still there," Laswell explained, rising to her feet and shutting her laptop.

"Once any of you establish contact, send traffic. I'll be on standby," she concluded before departing.

………..

"Where the hell am I?" I muttered aloud, even though I knew there was no one around to hear.

I stumbled across the field, my gaze fixed on the distant mountains and the cluster of trees ahead. Maybe there was some direction to be found there.

"Could this be hell?" I mused to myself as I continued walking, my steps faltering. I caught sight of a butterfly gracefully landing on a flower.

"Or not," I sighed, rolling my eyes at the thought.

As the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, panic surged within me, quickening my heart rate.

"I've got to find shelter fast. There's no way I can survive out here without protection," I muttered, scanning my surroundings desperately for any sign of a building. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on my side. It took a good 20 minutes to traverse the field and reach the edge of the forest.

With cautious determination, I took my first step into the forest, uncertain of what lay ahead.

Stepping carefully through the forest, I was met with the soothing sound of rushing water. A river, perhaps? I pondered, my instincts leading me toward the source of the sound. The sky was progressively dimming, urging me to move with greater urgency.

"Someone's bound to be nearby, right? Where there's water, there's civilization," I muttered aloud, tracing the water's path as I went, mindful not to get too close—it was proximity to water that ended my life.

"Damn you, water," I grumbled, frustration creeping into my voice as I delivered a swift kick to the river's flowing edge.

Minutes slipped away, and the encroaching darkness only intensified my sense of urgency. My strides quickened, driven by the need to find civilization before the cover of night settled in. The thought of being stranded out here with potentially dangerous animals was chilling. I found myself hoping for the safety of water rather than the threat of becoming prey. After fifteen minutes of walking, I stumbled upon an old, abandoned shack. With a mixture of relief and resignation, I realized this would have to suffice as shelter for the night.

Shivers ran down my spine, and doubt gripped me. Did I even know how to build a fire? My fingers explored my pockets, retrieving my phone, which frustratingly refused to turn on. A red gas station lighter emerged next, its significance hitting me with a pang—my brother had given it to me. The realization that I'd never see him again struck hard.

I collected whatever dry sticks and leaves I could find, forming a small pile. Taking a deep breath, I muttered to myself, "Here goes nothing." With a flick, the lighter sprang to life, casting a spark that brought a smile to my face.

Relief washed over me, and with newfound determination, I continued my efforts to build a much-needed fire for the night ahead.

……..

"Gotta stay focused, Cap," Gaz reminded himself from a considerable distance, nearly 800 meters away. He was hidden behind a rock, expertly camouflaged in gear, his sniper rifle trained on the target. He waited patiently, eyes never straying from his objective.

"Keep her in your sights. Laswell wants her unharmed," Price's voice crackled through the communication device. He wasn't too far away from the scene.

"She wasn't exactly playing hide and seek," Soap's voice came quietly, his form hidden behind a tree. He was dressed in civilian clothing, part of the plan to approach her and extract information.

"Damn it, Johnny, move in quietly. Wait for three," Ghost's voice conveyed irritation as he stood on the sidelines.

"Understood, L.T.," Johnny replied over the comms, his steps measured as he advanced toward the girl. The gravel underfoot crunched, and she abruptly stood up, pivoting around to face him.

…She looks human.

…

The sound of footsteps in the night was hardly unexpected. Instantly, I stood, my hand tightening around the window breaker I kept in my pocket.

"Who are you?" I questioned, eyes fixed on the man with the mohawk, who raised his hands in a gesture of nonthreat.

"Not here to harm you, sweetheart. Just making my way," he assured as he drew nearer. I shot him a skeptical glare, my unease growing.

"A guy wandering through the woods? Doesn't sound all that normal," I remarked, my lips thinning into a firm line.

He responded with a chuckle. "Observant, aren't you?" he remarked, taking another step forward. My grip on the window breaker tightened, but I quickly realized the odds were not in my favor. He was larger and well-built. Is he Scottish?

"You might want to ease up on that weapon," he suggested as he halted a few feet away.

I stumbled back, caught off guard. How did he...

"I'm completely unarmed. Go ahead, search me," he offered, raising his arms to emphasize his point.

"I'm not laying a finger on you. No telling where you've been," I retorted, raising an eyebrow. His smile faded as my words hit home.

"What's your purpose here?" I questioned, meeting his gaze as he lowered his hands.

"Listen, I saw you... fall," he said, his eyes focused on me, just a few steps away. "I just want some answers and then I'll be out of your way."

"You're not going to believe me—"

"I watched you fall from the sky. At this point, I'm ready for anything," he interrupted, a wry comment that left me frowning.

A heavy silence hung between us for a few moments.

"Can you promise you won't harm me?" I questioned, my uncertainty evident as I gripped my arm.

He paused, his gaze meeting mine before he nodded in response.

Sitting back down on the gravel, I directed my gaze to the fire. He followed suit, settling across the fire from me.

"How old are you?" he asked, his eyes on me. I didn't bother to meet his gaze as I replied.

"Nineteen," I responded, meeting his gaze as his blue eyes locked onto mine.

"Are you an alien?" he inquired next, causing me to burst into laughter.

"Seriously? Do I look like an alien to you?" I asked, my hand covering my mouth. He smiled in response. "Honestly, when I saw you falling from the sky, I couldn't help but wonder," he admitted, rubbing his stubbled chin.

"No, I'm human," I assured, my attention returning to the fire.

"Have any idea why you fell... from the sky, I mean?" he queried, grabbing a stick and idly poking at the fire.

"I think I died," I admitted, my gaze hard on the fire.

"Died? You mean..." he trailed off.

"Yes, died. I remember driving in my car, the road was icy. I lost control, went over a bridge, and plunged into the water," I said, hugging myself as I recalled the terrifying memory.

He remained quiet for a moment. "So, why are you here?" he asked.

"Reincarnation, maybe?" I mused, looking up at him.

"But isn't reincarnation supposed to be starting fresh, no memories, a completely new slate?" he queried, skepticism in his voice. I sighed, my gaze locking onto his.

"I've only retained what I remember from my death," I explained, shaking my head slightly.

As another engine roared above us, I didn't bother looking up this time.

Suddenly, a rustling came from the forest, snapping my attention in that direction. My eyes met those of a person in a skull mask, armed with a rifle.

Is that the Grim Reaper?!

The masked man must have noticed my gaze and attempted to draw my attention back to him.

"What's your name?" he inquired, and I pretended not to notice the figure in the forest. My heart raced.

"(Y/n)," I replied, looking up at him. There was something off about this guy, and my instincts told me he wasn't safe.

"You can call me Soap," he introduced.

"Soap?" I repeated, a nervous smile playing at my lips.

"It's a nickname," Soap explained casually, prodding the fire and sending sparks into the serene night.

"Why's there a gun pointed at me, Soap?" I questioned, locking eyes with the masked man. He froze, tension in the air.

I rose to my feet, my grip tightening around the window breaker as I exposed the blade's sharp edge.

"Kid, listen," Soap began, standing as well, "it's just a precaution." He reached into his pocket, retrieving a syringe.

I shook my head, my heart racing as I crouched near the fire. "I'm not a threat," I whispered, the rush of blood in my ears drowning out my surroundings.

"Look, it won't hurt much. Don't fight it," he urged, making his way around the fire. Each crunch of rocks under his boots resonated in my ears, my heart pounding louder.

Shaking my head, I looked up at him, my eyes pleading for understanding.

"Forgive me," I muttered, and he shot me a puzzled look. His head tilted as he observed me.

Without a moment's hesitation, I seized a burning log and directed it towards his stomach.

Goodbye, soft hands. Hello burnt hands.

"Fuck!" he howled, attempting to pat out the burn, while I bolted in the opposite direction.

"Do not shoot! She's not dangerous!" Soap shouted, his voice carrying after me as he pursued.

My thoughts raced frantically as his footsteps pounded closer. Why did I have to wear Converse? The frantic sound of my own footsteps mixed with the thudding of his.

I screamed as his arms encircled my waist, hoisting me into the air.

"Sorry, kid, just precaution, yeah?" he remarked, wrenching my head to the side and plunging the syringe into my neck.

"Fuck... yourself... fucking bitch..." I mumbled as my legs grew weak, my mind slipping into darkness.

...

"Soap," Ghost's voice echoed as he approached, kicking out the fire.

"Lieutenant, another successful capture?" Soap motioned toward the girl slumbering in his arms.

"Laswell's waiting at the base. Let's move," Ghost ordered, scrutinizing the girl more closely.

"Price, heading back to base, target secured," Soap reported over the comms.

“Gaz, let’s get moving.”

“Copy.”

#modern warefare 2 x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #modern warefare ii #fanfic #ghost x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare fanfiction

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chatandchai · 3 months

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♦︎♧House of Cards♧♦︎

☽☀︎☾Prologue ☽☀︎☾

1926, New Orleans, Louisiana

In the dimly lit alleyways of New Orleans, where the scent of damp earth mingled with the lingering aroma of jazz and sin, Kaya leaned and fell against a weathered brick wall, her gaze fixed on the flickering neon lights of the nearby speakeasy. Blood seeped from the wound in her side, staining her clothes and pooling darkly on the cobblestones beneath her.

"Karma is surprisingly not a bitch," she mused aloud, her voice a husky whisper that seemed to echo in the night.

Despite the pain that throbbed through her body with each shallow breath, Kaya's lips curled into a sardonic smile. Her eyes, glinting with a mixture of amusement and defiance, scanned the shadowy figures that lurked in the alley, their whispers like dark promises carried on the night breeze.

For Kaya, life had always been a game of chance, a series of calculated risks and dangerous liaisons that had shaped her into the formidable force she had become. But tonight was different. Tonight, she could feel the weight of destiny pressing down upon her, like the heavy hand of a vengeful god.

She knew that her past deeds had caught up with her, that the sins of her past had come back to haunt her in ways she could never have imagined. And yet, as she stood there in the darkness, bleeding and vulnerable, she felt no fear. Instead, she felt a sense of exhilaration, a thrill that coursed through her veins like wildfire, igniting her spirit with a fierce determination to face whatever lay ahead.

For Kaya knew one thing above all else: that in a world where the line between good and evil blurred like the smoky haze of a jazz club, the only true currency was power. And she intended to claim hers, whatever the cost.

But she knew she would make it out alive, she knew she had to, there was no other option. Death was still a luxury to her, a commodity in all senses, which despite all her wealth and fame, she couldn’t afford, so she had to fight, no matter what.

The bleeding hadn’t stopped yet and that bastard had surely punctured her flesh with murder in mind, how wonderfully stupid of him. Kaya tried to stand up, her arms gripping the brick wall for support and some comfort. Even though she was determined, much could not be said about her lack of health and blood.

Dammit, she was too tired to even stand.

“Ah!” a cry left her bloodied lips as she felt her head spinning around as if she was in one of those dingy and small-to-a-fault elevators, the nausea hitting her as the blood continued to seep out of her wound.

Her knees gave out yet again, bruising themselves by hitting the gravel, though the pain wasn’t hard enough to compete with the rest of her wounds. Deciding that there was not much she could do, Kaya simply sat down, her head against the wall as she continued applying pressure to the hurt.

She had to tend the wound if her only option was to make it out alive, while also not getting caught.

The pants that she wore were torn at the waist already and her white blouse was soaked with blood thoroughly. She let her free hand dig in her back pocket, having to raise her hips in the process, making the stinging go worse, and she barely held back a cry of pain, she couldn't afford for them to listen to her cries of pain if they were nearby and find out of her hiding in the alleyway.

Now as she finally found the cloth, her breathing calmed a little, maybe she wasn’t such a gone case after all. She pulled the soft material and kept it in her lap, then pulled out the small flash of alcohol from the strap attached to her belt, opening the bottle cap.

She took a deep breath, calming herself and prepping her mind for the pain she was to feel from her hurt, a few chants on her lips and she poured the content of the flask on her would, the burning sensation making her hiss and shut her eyes close.

As her body familiarised with the burning, she pulled the cloth and started cleaning the area, fingers shaking throughout. She tore the now bloodied cloth with her already bloody hands and shoved the clean part into the visible hole, now that the blood was cleaned. With her index and middle finger, she pushed the cloth deep into the wound, hoping to find some temporary solution to her bleeding, until she ……………

Until what?

“Ah, fuck,” she cussed out loud, griping her hair in frustration. the bleed had stopped its flow but it would not last more than a few hours without proper medical attention. But she couldn’t make the mistake of going to a hospital, no it was just not possible. She could go to her teammates’ house but all of them were either out on a mission or stayed on the other side of the city. Hell, her own house was on the other side and it would take her nearly 2 hours to reach there, given her condition and thus the speed.

Not only that, but the fear of being caught or seen lingered as well, not only by the people who made me into this mess, but also by the police or even the commoners, and she couldn't afford that, especially because there would be no way she could overpower them like this.

Kaya laughed, realising she had nowhere to go.

“No.” she wasn't sure if it was her trying to console herself or if she actually believed it when she said it,

“No, I won’t die today.” she shut her eyes close again, the pain subsiding by a pinch, “Lord, please, no.”

With a shake of her head, she stood up, still clutching her poorly bandaged wound. She had promised herself that she would make it out alive, and out of all the things Kaya was, she wasn't a liar.

But this meant that he had only one option left.

Her slow feet carried her, with each step, the sting increased its capacity, and now that the adrenaline rush was over, she was tempted to drop to the floor and sleep for eternity. The pattern of time was suddenly an unfamiliar concept to her, as she couldn’t keep track of it, and she didn’t know if she should take it positively, or just start to descend into hysteria.

She walked, until her feet were sore, till her throat was so parched that she started choking her own saliva, the nausea returned, the headache did too and she could feel that her temporary fix was slowly losing its grip as well. But all she did was walk until she reached where she knew, no matter what, help would be provided.

Tall, wrought-iron gates adorned with twisted vines and thorns guarded the entrance, their rusty hinges groaning in protest as they swung open to reveal the overgrown garden beyond. Wild roses and ivy climbed the crumbling walls, their tendrils snaking through the cracked mortar-like living shadows.

The windows, grimy and cracked, were adorned with heavy velvet curtains that hung limply against the glass, their once-rich fabric now faded and threadbare with age. A single lantern flickered dimly in the darkness, casting eerie shadows that danced across the worn cobblestones.

Despite its dilapidated appearance, there was an air of faded grandeur about Alastor's house, a sense of faded glory that clung to its crumbling walls like the echoes of a bygone era. To those who passed by on the street below, it was a place of mystery and intrigue, a relic of a time long forgotten.

Kaya staggered up to the doorstep. She rapped sharply on the door, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she fought to stay conscious. When the knocking didn't do any help, she pressed the bell again and again, to the point where she put her entire weight on the poor button, the buzz going off without a break.

"Who in the devil's name is there, in this ungodly hour?" irritation evident in the voice of the man inside the house, as he appeared to me making his way to the door.

Kaya closed her eyes for a second, relieved that now she was safe.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" it seemed like he had opened the door and sneered with a smile, though when she looked at him, the concern in his eyes belied his mocking tone. "If it isn't my dear Kaya, come to grace me with her presence. I must say, you're looking positively dreadful, Darling. Is this your idea of a social call?"

Kaya bristled at his mocking tone, but the pain in her side forced her to swallow her pride. "Cut the crap, Alastor," she snapped, her voice strained with effort. "I need your help, and I need it now. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to leave me bleeding out on your doorstep."

Alastor's facade of indifference didn’t crack even slightly at the desperation in her voice but she knew him well enough to know when he was faking and when he was not. "Oh, very well," he gave a tight-lipped smile, "But make it quick, darling. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

But as Kaya stumbled into the foyer, her strength failed her she lost her balance, Alastor caught her before she could collapse to the ground as she chuckled at her own helplessness and at her sworn enemy who slowly stripped off his facade at her pitiful condition. "Damn you, Kaya," she heard him mutter, his voice thick with emotion. "You always were too stubborn for your own good."

Kaya managed a weak smile through the pain. "Oh, Alastor," she murmured, her eyelids fluttering closed. "You always did have a way with words.” even with all her pain and trouble, she could practically feel him smiling at her sadly, “Just promise me one thing, darling.”

As Kaya's consciousness ebbed away, she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, dragging her deeper into the darkness. Each breath felt like a struggle, her body aching with every movement. But despite the pain, there was a strange sense of peace that settled over her, like the calm before a storm.

"What is it now, my dear?" he asked, his voice gentle despite the underlying tension.

For a moment, all she could do was revel in the sound of his voice, the familiar cadence and timbre comforting her in a way nothing else could. It was as if the world around them faded away.

“ Promise me you won't kill me until I wake up.”

And with that, she fell unconscious in his arms and in that moment, as her consciousness slipped further away, Kaya clung to the hope that Alastor would honor her request, that he would grant her this small reprieve from the turmoil of their lives. And as darkness claimed her once more, she found herself surrendering to the unknown, trusting in the bond that had always existed between them, no matter how tenuous or fraught it may be.

Next chapter ——->

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor wears specs #alastor x oc #alastor human #hazbin husk #hazbin vox #alastor x original character #alastor hartfelt #rivals to lovers #serial killers in love #1920s jazz #alastor is in hell for a reason #alastor is not sex repulsed #alastor is asexual

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maladaptivedongdreamer · 2 years

Text

Animosity

Warnings: blood, betrayal, angst and murder? English is not my first language, not even my second. Sorry if you encounter any errors.

Risotto Nero x GN!Reader (3.9 k words)

"It's killing me again/I replay it in my head when I'm alone/I hope that you're alone now/It's not me, it's you/The one who never got a clue/Drown in your guilt/If karma doesn't hit you, then I will."

Animosity - The Warning

As the car stopped with a jolt, you could feel your heart starting to beat faster in your chest. You let out a slow and deep breath as your hand instinctively reached down to the left pocket of your denim jacket, where a half-empty pack of cigarettes was. A sports car drove past you in the rain, illuminating the cockpit for a brief second and allowing you to see your own reflection in the rearview mirror. You immediately averted your gaze with a grimace.

With your left hand on the door handle and the hoodie covering your head, you took a deep breath before getting out of the car. An umbrella would've been just a burden, so you simply sprinted to cross the deserted road. On the opposite sidewalk, the porch offered you protection against the frozen raindrops, yet you shivered as a gust of wind scourged your cheeks. Instinctively, your hand went to the left side of your face and hastily pulled the hood to cover it. Without raising your head, you reached inside the pocket of your jacket and pulled out a cigarette. It took you a couple of attempts before you finally managed to light it up, as your hand was trembling. You blamed it on the chilling wind and kept walking.

While the bitter smoke burned down your throat, scratching the itch that was tormenting you, the plan unravelled itself for the thousandth time in your mind. As if you could forget it. As if you hadn't spent the past couple of days perfecting every detail, incapable of sleeping yet finding every second of your waking hours unbearable.

Not that your plan didn't have any fallacies. For example, you just assumed that your target would be home. You made sure that they hadn't changed their address - you had spent the past couple of weeks using your Stand to spy on them. Their routine hadn't fluctuated at all since before the accident, you noted with a knot in your throat. Almost as if it never happened.

Thankfully, you knew Risotto Nero far too well for his own good. Around this time of the year, he would take a couple of weeks off, to commemorate the life-changing event in his life: the death of his cousin. The year prior, you had checked on him, to make sure he was OK. Now, you were going to kill him.

Kill him. The words echoed in your mind, so loud that you hesitated and slowed down. You could see his apartment complex now, in the distance. A car passed you by, interrupting the still silence that was enveloping your senses: it was much easier to lose yourself and your resolve in the monotonous pattering of the raindrops. The sound of tires on the asphalt and the sudden light that breached through the midnight darkness became almost unsufferable for a split second. You wanted to close your eyes and cover your ears; you considered the idea of turning around and walking back to your car.

Seeing the man responsible for your death living his day to day life as if nothing happened: not many people have been granted this fortune, and even less people were in the position to avenge themselves. You thought your anger had subsided, only leaving a faint trace, as you had plenty of months of rehabilitation to accept his betrayal. He had no choice but to let you die, you had repeated yourself as a mantra, over and over again, as you slowly regained control of your body.

At first, you had only wanted to reach out and let him know that you were alive. One day, you had patiently waited for him to come back home from "work", your heart almost exploding with impatience in your chest, your throat dry and your eyes wandering around, waiting for his car to become visible in the distance. It was then that you had seen him with her.

You resumed your unrelenting walk: the porch was about to end. Thankfully, the rain also seemed to quiet down, almost as if your vengeance had Mother Nature's stamp of approval.

Now you could see that the lights were on at the second floor of the apartment complex where Risotto lived. Another sign that Fate was by your side, you noted, as the blood rushing through your veins pumped like drums in your ears.

You took one last draw on the cigarette, almost burning your fingers as the combustion was far too close to the filter for the drag to be any good. The bitter taste made you wince, your face distorting into what you could only imagine being a cubist portrait. You threw away your cigarette, letting the rain extinguish its dying flame, and cupped your left cheek with your hand. Under your finger tips you could feel the ragged outline of the scar.

The first time you had seen your reflection after the incident at the warehouse, you couldn't help yourself but think of Picasso's Guernica. Later, you had felt stupid and egocentric for having equated a catastrophic historical event to your personal misfortune. What is the loss of your youthful beauty compared to the massacre of hundreds of people? And yet, as the beautiful woman sitting in Risotto's passenger seat had laughed - her beautiful skin intact - you couldn't help yourself but imagine his repulsion if he had seen the state of you. With your fingernails biting into the skin of your palms, you used that pain as fuel for your anger.

You would make sure he saw you. You wanted to be the last thing he'd see before Death put an end to either of you.

Your rage had yet to turn you blind: you knew far too well that Risotto was a powerful Stand user and an incredibly skilled assassin. You were ready to die by his hand, in case you failed. Would he kill you a second time? You were already dead and gone to him and to dozens of people: killing a ghost would be much easier. But you wouldn't go down without a fight. Worst case scenario, you hoped you could take at least part of his precious vinyl collection to Hell with you.

Risotto lived in a quite unsuspecting neighbourhood: fairly isolated from the city center and of recent construction. The buildings looked all pretty much the same: white and grey cubes of concrete surrounded by vegetation. No one would imagine that the leader of La Squadra Esecuzioni lived there, surrounded by newlyweds and young families.

Using your Stand, Trail of Tears, you focused on melting your body into a puddle that easily passed under the gate dividing the apartment complex' garden from the sidewalk. You proceeded like that, thankful for the darkness surrounding you, until your reached the glass entrance door that lead into the empty lobby. You could feel every fiber of your being focusing on the task as your body squeezed through the much more narrow interstices.

Once you found yourself into the lobby, you felt your body autonomously turn to its normal form. "Fuck", you muttered. You noticed that your breath was short and your retina was blinded by millions of colorful explosions, as if you were about to faint. Laying on your fours, you tried to catch your breath.

It was the first time in months that you had used your Stand to these lengths, exerting its power to transform your body into such fine matter. You could feel yourself hurting where you had suffered the worst injuries during the incident. Your arms were trembling and you bit your lower lip to prevent yourself from letting out pained whines. When you got your sight back, you exhaled abruptly and punched the marble floor, to give yourself the courage and resolve to get back on your feet.

Another thing Risotto had to pay for.

You climbed the stairs, one stealthy step after the other, paying attention to every sound that came from the other apartments. It was late enough that most people would be in bed, but some - like Risotto himself - were still up. If someone decided to go for a walk in the middle of the night, you were ready to resort to your Stand. However, considering the toll it took on you, you prayed that the rainy weather would be a deterrent for any midnight walk.

You finally reached the second floor: the door to your victim's apartment was right in front of you. The time had come for you to act. You inhaled briefly and exhaled as slowly and silently as you could, trying to stop your heart from beating like a drum in your chest. The fear that Risotto's Stand might feel your presence through the blood running in your veins paralysed you for a second. Then again, you told yourself that he wasn't expecting you to rise up from your grave just to murder him.

Closing your eyes in the darkness of the hall, you let your body melt: guided by the current of air that was passing underneath the door, you squeezed your shapeless form through the crevice and only stopped when you felt that the whole mass of your being was now resting on the wooden floor of Risotto's entryway. You stopped for a second, trying to figure whether or not you were alone and ignoring the urge to transform back.

In that form, you were blind, but your other senses increased. You often resorted to the wind or any movement of air masses to determine whether someone was in your proximity or not.

You could hear a laugh track in the distance and the wheezing that usually came from electronic devices. You knew that there was no light in the room, for you couldn't feel any warmth on the top surface of your body.

You turned into your regular form and bent your body forwards - hands resting on your knees - for balance. You mentally cursed yourself, as you held your breath, afraid that you would let out a pained moan if you dared to breathe.

How dared you think that you could kill Risotto Nero in your pitiful state? Biting your lip you slowly emptied you lungs, your nostrils flared, as if doing so would minimise the noise. When the pain subsided, in the darkness you started moving towards Risotto's living room where the TV noise was coming from.

A newfound sharpness had taken the place of the self-doubt. After all, you were a trained assassin and you had to thank Risotto himself for mentoring you and teaching you a set of many helpful skills. It was him who allowed you to understand the extent to which your Stand could be useful. And now you were going to use that knowledge against him.

The door leading to the living room was slightly open. You knew for a fact that Risotto made sure it would screech, to alert him of any foreign presence that might try to attack him. The opening was large enough for you to morph your body without putting to much of a toll on it. Your head could easily pass, which meant that you wouldn't lose sight of the target. In fact, there he was, his fluffy white albino hair resting on the sofa, as he was lazily reading through paperwork.

And there you were, less than five steps away from him. You knew that the only way you could have the better of him was to catch him by surprise, before he could evoke his powerful Metallica. You prepared your body for another - and hopefully the last - metamorphosis. You closed you eyes, feeling the blood rushing through your veins. The moment had come. In a couple of minutes, the outcome of the fight would be decided: you were going to survive and kill the man responsible for your losing everything, or die trying.

"I'm glad to see that you're well, dear." You opened your eyes to meet his bright red irises and black sclera. The surprise made you part your lips. You wished you came up with a witty remark, or just say something, but you seemed incapable of speaking. You imagined you looked like a fish on dry land, your eyes wide open and gasping for air. Your heart also seemed to have stopped.

Risotto slowly got up from the sofa and turned his whole body around to face you. You instinctively turned your head and grabbed at your hood to pull it over your scarred face. Where has your determination gone? Now that your former lover - the man who got you killed - was standing in front of you, slowly approaching you as one would a scaredy wild animal, you felt your legs go week. Was he draining the iron out of your blood already?

He positioned himself in front of you and raised his hands to your wrists, which were still grasping at the hem of your hood. Your knuckles had turned white from the exertion. His warm hands enveloped your joints and slowly lowered your hands to your sides. He was so close that you could feel his scent linger between the two of you - a bitter hint of bergamot and the masculine fragrance of his shaving cream.

"Look at me", he ordered, his deep voice penetrating through your eardrums, vibrating in your head and making the tight knot in your chest feel heavier. You couldn't speak a word, so you just shook your head no, lowering your face as much as you could, your chin almost touching your chest. He called your name, sweetly, as he rose his hand to caress your cheek - the one without the scar. The contact sent shivers through your spine. It had been long since the last time someone had touched you so intimately. The last one who showed tenderness to you had been Risotto.

Then he almost got you killed. The rage that had been brewing for months finally erupted. You slapped his hand away and turned your back to him - admittedly not your smartest move - with clenched fists.

"How dare you?" When you spoke, your voice trembled and you cursed yourself for your weekness. You felt Risotto sigh. He called your name again, softly, almost pleading. "I had to make a choice".

His inadequate response only made you angrier. You turned around to face him, your hoodie falling down and uncovering your face. You say Risotto's eyes widen in surprise, then pity took the place of his astonishment. He unconsciously raised a hand almost to reach out to you, then let if fall back down to his side.

"It was either you, or Melone, Ghiaccio and Formaggio", he continued. You saw his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. "I couldn't let half of the squad die just to save you".

You felt yourself frown, a pained expression now distorting your face. You knew that he was right, you'd always known. His words had been your mantra for months after all. He did took the most appropriate path; in his position, you would've let yourself die too. The main issue was that if Risotto were to be in your place, though, and you in his, you would've never abandoned him. You knew that he did the right thing as a leader. But as a lover, he had failed you in more than one way. And your broken heart pained you more than any of the wounds you had suffered from: his feelings for you were not nearly as strong as yours towards him.

"I also knew that if someone could make it out alive, that person would be you", he added carefully. You shook your head once again, a laughing fit of disbelief about to erupt from your lips.

"And yet you never looked for me", you replied. Risotto lowered his head and took a step back, using the back of the sofa as a place to stand, gripping the edge with his hands.

"I did", he admitted finally. The silence between the two of you felt heavier than ever. Your ears were buzzing, almost as if you were about to faint. "I made myself invisible to infiltrate the hospital and came to visit you late at night", he continued. You swallowed, your throat as dry as the desert, your mouth parched and lips sealed together, waiting for him to continue. "Your medical reports stated that you had amnesia, due to a severe concussion", he explained.

You let out a dry cackle. "Either that, or I had to explain to the cops what was I doing in an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by explosive material."

Risotto nodded and couldn't hide the smirk on his lips. "I figured that out", he continued. Of course he did, which lead to a more complex question.

"Then why did you abandon me?" Your voice and choice of words betrayed your feelings much more than you had hoped for. Instead of accusatory, you sounded hurt, your voice cracking as your tone rose up to mark the question.

"I hoped that you would take this as an opportunity to disappear." His harsh and direct response made your heart sink into your stomach. He must've seen your expression, because he continued. "I know that you had no choice but to join Passione. You told me that if you could, you'd leave in a heartbeat." You felt dizzy, your knees almost giving up on you. You covered your face with both hands, as to protect yourself from any external input. Everything felt overwhelming: from the stupid TV show that was running on the screen, to the sound of the rain pouring down and hitting the glass windows. When did it start raining again?

"I-", you started, but your words froze in your throat. Two strong hands grabbed you by your wrists, uncovering your face. Then Risotto touched your chin and slowly lifted it up, forcing you to look him in the eyes. With his free hand, he traced the surface of your scar. He didn't seem repulsed, yet you shivered and closed your eyes, afraid that you would find disgust in his otherworldly eyes.

"The only thing I want is you", you finally managed to say. Risotto held his breath as soon as the meaning of your words settled in. He called your name one more time, sweeter than honey, as he moved his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you closer. You shook your head one more time and pushed him away. "But you don't love me", you accused him. "It didn't take you too long to get over me, did it?"

His hand was still stuck in mid-air, as if you hadn't moved, or as if he was caressing the ghost of you. Your words seemed to impact him, as he slowly let his hand down and lowered his head, not wanting to meet your eyes. You felt a painful pang of prideful victory when Risotto took his head in his hands. You surprised him, one up-ed him, yet between the two, you were the one slowly bleeding inside. A part of you had hoped that the woman he had taken home that day was no one: maybe a new team member, maybe a neighbor he had offered a ride to.

"I saw you", you continued, taking advantage of his moment of weakness to breach even further into his collected demeanor. He nodded slowly, his head still in his hands.

"Yeah", he managed to say. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes still not meeting yours. "She's-", he hesitated for a second, his lips pursed together and a frown forming a deep line between his eyebrows. Your mouth felt drier than the desert: you were not sure if you wanted to hear the rest.

"So", you continued. Your voice was trembling, in spite of your better intentions. "You abandoned me for dead. You knew I made it out alive, but didn't try to reach out to me. And now you're seeing someone else." He didn't move, he didn't say a word, which only made the fury building up inside of you grow even more nefarious. "That's the most complicated way to dump someone I've ever heard", you hissed between gritted teeth. Without letting him time to protest, you continued, speaking over his voice and ignoring his attempt to get closer to you. "You've ruined my life", you said. His eyes finally met yours. The pain and the pity you read in those red irises of his only made you want to scream into his face. "Made sure no one else would look at me without disgust in their eyes, let alone with desire", you continued, pointing at the scar on your face. "Then immediately started seeing someone else, after you've decided to cut any tie with me."

"I did what I thought was best for you", he finally said, calmly. In a fit of rage, you jumped at him, aiming for his face, your fist turned into a dark pool of ink. He dodged your attack, making sure he avoided any contact with your body, knowing far too well the effect of your Stand on others. He raised his hands and slowly moved away from you, as you continued to walk towards him, your rage distorting your features and obfuscating your thoughts. "I thought you wanted a normal life", he continued.

"All I wanted was you", you repeated like a broken record. He called your name once more, this time firmly, but you couldn't hear him. You made an attempt to close the distance between the two of you again, ready to hit him with all you've got, when a sharp pain to your left knee made you gasp audibly.

Risotto had used his Stand to envelop your joint with barbed wire. The striking pain forced you to back off, clumsily falling back on your ass. Months of rehabilitation had taken a toll on your combat abilities. All it took for Risotto to defeat you was one single attack.

The contact with the hard wooden floor made all your anger dissipate in thin air. You felt warm tears of humiliation running down your cheeks and you rapidly proceeded to wipe them off with the harsh fabric of your denim jacket. You kept looking at Risotto as he approached you, not even realising that the barbed wire had disappeared, leaving you with a pair of torn and bloody jeans. He had also used your blood to patch your wound up.

When he took you in his arms, cradling you like a baby, you started trembling, incapable of stopping the tears. He sat on the sofa, not letting you go, but pressing you even harder against his chest. He ignored your protests when he began caressing the scar on your face, as he peppered kisses on the top of your head.

"I'm sorry", he said.

You couldn't respond, for you weren't even sure of your own feelings in that moment. You felt ashamed, defeated, yet being once again in your former lover's arms made you experience a happiness that you had thought long gone.

As you slowly drifted to sleep in the warmth of that embrace, you heard Risotto's voice - more and more distant - saying "I'm sorry" once again.

Thank you for reading, if you got this far! See you next Monday: it's Abbacchio's turn to be an asshole.

#jjba #jjba fanfic #risotto nero x reader #jjba risotto nero #jjba part 5 #jjba x Reader #jjba angst #angst #oxtober

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betatesterjeremy · 3 months

Text

Okay… Got it…

This is a transcript of my nightmare last night, written by me in haste this morning.

(OOC: VERY long writing up ahead. Like, 15 pages in Google Docs. Fighting, blood/gore, manipulative behaviors, death mentions and threats, and a very hateful tango are included in this writing.)

[Jeremy is pulled into a large room with extremely dramatic lighting, it feels a little unnecessary. The pillars between the windows are a pleasing white, and the ceiling of the room is fairly elaborate, with gold accents on some of the more intricate parts. A large chandelier sits in the very center. It appears to be around midnight, the stars visible in the sky out the windows.]

Jeremy: … Okay, this one is different than usual. That’s new. Uh… holy shit?

[Jeremy finds himself glued to the ground, his eyes wide as he tries to take in every detail at once. Heavily shaken, he begins to take a step further into the room, hesitant.]

Jeremy: Hello? This big of a room is not empty, I’m not stupid.

?: I was under the impression that you are, since it hasn’t been disproven yet.

[Someone’s footsteps are heard echoing throughout the room, Jeremy can’t tell if they’re approaching him or moving away.]

Jeremy: I was right! … That’s not… Wait, that’s a different voice…

[Jeremy begins spinning himself around, trying to find where the voice is coming from, but every time he turns one direction, he hears a step from the opposite way.]

?: You’re going to make yourself dizzy, Jeremy. This is ridiculous.

Jeremy: If it’s so ridiculous, show up already.

[A figure appears directly in front of Jeremy. The person grins. They have brown hair, and appear to be wearing a hoodie, a button up, and black jeans.]

?: Hey.

[Jeremy jumps back, despite him asking to see the figure. Karma.]

Jeremy: Holy shit- Okay. Alright. I’m fine. Which one are you?

[A small frown appears on the other’s face, as they motion to a nametag that definitely wasn’t there before. It has one letter on it. E.]

Jeremy: Oh. Fun. You’re here to traumatize me too?

E: I– No. Contrary to popular belief, I’m trying to help. And since the other method is the reason you all dislike me, I’m trying something new.

Jeremy: Lovely. I’m a guinea pig.

E: Precisely, do you know how to dance?

[Jeremy double takes.]

Jeremy: I– … No?? Why?

[E raises an eyebrow at Jeremy, looking him up and down.]

E: It’s a wonder you ever caught the attention of a woman.

Jeremy: Uh, fuck you?? I don’t have to know how to dance.

E: Yeah, sure, you don’t need to. But it’s a good skill. It would make up for that haircut.

Jeremy: Hey, Jenny cut that… Besides, we unprofessionally dance together anyway, how hard could it be?

[The other rolls his eyes, holding out a hand. Jeremy hesitates, just long enough to be noticeable, but takes E’s hand.]

Jeremy: This is going to be fucking weird for me.

E: And the past few weeks haven’t? Your life is weird now, just roll with it.

Jeremy: Not weird like this. I, again, have never danced. And never thought I would. Especially not with ghosts.

[E turns, and pulls him further into the large room.]

E: This generation is so frustrating, first, I find out that your phones are flimsy as fuck, and now none of you can dance? What next? You don’t know how to write in cursive?

Jeremy: … Well.

E: [Turning his head to Jeremy, an expression of disbelief on his face.] You’re kidding, right?

Jeremy: Well, Jenny knows, but most people don’t anymore, I don’t think… Some people can’t even read it.

E: Back when I was in school, it was mandatory.

Jeremy: Oddly enough, it was for us too. We just… never used it.

[E stops walking as they near the center. Fully turning to Jeremy.]

Jeremy: … Shit, now I actually have to think about what I’m doing. I’m supposed to be sleeping, y’know? Don’t make me think ever.

E: I don’t know if you’ve ever started, so it shouldn’t be hard to continue that trend. Either way, I’m leading. You just need to not step on my feet.

Jeremy: God… Wish me fucking luck, I don’t even know what leading is.

E: If I weren’t already dead, I think you would’ve just caused me to have a heart attack.

Jeremy: Oops, I guess. Never had to dance. Do I look like the kind of person who would?

E: I guess not, I could’ve assumed so. You don’t look like you get out often.

Jeremy: That was probably meant as an insult, but you’re right. You’re just actually right.

E: The fact that I, a dead man, have touched more grass than you have, is slightly upsetting.

Jeremy: God. You should meet Alexander. He’s worse than I am about going anywhere… I think.

E: Well, if that was an invitation, I’ll be sure to pay him a visit. What kind of music would you like?

Jeremy: God, I hope you’re nice to him. Uh… I honestly don’t know, dealer’s choice, I guess.

[E grins, much wider than he probably needed to, and snaps his fingers. Generic sounding ballroom music begins to play from… somewhere. And he takes a step to the side after grabbing Jeremy’s hands.]

Jeremy: Oh, shit-

[Jeremy almost immediately stumbles, but somehow stays upright.]

E: We’ve taken one step, and you’ve already– oh my god.

Jeremy: I didn’t know which way we were going!!

[Another step is taken, this time, E slows it down so Jeremy can see which direction they’re supposed to be moving in.]

Jeremy: Okay, okay, uh…

[Jeremy starts counting beats to himself almost silently, trying to follow along the best he can. Surprisingly enough, he’s keeping up.]

E: Okay, now that you’ve got it… somewhat down, we need to talk.

Jeremy: [Facing downwards.] You know, we could have talked standing! My brain is not going to keep up with both things, dude.

E: I think better on my feet. Movement helps me work things through. You wouldn’t get it, I’m not sure there’s anything larger than a peanut up there.

Jeremy: [Looking up again.] Hey, fuck y–

[Jeremy stumbles almost immediately after taking his eyes off of the ground. He corrects himself quickly.]

Jeremy: … Okay. Point proven.

E: Mhm. [Clearing his throat.] So, I just want to set one thing straight here. I’m not against you, or Jenny. Or anyone you’re close with. Got it?

Jeremy: I uh… I can try to believe that.

E: [Sighing.] Look, I know I haven’t been the most… helpful, or… nice. Or trustworthy. Or anything positive. But I swear I’m on your side.

Jeremy: … I want to believe you. Really, I do. But with… I have trouble. I want to trust you, though. Seriously.

E: I know, if it helps, though… we’ve got one thing in common.

Jeremy: Yeah?

[Jeremy tries looking at E again, and manages to make eye contact for about five seconds before having to look back down. Oddly enough, a decent improvement.]

E: We were conned by the same man.

[The lights in the room flicker.]

?: Who, me?

[Jeremy visibly tenses, and subconsciously moves closer to E.]

E: Oh, you’re fuckin’ kiddin’.

[Emerging from the dark corner of the room is a man. First seen are his eyes, shining a piercing, unnatural purple, almost pink around the edges, the light reflecting off of his glasses. His face is scarred, and he looks deprived of any sleep.]

[Once his form is more visible, the second most notable thing is how tall he is. He looks about 6’4. Unfortunately, he appears even taller with the large golden rabbit ears sprouting from his head, adding a good 6 inches to his already large frame, even when they’re flopped down like they are, resting oddly naturally in his hair. His hair, a dark brown, near black, is tied into a low, frizzy-looking ponytail.]

[The ponytail rests against his gray dress shirt collar, which he adjusts, as well as his black suit jacket, matching his pants. As a final touch, he tightens his bright, velvety-purple bow tie.]

[He begins approaching the two. He’s not quick about it, he walks up as if they had motioned for him to walk over when neither of them wanted him here, as evident by E’s sharpening teeth, slowly bloodying form, and the ticking. The abnormally loud ticking is heard by Jeremy, and despite his fear of both people in the vicinity, he finds himself clinging to E, his eyes as wide as saucers, color drained from his face.]

E: You just had to show me up in every way possible, eh? Looks like someone’s compensating.

A: Looks like someone’s jealous, more like.

E: Of you? Has your ego gotten bigger since we last met?

A: Of course it has. And for good reason. Not many people can say they’ve tricked someone into giving them a living form…

[Anomaly leans forward, a smug smile across his face.]

A: Really, I can only think of two.

Jeremy: … I’d say the circumstances were different–

A: Quiet.

[Jeremy flinches, dropping his gaze to the ground. It’s clear this isn’t the first time this has happened.]

[E lets out a low… growl? As he makes eye contact with Anomaly. He appears to be considering his options. Suddenly, a grin appears on his face.]

E: Big talk for a guy who died in the most pathetic way possible.

[He starts to laugh.]

E: The fact that you could’ve avoided it always gets me. And besides, I didn’t trick Mari. I told them exactly what I intended to do. You didn’t say jack shit.

[His head falls back, and Anomaly laughs. It’s loud and it echoes in Jeremy’s mind. Sharp and inhuman, more like some sort of animalistic noise than any sort of human laugh. Suddenly, his head snaps back into place, a smile across his face despite his barely noticeable annoyance. (Oh yeah, I saw that, you masquerading- I’m sorry. I don’t mean that.)]

A: All you could think of to try to bother me, hm?

[Anomaly’s head tilts to the side, almost robotically.]

A: You know, I find it interesting that you mention that my death was avoidable because, really, yours was too. Maybe if you actually did your job you would’ve made it further.

[The volume of the ticking spikes, and E tenses. His right eye twitches in time with the ticking. He takes a few breaths, and the ticking quiets down.]

E: Maybe, yes. But I really don’t see how getting torn in half by robots was the result of a night guard not doing his job correctly, and not the fault of the person who designed those robots in the first place. And I’ve got a lot more where that came from, I’m only scratching the surface.

A: Interesting, because I had the same experiences with them in hell and still got through it several times unscathed. I think that’s more on you.

[Jeremy opens his mouth to object, to defend E, but quickly closes it as Anomaly glances at him. He lowers his head again, his shoulders tense.]

E: Mhm, mhm, and how many attempts did it take to get it right? I only had one try. Honestly, it’s so crazy to me how you’re still this salty about everything. It’s not my fault none of your kids like you. God, the things Michael had to say about you… and I don’t doubt that the other two have the same shit to say.

[E chuckles, leaning backwards. His hand goes to his forehead and he stands back upright.]

E: Man, he hated you! Said he used to look up to you. He wanted you to love him so badly that it ended up taking over his life. He wanted to be you.

A: He should’ve been nicer to his brother.

[Anomaly smiles wider after a moment, as if he remembered something.]

A: “Salty”, well… You’re still here too, aren’t you, Edgar? I’d say we’re both a bit unhappy.

E: Yes, you’re right. I’m very unhappy. Only because I’m talking to you, Willi–

[Before E can finish his sentence, Anomaly grabs his wrist, swinging him into the beginning of a long and angry dance. As soon as the spin ends, Anomaly slips his hand from E’s wrist to his hand, pulling E close to him in some sort of strange tango pose.]

A: You want to talk for a while? Because, as it turns out, I also think better on my feet.

[Anomaly glances at E, a smug look on his face.]

A: Hope you don’t mind.

[E’s jaw clenches, and his hands curl tightly around Anomaly’s. He glances back at Jeremy, expression unreadable, before looking down at his clothes, and then glaring directly into Anomaly’s eyes.]

E: Oh, you son of a– I’m not doing this in my fuckin’ work clothes, fuck you.

[As Jeremy blinks, E’s outfit changes from his old white button up to a deep red one, with a black vest overtop. His black jeans now a more formal pair, with some chains clipped on. A black tie is loosely tied at the top. His hair appears tidier now, possibly brushed, as well as washed. His hands also have fingerless gloves on them. How all of this happened within a second, Jeremy will never know.]

A: Aw, you felt underdressed. I apologize… Well, if it makes you feel better, now I’m feeling a bit overdressed.

[Even if you were looking at him (I was), you wouldn’t be able to place how his outfit changes. He does nothing special. Suddenly, his outfit almost mirrors E’s, but his dress shirt is a bright white, and his vest a deep reflective purple.]

A: There we are, now we’re matching.

[Anomaly grins, implications clear.]

E: You look shitty, I definitely wore it better.

A: Good thing I’m not aiming to impress anyone.

[E scoffs, looking Anomaly up and down.]

E: That’s fairly obvious. If I had worse vision I’d easily mistake you for a rat.

A: And I’d mistake you for someone’s shit prom date.

[The lights in the room become tinted a rich purple. Distorted and slow music begins, getting clearer and more cohesive as Anomaly starts to move, but E wrenches one hand out of the other's grip, forcing Anomaly into a violent turn that ends with him leaning away from E, holding on to his hand. He's pulled back in, and he instinctively picks his outside leg up as E leans him back in a dip that brings Anomaly close to the ground, the ears closing the distance between his head and the floor. The lights above turn a stunning shade of red as E pulls Anomaly up and switches the way they were facing, two hands around Anomaly's back as he sticks a hip out to the left.]

E: Come on, let’s fucking dance, asshole.

A: If you insist.

[Anomaly forces E backwards, taking step after step across the room, the lights switch to purple after the 4th step, on the 6th, they both stop. Anomaly turns to face E, wrapping an arm around his neck and raising the other towards Jeremy, E slides his hand up his arm and grabs the hand, turning Anomaly away, the lights flicker to red for a moment. Anomaly takes his first arm away as the two bend down, sliding into a pose with one leg extended to the back with the other bent underneath them. As they stand, Anomaly places his arm on E’s shoulder before he starts to move around E. They take steps backwards in time with the music.]

[Things speed up and Anomaly forces their steps to become smaller and faster, before ultimately picking E up and swinging him through the air as the violin plays more intensely than before, his legs straightened behind him. He’s forced into a sort of lunge, before he’s flung out of it and slammed backwards into Anomaly’s arm as the lights explode with a violent purple hue, his head whips backwards with a loud crack, and Anomaly stares into his eyes as he steps over E’s extended back leg. Jeremy catches E… wincing? (That bastard hurt him.) But he stops within a second, standing right back up and dragging Anomaly across the ballroom floor, steps becoming more complicated, perhaps as a way to trip Anomaly up.]

[The lights turn red again, a blood colour, as the two make their way around the ballroom, the footwork becoming even more complex as they swirl this way and that, E pushes Anomaly into a spin before grabbing hold of his hands again. They begin a diagonal walk, with Anomaly pushing E across the room, bathing it in purple light, before E retaliates and forces them back to where they came. The crimson returns. They stop abruptly, and E raises his hand above his head, bringing Anomaly’s with it. He attempts to lower Anomaly into a second dip, but is spun into it by him instead. As he’s brought back up, Anomaly picks him up a second time for another whirling turn, and as he comes out of it, he immediately whips around to be behind him, grabbing on and leaning to the side.]

[As they come up, Anomaly wraps a leg around E’s torso, then, after a few seconds, he unwraps it. The two step back, and Anomaly grabs E’s head. Forcing eye contact as they cross the floor once more. The action bathes the ballroom in purple.]

E: [Through a clenched jaw.] Let go of me.

A: Oh, why? You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? You engaged the whole idea of dance in the first place.

E: It was never supposed to be with you, you flea ridden egotistical shitlord.

A: And yet you haven’t stopped yet. Interesting.

E: I am many things, but a coward isn’t one of them.

A: Could’ve fooled me.

[Instead of blurting out a witty reply, E bites Anomaly’s hand. Hard. Causing him to let go. Anomaly’s smug smile falters for a split second. The smile returns, but he speaks through gritted teeth.]

A: Gh–! … Dog.

E: [He grins, but not out of joy, but likely just to show his teeth.] Thank you! I’ll fucking do it again.

A: [He leans in, as if to prove he’s not afraid.] I’d like to see you try.

[E, now finally able to look away from Anomaly, only relaxes for a second before diving right back into the dance, turning the lights red once more. E leads Anomaly around the space, once again altering the footwork. He pauses and baits Anomaly into a high kick, before managing to get Anomaly to face the same way as he was. He quickly turns, and does a split leap, throwing E off balance slightly. As they continue to move about the space, E can be seen attempting to kick Anomaly in the shins.]

[They pause, and lean backwards in tandem, before Anomaly pulls E into an odd spin, allowing him to end up sitting on his leg. E immediately untangles himself and moves away, bringing Anomaly with him. Spinning with the other man under the red lights of the room. They stop. Anomaly forces E backwards, one step, two steps, three, four. The fourth is mixed with a sort of spin, which continues as the two dancers circle each other, illuminated by purple. They stop spinning, still moving. Their backs to Jeremy.]

[E twists around Anomaly, trying to gain the upper hand, steps gaining speed as they both attempt to keep control of the other. Twists and turns and jumps and steps are all part of their battle. E pulls Anomaly into a spin, Anomaly switches the direction of their movement. E steps back, throwing his arm up and grinning at Anomaly, taunting him.]

[The dance picks up immense speed as the two dash across the floor, shoes hitting the wood loudly as they move. E is picked up, and swivels his legs quickly in the air before being put back down. The two step quickly, the lights begin flashing. Red, purple, red, purple. Switching back and forth as they dance. Jeremy can barely keep up with the speed. E does a high kick, Anomaly retaliates by trying to knock him off balance. The flashing of the lights is beginning to make Jeremy woozy.]

[Anomaly picks E up in a lift, both his legs bent, he’s put down and they continue their war. Anomaly stops and holds E’s hand above him as he does a pirouette of some kind, kicking his leg to give him enough momentum to get him halfway around, then again. They leap into action once the turn is finished, Anomaly and E’s legs intertwine as they compete, kicking and weaving around the others like they’d practiced this for years in advance.]

[E grabs Anomaly the same way he did earlier, picking him up and swinging him in a circle, and then doing it again, the lights are so red the walls could’ve been covered in blood, and Jeremy would be none the wiser. Anomaly switches it on him and spins E around in a circle with his leg extended to the back, the switch to purple shows there is no blood on the walls. E jumps out of it, and Anomaly continues the previous action of the footwork, before picking up E in another lift and swinging him behind him, E kicks his legs and Anomaly places him back down. They end up leaning away from one another, and Anomaly pulls him in before violently dropping him into a dip, the same one from the beginning. E extends his lifted leg upwards, his supporting leg and head nearly creating a finished arch. He glares at Anomaly with such a deep and wild hatred you'd think he'd stolen his eyes from a sort of beast. The tango is finally done. And the lights stop changing. Anomaly is soaked in red, and E is only illuminated by purple.]

[Anomaly looks down at E, expression only able to be described as “lightly crazed”. He glances down at E’s position and, with no other thought, lets him drop to the floor.]

A: Lovely performance.

E: Thank you, yours was horrible. Off tempo for half of the fucking song, and the other half was just plain sloppy.

A: Wow, I try to be nice for once, and this is what I get. How rude.

E: Oh yeah, because telling me I did a good job makes up for everything. Mhm. All is forgiven. Yep.

A: Oh, no, I’m not trying for forgiveness. I’m just mature enough to know how to compliment people even when I don’t like them.

E: The hell do you want me to say? ‘Oh, thank you for interrupting me with your incredible dancing skills, this was totally better than what I was trying to do before.’?

A: You weren’t doing anything important—

E: Of course you wouldn’t consider it important, jackass. I—

[The two drop silent as a creaking is heard throughout the room. The chandelier is swinging.]

E: What the…?

[The chandelier seems to stutter in place, halfway catching itself. Anomaly begins backing away from it, eyes wide. As soon as he reaches a safe distance away, the chandelier shifts again, cracks forming in the ceiling. Jeremy finally musters up words to say. Or, well, a word.]

Jeremy: EDGAR!

[E, startled, turns to Jeremy, a confused expression on his face. Nothing happening seems to have registered yet.]

[The ceiling shatters, and through the debris and dust, Jeremy can only see a hand being placed on E’s shoulder. One that caused him just about as much concern, if not more, as the mental image of E being crushed by a chandelier.]

[When the dust clears, Jeremy can finally see the two on the ground, 90% unscathed. Anomaly, the closest to the broken glass, planks, metal and chain, is currently not paying attention to his cuts. It seems that glass shot past him and caught some of his skin. (I… thought he couldn’t get hurt.)]

Jeremy: Jesus christ, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t… God. I-I’m so sorry. Th-that was my fault… [Turning to E.] Are you okay?

[E, who was staring at… nothing at this point, blinks a few times before turning to Jeremy and nodding.]

[As Jeremy turns to look at Anomaly, he’s surprised to find him moving. Jeremy finds his eyebrows knit in concern and tries to force them down, as if that will stop him from feeling concerned too.]

Jeremy: … Are you—

[Anomaly shifts, pushing himself up off of the ground. Glass sticks to his palms, and he shakes his hands to remove it. The shards clink to the ground. As soon as he feels the big shards of glass are gone, he turns to look at E, his expression… blank…? (I’ve never seen him without a smile…).]

[After blinking a couple times, Anomaly looks at the palms of his hands, and his eyebrows furrow. He picks a few shards of glass from his hands, then dramatically wipes them off on his vest, like he was trying to scratch them against the fabric. When he’s done, he looks at his palms again, his expression finally settling on (what I think was) disgust.]

[After thoroughly examining his hands, he looks back at E. He looks at the chandelier. And then… he looks at Jeremy. His face morphs. From the corners of the mouth to below the outsides of his eyes, black stitching lines his face. Another line of stitches lay around his neck. Then, most notably considering his staring beforehand, stitching lining his hands and wrists, as if he’s being held together like Frankenstein’s monster. Around these stitches are more scars that weren’t seen before. Strange cuff-like scars around his wrists and elbows. Lines running down from his wrists to his knuckles. Most noticeable, however, are the strange crescent-moon shaped scars on his neck and down his forearms, and dots around his mouth, as if something stabbed through.]

[As if he were waiting for Jeremy to process what he was seeing, Anomaly stares at him for a moment. Then, his eyebrows furrow further, his mouth curls into a frown, and his eyes shine bright.]

A: [Quietly.] You…

[Anomaly starts to walk towards Jeremy, who begins to back away until he trips over a piece of debris and falls backwards, his back to the wall. Anomaly’s head twitches from one side to the other as he approaches, making painful clicking sounds, but his eyes never leave Jeremy.]

E: Oh, I don’t think so, you piece of shit.

[E, who was blankly staring off into the distance just moments ago, is now back on his feet, rolling up his sleeves. Blood begins to pool beneath him. There was a stream of red coming from his forehead, somewhat entering his mouth. There were now holes in his cheeks, showcasing teeth that are somehow sharper than before. He takes a step forward, then another. Each step, his gait changes ever so slightly. It isn’t until he gets closer that Jeremy realizes why. His legs’ very structure have morphed into something animalistic. They’re bent weirdly in the wrong places, kind of like a cat, or a wolf.]

[He untucks his shirt, likely just going to tuck it back in. As he does so, Jeremy notices some string sewn across his lower waist, where the blood is coming from. The stitches appear to be going the full way around his torso, tightly woven into his skin to keep his body from coming apart.]

[Anomaly’s shadow is cast in several directions by the dim light of the windows. The shadow over Jeremy almost looks darker than any of the others.]

[Jeremy’s back is fully against the wall, but he still keeps leaning further back, as if he’s trying to push himself through it. Unfortunately for him, the wall remains solid, and Anomaly continues towards him as if E had said nothing. His footsteps land heavily, heavier than would make sense for his build.]

[E closes the distance between him and Anomaly swiftly, a ticking sound accompanies his approach. As he reaches Anomaly, he clasps his hand around his shoulder tightly. His muscles tense up, as if just touching Anomaly is painful. And maybe it is. Even then, he keeps his grip on his shoulder.]

[As soon as Anomaly processes E’s hand on his shoulder, his eyes widen once again, and he turns all of his attention to him. His immediate instinct is to swing around and smack E’s arm away from him. His expression shows anger, but his eyes don’t seem to match that feeling (I can’t properly place what it was, but it wasn’t anger).]

E: [Smiling slightly, his head tilted to the side.] There we fucking go. What happened to maturity? Ignoring someone while they’re talkin’ to you is pretty rude, hm?

[Anomaly breaks eye contact, looking away and closing his eyes, seeming to take a deep breath before speaking again. As he speaks, the scars seem to disappear. The stitching goes away with them, as if fading to match the skin.]

A: Ahaha, I hadn’t heard you… What were you saying?

E: [Lowering the volume of his voice.] Well, I think actions speak louder than words.

[In a flash, E pulls his fist back and punches Anomaly square in the chest. A look of pure glee spreading across his face as Anomaly stumbles backwards, winded, and coughing. He shakes his hand out, glancing at Jeremy.]

[Anomaly coughs up blood. His hand goes to his chest, now bleeding (… from a punch?) through his vest.]

A: You little…

[Anomaly lunges at E, fire in his eyes, and knocks E’s animalistic legs out from under him. Before he can get up, Anomaly places a foot on E’s back, forcing his ribcage into the ground painfully. The force Anomaly’s exerting on E’s back doesn’t seem to fit his figure, nor how casually he seems to stand. A small grin appears on Anomaly’s face.]

A: Quite cocky for a doormat, aren’t we?

[E reaches a hand out in front of him, fingers flexing, one eye squeezed shut. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out except a strangled, pained cry. Jeremy doesn’t miss the tears forming in his eyes.]

[Anomaly chuckles. His smile widens, and he places more pressure on E’s back. He hears a choking noise, desperate, louder. Anomaly’s laugh raises in volume as well. It feels like his voice is coming from everywhere. A wild smile spreads across his face, as if he’s wanted this for a very long time. But, as soon as he goes to place all of his weight on E…]

[Anomaly is flung to one side of the ballroom, splinters of wood and cushioning follow. Jeremy throws the remains of the chair to the pile that once was the chandelier, and immediately is at E’s side, quickly lowering into a kneel and offering his hand to help him up. His face is lined with incredible concern.]

Jeremy: I’m sorry I couldn’t do that sooner. I’m gonna fucking pay for that… Are you okay, did he break anything? If he did, I’ll find another chair, I’m fucked as it is.

[E lays there for a bit, shaking, before reaching out and grabbing Jeremy’s hand. He misses twice, before finally getting it right the third time. He slowly pushes himself up using Jeremy’s help. He makes eye contact with him, his expression having lost the monstrous rage from before. He looks at Jeremy with a genuine, heartfelt smile on his face.]

E: [He coughs a little throughout his sentence, holding an arm to his torso.] I… I don’t think anything is– is broken.

[He stares at Jeremy for a small while, before opening his mouth to speak again.]

E: … Thank you.

Jeremy: No problem, I wanted to do that anyway, honestly… Glad I could help, seriously.

E: [He laughs, but it comes out as more of a breath outwards.] I get that, yeah…

[He nearly doubles over, wincing.]

E: Fuckin– Jesus, I’m going to be feeling that for days, aren’t I.

Jeremy: Yeah, jesus… That was horrific, I’m… I’m so sorry you had to—

[Jeremy is roughly tackled by Anomaly, shoulders hitting the ground hard as the two slide across the floor, glass shards that were once on the ground cutting into Jeremy’s back. Anomaly, stitched and scarred, sits on his knees on top of Jeremy, left hand pinning him to the ground, right hand raising a very sharp, very cared for knife. Anomaly’s joyful yet angered expression is that of a mad man, smile spread wide with excitement. His eyes swirl shades of purple, burning themselves into Jeremy’s retinas as he can do nothing but look at the terror directly above him.]

[A clock rings.]

[Anomaly’s rabbit ears perk up at the sound (so they are attached to him? They hadn’t moved before…). His expression drops slightly, and the knife he was holding clatters to the ground. He turns to glance out the window, seeing the sun begin to rise. Anomaly’s expression shifts in a blink as he looks down at Jeremy.]

A: Saved by the bell…

[Anomaly’s head slowly turns to E, a smug expression on his face. His head gently tilts to one side, his voice warm and music-like, a sharp contrast to what he’s had the entirety of the encounter. He taunts E quietly.]

A: Your shift’s over…

[E, realizing what that means, tries to run over, instead collapsing onto the ground. He scrambles to get up again.]

E: Nonono wait! Shit– No!

[His expression, instead of being filled with anger at Anomaly, or something along those lines, it’s worried. He’s not even looking at Anomaly. His full attention on Jeremy. In his rush to stand, he ends up missing the floor, falling down again. Unfortunately, he lands directly on his chest, causing him to violently cough.]

[Standing up, Anomaly forcefully pulls Jeremy up from the ground, causing Jeremy to yelp in pain from the sudden movement and… the absolutely scalding feeling of Anomaly’s touch. Anomaly swings him into a fast spin, confusing Jeremy and making him stumble more than he ever did with E, forcing him to hold onto Anomaly’s forearms, his grip tight from the pain of his hands burning and the fear of letting go. As his feet leave the ground, Anomaly’s eyes light up, and he yanks Jeremy towards him, catching him in a dip as Jeremy lets go of his arms, their faces uncomfortably close in the pose. Jeremy tries to lean away, to entirely break away from Anomaly, but Anomaly shifts his hold on him, holding onto his shoulder with an arm crossing his back, and Jeremy then realises that’s basically the only thing supporting him in his position. One of his legs is still suspended in the air, while the other is barely holding any of his weight.]

[Anomaly leans up from the position, removing one arm from Jeremy, making Jeremy panic and cling to Anomaly’s shoulders to avoid falling. Anomaly glances back at E, and slowly waves.]

[Once Anomaly is finished gloating, Jeremy is pulled against him entirely. Jeremy screams as he makes contact with the burning hot figure, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries to avoid the sight of himself burning, tries to focus on anything but the sound, the feeling, the smell. It’s an ineffective strategy.]

[When Jeremy opens his eyes again, he’s in his bed, completely unharmed. His alarm on his phone is going off. He sits up, and slaps himself to check if he’s awake. And he is. Finally.]

#fnaf ask blog #fnaf au

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mxyzptplk · 8 months

Text

writing this idea down so I can remember it and so others can see it

I have an idea for a post saint campaign. think of a slugcat raised by an iterator who starts at 10 karma and believes the ancients' philosophy. they could visit saints echo in different places and hear what saint says about regretting their choices. they slowly start to reject the ancients' ideas, represented as the karma cap going down instead of up. after visiting saint's echo a total of four times in different areas, they find the outer expanse and the campaign ends there. a different gate could exist leading into expanse that only accepts 5 karma or less.

subterranean and low altitude parts of other places could be in the process of being consumed by the void, like depths was. the screen wrapping effect (in saint depths when you don't have 10 karma) could make some really interesting rooms, suited to whatever movement gimmick the slugcat could have.

#rain world #rain world campaign idea #i will get into modding this game at some point #so this is an idea for that

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askthedespairkids · 9 months

Text

Peace

*The night sky is lit by the bonfire that's been constructed to illuminate the beach as the playlist of Naomi's and Karma's favourite songs echo in the air. The crowd dances and mingles as the food and drinks fly amongst the party-goers*

You know, as happy as I am for them...catering for a wedding this last-minute really is a struggle!

*She turns around, empty plates and trays stacked high along the length of her arms and even on her head. She doesn't seem phased at all by the work demand or weight of all the items* Apologies, Hanamura-kun, could you repeat that?

Toujou-san, I think you're a robot...

____________

*Her camera clicks a few times* Amazing. These photos are gonna turn out brilliantly.

Thank you again for the help, Koizumi-san. *She notices Karma giving her a signal and Maemi walks out to a small raised platform and shouts into the crowd*

Everyone! The couple is gonna do the bouquet toss!

Karma: I got the broccoli as well! *Saying that, they wave around the stalk of broccoli*

*Maemi exists the platform, and Naomi takes her place, bouquet in hand. Maemi goes to stand off to the side of the party, not joining the crowd*

You aren't going to partake? I thought this was right up your alley.

*Her eyes drift across the party, finding Yuuki standing on the outskirts of the party, heading away towards the beach's cliffside* I...have other things on my mind. I'll be a moment. *She heads off to follow him*

Whatever it is...good luck. *She goes to join the crowd*

Naomi: Alright...*She turns away from everybody*

Everybody: Three! Two! One!

*Naomi throws the bouquet behind her and into the crowd, hands all fly up to catch at the bouquet. As it bounces around a few people, it finally lands in the grasp of*

Uwah! *The bouquet gets knocked away from the crowd and lands in Ryuu's startled hands*

Nagata-kun....

I see you decided to intervene...

I should be happy, but the fact you didn't step forward makes me wanna pry it from you...

You know, I was thinking the same thing.

W-wait a second-! *Ryuu finds himself getting chased by the group seeking the bouquet*

Heh. I wouldn't have expected Kyouko-san to be the type to care about these kinds of superstitions. Right, Okanaya-kun?

Kobo: *Staring at Ryuu, a fond look in his eyes and the boys tries to stop the crowd from wrestling the bouquet from his grip*

...heh. I suppose she's not the only unexpected one.

Kobo: H-huh?

#The Preparation Arc #teruteru hanamura #kirumi toujou #mahiru koizumi #maemi watanabe #karma graves #kyouko kirigiri #naomi kizakura #peko pekoyama #ryouko otonashi #orochi kamisaka #ryuu nagata #kyoji nakamura #Kobo okanaya #DR

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tailoroffates · 1 year

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Find The Word Tag Game

@winterandwords & @mariahwritesstuff tagged me to search my WIP for kiss, kill, kind & keep. Thanks for the tag! :P These passages will be taken from my upcoming book series The Garden that Burned, book 1 - Kindling.

KISS

Character POV - Ariya “You will not make it to Momma now. My approach needs to change. I need you to know that Apollyon may be a shadow slug, but he is also a creature of his word. Stay here and do not move, do not speak, and most of all do not look.” He said, attempting to pull away from me. “No Aoul, please. I do not like the way you are speaking. Please, just stay with me.” I cried out as the pool of dread that had slowly been forming inside me turned into a tidal wave within my chest. I reached out for him and he only grabbed my hands and kissed them gently. “Ariya, this creature is centuries old. Only mothers light could have repelled it. Now I can only buy us time, so time I shall buy. Hold this. Your mission is to protect it from the Forsaken, understand? Do not allow him to have it. I know you are afraid, but now is your chance to prove to the skeptics that you are as worthy of being a warrior as you are a priestess.” The harsh reality of his words flooded fear through my nerves as he placed a small, sheathed blade on my lap.

KILL

Character POV - Danny “He was armed, Daniel. He did not give you much of an option.” Karma said, placing her hand on my shouboul. Freitza jogged over to us with most of her outfit hanging off of her in shreds and dropped down at my side. “Hey, Dan-man. I know exactly what you’re going through. Remember how I mentioned that I wasn’t always sure I hurt people for the right reasons? It felt just like this. The Lycan inside you isn’t just a beast, okay? It’s also your instincts, and if your instincts told you that this man needed to die then it was likely a necessity.” Freitz said in a slow, drawn-out manner. I could tell she was doing her best to choose her words carefully, which only served to make me more uncomfortable because she normally wasn’t like that. “It doesn’t matter if it was justified, Freitza… I just killed a man, and it wasn’t even my choice.” I replied with a light sob. Aurora leaned in and hugged me gently, causing a torrent of relief to flow through me. I looked down at her and she smiled back at me. “As I said, I always know when someone needs a hug.” She whispered, her tone quiet but still audible enough for me to hear.

KIND

Character POV - Danny “Thank you, I’ve always wanted to know about my mother! Finally, someone who knew of her! Please, tell me more about her!” I pleaded desperately. She took a step closer to me and gave me a quick slap across the face. It didn’t hurt, but it startled me enough to shut me up. “I will tell you what you want to know, but that right there is why I call you kid. I appreciate your gratitude, that’s okay to show me, but never show those you bargain with that kind of desperation. You told me exactly what leverage I needed to manipulate you. Do you understand? Some people out there are nasty, so stay sharp and keep your intentions good.” Rizza elaborated as I rubbed my cheek. How could she shatter a rock so easily, yet her slap hurt so little? She must have some serious muscle control or something… She had a point though. Her words resonated in my mind, forming a small repetitive echo. I had never considered that people would use what I wanted against me. In my village we helped one another when in difficult situations, so I was raised to want to help others. I guess I had only assumed others would want to help me as well.

KEEP

Character POV - Ariya I passed through the courtyard and entered the final halls, the ones leading outside of Techtortons walls. At the end of the hall, I could see Aoul and his troops getting ready to leave. Aoul himself had his back to me, but the rest of the Jaguar warriors were facing my direction. I broke out into a full sprint and the warriors began to chuckle and whisper amongst one another. Altaoul turned to see what the commotion was about just as I leaped full speed toward the backs of his knees. He effortlessly hopped over me and turned on his heel to face me again as I slammed into the dirt. The warriors began to laugh. “Well, well. If it isn’t the priestess-to-be, here to see us off. We will surely survive this trip with her blessings!” Garendahl said mid-laugh, grasping at his side. “Keep at it, Little Bird! We gave you away! You almost got him that time!” He said, slapping his knee. Aoul simply smiled and shook his head. “Move on now men, this little priestess is not to be gawked at.” He said in a playful tone while waving them off.

I'll be tagging @brynwrites @writernamedfran @authoralexharvey and @hollyannewrites. No pressure to play, it's all in good fun :D

The words you'll need to find are loss, listen, look, and learn. Have a wonderful day <3

#tag game #writeblr #creative writing #writing #thanks for the tag!#amwriting #writerslife #TGTB #The Garden that Burned #original content

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blubushie · 1 year

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It's Saint time. Hoo boy, he's a whole can of worms.

Saint starts in... the Void Sea? Somehow, he starts at the ending. Looking up at a symbol of Karma 10, he soon wakes up in Sky Islands. Why is there snow.

My green boy lives in an entire ICE AGE. To survive the cold, one must always carry a lantern, or else hypothermia and death. Saint is very weak - no spear usage, no ability to eat meat, one hand always busy with a lantern. You will soon understand why that is.

Fucking swiftly off away from Sky Islands, Saint goes to Chimney Canopy, to go to Five Pe--

..bbles.

Where is he? Hello??? Usually, you can get to Pebbs through Chimney Canopy, but where is he now? Gone, just like that!

Alright, CC didn't work. Besides, going anywhere is difficult - Saint is stuck at Karma 1 and 2. Luckily, there's a solution!

Echoes of Ancients I told you about in the beginning will raise your maximum Karma level if you meet them. Saint's objective is to find all Echoes and reach Karma 10! Also find pebbs because WHERE is he.

Meeting Moon shows that Saint already has Mark of Communication. She speaks kinda cryptically - that's the vibe of this campaign, so much time has passed that everyone's changed. She's functioning perfectly fine, by the way!

Okay, this is ridiculous. Surely, there's a way to reach...

.. five...

..ppppebbles.

FP collapsed, crushing Shaded Citadel and the entire Exterior, all of them merged into one region - Silent Construct. Well, he's probably fine. We just gotta find the puppet to talk to him!

oh....

I'm gonna be real with you, I knew this was coming, but seeing the brain damaged Pebbles sitting in the snow listening to his scratched-up music pearl made me emotional. Fuck. Okay. More in the next ask.

FP deserved it. Still sitting there listening to MCR

#blu whos

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ppulversed · 3 months

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CATCHUP! | cyj

Chapter 9

Ofcourse it was not easy for someone to admit that they failed at something. It was extremely hard to accept , it was unbearable , it had a lasting impact on Joohyun when she failed writing her first song on her own. It was not the best feeling in the world to be bound by the words she could not express , to hold it all in , to conceal it from the rest of the world and appear infront of the audience to perform once again. she could not blame the company , she could not blame her relationship , her boyfriend , the people who stood with her when she failed , nor the people who were against her when she wanted to become an idol. her mother was desperately against it , she hated her daughter training to become an idol. she hated it almost made it her firm point to kick her out if she debuted , but it was unfortunate that the reward of Karma she deserved for tormenting her daughter was , death. she died in an accident when she headed towards the city late in the night.

Joohyun has never mourned for someone in her life before. she did long for mother when she remembered the time she spent with her as her precious daughter. she longed for her when she looked at a child and a mother together on the street. she lost her purpose when her mother died . it was tormenting for her to continue dreaming about debuting as an idol when her own mother died with so much hatred for her , she felt her ominous presence even more daunting , even more tormenting than the time she lived. how could Joohyun long to live when all she wanted to do was to tell her mother that she loved her. she really did not miss her , but she missed her love and affection for her.

she did not miss her. she could not say that she did but could her tears deny that she didn't ? she finds it ridiculous that she cried for her. Joohyun could not look at her face in the mirror. It was awful to look at . so awful that she never raised her head up to look at her face in the practice mirror in the dance practice room. It should come to her naturally , performing , but it comes to her like a waterfall , exhaustion. what else could be worse than mourning over your own existence in this world?

Joohyun loses her purpose again and again when she looks at her face in the mirror. tears fill her eyes on the verge of weeping. she could not continue doing it any longer. she covers her face with her hands as she bends down exhausted. she sobs out loud and the practice room echoes with her distressed voice. could she die? no. could she live? no. she could do nothing , she could not even breathe , eat properly because of the complications of her weak body. she curls up on the ground weeping when she feels the monitor beep loud alarming her that she needs to replace her insulin patch. she rips the monitor off her skin frustrated as she steadies herself on the ground again. she bends down to pick up her bag and walks towards the door , mercilessly bangs the switches off and exits out of the room in anger.

the night were more comforting than the day. atleast for Joohyun , the night was more significant as it reminded her of the comfort of her late night practice sessions. It was 9 pm. streets of gangnam never looked more abandoned then ever. she walks out of the convenience store with a beer in her hand. her shirt that slips down her shoulder goes unnoticed. she wears a cap to cover her tear stained cheeks.

she leans back on the railings by the sidewalk. she stares at the road infront of her as no more than a couple of cars race through the late night. the tall light pole shines light on her. she takes a sip of the beer lost in the flashing beats in her earpods. It lifts her mood as she nods her head with the tune and taps her feet on the ground.

" 5 seconds of summer ? " , she hears a voice speak beside her. she pulls her earpods out to turn behind to a figure who brings a smile on her face in surprise.

" Heeseung " , she raises up to scoot aside on the railings as she placed her hand inside her jean pocket.

Heeseung leans behind on the railings for support. he has a small smile on his face , his attire is simple. he wears a black zip up with a shirt inside , jeans and humble nikes. he holds a plastic bag with a dozen of beer in his hand.

" do you listen to music at an alarmingly high volume all the time? " , he chuckles as he looks ahead.

" did you ever try it yourself? " , she asks him instead.

" never , but you make it sound as though it's a basic need" , he turns his head towards her.

" because it is. It's at the last bar , i never listen to anything lower " , she hands out her other earpod towards him.

Heeseung accepts the earpod as he agrees to experience it himself. she cautions him to let go of the earpod once he secured it in his ear in order to not disrupt the music. however uncomfortable to the odd sized earpod , he wears it as the music booms at the loudest volume,

" Young blood ", he recognises the moment he hears the beat in an instant. he agrees with a smile that it sounded unreal , like the music seeped through his ear with ease. the mundane nights turns more dynamic , the light above his head falls down like the gentle piano at the beginning of the song.

" I'd rather go deaf than never listen to music ever again " , she remarks as she turns towards him.

" You're real tough " , Heeseung replies as he gazes ahead.

" surprisingly , i get said often " , she smiles at his compliment as she lowers her head.

" heading out somewhere ? " , she asks him when she notices the bag of beer in his hand.

" a friend wanted to hang out . so i got him some beer . he's a true fan "

" of beer? " , she chuckles as she hops down to stand still infront of him.

" I got someone back at our dorm , mischief is in his name" , she adds to his nod.

Heeseung smiles , "wanna hang out with us? "

" i can ? " , she asks as he takes the lead first.

" ofcourse ", he turns to face her as he walks backwards as his smile remains , " cmon , young blood " , he pats the earpod with his finger.

Joohyun takes a step forward but pauses when she realises that he had no mask or cap to conceal his face. It was not the best for them to walk together at the night. her mind runs blank for a moment , " wait a minute " , she calls out to him concerned and he walks up to her.

" do you have a mask or a cap? " , she enquires him strictly as she ties her hand into a knot.

Heeseung smiles at her concern and the fact that she was mindful about them moves him. he observes her with a smirk , " close your eyes "

" trust me , close your eyes " , he directs her with a soft voice.

curious and amused , Joohyun closes her eyes with a smile on her face.

" do you see us ? " , he asks her as he stood infront her.

" i don't see anything " , Joohyun replies with a honest answer.

" That's how most people walks around us " , his voice sounds airy , he has a gentle accent on the back of his tongue.

she opens her eyes amused , with a smile , she admires how he thinks. convinced by his words she takes out her cap to reveal her smile. it surprises him when he looks at her bangs whisk on her forehead and she ruffles her hair roughly , her cheeks remained lifted with a smile.

" Cmon , Let's go" , she takes the lead first . He turns his back to follow her and then walks right beside her.

she feels lighter as the cold wind breezes past her. the spring had arrived and the heat lingered in the air. The two walk beside each other in silence , not overtaking each other nor leaving one behind. They walk together and the music in their ears unites them. she did , indeed feel lighter as nothing was in her mind to disturb her. in no time , the short walk ends and Heeseungs guides her to the right of the lane.

" here we are " , he swings his hand to introduce the house.

Joohyun looks at the building surprised and her mouth fell agape.

" Wait! This is.."

#catchup

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