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milla-frenchy · 9 months

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Roads

5k2 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 Summary: 3 years ago, Joel broke your heart and you left your hometown. Warnings: 18+ mdni. dirty talk, oral sex (f/m receiving), spitting, unprotected piv, ass play, praise kink, cum eating. a/n: This is my first fic. English isn't my native langage, thank you so so so much @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for reading me and correcting me, you're a gem, love you ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😘 Playlist | Series masterlist | Masterlist

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3 years.

For 3 years you haven’t set foot in your hometown, where you grew up, met your friends, studied, had your first jobs and your first crushes.

3 years ago you fled to forget your great love. The one that tears the heart when it’s over, and leaves you alone with your pain and a huge void that nothing will be able to fill.

When the love of your life left you, you saw only emptiness. The uselessness of things, hours, days that passed.

So trying to fill the emptiness of your existence, to forget the sorrow of having been abandoned, you left this city where everything reminded you of him.

Joel.

You settled in a new city, not far from yours, but enough not to risk crossing paths while shopping, going to the cinema or the restaurant. Or at work.

A few years ago, one evening changed your life.

Your friend Tommy worked in construction. Due to the economic crisis, finding a contract was more complicated. He worked with his brother, whom you only knew by name. Joel.

You and Tommy had known each other since school, you were the same age. The same circle of friends, the same interests. You kept the same friends for a long time, until everyone went their own way, as adults, when each of you found a job. All that was left was a small nucleus, very tightly knit core. Including Tommy and you. And his fiancée, whom he had met shortly after high school, and whom he was marrying soon. The three of you saw each other regularly.

He told you about his parents, his brother. Both had very different characters, as many siblings do. Tommy was very sociable, loved people, company, going out. His brother was introverted, led a quiet life and hated crowded parties. He had an eighteen year old daughter, Sarah. Her mother had left them shortly after her birth, and he was now striving to give her the best life possible. So he focused all his attention on the work and his daughter.

You worked in a large construction group, which until then had not suffered too much from the economic crisis. When Tommy told you about his professional difficulties, of course, you told him that you would do your best to find him a contract. But you had to set up an appointment between the three of you, take stock of their areas of expertise, their radius of intervention and the subcontractors to hire in parallel.

That evening, you had an appointment for dinner at Alexandro's, the pizzeria near your work. You popped by you house from work to shower and change in a pair of blue jeans, a white tank top and a blue plaid shirt.

When you arrived at Alexandro's, Tommy and Joel were already there. Tommy was facing the door, Joel had his back to the entrance. That was the first time you saw him. His wide back, thick shoulders under his black t-shirt. Then his neck, broad too. His brown hair. You paused and then pulled yourself together.

Tommy greeted you with a big smile when he saw you coming, stood up and kissed your cheek

"Hi, beautiful, how are you?"

"I’m ok, thank you. Work’s finally over!"

In the meantime, Joel got up, and was facing you, smiling and holding out his hand.

"Hello! I’m Joel, nice to finally meet you"

"Hi Joel, also delighted" you said with a big smile.

Your breath hitched when you saw his face. It wasn't love at first sight per se, but to say you being enchanted was an understatement. Fortunately, your job taught you hide your emotions well.

He had brown eyes, curly hair, a poorly trimmed mustache and a beard, dimples and a devastatingly infectious smile. Everything in him exuded calm dominance and control of emotions, despite the open smile he displayed.

You sat at a table of 4 people, located in a quiet corner of the dining room. You were next to Tommy, Joel was facing you.

"So, I’ve finally met the person Tommy has been sowing wild oats with for all these years."

" ‘Sowing wild oats’ I don't know about that... We've been relatively cool as teenagers."

"You tell this to my parents who had to pick up Tommy from the police station after you got caught smoking weed," he laughed.

"Oh, that's typical teen stuff, nothing serious."

"Or when you were picked up from the Smiths because you were launching fireworks at their house on July 4th."

"Yeah well..."

The three of you laughed.

"So, Tommy told me that you lack construction sites with the crisis?"

"Yes it’s getting complicated. We don't do full weeks and it keeps slowing down."

"I see."

"So you work at Deviaux constructions? No problem of reducing construction sites?" Joel asked, before taking a sip of his drink.

"No, it's a very large group, financially we have strong backbones and a lot of companies work for us. I will need your turnover, the exact type of sites you can manage, and your schedule taking into account your current sites, so we could create a forecast on the sites that we can assign to you."

The rest of the evening you talked about work. Joel was clearly in charge of managing their company, and Tommy occasionally intervened on technical details.

You tried to hide the emotions you felt towards Joel, but his posture, his gestures, his way of speaking affested you and the more the evening progressed the more you grew attracted to him. Again, you drove these thoughts out of your mind. You tried, at least until you glanced at his hands, his dimples, his broadness again and again. His calmness and controlling attitude lured you in. You worried that Tommy would find out.

Fuck, you thought inwardly.

You arranged an appointment at your group's office 2 weeks later.

The next day, at work, Tommy and Joel were talking about the night before. Joel was relieved of your seriousness, the working methods of your group, and relatively confident about the future. Your reassuring and professional attitude gave him an optimistic outlook. Once in his bedroom, he thought back to the evening. Thought about you. Your smile, your warm, non-judgmental attitude, your ability to communicate and keep the conversation going. He fell asleep with a desire to meet you again

"See, I told you you'd appreciate her. When I think you've always refused to see her all these years, thinking she was a brainless girl..."

"Yeah, I thought she was just like you. Quite the opposite in fact."

"Jerk…"

During those two weeks, you chased the image of Joel away from your mind, already occupied by your current complicated relationship.

At the end of the 2nd work meeting, you invited Tommy and Joel to the group's annual meal, which you were organizing for the 3rd consecutive year. Invitations were sent to companies that work for the group, spouses and children are also invited. The goal is to thank the workers and to create unity between all stakeholders.

Like in previous years, you didn't plan to stay very long. You didn't like the attention and that PR side, others in the group being much better than you at it.

You and Tommy had planned to go to a restaurant while his fiancée was going out with friends.

You were wearing a suit and a tie. A quirky look with your hair. During your acceptance speech, you met Joel's eyes and smiled at him. Tommy looked at his brother from time to time, noticing that he couldn't take his eyes off you. Joel finally felt his caddie's gaze on him and smiled.

"She does that to everybody. Everyone falls in love with her."

"But not you?"

"She’s like a sister to me. I've never had a chance to be more. And now I wouldn't trade my place for anything in the world. She is the most loyal person I know, and a very dear friend."

At the end of your speech, you went to greet the respective small groups. Before you joinded them, Tommy warned his brother:

"The evening continues with music and a buffet. She will not stay," says Tommy.

"Why?"

"She doesn't like it. Too much effusions for her. We have to go eat at the restaurant."

"Just the two of you?"

"That is the plan. Want to join us?"

"Won't she mind?"

"I don't think so. I’ll ask her, ok?"

"OK."

Tommy found you while Joel got a whiskey at the buffet. Tommy texted Joel an OK and after finishing his drink Joel joined you two.

"Hey", you said, smiling at Joel.

"Hey. Nice speech. Thank you for for being ok with me joining your little after party."

"The more the merrier," you replied. "Where's your daughter tonight?"

"Sleepover. She has less and less time for her old man"

All three of you went to the restaurant where you had a great evening. You offered them a nightcap at your house. Once you arrived you took off your suit jacket, remaining in a white t-shirt and with your black tie and pants. The three of you sat on the coach.

"Whisky" ? You offered, and they agreed.

You talked about different topics and laughed a lot. You felt comfortable and relaxed. Then your phone rang and you didn’t answer the first call. The second. The third. Finally you took the call going to the window and looking outside at the lights.

"Stop calling me."

"I wanted to know how the evening was, that's all"

"I don't want to talk right now."

"Please don't hang up"

"Fuck, I told you no! You know I hate it when you presure me like that. We... it’s over OK? We talked about it."

"Yeah ? One more break up huh? Did you find someone else? Are you tired of me ? Again? When will it stop? That fucking story between you and me?"

"I guess it is. Don't call me anymore. I need air, need a break."

You hung up and returned to the couch, where the boys had remained seated.

"Sorry for that"

"Are you okay? Tommy asked, looking at you with worried eyes"

"Yeah. Where were we?"

The evening went on as if nothing had happened until Tommy's fiancee called him asking to pick her up.

"I'm sorry I have to go. Fiancé duty!"

Tommy had driven Joel there, so Joel was getting ready to get up to leave when you said:

"You can stay. It’s still early. I'll give you a lift after."

"With pleasure, » he said with a smile"

You spent the night together talking and laughing. Joel told you about Sarah.

She was about to begin her first year of college in two weeks, and he could’t be more proud of her. He described her as a mature, conscientious and cheerful girl. He told you several times that he was very proud of her, especially for the fact that he never went to college himself, having taken care of Sarah when he was still very young.

You drove him back in the early morning, and you kissed on the cheeks to say goodbye.

The next day at work, Joel asked Tommy about the phone call you received the day before.

"You know what happened?" Joel asked

"It's this moron, Stefan", Tommy answered with a sigh, "Her boyfriend, well, ex boyfriend. Their relationship is complicated, toxic I’d say. They separated several times, then got back together. Every time they get back together I understand it less and less."

"He sounds clingy on her," Joel noted with furrowed brows.

"Yeah. More than she is. But she usually comes back to him. And she always leaves him. I don’t get it."

"Why don't you like him?"

"He’s been clinging to her for years now. She stops smiling when they are together. It’s like he sucks all energy out of her. We can’t stand each other, i see her less when they are together. Afraid i’d break his fucking jaw."

"How does she take it, that you don't like him?"

"I think at first it bothered her a little, but she knows that i just want to protect her. She didn't tell me they broke up. I hope it’s really over this time."

"Why do they keep getting back together?"

"I have thought about it. The only idea that comes to mind is that she wants to fix him. And it's fucking unhealthy. And..."

"And?"

"There’s something dark in her. I feel it sometimes. Like she wants to lose herself. It scares me."

"She hides it pretty well."

"Yeah. I don't think anyone knows her completely, just a small part of her, me probably more than the others. But she’s closed off sometimes and i worry about her."

Joel was confused after that conversation. It wasn’t the impression he had by being around you those two times, and it made him curious about you.

Once their projects done, Joel and Tommy began their collaboration with your group, and everything went smoothly. The three of you sometimes bumped into each other at your office, and Joel regularly joined Tommy and you for pub nights or dinners.

You liked to be in the company of the brothers, knowing that their relationship had not always been easy, but that they seemed to be at peace in the face of past conflicts.

They were certainly different, but you found something common in them. They had a strong protective side and you teased them about that. You liked to listen to their childhood anecdotes and you gradually realized that you greatly appreciated Joel's presence and personality.

You planed to have a drink at the pub that night, but Tommy canceled at the last moment. Joel sent you a message:

"You and me?"

You'd already gone out two nights together without Tommy, and the idea pleased you. The atmosphere was different when one of the brothers was not there. No macho rivalry, no teenage jokes.

"Of course, see you tonight" you texted back with excitement.

In the pub you had a drink and Joel told you about Sarah who had recently joined her college in another state. Everything was going well for her, she got along well with her roomate, and she was coming back home for the next break. Joel felt a little lost, living first time alone in his house, but the resumption of construction sites was helping him.

"No girlfriend?" you asked him with curiosity in your gaze.

"No. Nothing serious for several years. I always wanted to dedicate all my time to Sarah."

"But there was something non serious then?" you said with a smirk.

"Something like that, " Joel answered looking at his drink and smiling softly.

Joel Miller, the less verbose of the two brothers.

The evening continued, and watching him made you regret not having met him before. You had never felt that feeling toward him when you were a teenager, Joel was a few years older than you and Tommy, and you saw him as someone scowling and always annoying his brother. That moment you thought how distorted your image had been, and you wonder if you would have dated. Looking at him, you told yourself that you would have totally dated him.

You drove that idea out of your mind again.

Joel. Your best friend's brother. Who you work with. Your relationship with Stefan has just ended (again).

An hour later you offered to have some pizza at your place. He agreed and you drove there in your car and after arriving you ordered pizza.

"Whiskey ?" you asked heading to the kitchen.

"Do you have anything else?" Joel asked waiting for you to get the drinks.

"Nope", you replied with a smile and he laughed.

You got two glasses and the bottle and sat on the couch. The evening was going great. You smoked cigarettes, ate pizza, and talked a lot. He told you that he was happy about his job, and thanked your for helping him and Tommy.

You were always amazed to see how the two of you talked so easily. Over time,with practice you learned how to keep a conversation going with anyone, though you could never feel at ease with other people. But you are surprisingly comfortable with Joel where usually you take a long time to feel close to someone, confident. You wondered if it was related to the fact that he was Tommy's brother.

Joel was also comfortable, contradicting Tommy`s words who had always described him as a bear spending more time grumbling than communicating, staying away from people, avoiding relationships because the only important thing to him was Sarah.

You reached for your glass and at that moment he also leaned over to the coffee table to grab his. Your hands brushed each other’s, electricity filled the air between you and suddenly, all your resolutions went up in smoke.

Until then, there hadn’t been any inappropriate gestures. No brushing. No allusion.

You were closer than you had ever been, that moment seemed like an eternity. You heared a voice in your head telling you to step back, to sit back and cool off.

Joel. Your best friend's brother. Who you work with. Your relationship with Stefan has that just ended.

But you’d never been able to resist temptation. Moreover, you DIDN’T want to resist it. You loved the feelings that ignited. The tension. Quite the opposite of your professional attitude, or what you showed to those around you. You loved the passion that was filling your lungs, and at that very moment you felt it burning in the pit of your stomach.

After this moment, which actually lasted only a fraction of a second, your gaze that was previously fixed on your hands and glasses rose to Joel, whose eyes were fixed on you. As they had never been before.

Your gaze slid to his lips and back to his eyes. He was looking at you and then at your lips as well. You wanted to say something but could’t find any words. Your eyes fell again to his luscious lips, you couldn’t help it. You swallowed and the voice in your head disappeared.

You didn’t know if it's the fault of the alcohol drunk in the pub and at home, but you kissed him. Shyly. You stepped back and bit your lip, unable to cope with his gaze, while your mind was once again bombarded with dozens of questions.

Time froze for a moment before he took your cheeks in his hands and kissed you back. Gently. You put your hands on his and kissed him back. Less shyly that time. You broke the kiss.

You looked at each other, your breaths intensifying. He took your hand and said "come closer" You stood up, your eyes were hooked on each other.

"Sit at the back of the couch", you told him. He settled as you asked him, and you straddled him.

He put his hands on your hips and looked at your lips waiting for your next move. You leaned towards him and caressed his cheek, gently. Then you kissed him again.

You couldn’t resist pressing your crotch against his, and you moaned as you were devouring each other. Feeling his bulge you could already feel that he had a big cock.

You finally backed down, got up and took off your top and pants, keeping your bra and panties.

"Take off your clothes," you told him quietly. You watched him take off his t-shirt. He got up and took off his pants, leaving only his boxers.

"Let’s go upstairs" you told him leading the way. He followed you and grabed your wrist while you were still on the stairs.

You turned to him and he pinned you against the wall. "Reason will wait", you told yourself.

He pressed his torso against your breasts, his hands roaming your cheeks, your breasts, your hips. His tongue entered your mouth and mingled with yours. Your tongues crossed and searched each other more and more avidly.

His hand came to rest against your crotch, still covered with your panties. You knew you were already soaked. You had been since making out on the couch. And you had been dripping since he grabbed your wrist as you were climbing the steps.

"Damn sweetheart… you’re fucking soaked."

You moaned when you heard his words.

He ran his middle finger over your slit. Pressed a little more firmly on your clit. It made your already soaked panties even wetter. He said in your ear, in a very low voice:

"I'm gonna eat your pussy baby. I'm gonna make you come on my fingers and on my cock. And I'm sure no one has ever made you come like that. Especially not that jerk that hadn‘t been able to make you stay with him."

Fuck… It seemed like you weren’t the only one with a dark side noone knew about.

"Take me to your bedroom", he ordered. He let go of your hand and followed you up the stairs. You felt his gaze on your ass. Once in your bedroom you turned back to him.

"Take off your bra" You did as he said.

"Wow... Your breasts are beautiful."

You couldn’t help but imagine what he had in mind at that moment, what he didn’t say, but his leer was revealing. Joel was imagining jerking off with them, or cumming on them. Or both.

He approached you and kissed you again, hands on your cheeks. The change in his attitude (sweet, animalistic, sweet again) made your head spin. You caressed his arms, his shoulders, his back. Your touch lingered on every muscle you were feeling under your fingers.

You took his hand and led him to your bed where you settled on your back, your head resting on the pillow.

He lied down next to you and kissed you. His hand went down to your breasts. He kissed your neck, your collarbone and went down to your breast which he took in his mouth hungrily.

After a few seconds he crawled down again until his face was facing your crotch. He removed your panties.

He stared at you, and it was a far cry from the look you had seen when you had first met each other at Alexandro's a few weeks ago. His warm smile turned carnal. The dominant side had taken over and you felt your pussy tighten.

He looked at your soaked pussy and ran his index finger between your lips. He used your wetness to rub your clit and spat on it.

Not that you needed it. But it electrified you.

"You like that baby girl ?"

"Yeah… fuck… yeah"

"You’re naughty aren’t you ? You need a real man who can put you in your place. You came across the right person."

He inserted two fingers into your pussy and spat on your clit again. You moaned.

He pulled his fingers out and ran his tongue over your pussy, from the hole to the clit. Flat.

"You're so fucking wet."

He stared at you. Your eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

"Look at me. Look at me when I’m eating your pussy"

You dropped down your gaze to keep the eye contact.

"You taste so good on my tongue baby"

He slid his tongue in your dripping hole and began fucking you with it. His thumb rubbing your clit. Your moans grew louder and louder.

He pushed his index and middle fingers into your pussy and sucked your bundle of nerves.

"Already gonna come sweetheart? I feel you squeezing my fingers"

"Joel... I... Yes... I'm gonna come"

"Cum on my fucking fingers. Give me your juice"

You exploded on his fingers and in his mouth.

His embrace didn’t not loose, he licked you to the last drop, until all your wetness was on his tongue.

"Joel wait.... It's too much"

"It’s not. You’re gonna give me another one, right now"

He pulled back and droped his saliva on your pussy.

"Oh god…"

He grined, hearing you. He spread your folds with his fingers and looked at the mess he created.

"Fuck baby…. You have no idea what I'm gonna do to you. You’ll become my little slut. You have that in you. I wasn't sure when I noticed it at first, but we're going to have a lot of fun you and me," he said looking at you with dark hungry eyes.

His confidence drove you crazy. How could he have this certainty so quickly? Did he see what was lurking deep inside you? That no one had ever seen?

While your thoughts were swarming, he breathed in your scent and stuck his tongue into your pussy and his ring finger went down to your ass. Wet from your juice that flowed to it. He pressed on your tight ring of muscle.

"The fuck… Joel ?!"

"Don't tell me you don't like it. Not a dirty girl like you. I know what you want. Don't worry, I'll give you everything." You moaned and squirmed again

"Come again baby. Give it to me"

You gripped his hair with your hands and brought your pussy as close to his mouth as possible. He inserted the tip of his ring finger into your ass, his index and middle fingers in your pussy, and focused on your clit with his tongue until you exploded again.

"Fuck baby.... You're gonna drive me crazy. If I had fucked you like that when I was younger I would have cum in my boxers just hearing you moan like a slut."

He crawled up your naked body and kissed you. You felt your taste on his tongue and lips

"Like how you taste?" he asked breaking the kiss.

"Yes, so fucking hot," you replied with a breathy voice. He was pleased with your answer and quickly gave you another order.

"Get up and sit on the edge of the bed"

You did as he told, and found yourself facing his crotch, still covered in boxers. You saw the bulge and couldn’t hold back a choke. You glanced up at him.

" 's gonna be okay baby, you can do it," he said gently cupping your cheek. You swallowed your saliva, and tugged down his boxers. His cock sprang free.

"Fuck", you said, biting your lip.

"I know baby. I know"

You took it in your hand and droped saliva on the tip. You began jerking it off and then took it in your mouth. Just the tip, at the beginning. Time to get used to its girth. You swirled your tongue around the tip and heard him moan.

"You’re doing so well sweetheart." His hand was on the back of your head

Your mouth went down his member.

"Shit that’s so good baby."

You took it as deeper as you could. You felt his hips rolling towards you, he started fucking your mouth gently. Until his cock reached your throat. You gasped, but didn’t back down.

"Good girl" he mumbled getting greedy, impatient.

"Fuck you’re doing so good, taking me so well."

You pulled back until you got it out of your mouth and looked at it. A trickle of saliva connected your mouth to his cock.

"You are so beautiful baby. Can I fuck your mouth?" he asked, alternating between sweetness and animality that made you lose your mind.

You said ‘yes’ and took him in your mouth again letting him handle the movements. He put his hands on the sides of your head and sank into your mouth.

"Oh yeah"

He sank deeper and deeper at a slow pace until it hit the back of your throat. His fists clenched into your hair and he held you in place. You gasped

"Stay like that honey. Don't move" Then he released his grip. You backed up to catch your breath.

"Again" he commanded.

You took it back in your mouth and he put his hands back on the side of your head. He inserted itself slowly into your throat and held you there. He moved his hand down your neck, and squeezed it until he felt his cock through your skin.

"Fuck… You take me so well. You're such a whore" He pulled out of your mouth.

"I'm gonna fuck you now. Lie on your back"

He lied down between your thighs. He kissed you and pressed his tip against your entrance. He stoped there, teasing you. He inserted his tongue into your mouth, and you swirled yours around his. He pulled away to look at you.

"Open wide baby." You opened your mouth, he droped his saliva there and pushed his cock into you at the same time, up to half of it. He backed up and made another push, bottoming out.

"Oh fuck… Joel…. You’re so thick"

He set a slow and powerful rhythm.

"Yeah take it honey... Take it good"

Your head sank into your pillow, as you tilted it back. You felt your walls tighten against him.

"Yeah squeeze me like that, keep doing it"

You wraped your legs around his waist and followed his moves.

"You're doing well. You take me so well"

Meanwhile he kissed your lips, your jaw, your neck. He caresseed your cheeks. His gestures were gentle, the opposite of the power he was imposing on your pussy. You moaned and ran your hands over his arms, his shoulders.

"On all fours baby" You followed his command getting on your hands and knees. He sank into you and bottomed out

"Oh fuck", you exclaimed.

His hands clung to your hips and began pistoning into you. Your head was resting on the pillow as you suffered his cock strokes, that were going even deeper than before. He set an increasingly powerful pace, then spread your cheeks.

He spat his saliva on your asshole and put his thumb against it. You tightened against his finger.

"You like that baby?"

"Y… shit… Yeah i love that"

"Dirty girl."

He kept pounding you.

"Touch yourself baby. Come on my cock and on my thumb. Squeeze them while you come. Come on baby"

You brought your fingers to your clit and started rubbing it.

"Faster Joel. Please"

He picked up the pace, to the point that you started screaming.

"Oh yeah baby? Go ahead, scream. Show all your neighbors how well you get fucked by my big cock"

His words pushed you over the edge and you came hard, clutching his cock and his thumb. He continued to fuck you for a few minutes, at a frenzied pace, while you were weakened from your orgasm and its power. You heard his moans increasing, he pulled out and stood by the bed.

"On your knees, tongue out"

You watched him jerk off while he was devouring you with his eyes. He put his cock on your tongue and you felt the ropes of cum covering your tongue, your mouth and your throat. He was jerking off until his balls were emptied.

"Swallow." he told you and you did.

It was the first time you fucked. And you already knew you’d be under his spell. You just hoped he wouldn’t burn you in flames.

Part 2

********************** Thank you for reading 🙏 Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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vatyrie-avaris · 12 days

Text

OC background

tagged by @thetavolution and finally getting around to it lol

art by @darpart

B A S I C S

Full name: Vatyrie Viceroy Avaris

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Pronouns: He/Him

O T H E R

Family: -> Father: Orias Avaris -> Mother: Ishtar Glasyus Avaris -> Older Brother: Darius -> Older Sister: Bedelia

Birthplace: Demi-devil citystate of Azaroth just south of the Firesteap Mountains in the Shaaran Desert

Job: currently - Ranger/Sellsword; past - courtesan; noble

Phobias: Thalassophobia

Guilty pleasures: Indulging in an occasional smoke, preferably of an Infernal variety. Tobacco/drugs of that variety are difficult to come by outside of hell-influenced areas, so he saves what he finds for rare occasions. Also he loves good strong coffee.

Hobbies: Alchemy and herbalism, climbing and acrobatics, petty theft, music (listening mostly, playing/singing on rare occasions), archery

M O R A L S

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral, usually good leaning

Sins: Greed, so lots of theft and stinginess. Growing up a noble made him very haughty and manipulative, but that has toned down now. He is still cocky and sarcastic. Disingenuous and distrusting due to past trauma. Oh, also murder.

Virtues: He is protective and encouraging of those few he does get close to. He is witty, charming, and playful at his best, and his skills make him insightful, meticulous (when he can focus), and discreet.

T H I S O R T H A T

Introvert / Extrovert

Organized / Disorganized

Close-minded / Open-minded

Calm / Anxious / Restless

Disagreeable / Agreeable / In between

Cautious / Reckless / In between

Patient / Impatient / In between

Outspoken / Reserved / In between

Leader / Follower / Flexible

Empathetic / Unempathetic / In between

Optimist / Pessimist / Realist

Traditional / Modern / In between

Hard-working / Lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

OTP: Vatyrie/Astarion. Playing through bg3, I was shocked at how well their stories foil each other. Both have a core desire for freedom and want to be loved/cared for but fear suffering for it. I could go on all day with the two of them

Acceptable Ships: I think he could bond well with Wyll as well, if Wyll was willing (or wylling) to put in the work to build his trust and show him the benefits of selfless heroicness. Other people's OCs are also cool with me, if you think he's a good match!

Brotp: -> Karlach reminds him of his sister and once they get close, they get along like a house on fire (a bit too apt of a metaphor lol). -> He also loves gossiping with Shadowheart, and appreciates her private yet sometimes goofy nature. -> And of course, Astarion is a best friend who he finds fun, relatable, and talented.

Notp: He might not work in a relationship with everyone (very few actually) but he could comfortably have a sexual relationship with just about anyone. At heart, he is a very tactile and affectionate person, and sex is more of a hobby/fun pass-time to him (love making/emotional intimacy is more sacred to him). Only thing I can think would be The Emperor, because there is so much suspicion and distrust and anger at the manipulation and of being someone's tool again.

Tagging: @soundofcomets, @mellybaggins, @foxtrickster13 If yall would like to do so (no pressure of course)

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tanoraqui · 10 months

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☔ for the ask game? (idea you're not sure you'll write, if the emoji doesn't come through)

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

I kind of dropped out of the MDZS fandom like a rock after finishing my novel-length longfic, and the fic I most regret leaving unwritten is a bullet-point au in which Jiang Fengmian just cannot find his friends' lost son, he gives up, so Wei Wuxian grows up entirely on the streets, scrounging his way to enough cultivation education to invent demonic cultivation (because that's still the kind of person he is), and JFM assuages his conscience a little by inviting a different random clever basically-an-urchin - Meng Yao - into Jiang Sect.

Highlights include:

Meng Yao: wow the obvious fault lines in this family make everyone so easy to manipulate- wait, am I being offered real affection and trust? That's...fine.

Meng Yao trying desperately to hide his background, but he goes to visit his mother when she's ill. Jiang Cheng follows him, because Meng Yao is his best (only) friend, and Jiang Yanli follows Jiang Cheng to make sure he doesn't get in trouble, and then (JYL steps on JC's foot to stop him from saying the first thing that comes to mind) they both react with compassion and sympathy rather than scorn to Meng Shi and her profession. Meng Yao experiences several more Real Emotions.

Teen rogue cultivator Wei Wuxian just kinda. invites himself. to Lan Summer School, on the strength of Cangse Sanren's name. JFM is delighted when he hears, encourages JC to befriend him (Meng Yao: [jealous cat hisses]) and would have invited him home at the end of the summer...if WWX didn't get himself expelled halfway through for punching Jin Zixuan's smug face.

He also crashes Terrible Wen Summer Camp. Gets stuck in a cave with Lan Wangji, etc.

Wei Wuxian has kinda been a Batman-esque vigilante in Yiling (moody, dramatic, clad in black, fights ghosts and also bad guys). When the Wens move in, he shifts to being a more actively anti-authoritarian Batman-esque vigilante. Wen Qing is annoyed. Wen Ning is enamored.

The Wens attack Lotus Pier, because they were always going to attack Lotus Pier next. Jiang Cheng does get his golden core torn out. Wen Ning rescues him, because Wen Ning is always a hero even if Wei Wuxian isn't immediately present. Meng Yao decides it's time to do what he does best...so he promised Jiang Cheng that he'll be back, then goes to the Nightless City and says, "oh golly gee, I, second disciple of Jiang Sect, am so defeated and humbled by the mighty Wen! Can I please join, oh magnificent masters?"

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian has rescued Lan Xichen (this is gonna get him so many bonus points with his sexy law-abiding nemesis LWJ) , and then gotten himself thrown into the Burial Mounds for snarking at Wen Chao...which is a lot like throwing Brer Rabbit into the briar patch

Sunshot Campaign! With no golden core, JC can't really rebuild Jiang Sect, but he gets reliable intel from a man on the inside and he humbles himself enough to ask Wei Wuxian for tutelage in talismans, and of course you'd literally need to tie him up to keep him from going out and kicking ass.

Wei Wuxian is peak Yiling Patriarch because it's the right thing to do. (LWJ: Come back to Gusu with me (so I can aggressive cleanse your spirit, then maybe dick you down so hard that neither of us can movie for a week))

AFTER THE WAR: Jin Guangshan dramatically recognizes war hero/Wen Ruohan-slayer Meng Yao as Jin Guangyao, his son and new sect member... and Meng Yao, having grown up with the absolute Ride Or Die nature of Jiang Sect, and with more intimate knowledge (via JYL's engagement and YZY's friendship with Madame Jin) of how much JGS sucks, says, "Thanks but no thanks, I will be staying with my sworn brother and sect leader Jiang Wanyin to rebuild Jiang Sect."

It's just about his ambitions, okay! He'll FUNCTIONALLY be Sect Leader; Jiang Cheng literally doesn't have a golden core! (Though he's still absolutely first-rate in swordwork and his talismans are fucking superb. The thing about Jiang Cheng is that he will rise to the occasion, always.) Also, that 'sworn brother' thing was not agreed upon in advance; Meng Yao totally publicly backed him into that corner - in which he didn't mind being. Jiang Cheng is pretty damn sure he's getting the better of this deal, and he's kinda right.

Between JC's prestigious name and insane levels of personal dedication, MY's people skills and equally insane (but slightly more calculated) levels of personal dedication, and JYL securing a very favorable loan from Madame Jin, they hella get Jiang Sect back on its feet.

Meanwhile, WWX has again refused to go with LWJ to learn "proper" cultivation or anything else...and JGS is seeking power, and abusing Wen prisoners of war...

Wen Qing comes to Lotus Pier, finds Meng Yao, and says, "Please help save my brother. We helped save yours. You owe us this much." Meng Yao, being Meng Yao, thinks, I do rather owe here, but this is politically delicate... Who can I foist this off on whom I don't mind seeing torn apart by every righteous sect... and forwards her to Wei Wuxian.

Who does his righteous Wei Wuxian thing

There's a big dramatic meeting of sect leaders & etc about this, in which JGS beats his war drums, etc. etc. Meng Yao feels slightly bad but not, like, that bad. Wei Wuxian tried to steal his brother when they were teenagers, and again while MY was away during the Sunshot Campaign, so he probably deserves to die.

Afterwards, JYL with her unerring Older Sister senses pulls MY (and JC) aside and hisses, "A-Yao, what did you do?"

Do they end up saving the day? Is Wei Wuxian just destined to doom himself with his particular combination of pride, self-neglect, and blithe refusal to play by everyone else's rules? I never actually decided!

#ask meme #my fic #mdzs #jin guangyao #meng yao #wei wuxian #the untamed

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silentcrowsilentravens · 2 years

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Guess who got carried away again? Some alternative versions of this post and this post with happier endings.

Alcina Dimitrescu, Donna Beneviento, Bela Dimitrescu, Cassandra Dimitrescu, Elena Lupu, and Daniela Dimitrescu's s/o surviving a near-death experience.

(Gender neutral).

Warnings: blood, gore, murder.

Masterlists here!

Alcina Dimitrescu

Alcina’s pen stills.

Hurried footfalls are growing closer to her office. If they were accompanied by other sounds—such as laughter, buzzing, and begging or screaming—she would not fret, for that would simply mean her daughters have decided to play with some unfortunate maid. However, since they are not, Alcina knows it more than likely means something is awry.

There are rapid knocks at the door.

“You may enter,” she says straight away.

A maid stumbles into the room, dipping into a bow that nearly sends her to the floor in her rush. Considering how much of a skittish little thing she is, she’s lasted a surprisingly long time. Mostly thanks to your doing. You took a liking to her not long after you first started staying in the castle.

“L-lady Dimitrescu, your partner has been injured!”

In an instant, Alcina loses her composure. “What?” She’s on her feet and the maid is flinching at the tone of her voice. “What happened?”

“I’m not certain, Lady Bela did not give any details before sending me to inform you.”

“Lead me to them.”

It takes about ten seconds for Alcina to grow impatient with the maid’s inability to move faster, pick her up by the back of her top, and have her point the way.

“It’s that room, my Lady.”

Alcina deposits her onto a chair. “Return to your duties.” Then, she pushes open the door and ducks under the frame. Four sets of eyes briefly flit to her.

You’re laying on one of the guest beds as motionless as a corpse, all three of the daughters and the Grand Chambermaid surrounding you.

The coppery scent of your blood is saturating the entire room.

Daniela and the Grand Chambermaid are trying to clean you up. There’s a steadily growing pile of red-stained towels on the floor.

Your skin is littered with claw and bite marks, some of which have left a deep enough crater to expose the white of your bones. Bela is dressing the shallow ones and Cassandra is trying to close up the rest.

“What happened?” Alcina asks a second time, tone steady but words now so quiet that they barely reach anyone’s ears.

Bela is the one who speaks. “It was a Lycan.”

"It’s not looking good, Mother,” Cassandra tells her.

Alcina…

She’s angry. If there’s any way to find the very same foul beast that did this to you, she will. She’ll skewer it and have it dumped off at the doorstep of her little brother’s eyesore of a factory.

She’s terribly worried for you. She is going to do everything in her power to make sure you don’t die. So, with that, she swallows down her emotions the best she can and starts to aid in the process of patching you up.

You remain unresponsive for the rest of the day.

As well as the day after that.

Time passes. Your heart is still beating, but not as strong as it ought to be. You are not getting better.

It has been a long, long time since Alcina has been bothered by the sight of someone so very close to death. She had been only ten years old then, watching her mătuşă be claimed by her blood disease. She suffered in the end.

Alcina had been closer to that woman than her own parents. Those final moments had stuck with her for a long time, like a ghost with its earthly chains affixed to her wrists.

When she found herself with that very same disease many years later, it had upended Alcina’s life. The ghost rose back up out of the dirt and placed its hand on her shoulder as if it were an old friend.

Alcina has never considered herself a woman that scares easily, but the realization had rattled her to her core. Swathed in her own fear and desperation, she turned to Miranda.

And Miranda had answered the unspoken pleas.

Although the Cadou didn’t fully negate the symptoms of Alcina’s porphyria, it relieved her of most of them. It is also largely responsible for giving her the life she is currently living.

Not long before this incident between you and the Lycan, Alcina had brought up you potentially becoming a Cadou host.

She wants to spend eternity with you.

She wants to see your eyes open again.

Raising the hand she holds in hers, Alcina presses a kiss against your bruised knuckles. “I will be gone for only a moment, dragostea mea.”

After releasing you and heading to the phone, Alcina lifts the handset and begins dialing a number.

A Cadou ends up being implanted in nearly the same place that Alcina’s had been. Miranda does not even bother to clean the blood from her hands before preparing to leave.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda.”

The priestess simply nods her head. “If the Cadou adjusts well, I expect you to bring them to the next meeting.”

You’ll be there… Alcina hopes you will, anyway.

All that’s left to do is wait.

You think what you might be hearing are voices. They’re familiar but too muffled and distant to place your finger on.

Are you truly awake? Truly conscious? It’s difficult to tell. You haven’t known for certain since you dragged yourself back home, leaving a trail of red behind you in the snow.

The guest room is dark. You think it’s a guest room, anyway. You open your mouth to speak but have no words prepared to say, nor do you know if anybody is around to even hear them.

There’s a dull ache throughout your body that’s nowhere near as bad as expected.

“You’re awake! Took you long enough!” Wide golden eyes fill your vision.

You shriek, which then causes you to start coughing.

“Daniela!” Bela scolds. A glass of water is held out in front of you.

“Sorry…” Daniela grins sheepishly and swarms to a different spot. “I got excited.”

“We can tell.” Cassandra plops herself onto the edge of the mattress “So, who wants to go tell M—”

The door clicks shut. Bela is gone.

“Nevermind then. Foolish of me to even try and ask.” Cassandra rolls her eyes and turns towards you. “Mother was starting to think that she would have to have a coffin built for you, you know. Dani’s right. You took a long time to come back to us.” She isn’t great at openly displaying many emotions (aside from sadistic glee and anger), but you know the middle daughter well enough to tell that she was worried for you.

“...I did?” You set down the water. Although you hadn’t intentionally gone out and gotten yourself mauled, you can’t help but feel sort of bad for the concern you must have caused.

Daniela, who has already migrated back into your personal space, nods her head. “Longer than we did!”

That comparison… it strikes you as a very specific one to make in this situation. Is the connection you’re drawing just a wild assumption?

“Wait. Did I… Am I—?”

Another nod. An almost aggressive one, you might add. “Mother Miranda had to come down. You’re like us now! Sort of. You didn’t turn into bugs. But wouldn’t that have been great?!”

…You have a Cadou now? Well, the mystery of your strange lack of pain is solved. You suppose you’re lucky you agreed to become a host before promptly getting horrifically injured. It probably saved you.

“Congratulations.” Cassandra plays with the hem of one of her gloves. “You’re stuck with all of us forever now.”

“I wouldn’t have things any other way,” you say sincerely, trying to sit up a bit more properly. “Come here.”

As you hold both girls close to you, you hear the door open. Bela hovers in the entryway for about two seconds before dissolving into her swarm and coalescing in your arms.

“Dragostea mea?”

“Alci.” You smile up at the countess as she enters. It’s a sight that she’s relieved she gets to see again without looking at the family portrait, or flipping through loose sketches she’s done. For a moment, she simply admires it.

Alcina’s large hands cup your cheeks. She bends down and presses a kiss upon your forehead. “I’ve missed you terribly.”

She will never allow you to leave the castle unaccompanied again. Whether it be by her, Cassandra, Bela, Daniela, or a weapon adequate enough to strike down any foolish human or beast that dares to threaten you.

Donna Beneviento

Donna staggers around the corner, leaning heavily on the wall for support. She hardly feels like she’s piloting her own body anymore. How ironic it is to feel as though the only thing keeping her on her feet are strings and somebody else’s doing.

Angie is talking. Not out loud, but Donna can hear her in her head. None of it is clear. It’s as if it’s being muffled by six feet of dirt, which carries an implication that Donna isn’t enjoying.

Angie is starting to squirm in her hold. Spindly fingers are prying at Donna’s hand and tugging at the fabric of her sleeve with an urgency that’s unusual for her, wooden legs are kicking, but Donna’s hardly registering that, either.

Winters is coming, shears in hand and determination in his eyes.

And you…

You aren’t far behind.

Donna had told you to stay hidden. When she and Angie had returned from the Lord’s meeting earlier in the day, she seemed very detached.

You frowned in concern. “Everything okay?”

Donna absently placed a yellow flask down. “Yes.”

Later, you stood with her and Angie by the window with the best view of Castle Dimitrescu (which is still a rather poor one). Even from such a distance, you could see a dark shape in the sky near its spires.

“What is that?”

Angie tilted her head. “A big bird?”

“A really, really big bird?” you questioned incredulously.

“What? This village is literally run by one. And I don’t see you coming up with anything!”

“... Maybe Lady Dimitrescu’s Samce have started getting larger?”

Donna’s hand found the one you left dangling by your side, fingers slotting easily in between yours. You turned your head towards her, finding her gaze still locked on whatever was going on past the glass.

“We might have a visitor soon.”

That visitor? Ethan Winters? He is, against all odds, getting dangerously close to killing one of the village’s Lords and her obstreperous doll.

Donna had kissed you, she pulled quickly away despite clearly wanting to let her touch linger and told you to stay hidden.

But if there's one thing you know, it's that you aren't going to be the last Beneviento. Not if you can help it.

You follow the gory trail of breadcrumbs Donna's left behind, which ends with a bloody handprint on the floor beside Angie and Ethan.

You can’t see her, but you know Donna is there.

Pinprick eyes find yours. Briefly, Angie stops fighting against Ethan's grip on her face, her jaw dropping open with an audible clack. You aren’t entirely sure how to interpret that and you half expect her to give you away, but she doesn’t.

Blame Donna’s reduced field of vision, her veil, or her current tunnel focus, but she doesn’t notice you approaching.

That is, until you’re plunging a pair of shears—not unlike Ethan’s—straight into his back. Perhaps you can consider yourself somewhat ill-prepared for this, but it’s not as if you had any time to change that. Not when the love of your life has been painting the manor red for far too much of this encounter.

“Agh!”

In an instant, Ethan wheels around and turns his attention to you. Away from Donna. Away from Angie. Towards you.

It all seems to go down in an instant.

New valleys are being carved into your flesh, blood spilling forth.

You’re stabbing and stabbing and, to the best of your ability, trying to dodge his swipes and ignore the pain of those you can’t.

This man… He is supposed to be just a man, right? No normal human should still be standing with the amount of damage you’re doing. You’re receiving far less and you’re already becoming unsteady on your feet.

Faster than Donna can properly process, you’re collapsing to the floor. You try to push yourself back up, only for your elbows to buckle beneath you.

The fear, the panic that instantly consumes Donna is like an unexpected dip into frigid waters. It practically locks her in place.

In one last futile attempt to cause injury, you sink the shears straight into one of Ethan’s feet. You can’t reach much else from your position. He cries out and pulls his foot away.

“Get out of our home,” you tell him, voice weak. You drag yourself forward, determined to put another hole in his foot. “Get away from them…”

Ethan only stares down at you, breathing hard and looking vaguely confused.

A key skids across the floor and stops between the both of you.

A pedestal rises up out of the floor beside the entryway, the yellow flask sitting on its surface.

Mother Miranda had instructed Donna to guard her flask with her life. It’s important.

But you…

You are more important to Donna than any instructions from Miranda. She isn’t going to guard anything at the cost of your life. Not when you mean everything to her. Still cloaked in one of her illusions, Donna sends Angie off and begins making her way over to you.

Ethan picks up the key, grabs the flask, and hastily limps out of the house.

Strong hands gently turn you over so that you’re lying on your back. Donna is there. “What were you thinking?” she demands, ripping her veil off and using it to apply pressure to the worst of your wounds.

You’re going to be okay, she tells herself. Angie will be back soon. You’ll be patched up. You’ll survive this. You have to. Donna can’t even handle entertaining the idea of the alternative.

“You’re hurt,” you breathe out, eyebrows knitting together with worry. Your tremulous hand reaches up to cup Donna's cheek. “He was hurting you… Going to kill you… Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine, cuore mio. Don’t worry about me.”

Truly, you are unbelievable. Donna is irrevocably in love with a fool. Yes, she is hurt too, but you are the greater priority here now!

You’re trying to keep your eyes open. You’re trying as hard as you can. Donna is pleading for you to do so.

But...

You can’t help it. Your world ends up enveloped in darkness, dragging you into nothingness.

Donna chokes out a sob. “No… Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me. I love you so much. Please. Wake up…”

A small groan cuts through the dead silence in the bedroom you and Donna share.

What happened?

You try to lift your aching arms and rub your eyes, but you can’t move one of them. It’s trapped.

You force yourself to get a look at your surroundings.

The space is darker than it had been when you were last in it. How much time has passed?

You look to your right. Donna is seated in a wooden chair beside the bed, her head resting on her arms and the hand you couldn’t lift in her grasp.

“YOU’RE AWAKE!”

You jolt.

Angie clambers onto the bed and immediately starts jumping up and down. She doesn’t weigh enough to rock it more than a tiny bit, but she’s certainly trying.

“Um, Angie—”

She screeches Donna’s name over and over, drowning out your words.

Donna stirs. Of course she does. If Angie doesn’t want you to sleep, you aren’t going to. You know that well enough. When Donna lifts her head and her eye finds your face, she looks so relieved that her eye is shining.

“Hey,” you greet hoarsely.

Donna squeezes your hand and the dam breaks.

“Come here. Don’t let me hog the bed when there’s more than enough room for you.”

The mattress dips slightly under Donna’s weight. You drape an arm around her shoulders and gently pull her into your chest. In return, Donna embraces you, careful not to aggravate either of your injuries. You can feel her tightly clenching the fabric of your top.

"Please never do anything like that again.” The words are whispered and shaky, lined with the remnants of a fear that thankfully didn’t come to pass. “There was so much blood… I thought y-you were going to—and I wouldn’t be a-able to—”

“But that didn’t happen. I’m still here. With you. And Angie.” For a moment, you’re dangerously close to completely breaking down. Just like you had been when debating whether or not to come out of hiding with a weapon, struggling with stomaching the possibilities of what might’ve been happening down below, of how the fight might end despite the hope you were still desperately clinging to. Like before, you manage to swallow down most of the emotions threatening to rise up your throat like bile. For now, anyway. “We’re all here…”

“Still! Scare us like that a second time and I’ll kill you!”

Despite everything, you can’t help but huff out the barest bones of a laugh. “That… seems a little counterproductive.”

A tiny wooden fist collides with an unscathed part of your shoulder. “You know what I meant, you stupid idiot!”

Donna sighs. “Angie…”

Acting as if she hadn’t heard her at all, Angie continues on. You only tug the doll over, holding her close as well.

You don't exactly know what’s going to happen with Miranda’s ceremony… whatever it was. You don’t know what the future holds, but when do you ever? For now, you’re just going to enjoy Donna and Angie’s presence.

Bela Dimitrescu

There’s an unusually strong chill in the castle. Not throughout all of it—it hits you almost abruptly when you step into a particular corridor.

Once you hear the whistling of wind, you increase your pace. Did someone open a window?

A couple of loud bangs rip through the open air.

You pause briefly, heart skipping a beat. One thought enters your mind: gunshots.

“You’ll suffer for this!” And that voice, shaky, breathless, and lined with desperation… It sounds so unlike Bela, but you know it’s her. You break into a sprint.

“Ugh… not like this…” Bela staggers, struggling to keep herself on her feet. Her body doesn’t want to cooperate.

The cold burns. Everything burns.

Her limbs don’t want to bend. There’s resistance to every movement she tries to make, causing her swings to be infuriatingly slow and clumsy. She keeps missing.

The stupid man-thing doesn’t seem to be running out of bullets.

With another pull of that damned trigger, excruciating pain flares throughout Bela’s knee. It immediately buckles beneath her.

The man-thing’s mouth curves up into a smirk as he reloads his gun. Bela wants nothing more than to cut his lips straight off his obnoxious face. If only she could get off the damn floor! Even crawling is proving to be ridiculously difficult!

Something moves in Bela’s peripheral. Has a member of the maid staff happened across the scene? Her mother? One of her sisters?

Her gaze meets yours.

“Oof—!”

The man-thing’s weapon slips from his grasp as you ram into him with all of your might, nearly toppling him over.

The two of you grapple with one another. Eventually, he manages to slam you against the grilles. It pops out of the window’s frame and lands somewhere outside. Your upper body is leaning outside.

Bela is still struggling to get up, to crawl, to do anything that will get her over to you and the man-thing. Finally, she manages to rise to her feet.

After only a couple of steps, her leg snaps beneath her and crumbles, sending her crashing back down.

You’re being pushed out the window. You’re leaning so far back that your feet aren’t touching the floor anymore. In a moment of panic, you instinctively try to anchor yourself to something—which happens to be the man-thing’s shirt. He starts to fall with you. Panic shoots through Bela like lightning.

“No!”

She manages to sink the blade of her sickle straight into his calf.

He cries out.

With the utter lack of traction on the wooden floor, the weight of you and the man-thing pulls Bela forward. She uses her free arm to push against the wall beside the window and stop herself, to stop you from plummeting.

It works. It worked.

Blood is rushing to your head.

The man-thing’s face is hovering above yours, expression pained and fearful. Bela’s weapon is slowly cutting its way through his leg. He’s trying to make you let go, but you’re holding on with all of your strength.

Bela starts pulling, hoping that her arms don’t break like her leg did.

You hook your legs onto the window sill once you’re able to.

With a harsh yank on the back of the man-thing’s overalls, you land back inside the room right on top of him.

There’s a moment of near stillness. All three of you are breathing hard, harsh winter winds whipping clothes and hair around.

Then, as if a switch was flipped, the man-thing shoves you off and scrabbles to grab his gun.

Bela pushes herself away from the wall and drives her sickle straight into the back of his skull. The sound he makes is horrendous. “I am sick and tired of fighting you. This ends now.” She tugs her weapon free and strikes again.

And again…

Until, finally, the man-thing goes completely unresponsive. Bela becomes just about as still as him.

You swallow. “Bela?” Picking up what remains of her leg, you hastily make your way over to her. “Bela…?” You hesitantly place a hand on her shoulder. She leans into the touch and turns her head towards you.

“...Don’t you ever think about scaring me like that again. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“I was worried about the same thing.” You pull one of her arms across your shoulders and try to help her stand. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

“Mother isn’t going to be pleased when she sees the mess…” she mutters.

“I think the Lady will be less pleased when she sees what’s happened to you.”

Cassandra Dimitrescu

At some point during the night, the covers have migrated halfway onto the floor. They’re out of Cassandra’s reach. Unless she were to shift her position, of course. She won’t. Your body heat is more than making up for their absence.

Sleep is so close yet so far away. Cassandra closes her eyes again to try and draw it in more.

A faint crash sounds from outside the room, cutting her attempt short. If she had to place it, she’d say that one of Mother’s vases had just been shattered.

Somebody is wandering the corridors past curfew. An unwelcome man-thing, perhaps. Or a maid actively making a poor decision.

…It could be her family. But Mother and Bela carry themselves with too much grace to go around breaking things, and Daniela would have swarmed away from the scene of the crime by now…

“Hey. Wake up.” Cassandra places a hand on your shoulder and shakes you a bit. After a moment, you stir and just barely open your eyes. “I’m going to go check on something. Don’t leave this room.”

“M’kay,” you mumble out, already falling back asleep as Cassandra gets up and grabs her sickle, locking the bedroom door behind her as she leaves.

Just as she thought, a vase has been shattered. The perpetrator is nowhere in sight, though. That’s okay. After all, where’s the fun if there’s no hunt? No chase?

A figure slips around the corner, confident that they’re now going in the right direction. The room is close. They can feel it.

Their blood pumping, they feel for the weapon concealed inside their coat. Just to make sure it’s still there.

For so long… they’ve waited for this.

Shaky fingers graze the doorknob before trying to quietly turn it.

Locked. Nothing but a hitch.

Soon enough, the door creaks open.

You shift a little.

They pause, then continue on when you don’t move a second time.

Your sleep-addled brain doesn’t notice that the person entering most certainly did not use a key, that they’re purposefully being far quieter than Cassandra ever would while heading back to bed.

But then you roll over.

You can’t see well in the darkness, but you can see well enough to know that the dark shape before you most definitely does not match your partner.

You scream.

After a moment of pause, of shock at the sheer volume of your scream, one of the intruder’s arms swings down.

You jerk back across the mattress and tumble onto the floor.

“Cass!”

A knife slices open the pillow your head had previously been resting on.

“Cassie, I think I know why you wanted to check something!”

The intruder begins to round the bed to get to you.

“And they’re in here!”

You scramble across the sheets once more, grabbing the ruined pillow and smacking the intruder across the head as hard as you can. Of course, it doesn’t do a lot, but it gives you enough time to put some more distance between you, get out of the room, and slam the door shut.

An arm hooks around your waist and a hand clamps over your mouth, stifling any noise you might have made in surprise.

Cassandra wheels you around towards a stretch of wall beside the room, placing you down behind her.

The door opens.

She swings her sickle up, sinking its point through the bottom of the intruder's jaw as they try to leave.

A knife clatters to the floor.

They let out a sort of strangled gurgle and start falling backward, never quite reaching the floor because Cass has such a tight grip on the handle of her weapon.

Their hands fumble to get her to let go. She doesn't. She won't.

"You thought you were going to sneak in here and kill me while I was sleeping, am I right?” Cassandra joggles her sickle. “Am I? Don’t be shy, respond!”

The intruder makes more noise. It doesn’t sound remotely close to words of any sort. You’re sure it’s difficult to speak with something piercing through your jaw, tongue, and the roof of your mouth, though.

“Well. You were wrong. And you ended up making a far worse mistake. You’re finished.” Cassandra’s lips split into a wide grin, which briefly softens when she turns to look at you.

You’re a little shaken, you won’t lie. Who wouldn’t be?

…Cassandra would never tell you (or anyone, for that matter), but she is as well. Was. When she heard your initial shriek. She is more familiar than most with the blood-curdling scream of somebody facing imminent danger. She’s elicited it from many. Never before has the source’s fear seeped into her very core.

“Go back to bed. I’ll be right out here.”

Nobody gets to lay their unwanted hands on Cassandra’s partner. Nobody. She’ll cut them off without hesitation.

You nod your head and slowly push yourself off the wall, heading back into the room. Since you’re wide awake now, you don’t bother laying back down. Instead, you pick up the pillow, try to fix the covers a bit, and light a few candles as you wait for Cassandra to finish playing with her food.

“Have fun?” you ask when she crosses the threshold once more, covered in the intruder’s blood.

“Eh.” Cassandra twirls her sickle around a bit. “They were quite boring, actually.”

You’re quiet for a minute. “...Thank you, by the way.”

She waves dismissively and approaches you, hands finding your waist. “I told you that I wouldn’t let anyone touch you. I meant it.” She starts to lean in.

“Wait.” You hold your hand up, stopping Cassandra short. “...Wipe your face off first.”

She rolls her eyes but obliges.

Unfortunately, the thing she cleans herself up with happens to be the shoulder of the nightshirt you’re wearing.

“Cassie!”

“Hm?”

“Not on my clothes!”

“What? It's already stained anyway."

You look down and realize that Cassandra left red handprints on your waist.

Honestly, you aren’t sure why you’re even surprised at this point. You sigh. No point in worrying about getting something on you now. You tug Cassandra back towards you.

The next morning, you notice that Cassandra posted a new sign outside her room.

Written in what’s most definitely dried blood is “ENTER WITHOUT PERMISSION AND I’LL ADD YOURS”. There’s an arrow drawn below it and a severed human hand nailed to the board.

Elena Lupu

If someone threatened to end your life unless you provided them with the details of how you got this far, you aren’t particularly confident if you’d be able to do it. The past twenty minutes have been a blur. You’ve been fueled by nothing by adrenaline and pure determination to see Elena again.

You lost your gun, which was your only weapon.

You’re practically dragging your left leg behind you because there’s an arrow sticking through it.

Your flesh is littered with scrapes, freshly forming bruises, and cuts of varying severity.

You’re so close to Luiza’s house. To safety. Only one more barrier stands before you: the damn gate.

You’re pounding your fists against it, desperate to get the attention of someone inside but also not draw over the monsters.

Nobody’s answering.

You don’t want to die out here. Especially after how hard you fought to make it back to this point.

Elena, still inside the hut beside the gate with Leonardo, can hear you.

She doesn’t know it’s you yet, though. All she knows is that someone—something, perhaps, is right outside.

“Stay,” Leonardo says. “It’s probably just one of those beasts.”

“Luiza?” your desperate voice only just reaches Elena. “Please answer. Somebody. Anybody…”

“That-that’s⁠—” Elena swallows and tries her best to collect herself. “I’ll be careful, Father.”

Leonardo’s disapproval goes ignored as Elena quietly makes her way over to the door. She opens it just a crack.

Although she was already certain she heard you, seeing your face and truly confirming it is a whole other thing. You turn your head when Elena calls your name.

“Ellie…” You limp your way over to the hut and Elena pulls you inside, swiftly shutting the door. You’re happy to see her and Leonardo no worse for the wear, but it occurs to you that nobody opened the gate for them either. Did something happen to Luiza?

Elena grasps your shoulders, steadying you. “I… I-I thought—I thought you—”

“I didn’t, I’m here, okay?”

She nods her head, eyes slightly watery. You could cry, too. You want to.

The door flies open. You all jump nearly a foot in the air.

A blond man enters, gun in hand.

“Close the door! Please!”

He complies. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

You and Elena slowly back away from the stranger. Leonardo raises his machete as a warning.

“Whoa, it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you or anything. I’m just glad to see normal people at last. Have you seen any other survivors?”

“No, they’re all in Luiza’s house,” Elena answers. “And she’s not answering, and the gate is locked.”

“Quiet, girl! He’s an outsider!”

Somewhere not too far from where the four of you are hiding, one of the monsters roars.

“Shit, we’re sitting ducks in here.” The man eyes you and Leonardo. “Can either of you walk?”

“I can. Sort of.” You nod to Leonardo. “He can’t.”

“The monsters attacked them!” The volume of Elena’s voice gradually begins to rise. “They’re badly hurt—we have to get into Luiza’s house!”

“Shh… quiet! There must be a way inside. Stay here, don’t make any noise, and don’t move until I get those gates open.”

The man disappears out the window in the back of the hut. In only a matter of minutes, you hear, “C’mon—it’s clear!”

You and Elena share a slightly surprised (yet relieved) look.

Wasting no time, you clumsily push open the door of the hut. Elena pulls her father’s arm across her shoulders and helps him out.

“Took your damn time,” Leonardo remarks as he passes the threshold to safety.

“You’re welcome.”

Elena pushes the gate shut and you lock it.

“He’s not used to relying on other people. I’m sorry,” she tells the man.

Leonardo stumbles his way up the stairs and begins to pound on Luiza’s door, prompting Elena to follow after him.

“Hey,” the man stops you before you can do the same, “do you know anything about what’s going on around here?”

You can only shake your head. “It all happened out of nowhere. The monsters have come into the village before, but they usually only kill livestock! And I’ve never seen so many…”

Leonardo collapses to his knees. “Nobody’s answering!”

“Father!”

The man strides up to the door and knocks thrice. “Hello? Anybody home?”

“Let me try." You just barely manage your way up the steps. “Luiza, open up! Please!”

Finally, the door creaks open. The barrel of a gun pokes out and points straight between your eyes. You back up.

“Stop. Shouting.” Lulian steps out. “You’ll draw the monsters.”

“Calm down,” Elena says.

Either not hearing her or not caring, Lulian whips around and aims at the man instead. “Who’s this?”

“A friend—”

“Stay back!”

“For god’s sake, Lulian, just let us in.”

“No, no, they’ll smell the blood.” He waves his weapon in your and Leonardo’s direction. “You’ll endanger us all!”

Elena moves to stand protectively between the two of you and Lulian. “They’ll die out here!”

“That’s not my problem.”

“What’s going on?” Luiza. Thank god.

“These two want to let dying people into our home.”

“Come now. ‘These people’ are our friends.” She gestures for you, Elena, and Leonardo to enter.

Only four other villagers are occupying the den. Four. Anton, Sebastian, Roxana, and her husband (who you can’t remember the name of). He isn’t looking too well.

Elena guides her Father down into a chair and pulls out the only other one at the table for you. You have to sit about halfway off it to not aggravate the arrow wound.

The man enters with Luiza.

“What the fuck is this?” Anton throws a dirty look his way. “Outsiders? You’re going to get us all killed!”

“Quiet, Anton.”

Conversation (arguing, mostly) continues on, but at this point, you can barely focus on any of it. Everything hurts. You don’t even realize that someone has suggested you all pray until Luiza takes one of your hands. You offer your other to the man, who you now know to be named Ethan.

“Great ones, hear our voice, together as one in reverence. We call on thee within the endless dark to deliver us into fate’s hands. As the midnight moon rises on black wings, so we make our sacrifice and await the light at the end. In life and in death, we give glory, Mother Miranda.”

As you all release one another, Luiza takes Elena into the kitchen to help with tea.

Ethan mentions that he’s heard that prayer before. From an old woman near the graveyard.

“You mean the hag?” Leonardo asks. “Dumb bitch is crazy as a bag of rats.”

Luiza hands a cup of tea to Ethan. “There is wisdom in her devotion, though. And I hope it protected her as it shall protect us.”

Leonardo lets out a strange laugh and shakily rises to his feet.

“Hey,” you say, “maybe you shouldn’t—”

Suddenly, he collapses onto the tabletop, knocking over a lantern and setting the rug alight.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Ethan hauls you to your feet and away from the flames, which Anton begins to repeatedly stomp on. It isn’t dying out. Instead, it’s quickly growing bigger.

“Leonardo, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Something warm and wet splatters onto your face.

It’s...

It’s blood.

Luiza’s blood.

“Oh, god,” you whisper.

She’s shoved to the ground right in front of you, Leonardo’s machete having cleaved halfway through her torso.

“Oh my god!”

“Father!”

“Elena, no! Stay back!” Ethan pushes Elena into the corridor behind her despite her protests.

You watch Anton get his throat ripped out.

Then Sebastian.

The room is burning.

Everything is getting worse very, very fast.

Finally snapping out of it, you seize Roxana’s sleeve and try to pull her out of the room.

Leonardo yanks one of her feet out from under her. Your grip slips and she’s sent to the floor with a shriek, eyes wide and fearful. Before you can even try to help her up, he sinks his teeth into her neck as well.

“It’s too late, we have to go!” Ethan drags you away from her. “He’ll kill us all!”

Leonardo drops Roxana and begins shambling his way toward the two of you.

“Get behind me!” Ethan pulls out his gun and starts shooting. It hardly slows down Leonardo at all.

The next thing you know, he’s pinned to the floor beneath Leonardo and about to suffer a very similar fate to everyone else.

“Let him go!”

A shotgun blast sends what used to be Elena’s father onto his back. He begins to rise once more after only a few seconds.

“I said no!” Elena fires another round.

Leonardo falls back into the doorway.

Although you’re unsteady, you manage to help Ethan up.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Father…”

“Hey, hey.” Ethan places a hand on Elena’s shoulder. “That wasn’t your father anymore. You did the right thing.”

Burning pieces of the ceiling drop down and land upon Leonardo, who is still kicking.

“Elena, no, don’t!” You clumsily grab for her and miss as she tries to get closer to him, leaving Ethan to land the more successful attempt.

“There’s nothing you can do!”

“Father!” The cry is so raw, so desperate, you can feel your heart breaking apart.

Leonardo and you may not have seen eye to eye very often. Hell, for the first few months you knew him, he flat out didn’t like you. But you cared about him. You would risk your life for him the same way you would for Elena.

Watching him, watching almost everyone and everything you’ve ever known being destroyed right before your eyes?

“This entire place is collapsing!”

God, you don’t even know what to do with yourself! If you, Elena, and Ethan do manage to get out of here, where are you even going to go? No place is safe anymore! Mother Miranda has truly abandoned the village and you’re all doomed!

…No, no. You’re not doomed. Don’t even think that way. Worry about the next bridge when you have to cross it.

The three of you stumble into the garage. Ethan slams the door shut.

Elena starts to cry.

“You couldn’t save him. He was already gone,” he tells her.

“Don’t touch me…” She flinches away from him and stands closer to you.

“Listen. We need to get out of here. All three of us. I’ll find us a way, okay? Stay here.” And with that, he hurries off.

Elena pushes her face into the crook of your neck and continues to weep. You hesitantly lift your arms and wrap them around her, trying your best to not start doing the same.

The fire is moving fast and you have to keep inching the two of you further away from it.

Ethan rushes back in, coughing. He hops into the car and starts it up.

“...What are you thinking?” Elena asks.

“Both of you step back. We can bust out with this.”

Gas pedal to the floor, he rams the vehicle into the wall in front of him. Then, he repeats the action again. He manages to break through, but the vehicle begins to tip onto its side when he hits the second one.

“Ethan! Ethan! Are you alright?!”

Thankfully, it ends up tipping back the other way and all four of its wheels make contact with the ground.

“I-I’m fine. Let me back up again.”

“The fire—there isn’t any time!”

“...Okay. Nowhere to go but up, then.” Ethan crawls through the gap where the windshield used to be and stands on the hood of the car. “Grab on. Hurry!”

Once you and Elena are beside him, Ethan urges you to get moving up the half-broken staircase. Elena has to help you up the steps.

“Don’t worry, and try not to breathe in the smoke.”

“We know. Thank you, Ethan. You’re kind. I hope your family is safe.”

Coughing is growing more frequent between you all as you keep going.

“I do too. Once we get out of here, maybe you’ll get to meet them.”

Part of the attic has collapsed, forming a rickety ramp. Ethan’s foot sinks through the wood as he heads up, but he manages to recover. “Come on, it’ll hold.” You aren’t too sure about that, but you don’t exactly have many options, do you?

Ethan points to a window. “There! That’s our way out.”

“Thank god. But what then? The—” Elena abruptly cuts herself off. “Father?”

Leonardo staggers his way onto the ramp, charred beyond belief.

“Elena, no! That’s not him—not anymore!”

“Elena…” The walking corpse groans before falling to his knees.

“He said my name! Father!”

Despite attempts from you and Ethan to stop her, she runs down after him.

“Don’t!”

“Wait, it’s not safe!”

The wood begins to break beneath her. She manages to make it further down, but there’s now a huge gap that she cannot cross.

"Ellie! Grab my hand!" You rush yourself to the ledge above her and Leonardo and throw yourself onto your side, arm outstretched. “Ethan, help me! Please!” He grabs hold of you so that you can lean down further.

Elena hesitantly raises her arm, but not enough for her to reach you.

What little she has left to stand on begins to fall apart too. Leonardo slips through a gap and into the flames.

“Hurry!”

The floor gives away completely. She’s going to die! Fuck, she’s going to die, too! You can’t lose her. You can’t!

“Elena!” Just barely, you manage to grab her. With the wood gone beneath her and your hand slick with sweat, Elena’s wrist is beginning to slip out of your grasp. Before you can fully let go of the ledge and use both hands, she slips a little bit more. The flames catch her skirt. She yelps.

No, no!

Ethan pulls you up as fast as he can, and then the both of you tug Elena up.

“Roll!” Ethan urges Elena. “Start rolling!”

She manages to put herself out. A little more than half of her skirt has been scorched away to nothing on one side. Her leg is badly burned.

“I have some first aid med.” Ethan takes out a green bottle. “Just enough for one.”

“Use it on her,” you say without hesitation.

Elena says your name, disagreement on the tip of her tongue.

“I-I’ve made it this long without any treatment. I can go longer.”

You hold her close to you as Ethan does his best to quickly wrap up the wounds, which is all that can be done for now.

Time to get out through that window. After that? You’ll have to figure it out.

Daniela Dimitrescu

“I love you. So much,” Daniela murmurs against your lips, hands cradling your face.

“I love you too.” You give her another kiss, which she wastes no time in deepening.

Cassandra groans, “Ugh, you two make me sick.” Without warning, she grabs a fistful of her younger sister’s cloak and yanks. Daniela lets out a little yelp of surprise as she’s pulled away from you. Cassandra starts walking off, dragging her along. “I’d like to get started before sundown.”

“It’s not even noon yet,” Daniela whines.

“I know.”

Just before they both disappear around the corner, Daniela blows you a kiss. “Bye, darling!”

You give her a small wave and a see you later.

Hours pass by. You manage to get done some things you had been meaning to do, spend even longer doing nothing, and read a bit before deciding to get up and take a walk around the castle.

Aside from the occasional maid you encounter on your path, you’re all alone.

You come to a stop at one of the windows and gaze out of it. In your opinion, it has one of the best views of the village.

It’s a gorgeous day outside. The sun has finally chased away the last lingering chill of winter. You think about asking Daniela if she wants to go out later. Perhaps for a stroll. Or to simply sit and talk…

The floor creaks behind you.

You quickly turn your head, being greeted with a stone-faced member of the maid staff and the glint of a boning knife coming toward you.

You just barely catch the weapon by the blade before it can sink into your chest. Your hands quickly grow slick with blood from the cuts you’re now sporting.

The maid is pushing, pushing, and pushing for her weapon to make contact.

Finally, it does.

You drop down onto the floor and it only grazes the slope of your shoulder.

The maid wastes no time in trying to stab you again. It’s nothing personal. Not really.

You scramble away from her, get onto your feet, and run.

She chases after you. She’s going to get the revenge she wants. She’s going to make Lady Daniela hurt.

She’s fast.

Too fast.

She’s already catching back up to you!

You skid around a corner, narrowly missing a vase likely worth more than anything you’ve ever owned.

Another maid stands in front of you, broom in hand and eyes slightly wide as she stares at you in surprise and confusion.

“Hello, mind if I borrow this for a minute?” You snag the broom without waiting for an answer, swinging it with every ounce of strength in your body once your attacker steps back into your view.

You almost completely miss. The end of the handle only manages to clip her nose, making it bleed.

"...Oops."

It seems you've truly accomplished only one thing: pissing her off.

Before you can attempt to hit her again, start making tracks, or do anything but stand there, a shiny object sails past your head.

A sickle strikes the maid directly in one of her eyes. She falls back onto the floor, smacking her head. You watch a red puddle slowly start to form before turning to look behind you.

"...Dani?"

Her face lights up. "Hey. We're back early."

Cassandra moves to stand beside the maid whose broom you took. She seems to be utterly petrified. "What did you do to piss her off?"

"I-I didn't do anything! I was literally just standing and she snuck up on me!" you sputter out.

Daniela swarms over and pulls you into a tight hug, picking you up. "Don't worry, you're safe now." Her hold is leaning a tiny bit towards the bone-crushing side, but you feel comforted. And protected. "If anyone else dares to try anything," she looks pointedly at the maid on sweeping duty, "I'll kill them too."

Her eyes get even wider. You think they might pop out of her skull. "I wouldn't dream of it, my Lady."

"Good." Daniela begins to carry you away.

You hand the broom back. "...Here. Sorry, I got some blood on it."

Your partner hardly lets you out of her sight for the rest of the day.

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salternateunreality2 · 2 months

Note

Imagine Lucrecia had 2 sons. First with Vincent that she later gave away for adoption and second with Hojo.

She knew she f up with the second one, but maybe the first one can live a calm and uneventful life in Banora?

The Jones family adopted Baby Lucent. He was a smart, pale little kid that constantly stuck his nose into things he had no business snooping on. He found out about how the Rhapsodoses let their nanny hit their son, and how Genesis and Angeal were science experiments gone wrong. He saw the boys form a bond, playing together and sneaking over to see each other in the dead of night.

Lucent always wanted to join them, but was rarely able to see them during the day, when it would have been acceptable to talk to them. He was too quiet when he watched at night, and it would have been creepy to introduce himself then.

Lucent was his parents' only child, and grew up knowing he was adopted. They loved him and did their best, even when he'd materialize out of nowhere around the house like a ninja, starting from before he could crawl. Or when he'd just happen to know things that no one told him. He knew the mayor was sleeping with the butcher. He knew who his bio mom was and that she was a Shinra scientist. He knew the people who spied on him every few months were Turks. He guessed that either he was a Turk child or a lab experiment or both.

His mom and dad had longed for him so much, and they really did their homework in raising him. They paid careful attention to his emotional well-being, and encouraged and disciplined him to the very best of their ability. He loved them immensely, and they him.

So when he kept getting top marks at school, they didn't hesitate to put him in online and university classes, or to scrape together funds to support him when he went to Midgar to study. He was advanced enough that he got admitted early and went around the same time as Genesis and Angeal enlisted.

He worked hard, and by the time the Crisis Core era rolled around, he had a medical degree and employment with Shinra. More importantly, he had access to records now, was fast friends with Kunsel, and was constantly being courted by the Turks, who he turned down every time.

It did take up until this point to confirm his suspicions about the slope of Sephiroth's nose and the funny way his bangs grew, but now he knew, and now, at 11:30 am on a Tuesday, it was time to meet his half brother.

Lucent coughed once, then finally knocked on Sephiroth's office door.

"Come in," said Sephiroth. "Oh. What does the old man want now? Blood?"

Lucent blinked in confusion.

"I'm not sure who you mean; I'm here to deliver the report for the 3rd class health statistics," Lucent said.

"Very well, you may leave it on my desk," said Sephiroth, returning to his computer.

"I also wished to discuss something else with you."

Sephiroth sighed and fished around for a pen.

"Did you want an autograph?"

"No, I want to know if you remember our mother."

Time seemed to freeze, and the temperature of the room dropped.

"Excuse me?" Sephiroth asked, cold as ice.

"Lucrecia Crescent, listed as a primary scientist in the Jenova project. Long brown hair, same face as you, probably died when you were a baby...? I just want to know more about her, if you have more information."

"Get out."

Lucent felt animal fear jolt through his veins, but he powered through. He wasn't known for letting curiosity go easily.

"I understand this is a shock. I will leave, but please contact me if you change your mind," Lucent said, placing his card and the forgotten report on Sephiroth's desk. He kept his composure as he exited, closing the door firmly behind him, walking calmly down to his office, and shutting his own door.

Then he slumped against it, shaking and breathing hard. He'd be a stupid man not to be absolutely terrified from the energy in Sephiroth's office. He didn't know how long he sat there on the corporate carpet, trying to calm his nerves and telling himself he did the right thing, but he was interrupted by his PHS ringing.

"Dr. Lucent Jones," he answered automatically.

"Commander Rhapsodos. Look, Jones, I don't know who you are or where you've come from, but on behalf of Sephiroth, I will give you exactly one opportunity to speak with me. If I don't like what I hear, I will kill you. Meet me at the coffee shop on Loveless and 6th in one hour." Genesis paused. "Just to make it perfectly clear, I will kill you. This is a company line and I know Reno or someone is listening in. I will kill any Turks if they follow you, and if you're working with them or any other group to take advantage, I will kill everyone involved. If you don't show up, I will blackball you from practicing medicine in Midgar, but it will be better than death."

*click*

Lucent let out a strained laugh. Genesis Rhapsodos might be dramatic in everyday life, but that was not an idle threat.

---------

Lazard watched as a man in a lab coat left Sephiroth's office. That couldn't be good. As soon as the man left, Lazard tapped on Sephiroth's door, knowing he would have heard him coming. After a few seconds with no response, he swiftly entered, shutting the door behind him.

Sephiroth was sitting at his desk, completely motionless, pupils blown wide, gaze fixed on a stack of papers topped by a business card.

This wasn't going to be a good day.

---------

Eventually, Lucent is vetted by at least 3 layers of Sephiroth Protection Squad members, supported by Kunsel, and breaks into the inner circle. With him on their side, he's able to help with Genesis and Angeal's degradation using his Turk inclinations and medical knowledge.

He brings Sephiroth to meet his parents, and they love him and adopt him immediately, laughing over his ability to appear out of nowhere and cooing over his handsome funky bangs. They cherish his awkwardness covered by learned manners, fondly remembering Lucent's teenage years.

Lucent keeps digging, becoming more and more horrified between what he uncovers and what he hears from Sephiroth. He is right that this can't continue, and he is right that something must be done about Jenova.

He, Sephiroth, and Genesis go to Nibelheim with a spunky little trooper and Angeal's puppy. Shit goes down, but they ultimately find themselves with an emo vampire.

Sephiroth smirks weakly from where Genesis is practically holding him up.

"Guess it's my turn to spring some shocking parentage news on you, big brother," he says, nodding his head at Lucent and Vincent's matching red eyes and pale skin. Everyone laughs, relieved that Sephiroth is going to be ok, Jenova is dead, and the little trooper pulled through after being yeeted into a wall.

When they return to Midgar, Vincent kills Hojo and the president, and after the dust settles, Sephiroth retires to Banora. He has dinner with the Jones family most nights, and when Genesis or Angeal is in town, they eat apples together.

Lucent keeps his job at Shinra, helping the trooper through his mako sensitivity and his transition to SOLDIER. He's always wanted to help people, and Midgar is rife with interesting and difficult cases.

Of course, he visits home regularly to see his family, often tagging along when Lazard visits Sephiroth.

#ff7 #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #vincent valentine #lucrecia crescent #fuck hojo #not literally lucrecia pull yourself together

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

Text

The Last Of A Dying Breed

You are the sun and I am just the planets spinning around you

Summary: Elain and Lucien are considered a pair at the Jedi Temple. There isn't one without the other. When the Empire attempts to purge the Jedi, however, the two find them separated and desperate to get back to each other.

What they're willing to do in order to keep the other safe will test every vow they've ever made.

Read on AO3

Part 1: An Only Child Of The Universe

Prologue:

Lucien Vanserra was surrounded by ice.

It would be giving in to temptation to reach for one of the stalactites—or were they stalagmites—and break one off in his hand. To brandish it about like the lightsaber he was supposed to built just as soon as he left the ice world of Illum with his new kyber crystal in hand. This was his first off-world mission, the first time he’d left the temple and his excitement was getting the best of him.

Beside him, Elain Archeron reached for his hand. Lacing gloved fingers through his own, he felt her soothing presence in the force. She didn’t take her eyes off the master in front of them, brown eyes wide with the same giddy excitement he felt. Jedi weren’t supposed to feel attachment, and yet Lucien considered Elain his best friend. He squeezed a reassurance, centering his emotions. It was a treacherous walk through slippery, narrow paths that tumbled toward the planets molten core and all the younglings had been cautioned to be careful.

Every year someone stumbled off the path and Lucien suspected it might have been him, had Elain not been matching him step for step.

Looking over, Lucien wondered which master had taken the time to curl her hair. A pretty, pale pink bow had been tied at the back of her head. Elain was something of a pet among a few of the female Jedi, who had fawned over her every moment she was around. Lucien understood well—Elain was cute. He’d always thought so.

He supposed he wasn’t supposed to notice such things.

He’d have to have been blind not to.

Lucien was bad at following rules which had become something of a joke among the masters who might one day take him as a padawan. Lucien was trying, of course. He wanted to be stoic, wanted to be thoughtful and the kind of Jedi who considered all their options. And maybe, he reasoned, he’d grown into those things with more training.

For now, Lucien was just impulsive. It was Elain who was, as the other masters said, his better half. Elain and Lucien—everyone spoke of them that way. You couldn’t have one without the other. Elain and Lucien had a striking amount of things in common. They were good at reading other people in the force, were particularly skilled at planting suggestions in the minds of those more weak-willed, and excelled in outdoor environments in which the flora and fauna were a hazard.

Elain and Lucien also both happened to know members of their family, which was considered a rarity. Both of her sisters were force sensitive. Nesta Archeron was already a padawan, and Feyre Archeron would be picking a crystal in another year or two. The sisters were so striking it was impossible not to notice. And though they ran in different circles, the girls knew they were related, and acted like it.

Lucien also knew his family—his half-brother, Eris, was a junior senator in the galactic republic. He’d just been elected, and his presence had taken Lucien by surprise. Vanserra was a pretty unusual last name. To find he hailed from mid-rim planetary royalty might have gone to his head has his brother not been so…well…difficult. Eris checked in on occasion, sporting the same auburn hair as Lucien’s. Lucien’s skin was darker, but the resemblance was obvious to anyone who happened to see them in the same room. Eris had offered to bring letters from his mother and Lucien had declined—he wasn’t supposed to be attached to her, and didn’t want to jeopardize his place in the temple.

The experience united Elain and Lucien, cementing the strange, swirling bond between them. He knew she felt it—a golden cord pulled taut, with their very souls at the opposite ends. Neither of them acknowledged it, but Lucien knew she felt him just as clearly as he felt her.

Elain sensed him even when distance separated them, as he did. Knowing they were connected in this way made Lucien feel safe about the future. Different paths and different masters might pull them apart, but only temporarily.

Just ahead, the Jedi Master Thesan was carefully explaining the history of the Jedi. Lucien had this speech committed to memory because Elain had dragged him to the library months ago to watch old holovids of previous excursions. Thesan hadn’t deviated from his script and beside Lucien, Elain silently mouthed along with shining, hopeful eyes.

He squeezed her hand again. Elain looked over at him, a smile blooming over her face. The fur lined hood of her cape had fallen back, allowing curls to spill down the shoulders of her beige robes. Lucien had begun to grow his own hair out after seeing a man on the street of Coruscant with his coloring and hair that fell down his back. That man had braided half off the crown of his head and Lucien had been so fascinated, he’d immediately stopped going for regular trims. It curled obnoxiously against the nape of his neck, irritating him even as he gazed on the face of his best friend.

Excited? she mouthed. He nodded in agreement, unable to hide it on his own face. He felt Master Thesans sharp disapproval in the force, and when he looked toward the front of the group, found the man’s eyes narrowed fully on him.

Troublemaker, he swore they said.

Lucien grinned unrepentantly in response.

Elain tugged at his hand and that was enough to keep him in line. Elain kept them solidly in the middle of the group, never releasing his hand. They were supposed to let the force guide them to their crystal. Lucien could feel the pull, so different from the one pleasant pulse anchoring him to Elain. They ventured deeper into the caves, taking careful steps against the ice before branching into different groups.

Lucien had expected Elain to break away. Finding a crystal was supposed to be a solitary endeavor. Something personal between a force user and the saber they would one day build. He stepped to the left just as she did. They turned at the same fork. Even when Elain dropped his hand, her breath a cloud of fog in front of her face, the two never separated.

“This way,” she whispered, ducking through a particularly narrow spot in the walls. Lucien knew they should have alerted one of the masters that they were venturing so deep, but to do so meant potentially losing sight of Elain. Chest and back pressed to the cold stone, Lucien shimmied after her.

Glittering kyber shone on every surface of the small alcove. Lucien and Elain exhaled as one, stepping forward as though they were being dragged. There, at the very back wall, was a protrusion holding two crystals. Lucien’s heart pounded as his fingers curled around one of the white crystals while Elain took the other.

Prying gently, they took their twins into their respective palms so they could admire their new acquisition.

“I kept having nightmares I would arrive and nothing would call to me. That Master Thesan would put me on a transport back home,” Elain breathed, as if there had ever been a possibility.

“Do you want to mediate over them?” he asked, eyeing the cool, damp ground warily. Elain nodded, her cheeks bright and flushed.

“I think mine will be green,” she said, sitting carefully while Lucien plunked beside her. He was hoping for blue, though he kept that to himself. He felt Elain take a breath beside him, her lashes fluttering shut. Lucien joined her, focusing on his breathing before he reached out in the force. He held his crystal in his hand, pouring his own goodness into it.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the Force.

He repeated this in his mind over and over, giving himself over to the warmth of the light. Lucien felt peace—he felt whole, bathed in the force. He’d forgotten the cold, had forgotten his excitement, his fears. He’d forgotten even Elain, seated so close their elbows brushed. The crystal hummed and Lucien exhaled his gratitude to the world before allowing himself to look.

There was no blue, no green—not even the rare purple. Yellow, instead, glowed in his palm.

Beside him, Elain held an identical match. Wide-eyed, Elain looked at him questioningly. Lucien couldn’t answer, though he knew one things for certain.

The force had brought them together.

The force would keep them safe.

Fifteen Years Later:

ELAIN:

Elain Archeron had been hiding on Kashyyyk for a year. It wasn’t where she’d crashed landed when her clone troops had betrayed her and her master—she’d hitched a ride when her last world became overrun. The Empire was everywhere, and here was no exception. The Wookies allowed her to live among them so long as she helped fight to keep their planet from being overrun. Elain did her best to hide what she was, but she suspected her time was running out. She needed to figure a way off.

A way to him.

Elain had always had a strange connection to Lucien Vanserra. She couldn’t explain it and therefore had never tired. It was like explaining why she had a heart or why her hair was brown. It merely was, and so was he. Lucien was half of Elain’s soul, and she was certain if he ever died, Elain would have felt it. She would know. Pulling on the cord rippled through the force and so Elain didn’t touch it, but she could feel his presence and she knew he, too, was trying to get to her.

He’d survived the purge somehow, just as she had. Perhaps his master had sacrificed themselves, as Elain had. Or perhaps Lucien had merely leaned into his better skills and managed to go undetected. Five years of living on the run had made her desperate to talk to anyone from her former life. She would have given anything to have seen the unique shade of brown that comprised his eyes, or the easy way he smiled.

She wanted to sit behind him and braid his thick, auburn hair while they discussed whatever holovid he’d seen or how obnoxious his brother was. Elain wanted to talk to him of her own sisters, who she assumed had not survived. They’d never been close and in the wake of tragedy, Elain regretted that.

She’d assumed they would have time.

Elain hovered in one of the large trees that made up the Wookie homeland, looking for a small cruiser she could steal and pilot without much trouble. Only the Empire was allowed on and off the planet—though partisans often found a way through the blockade and gave the Empire hell. Elain didn’t want that sort of attention. She was trying to make her way further into the interior, where she might leave a message for Lucien, along with any other survivors.

Elain spotted her mark abandoned in the overrun jungle. It looked worn—misused and unlikely to be missed anytime soon. By the time someone came looking, she’d be far away in a hyperspace lane and the tracker would be firmly disabled. Elain was desperate to be out of the humidity–and the constant threat of being discovered.

She was careful as she lowered herself to the lush underbrush. More than once, Elain had been caught in the webbing of one of the massive spiders that populated this place and had only managed to free herself at the last second. With freedom so close at hand, Elain was unwilling to lose to the local wildlife.

Again.

It seemed almost deceptively easy getting to the craft. Elain had become so used to patrols that she expected to see someone nearby. The craft seemed nicer upon closer inspection. The black paint was new, though scratched silver in some places. Elain risked reaching out with the force, just to see if there was anyone inside.

Empty.

A warning tug in her gut reminded her of why she was risking herself at all. Lucien had felt her as he occasionally did, and seized on the opportunity to remind her of him, too. As if Elain ever stopped. She pulled in response, hoping he could feel how badly she wanted to see him. The connection between them wasn’t useful, and too late, she wished one of them had asked for guidance on it. Perhaps it would have allowed them to speak.

She missed him desperately.

One last pull—as if Lucien couldn’t resist—and then nothing. His momentary presence soothed Elain enough to convince her to look for the safety latch. Elain tugged, overriding the system for the ramp so she could quietly board. Elain took note of the darkened, sanitized interior. Beneath her feet was a hold she didn’t bother investigating, given she hadn’t detected any other lifeforms. There were two very small bunks, hidden by little doors in the wall, and then the cockpit itself.

It took very little to bring the craft online. Elain disabled the tracker—a handy trick she’d learned when she’d been hiding out as a scrapper—and then began maneuvering herself into the atmosphere. There was one terrifying moment when she realized she didn’t have an authorization code, but when no one came over the comm requesting it, she supposed that was only for entry, and not exit.

Or perhaps they recognized the ship's transmission and didn’t need anything further. Elain knew better than to press her good luck. The darkness of space filled her viewport. Elain punched in her coordinates, maneuvered into a hyperspace lane before leaving Kashyyyk far behind her. Exhaling her relief that everything had gone so smoothly, she reclined in the leather seat to look upward at the ship. The once white of the stars and planets around her faded into brilliant blue, illuminating the ship brilliantly.

Someone had painted the top of the ship. Brilliant hues of violets and yellows depicted a once familiar scene of Coruscant.

Elain’s body went taut with hope. She recognized those artful brushstrokes—and the girl who had loved the night sky.

The sound of steps just beneath her drew Elain from the memories of her younger sister. It had been too easy.

Because it was a trap. The hatch beneath the floor opened, revealing the braided hair of Nesta Archeron. Not as Elain had once known her—Nesta’s sharp features seemed to be edged like a razor, and a ring of gold haloed her once silvery blue eyes. She was dressed in form fitting black, a silver hilted saber hanging from the belt along her hips.

Just behind was Feyre, her hair pulled in a long braid draped over her shoulder. Like Nesta, her eyes had that same shade of Sith gold—Elain had only ever heard of it. She’d never seen it. Feyre’s outfit was less efficient, with panels of inky black fabric that fell around her waist and concealed her weapon. Her top, fitted just as closely as Nesta’s, dipped in the front just enough to reveal unblemished skin.

“You’ve been hard to find,” Nesta said with some accusation.

Elain didn’t know what to say.

Feyre cocked her head. “How did you survive?”

She didn’t want to think about that, either. Elain was frozen, drinking in the sight of her very much living sisters. A beat of silence passed, and then Elain asked, “What happened to you two?”

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a glance. “The same thing that happened to you,” Nesta finally said dismissively.

“When you spend enough time being hunted, you start biting back,” Feyre added with a grin so at odds with her soft, pretty features.

“The Empire found you?”

Though, that didn’t make sense. They would have been executed.

Nesta scoffed. “The force sensitives they do make use of are undertrained and stupid. The worst of what the Jedi once had to offer.”

“We made our own path,” Feyre agreed, cocking her head to the side. “One that allows us to be strong. We were weak before. Easily cut down, too blinded by lofty principles to see what was right under our noses.”

“And you’re what, now?”

“Strong,” they said in unison, as though they’d rehearsed this moment. Elain knew there would be no finding Lucien. Not with her sisters standing before her, their hands outstretched. She had a million questions. How had they survived the purge? Where had they been hiding?

“How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t hard for anyone who cared,” Feyre said easily, unaware of how her words were a knife to Elain’s already battered heart.

“You’re not Jedi anymore.”

I wasn’t a question, and still Nesta laughed, as though Elain had asked something embarrassingly simple.

“Of course we’re not. The Jedi were weak. Foolish. We’re more powerful than we ever were as simple Jedi.”

Elain’s hands twisted in her lap. “I don’t…I don’t want whatever this is…” she whispered.

“Just come with us,” Feyre said smoothly. “See for yourself.”

Elain should have known there would be no refusing them. She was tempted to open herself to the force and truly feel whatever had become of her sisters. They didn’t seem full Sith, given the haloed gold rings framing the pretty blue of their eyes. Perhaps they’d merely flirted with the dark side if that was even possible.

Nesta slid past Elain to reset the coordinates. The journey was short and silent. Nesta took over piloting as she’d always been so good at that, while Elain and Feyre stared at each other awkwardly. Elain tried making small talk, but her sisters clearly weren’t interested in divulging information. How had they found each other? They’d just barely gotten along in the temple and now…and now they kept exchanging a knowing glance.

They shared a secret.

Elain recognized the planet they hovered over the moment they descended from hyperspace. It was supposed be mere myth. A place that never saw daylight, that was shrouded in endless, beautiful night.

Velaris.

It wasn’t a terrible place to hide, and Elain could understand why Nesta and Feyre might have come. If the Empire was unaware, two terrified women could hunker down and plan their next moves. Was it the planet that had infected them? Elain found herself trembling by the time they landed. Cold seemed to seep through the vents, and for someone wearing a tank top and loose pants to combat the heat and humidity of Kashyyyk, she was woefully undressed for Velaris.

The landing pad opened with a hiss of air, bringing with it to large, masculine forms.

Elain knew right then she wasn’t leaving this place the way she’d come. The moment that first man stepped on the metal ramp, his boots so heavy the material seemed to groan beneath his presence, Elain was well aware her time was up. She opened herself then, allowing herself to feel the hateful cold of the darkside—of her sisters, who walked ahead to greet these men with easy smiles, and of the men themselves who looked like long forgotten warriors.

“Is this her?”

“Yes, Rhysand,” Feyre agreed, her eyes sparkling as she drank him in. He assessed her, noting the fear that was rolling off Elain in waves.

“Take her to Az.” Concern flashed over Nesta’s face despite the near feral grin on the large man's face beside her. “Is that necessary?”

Elain didn’t move, even when Rhysand put stun cuffs around her wrists and began to lead her out of the ship. Cold air blasted around her, though she seemed to be the only one who felt it.

“She’s hoping for an escape,” Rhysand said, cocking his head like he could hear the desperate slant of her thoughts. “She’s looking for…for Lucien.”

Both Nesta and Feyre crinkled their noses with disgust.

“Who is Lucien, darling?” Rhysand all but purred. Elain stepped into the cold night, heart pounding in her throat. She wasn’t going to tell him. She wouldn’t damn Lucien to whatever was waiting for her.

“He was another Jedi. Dead, if I had to guess,” Nesta said dismissively.

A whole city stretched before Elain. Darksiders, if she had to guess. Sprawled at the base of snow peaked mountains, Elain wondered what these people had done to conceal their homeworld from the rest of the galaxy.

Feyre jogged next to Rhysand, the same soft worry gracing her lovely face. “Are you sure Nesta and I—”

“No,” he said with a voice as rich as the night around them. “I know you sense it—the light? She needs to taste the darkness.”

“He can be…”

“He’s effective,” Rhysand said, dismissing Feyre entirely. Elain might have begged her sisters to stop this had Feyre not silently agreed with Rhysand. Had Nesta not made up the rear of their party, one hand on her saber and the other tucked into the arm of the man behind her.

She was marched to the top of the winding hill, where an expansive, sprawling, moonstone palace lay. She knew she wasn’t going into the nice interior.

She was led down into an even colder, damper dungeon where Az—Azriel—waited. He was just like the other two, with his brown skin and his dark hair and those gold rimmed eyes. He smiled when he saw her.

“Have you brought me a gift? Three sisters…and three brothers,” he murmured, causing Elain to draw back in fear. Somewhere in the galaxy, Lucien could feel the horror sliding through Elain. A metal door hissed open, revealing what could only be described as a torture chamber. She turned to look back at her sisters, both of whom must have experienced this very same thing, once.

“Give in,” Feyre urged as Rhysand pushed Elain forward.

“We’ll see you soon,” Nesta added. “As a family, like we always should have been.”

Family.

Elain forgot all about that the moment that door shut behind her.

LUCIEN:

[one year later]

Lucien Vanserra woke to the same dream. Elain, sitting in the temple garden. Her fingers were caked with dirt and when she felt him coming, she turned so her body was haloed by the golden light of Coruscant. She’d smile, the warmth of the force radiating from her, and he’d help her to her feet so he could hug her.

I missed you. She always whispered it right into his ear.

Where are you? Lucien would ask in response. But she never said. Lucien would jerk awake to the ship he was traveling in, his heart racing and his body racked with cold. Lucien knew Elain was still alive the way he knew he was alive. He could feel her heart still beating in his chest, even if Elain herself had gone wholly dark.

For a period of three months, Lucien had felt nothing but Elain and whatever agony was coursing through her. It had changed the bond between them and sometimes he swore he could see her, chained by the wrists in a dark dungeon while torture droids and a dark haired man brutalized her. He’d tried to talk to her, but the vision always faded too quickly for Lucien to do more than watch her for a few seconds, often pleading for someone to help her.

Lucien had tried. Force, but how Lucien had tried. A year ago, he’d been certain Elain was hiding on Kashyyyk. The Wookies thought so, too. He’d scoured the planet looking for her—no one had seen her since. Lucien tried not to give into his fears, but sometimes he wondered if the Empire hadn’t found her. Had the recognized her potential and begun twisting her into one of the terrible Inquisitorius force they employed? Lucien couldn’t imagine Elain like that…and yet he’d begun to hunt them, trying to draw her out.

If she were one of them, surely she’d realize he was tracking her. Lucien hadn’t changed that much. He was still too showy, too impulsive, too spontaneous. They knew his name and had pinned him up on posters and projected him across the holonet.

Lucien Vanserra, dangerous fugitive.

He’d once been a Jedi.

Now he was little more than an outlaw, traveling with a partisan fighter and a moody Zabrak warrior, trying to find the friend he’d lost during the purge.

Lucien pushed open the curtain on his bunk on the Firebird, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was headed to Illum after he’d gotten a tip the second sister had been here. Lucien had never seen her and part of him hoped she might be Elain. He kept telling himself he didn’t care if she had been twisted to the dark side. The three of them had a plan for that—assuming Elain hadn’t just gone deep underground, Lucien had set up the hold of their ship to contain someone dark and dangerous long enough for them to get her to one of his brothers' many estates in the galaxy. Eris would hardly miss one, and Lucien could seduce Elain back to the light with lush gardens and sunlight and a reminder that life didn’t need to be filled with so much pain.

He washed his face and dressed, clipping his saber to his belt before sauntering the long length of the ship where Jurian was already waiting.

“Did you sleep at all?” Lucien asked, noting the deep purple smudges against the hollows of Jurian’s yellow eyes. The Zabrak warrior ran a hand over his jaw, touching the stubble that lay stark against the red of his skin.

“A little,” Jurian admitted, looking over at Lucien as he rubbed one of the short horns protruding from his head. “I keep thinking about our last run in with the Empire…”

“It won't be like that,” Lucien assured him with an easy smile. They’d nearly been captured before Lucien had managed to kill the Fourth Brother—a death that still weighed heavily on him. “I know the kyber caves like the back of my hand.”

That wasn’t entirely true, either. Lucien had only been once as a youngling. Still, he assumed he would always have the advantage over anyone unfamiliar with the lightside of the force and that included a former Jedi now bathed in darkness.

They’d be there by noon. Lucien had a good feeling about Illum, just as he had when he’d been a boy. That was where he’d gotten his kyber crystal—a unique yellow that he shared with Elain. Lucien’s leg began to bounce. It was a nervous habit his master had tried so hard to drill out of him once. Jedi were supposed to be calm and serene. Lucien was none of those things.

He was barely a Jedi, in truth. He’d just become a Jedi Knight a mere week before the purge and sometimes, when he considered all the things he’d done to survive, he thought his master would be disappointed with him. He’d certainly broken many of the tenants, specifically around chaos and serenity.

He liked to think Master Tamlin would understand.

He’d never know. Tamlin had died that day when the clone troopers had turned on them. They’d been scaling a reactor when a blaster bolt sent Tamlin falling to his death, and left Lucien, a man of only nineteen, to battle his way through the rest of the Venator. He’d sustained injuries—the scars down his face, a shot to his shoulder, and another in his thigh. He’d had to lick his wounds alone, lest he give himself away, which had resulted in scarring that gave him a distinctive appearance. Vassa appeared, pulling Lucien from his thoughts. Her bouncy red hair was damp from the ‘fresher, and she had two bowls of something balanced in each hand.

“Trade me,” she told Jurian. Jurian glanced sideways at her, but did as she said while taking the food from her hands. Jurian was the pilot, but Vassa was captain. “Eat,” she added when Jurian sat just behind them in the nav chair, eyeing whatever she’d mixed together warily.

“We need to make a supply run after this,” Lucien said despondently. The bowl was unflavored oats, cooked for so long they were mushy and otherwise unappealing. Vassa grimaced, though she nodded all the same.

“We could use fuel. Somewhere discreet.”

“And one of the canons is still hot after our last run-in with the Empire,” Jurian added.

Lucien sighed. “Better call Eris.”

No one spoke as Lucien pulled out his comm and dialed the number to his brother. Eris was such a strange figure, even to Lucien. He supported the Empire and condemned the Jedi in one breath, and turned around and gave Lucien money, aid, and whatever else he asked for without question or demand. His brother, the Jedi.

He had to step away to take the call. He didn’t want Jurian and Vassa to overhear or have to explain whatever Eris might say. Eris could be cruel and was often cunning. More than once, Lucien wondered if Eris didn’t keep Lucien close to have leverage should he ever get caught in some other crime.

Pardon me, and I’ll take you to the Jedi.

Still, Lucien would take his chances.

“Where are you?” Eris asked by way of greeting. Lucien ignored that question entirely.

“Can we dock for supplies in Kalarba?”

There was a pause. “You’ll need a code.”

“Is there a blockade?”

“No, but Wena Havid keeps track of everyone coming and going. He wants more than being Governor of a backwater Midrim world, you know.”

Lucien didn’t, and truly didn’t care about the squabbling of politicians. “So send me one.”

Another pause. “When are you going to be done with this?”

Lucien rubbed at his face again. “Done with what, Eris? Being hunted across the galaxy? Being, possibly, one of the very last of my kind? Being—”

“I mean,” Eris interrupted, clearly irritated, “done with all the running. Pick an estate and settle down. Find a nice girl, start a family. I can ease the pressure off you…fuck, Lucien, I could probably fake your death and erase you from galactic memory. Aren’t you tired?”

Eris had no idea. Eris, with all his privilege and wealth, didn’t understand that some things were more important than his personal safety or being tired. Lucien couldn’t settle until he knew what had happened to Elain—until he had her back.

“Not yet. Can we go to Kalarba or not?”

Eris sighed. “When?”

“A few days?”

“I’ll send the code through an encrypted channel.”

And that was that. Eris ended the call and Lucien went back to the cockpit. Jurian had managed to choke down the breakfast Lucien had abandoned in the common eating area—he’d try again at dinner.

“Well?”

“Illum first, and then we’ll lay low for a while on Kalarba.”

Vassa and Jurian exchanged a look. “Any particular reason?”

He looked at his hands. “It's a difficult planet to escape from, Empire aside.”

He’d seen the Kalabarian estate once when he’d still lived in the temple. It was vast and palatial, built atop a mountain with its own private landing pad. Far from the nearest city and if someone did manage to escape, they had miles and miles of difficult, rocky terrain to traverse, followed by an expansive ocean with dangerous currents to swim, before they made it to civilization.

He wouldn’t have to keep Elain in chains. Lucien still thought of those visions of her, suspended from irons so her tiptoes skimmed over the ground.

He shook his head. They knew what he was after. Who he was looking for. “Let’s just get this over with.” If they failed, they could at least regroup somewhere comfortable.

Jurian and Vassa squabbled over who would get the biggest bed in the estate. Lucien was thankful for the debate, though he knew Vassa would get it regardless of whatever argument Jurian put forward. She always did. Jurian always yielded in the end, and Vassa always slept in the lord's chambers because Lucien had no interest in such things.

Everyone was tense by the time Illum came into view. Lucien helped Jurian navigate as close to the old Jedi temple as he could before they settled against ice and snow. The force thrummed in his veins, and Lucien swore the bond in his chest was vibrating for the first time in a year.

She was here.

“You know the drill,” he reminded them, grabbing his fur lined cape from a hook by the door. He hooked his saber to the belt slung low over his hips before running a hand down the dark tunic on his chest. “If anything goes wrong and you can’t wait, leave me behind.”

They never had, no matter how close the call, and Lucien knew without needing the Force that they never would.

“Be safe,” Vassa murmured.

“May the Force be with you,” Jurian added. Lucien nodded.

“I’ll need it.”

The ramp lowered and Lucien jogged out. Cold, dry air slammed into his chest, momentarily robbing him of breath. Lucien tried his best to center himself, focusing only on the humming in the force. He wasn’t alone here—he could sense others, though their presence made him uneasy. She was here, Lucien knew she was. He could feel her with each step towards those caves. Her presence was a song, was light, was the air he’d been breathing ever since he had memory.

All he had to do was go to her. After nearly ten miserably long years, he was going to see her again.

Illum loomed large in his memory. Lucien had spent too much time reflecting on the past, even when he knew he shouldn’t, and Illum was one of the places he always went back to in his mind. He could still feel Elain’s gloved hand in his own, could remember the way she’d smiled, how they’d slipped away together to find their crystals. And everyone had always known, though they hadn’t been there, that Elain and Lucien had blades with the same core.

Lucien slid through the icy rock, sucking in a breath as he shimmied into the caves. Time had not been kind to the once magnificent temple. Windows that had once created heat were now shattered, which had allowed wind and snow and ice to overtake the carefully carved pathways. Statues were cracked and toppled, and everything was far darker than he remembered. Perhaps he had romanticized this place as a boy.

Perhaps Illum was a metaphor for the Jedi. For himself.

Lucien didn’t dwell on either thought as he walked, following the sound of a man’s voice echoing around him. Another voice—softer, familiar, Elain—filled his senses.

“You let them choose you,” she was saying softly.

“That’s bullshit,” the man responded. Lucien was agile, even in the face of ice threatening to send him sprawl to his ass. He crept through the narrow passages until he saw her. She was far from their alcove, which for some reason filled him with relief.

Lucien came close enough he could have brought the whole cave down on the two of them. Close enough to see her for the first time. The man blocked his view, holding a crystal in a broad, scarred hand with a frown.

“I don’t think it matters which one I choose,” he finally said, clutching the crystal in his hand. Lucien wondered who this person was and how she’d met him. He stepped aside and there she was. Dressed in the black so dark it made her seem exhausted and washed out, and still Elain was beautiful. Her clothes were form fitting, her hair half braided off her face, just like his was. His eyes dragged to her saber, hanging from her belt. He would have recognized that silver hilt anywhere—a strip of orange leather was tied around it.

His bore a piece of pink.

She wasn’t looking at him, her full lips pressed in a thin line of disapproval. She didn’t like this man, whoever he was. Lucien guessed if he needed a kyber crystal, his own blade was wrecked. He’d seen that band of gold rimming her brown eyes. It was the mark of the Sith, and yet she wasn’t wholly consumed. Not an Inquisitor, either, as far as he could tell.

She could be saved.

All he had to do was separate them. Lucien had enough gas to knock out an army in his utility pouch. He’d carry her out, he decided. He took a step toward her, loud enough both her and her companion paused, their heads turning. They hadn’t seen him, still, though they knew they weren’t alone. Elain’s fingers curled around her blade and Lucien smiled.

They were evenly matched in combat. He’d trained against her, and vice versa. He knew her like he knew himself. He flipped on his blade with a soft snap-hiss, allowing the yellow light to flood the cavern.

He saw her eyes widen and too late, she reached in her chest for the first time in a year. Lucien grinned, stepping through the arched entrance and truly looking at her for the first time since they’d said goodbye on Coruscant.

He cocked his head with exaggeration. “You’re hard to track down,” he said casually, his eyes wholly on her. “I lost track of you on Kashyyyk. Where have you been hiding?”

She didn’t react. “You found me.”

There was no relief, no joy. Lucien had to pretend that didn’t wound him. “Visiting old haunts?”

The man between them suddenly smiled. “Lucien,” he breathed, looking at her as though a question he’d had for quite a while had finally been answered. Elain didn’t respond to him, either.

Lucien was experiencing a wholly new emotion.

Jealousy.

Elain was his friend. It didn’t matter if there were other people in her life and yet for some reason, it did.

Lucien turned his blade to that man’s face. “I’ll count to ten,” he bluffed. “And then I’m going to stop asking questions.”

Elain’s blade hummed to life behind him, but Lucien had guessed right. This man did not have a working saber, and would not be a problem so long as he could separate them.

Elain looked over at him, her face illuminated gold. “Meet me at the ship.”

“Sure,” the man agreed, taking off before anything else could be exchanged. His dark laughter filled the cavern, causing Elain to wince.

“Looks like we have a lot to catch up on,” Lucien commented lightly. Elain’s eyes narrowed.

“There is nothing left to say. Go back to wherever you’ve been.”

He almost scoffed. His heart pounded in his chest. “I admit, I imagined our reunion differently.”

“Did you? I haven’t imagined it at all,” she said in response. It was meant to hurt him and worst of all, it worked.

“Is that why your friend knew my name?” Lucien asked her, creeping closer. She didn’t need a blade to slice him to ribbons and Lucien ought to have prepared himself better for dark side Elain. “Because you never think about me?”

She didn’t respond to that. Her eyes darted to the cave top overhead and Lucien knew his time was up. If he wanted to get her out, he couldn’t let her bring the top crashing over him. He ripped first, flipping off his blade so he could shield himself. Elain yelped before vanishing into the rubble. It wasn’t meant to kill, or even injure. He only needed to stun her long enough to incapacitate here.

Lucien shoved aside the rubble, the canister of gas in his hand. Elain reached for her saber but Lucien was just a moment faster. A smile slid over her face and Elain laughed, like she thought the whole thing was funny.

“A better man would have quit,” she said, her words heavy and slurred.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” he said, gently prying the blade from her hand to clip to his own belt. “Whatever you had to do to survive, I forgive you.”

“I wonder what you’ll do,” she whispered, eyes sliding out of focus. “Before all this is over, I wonder what you’ll do, Lucien.”

He hoisted her in his arms.

Lucien wondered the same.

#elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fanfic #evil elain ish #sith!elain #jedi!lucien #this fic is a fever dream to me

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add1ctedt0you · 1 year

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I admit that everyone has different interpretations about characters, based on past experiences, personality and emotional state but the way this fandom treats female characters is really something else. Maybe it's because canon gives us away little about them, but in my opinion they are often lessened, described as two-dimensional characters. And that's a shame, because they have so much potential. ( my opinions are based on novel canon, because it's the one I am more familiar with)

For example, wen qing is described as badass girl who has strong morals, who never did anything wrong and is wwx's best friend. And this interpretation is valid! But for me doesn't give enough depth to her character. Wq is someone who is morally gray: she is a doctor, whose hands heal others, but she is also the leader of a supervisory office in Yiling during the Sunshot campaign. She says that she doesn't have nothing to do with lotus pier's massacre, because she is an healer, but she is also guilty of doing nothing to stop her uncle. She helps wwx and jc because her bother gets involved with them, and, about the golden core's transfer, she in part performs it because she is a mad scientist who can finally experiment her theories about the golden core ( but wouldn't she feel conflicted in some way? Wwx's downfall is also caused because he hasn't a golden core, and she loves wwx. Wouldn't she feel guilty about his state?). Wq loves her family so much that she begs wwx to save them! And she is accomplice of transforming her brother in a fierce corpe ( wouldn't she feel conflicted about this too? Her brother is alive in some way, but not in others. He can't enjoy food's taste, nor the bless of sleeping, nor the warm of his loved one's embrace. What life has her little brother because of her selfishness?). Wq is ready to do anything to protect them, the people she feels responsible of as their leader, until she understands how doomed they are by the cultivation world and ultimately decides to sacrifice herself and her people trying to protect the only person who gives them others precious years! She takes difficult decisions during her life, and them don't make her good or wrong, just really complex.

Another example is jiang yanli. She is described or as someone who forgives till a fault or as a badass fighter. But I think she is more complex than this. She is a big sister who has to see her brothers been emotionally and physically mistreat by their parents. She doesn't have a proper emotional support growing up, but she is her brothers emotional support/mother. She is criticized by her own mother because she is meek, because her health is so poor that she can't cultivate. She is not even viewed as extremely beautiful (the entire cultivation world says that she is lucky that jzx marries her, despite her poor qualities!). Her home is burned down by the wens when she is away, her parents died protecting their home. Her brothers fight against the same people who destroyed her home. And what she can do? She is a weak cultivator, she doesn't have the power to do anything if not wait. And then, after the war, she has again her two brothers. She marries the man she loves and tries to start an happy life. But not everything is perfect because one of her brother is seen as a criminal, the other is played down by other sect leaders. And again, what she can do in a word where reputation and gender is everything? She is not only a woman, her reputation is bad! No one respects her in the cultivation word! They mock her! And then, her husband who is trying to help her, dies by the hand of her own brother! She is mourning, she feels conflicted! She deeply loves jzx and wwx both! In fact she dies to protect wwx! Because she loves him, but she can't completely, at the moment, forgive him! She can't absolve him completely! She is extremely complicated. Jyl is someone who is extremely influenced by her poor health and the decriminalization that the cultivation world does! Her strength stays in her resilience, her good heart! She is also a rebel! Cooking is something beneath her status, but, nonetheless she does it, despite her mother's criticisms!

#Silly thoughts #It's more a rant lol #But how female characters are treated gives me headaches #maybe it's me #Wen qing #Jiang yalin #Mdzs

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ariparri · 1 year

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Biographical Information

Full Name: Veruca Carlyn McQuaid

Born: August 23, 1973

Blood Status: Pureblood

Ethnicity/Nationality: Irish

Also Known As:

Vera

Vee

Ruca (by Diego)

Signature:

Relations:

Wilhelmina McQuaid (mother)

Elroy McQuaid (father)

Coby McQuaid (brother)

Magical Characteristics

Boggart: Kelpie

Wand: 12” Redwood, Dragon Heartstring core and supple flexibility

Patronus:

Arctic Wolf (formerly)

Leopard

Amortentia:

Berry Tarts

Carnations

Autumn Leaves

Lemon Tea

Affiliation:

Auror (formerly)

Ballet Instructor

House: Slytherin

Loyalty:

Mac Uáid Family

Ivey Family

Khanna Family

Caplan Family

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕About〔

Veruca Carlyn McQuaid is an Irish witch born into a pureblood family, and is the second child to Elroy and Wilhelmina McQuaid. She attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from 1984-1991 and was sorted into the Slytherin House. She excelled in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Flying classes at school. After graduation, she becomes an Auror. Veruca later marries Diego Caplan. They have two daughters, Marisol and Carina, and a younger son, Ruairí. She continued to work as an Auror some time after the war before resigning and later became a ballet instructor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Background〔

Veruca was born late August in 1973 to Elroy and Wilhelmina McQuaid. She is a pure-blood witch and a member of the noble House of Mac Uáid. Veruca and her older brother Coby grew up in the Mac Uáid Manor in Kinsale, Ireland.

As a child, Veruca was a shy girl who always hid behind her parents or brother. Coby had taken Veruca to the nearby park where they met some of the neighborhood kids. Two of the kids that she spent time with were Carson Ivey and Merula Snyde. Veruca and Carson were quick to become close friends, while Merula took some time due to her attitude.

Since Veruca was an emotional child, she's had sudden outburst with accidental magic and was taught at home by family members such as Obsidian, Miksa, and Selma to prevent any mishaps within a muggle school. She eventually learned how to control her magic, and some basic level of reading and writing that she no longer needed private tutoring. Though her mother wanted to keep homeschooling her, Elroy's insistence that it will be good for Veruca to be around other kids especially since Carson would be with her, Wilhelmina eventually gave in and Veruca later went to public school.

Veruca showed a keen interest in quidditch from a young age. During one of the family reunions, her father Elroy took part in the quidditch competition. Veruca was on the sidelines watching her father play and nearly fell over the railing because she wanted to be with her dad. Elroy eventually taught Veruca how to fly a broom and play quidditch. Veruca enjoyed playing as a beater and learning how to do a bunch of tricks on the broom, most of which nearly gave her parents a heart attack.

During a camping trip, Veruca found a baby bat out of its nest with a broken wing. Wanting to help the small animal, Veruca brought the bat to her father and they both took care of it. At the time, since she was very young herself, Veruca had been calling the bat "Gambyt." The name eventually became "Gambat" with Elroy helping his daughter with her pronounciation. When Gambat was finally healed, Veruca tried to get him to go back to his nest but every time Veruca put him down Gambat would fly back into her hands and cling onto her. Seeing how Veruca and Gambat have formed a bond, Wilhelmina and Elroy let their daughter keep the bat.

When Coby went missing, Elroy and Wilhelmina tried not to let Veruca outside of the manor to avoid any publicity. Veruca was never really left alone, always accompanied by either her parents or one of the manor staff. Since she was still a kid, Elroy let her continue playing just in the yard. He even allowed Carson and Merula to come over so Veruca wouldn't be lonely. Carson was a good distraction for Veruca, both were making the best of the situation as best as kids can. However, with Merula, and how her parents were sent to Azkaban, had been very antagonistic towards the two. The two were confused that Merula would treat them horribly, insulting their families and even go as far to say Coby was dead.

Angered by Merula, Veruca pushed her to the ground and they started fighting. Wilhelmina and one of the maids came out to stop the girls from fighting, scolding them while checking them for any bruises. Merula ignored the maid tending to her, calling everyone there crazy before storming off, thus ending their friendship. Wilhelmina questioned the other two on what happened, Carson didn't know what to say. Veruca on the other hand was upset, and asked her mother if Coby really was dead before breaking down. Wilhelmina did her best to console her daughter.

After the fall out with Merula, Veruca had become more closed off and cautious towards people outside of her family. She's now more protective of the people she cares about and more observant towards those who try to get close to her. Carson continues to be by her side, being her closest friend and confidant. Veruca isn't too eager to make new friends, letting Carson be the more sociable one of the duo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Appearance〔

Veruca has fair skin tone, green eyes, dark brown hair and stands at an average height of 5 feet and 3 inches or 160 centimeters.

Years 1 - 3

Years 4 - first half of Year 6

The first attire is her casual outfit. Second is her Valentine's Ball, and the third is her outfit for Festival Fun. She replaces the vest for the school sweater in her uniform.

Year 6 - Year 7

Veruca’s attire now consists of a black loose sweater over a black corset styled top and pants. In Year 7, she switches the top and sweater for a long sleeved top with a netted and meshed collar. Her hair is now cut asymmetrically short.

Post Hogwarts

Veruca has grown her hair out and tied in a loose and messy bun. She wore a purple top and a black and purple floral dress.

After her marriage with Diego, Veruca wears an off the shoulder maroon top with a light grey skirt. Her hair is swept over to the side and she wears a necklace with the letter D for Diego. On dates, Veruca wears a light blue strapless dress with a matching button up blouse over it.

When working as an Auror, Veruca puts on a black attire. She wears something reminiscent of her Year 7 attire, a long coat and gloves. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Personality〔

Veruca exhibits a cool and relaxed personality, usually sporting a neutral expression on her face. Her demeanor compliments this, being informal towards professors, prefects and fellow classmates. She occasionally can be quite irritable, moaning in annoyance or sighing in displeasure when it comes to anyone, or anything she dislikes. Her Irish accent comes out sometimes whenever she's irritated, it also comes out whenever she gets embarrassed.

Veruca can be mischievous and playful at times. When Rowan came up with the idea of having a pillow fight using the Depulso spell they learned in Charms, Veruca claimed it to be a stupid idea but later engaged in the activity the same night with her friend.

She apparently also loves cute things, as when she first saw the swarm of Puffskeins during Care of Magical Creatures and she was enamored by them, hugging a handful of them. She gets easily embarrassed if someone were to catch her in this state.

In spite of her outward calm, she is prone to react rather passionately about threats to those she deeply cares about. Veruca describes herself as someone who was always blaming herself, for all the harm that she's caused to those dear to her. Several examples are when Rowan was struck with ice from the Ice Vault, and when Ben casted Langlock on Charlie. She even places her friends over her own pride, going as far as to shed tears openly in the Great Hall for Rowan's memorial after witnessing her death at the hands of Rakepick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Magic Skills〔

Dueling

★★★★★

Flying

★★★★★

Charms

★★★★✰

Potions

★★★✰✰

DADA

★★★★★

Herbology

★★✰✰✰

Transfiguration

★★★✰✰

Divination

★★✰✰✰

History of Magic

★★✰✰✰

Care of Magical Creatures

★★★✰✰

Muggle Studies

★★★★✰

Astronomy

★★★★✰

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Possessions〔

Broom

Comet One Eighty

Pet

Gambat

Wand

12” Redwood, Dragon Heartstring core and supple flexibility (formerly)

Enchanted Carnation

A carnation that was charmed to never wilt. Gift given by Diego after their first date.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Relations〔

Coby McQuaid Veruca and Coby have sort of a “complicated” relationship. The two clearly care for each other, but with how both were raised differently due to Coby's disappearance, they have a bit of a competitive relationship that also caused them to engage in childish disputes that continued on into adulthood. Coby may be the oldest, but he can definitely be the most immature between the two, something Veruca often points out, causing Coby to whine about it. They can never play any game together as their competitiveness gets out of hand and someone ends up tackling the other to the ground.

Carson Ivey Veruca's most trusted companion, and childhood friend. The two have known each other since they were 5.They both know almost everything about each other, including their deepest secrets. They have done everything together since childhood. The two also have their own special handshake they made up when they were kids, they still do it even into their adulthood. With Carson's intellect and Veruca's cunning the two make a formidable duo and can cause chaos if they so please. They both know when the other is feeling down about something and are quick to bring it up before the other tries to play it off as something else.

Rowan Khanna Veruca’s closest friend, whom she confides in when she cannot tell Carson something. Veruca trusts Rowan so much, she was the only one who knew about Veruca’s crush on Diego. During the period that they attended Hogwarts, Rowan is revealed to be an exceptionally good roommate. Veruca mentions that Rowan has sweet little quirks, such as folding back the pages in text books of subjects she thinks Veruca would struggle on. She also leaves messages on the mirror when Veruca takes a shower and lets Veruca climb into her bed when she’s had a bad dream. Veruca grows very concerned when Rowan gets hurt during their ventures to the Vaults after she was struck with ice, and cries at her memorial in the Great Hall.

Chiara Lobosca Chiara is another of Veruca’s closest friends. Veruca turns to Chiara when she needs more of a compassionate mindset over logical ones. Veruca cares about Chiara’s wellbeing and always makes sure to ask if she’s doing okay, she even takes the liberty to drag Chiara along with her, not wanting her to be alone. Veruca's fiercely protective over her, and wouldn't hesitate to get into a fight if someone tried to mess with Chiara. After the events that happened in Sixth Year, Chiara was the only one Veruca was able to go to for comfort when she was in such a vulnerable state, and in turn, Veruca would get enraged whenever something or someone tries to hurt Chiara.

Diego Caplan Despite having classes together, Veruca and Diego only started hanging out after the former went to seek Diego out for extra dueling tips. Diego hits on Veruca, but much to the surprise of Rowan, knowing Veruca has always scared these kinds of people away, Diego receives positive results. Veruca even admits to liking when Diego calls her “Ruca.” After Diego helps her with her dueling skills, Veruca hints a liking or attraction to Diego to the point of admitting to Rowan that she had a crush on the Hufflepuff. Veruca’s attraction towards Diego is further evidenced when he starts hanging out with Carson and Jae. Elroy even notices how Veruca interacts with Diego during the summer and teased the two for how much they reminded him of his and Wilhelmina's relationship when they were young. Few years after Hogwarts, the two get married and have three children, and Veruca appears to be even more open about her feelings with Diego.

Jae Kim Jae is Veruca’s detention buddy and fellow troublemaker. Both he and Veruca tend to roast each other in greeting. When Veruca is in a tight pinch with certain items and objects, Jae’s always there with the right stuff, usually offering them to her at a ‘small,’ discount. Jae is also the only one Veruca can act all smug and casual around as they both have a handful of similarities.

Skye Parkin Veruca and Skye have a sort of competitive friendship. Having a brother herself, Veruca knows what it’s like being pressured by family to be the best they can be. They often get into minor disagreements when it comes to the way they study. Veruca even claims that Skye ripping out pages from a book is ‘a crime.’ When it comes to quidditch, the two work extra hard to win for their house, sometimes using that as a means to show off their skills. Despite playing different positions, Skye being a chaser and Veruca being a beater, they make a good team.

Tulip Karasu Like with Jae, Veruca and Tulip roast each other in greeting. Veruca likes Tulip’s style of pranking, as it reminds her of Carson’s. Although they don’t hang out as much as Carson does with Tulip, the two can be good friends and work well together. Veruca can relate to Tulip in regards to “rules are made to be broken” as Veruca always often gets herself into trouble whether it’s intentional or not.

Merula Snyde Once upon a time, the two were close childhood friends alongside Carson. However, after Merula’s parents were sent to Azkaban and Coby went missing, Merula went back against Veruca and severed ties with her. Veruca was heartbroken at the betrayal and eventually grew resentful of Merula. In Hogwarts, the two are always at odds against each other with Merula trying to ruin Veruca’s reputation even more. Near the end of their years at Hogwarts, Merula attempts at getting Veruca’s help yet the latter always sends her off on a goose chase.

Gambat Like his owner, Gambat likes to coax mischief making. He’s been with Veruca since she was a child and the two can talk to each other as if they understand what the other is saying. He’s a very cheeky and smug bat, he also likes to insult or roast Veruca, especially when it comes to her questioning her feelings or actions towards something.

Elroy & Wilhelmina McQuaid Veruca cares greatly for her parents. And while her mother was more on the strict side, Veruca knew her mother cared just as much for her. The fear of something happening to their daughter after Coby went missing was enough to cause Wil overbearing, Elroy was the one who usually had to calm and reassure her. On the other hand, Elroy adored Veruca. He always babied her when she was little, given in to her demands and wants. Elroy was the one who taught her how to fly a broom and introduced her to Quidditch. He was ecstatic when Veruca came home with her own Quidditch plaque.

Donagh & Nevaeh McQuaid Veruca adores her grandparents, Nevaeh always spoiled her with so much affection. Donagh, despite his stoic mannerism, has shown such gentle care whenever it came to Veruca. He treated her the same way he treated his daughter. When Donagh passed, Veruca held herself in her room until Nevaeh came in to comfort her. Nevaeh always insisted that her grandchildren go out and do things without needing her approval. Her reason is "because she's old, what would an old woman's approval matter anyway!" Nevaeh also would sneak some candy to Veruca whenever her mother wasn't looking.

Naoise McQuaid Grand Uncle Naoise was always a quiet and kind man. Like his brother Donagh, Naoise took gentle care over Veruca. Likewise with Veruca treating her uncle with care. The two have their own little tradition the same way Veruca has with every other family member. And that is storytelling. Whether it's Naoise recounting his past for Veruca, or Veruca telling her adventures with the vaults. Usually, Naoise is the one telling stories of his childhood since Veruca always wanted to know what her grandparents were like when they were young.

Áine Lavery Aunt Áine and Veruca's relationship can best be described as awkward niece and rich wine aunt. Since Áine has no children, she has taken to spoil her brother's children. When Áine found Veruca's little collection of brooches and pins, Áine would always buy one from whatever country she's visiting and give it to her niece. Áine usually ignores the articles in the Daily Prophet, until she finds a few articles with her niece being shown in a horrible light. Outraged, she took a chimera drawn carriage to Hogwarts, demanding her niece to clean up her act as she is a lady and not a ruffian. Veruca spent the entire time her aunt was at Hogwarts trying to be a perfect lady while also stopping her aunt from fighting Skeeter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Etymology〔

The name Veruca is derived from the Slavic name veruscha/verushka (meaning true, honest, faith) and means vivacious and strong willed.

The original Gaelic form of McQuaid was Mac Uaid, which means son of Wat. The surname McQuaid was first found in County Monaghan (Irish: Muineachán) located in the Northern part of the Republic of Ireland in the province of Ulster.

The Irish name Carlyn claims descent from the O’Connors in Donegal where “Carlan” (from the Irish “carla” meaning a “wool-comb” and “an” meaning “one who” which roughly translates as “one who combs wool”) was in Irish O’Carlain or O’Caireallain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Quotes〔

"I used to do ballet when I was younger… but I gave it all up. Wasn't planning on pursuing it as a career."

"My dad taught me how to fly a broom and play quidditch. The family has an entire room filled with all the quidditch plaques and trophies!"

"Coby and I could never play together. Someone always ends up cheating and getting tackled to the ground... we were both bad sports at the time."

"Felix is graduating! Who is gonna look after us now, Rowan?!"

"There's a lot about me that even Carson doesn't know. I like to keep it as a little mystery."

”Can you believe it? My own pet, my one pride and joy, calling me a coward! Liking someone is hard, okay, Gambat!!”

"I don't care what happens to you, Merula. You didn't care about the people you've hurt over and over again! And even now, you refuse to take responsibility for any of it. So why should I care about how you feel?!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Character Quizzes

Friendship Quizzes

Friendship Reward

Bat Plushie

Club Quizzes

Dragon Club - TBA

Sphinx Club - TBA

Date Quizzes

Garden Date - TBA

Courtyard Date - TBA

Date Reward

TBA

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trivia & Fun Facts

• When Veruca casts Ridikkulus on her Boggart, it turns into Coby dressed in their mother's clothes and makeup.

• After her wand was destroyed by Rakepick, Veruca stuck with wandless magic.

• She used to dance ballet when she was younger but later quit after failing to get a part in the Sleeping Beauty ballet. She eventually went back to practicing the art when Diego helped regain her courage to dance again. She now practices contemporary ballet then went back to classical ballet after some time.

• She owns a whole bunch of bat themed accessories.

• Veruca has a box filled with antique brooches and pins.

• Veruca and Carson’s birthday tradition involves smashing cake into the celebrant’s face. Friends are also encouraged to take part as they each take a turn smashing or smearing cake onto the birthday star.

• Carnations weren’t always a favorite of Veruca’s until she received a bouquet of one by a certain Hufflepuff.

#veruca mcquaid #hphm profile #hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery mc

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thestupidhelmet · 1 year

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More That ‘90 Show Ponderings

We don’t truly get the inner life of most of the characters. Hence, the hollowness and emotional disconnection I feel while I watched it.

Why isn’t Leia’s life awesome in Chicago? Beyond the fact she’s on the debate team and “not cool”. That’s superficial. Why does she have trouble socializing with kids at school? Does she suffer from social anxiety, or did she end up with a crop of kids in her class who simply aren’t compatible with her (it happens) -- or both?

Do her parents control her day-to-day too much for her to feel the freedom she finally gets when she’s away from them for two months?

Why is Jay a “man-whore”? We know exactly who is parents are. Why would Jackie allow her son to be raised with the Kelso mindset about women? She wouldn’t. Then again, she wouldn’t have married Kelso three times. Still, if Jay does have a deeper core than Kelso, what emptiness is he trying fill by treating girls (pre-Leia) the way he does?

Kelso has six siblings. His parents barely pay him much attention. His sense of entitlement, narcissism, and possessiveness stem from childhood wounding. T7S provides enough details through his actions and dialogue about him and his life that we can understand his inner life.

Gwen and Nate fair better than the other kids in T9S. Because their mother, Sherri, is the Formans’ neighbor and becomes quite involved with Red in particular, we understand her, which helps us understand Nate and Gwen. Also, the one episode where we learn about Gwen and Nate’s fathers and their general absence in their kids’ lives lets us into Gwen and Nate’s psychology.

But why is Gwen an outcast at school? Perhaps because she’s biracial and has a white brother and the kids at her school are narrow-minded idiots. She likes making people uncomfortable, as she states in “That ‘90s Pilot,” and it’s not hard to guess why: it’s a self-protection mechanism.

Nate, though ... why is he a Kelso without being a Kelso? Why is that part of his personality? He displays a sensitivity and an awareness of other people, and he’s monogamous and committed to Nikki despite his sexist and gross boys-will-be-boys bullshit with Jay.

Oz. He’s mostly the punchline-giver and observer of the group. Why does he care about his friends, and why do they care about him? Why are they connected? We see him interact with his friends, but that’s not the same as bonding.

Fez on T7S has the same issue with Eric. We never get any background or foreground of their bond. They interact. We know Fez cares a lot about Eric, but we’re never shown why. But we do see Fez bond with Hyde, Kelso, Jackie, and Donna (to a lesser extent) in significant ways.

Red and Kitty are mostly exceptions to the superficiality that runs through That ‘90s Show. Partly, that’s from us having two-hundred episodes of That ‘70s Show where they feature prominently.

Eric, too, and his relationship with Leia. That part might be the best written of the series so far (except for how hard the show leans into the Star Wars jokes).

The fact That ‘90s Show has only ten episodes doesn’t help, but the writing is the main issue. Within the first ten episodes of That ‘70s Show, we understand Red, Kitty, Bob, Midge, Eric, Donna, Kelso, Fez, Jackie, and Hyde (pre-”Prom Night” [1x19] version) and their relationship dynamics on a deep enough level that the episodes that follow build on what’s already established. That ‘90s Show mostly fails in this regard.

To quote Deanna Troi from Star Trek: The Next Generation, episode “The Loss” (4x10) when she loses her empathic abilities: “I look around me, and all I see are surfaces without depth. Colorless. Hollow. Nothing seems real.”

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #That '90s Show #Red x Kitty #Eric Forman #My Meta #My Essay #Meta #Essay #Spoilers

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inactive-herbalist · 2 years

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𝓐𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓱𝓪𝓶 "𝓐𝓫𝓮" 𝓐𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓾𝓼 𝓗𝓮𝓷𝓻𝔂 𝓐𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓷

Ravenclaw • Half-blood • British • ENFP • Libra • Beater • Troublemaker • Auror • Journalist

Name: Abraham Aurelius Henry Alden, future Earl of Dorset

Nicknames: Abe, Alden

Birthdate: October 8th, 1874

Zodiac Sign: Libra Sun, Virgo Moon, Gemini Rising

Personality Type (MBTI): ENFP – The Campaigner

Sexuality: heterosexual

Gender Identity: Wizard (he/him)

Blood-Status: Half-blood

Nationality: British

Residence: Exeter, England

Hometown: Exeter, England

Languages: English, French, Italian, Ancient Greek, Latin

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Thimothée Charlamet

Hair: brown, slightly curly, usually tousled

Eyes: brown

Height: 186cm

Weight: 70kg

Body Type: slim, athletic

Skin Tone: light, warm

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): -

Family

Mother: Anabelle Minerva Alden née Silverthorn. Ravenclaw, pureblood, former Unspeakable and ancient runes specialist. Broke off all contact with her parents, they consider her a disgrace for marrying a muggle. Met Vincent during an undercover investigation, charmed him with her intellect and iron-will. Stopped working at the ministry after giving birth to their first son, William.

Father: Vincent Edmund William Alden, Duke of Exeter, Earl of Dorset, firstborn son of Edmund Albert and Elisabeth Viktoria Alden. Loving but strict father. Encourages learning and critical-thinking but is concerned about their status and would rather have his sons behave and conform, at least in public. In that matter Abe can give his father a bit of a headache.

Older Brother: William Jupiter Theodor Alden, future Duke of Exeter, older brother by four years, griffindor, Auror. A little arrogant but a kind soul. Charmer. Loves to lecture Abe, only because he wants the best for him. The golden son.

Magic

House: Ravenclaw (tied with Gryffindor)

Best Class: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies, History of Magic

Worst Class: Divination

Quidditch: Beater

Clubs: Duelling Club

Wand: Apple Wood, Phoenix Core, 14 1/2” Length, Slightly Yielding Flexibility

➔ Applewood wands are not made in great numbers. They are powerful and best suited to an owner of high aims and ideals, as this wood mixes poorly with Dark magic. It is said that the possessor of an apple wand will be well-loved and long-lived, and I have often noticed that customers of great personal charm find their perfect match in an applewood wand. An unusual ability to converse with other magical beings in their native tongues is often found among apple wand owners, who include the celebrated author of Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs, Dylan Marwood.

Animagus: –

Boggart: him being ignorant (don’t know how that would manifest yet, any ideas?)

Riddikulus: tbd

Patronus: Lynx

Patronus Memory: Sword fighting with his brother in the backyard (using branches)

Mirror of Erised: himself as a Professor for DADA and/or Muggle Studies

Amortentia (what he smells like): leather, a hint of ink, cedarwood, freshly mowed grass, cinnamon

Amortentia (what he smells): tbd

Magical Abilities: -

Career

Ages 11–18: Student at Hogwarts

Ages 18–36: Auror, Freelance Writer

Inherits the title Earl of Dorset at the age of 26

Ages 36–retirement: Professor for Muggle Studies, Substitute teacher for DADA

Personality & Attitude

Personality: great speaking and duelling skills, likes to question things and has a tendency to get into trouble, loves a good book and has a slight obsession with bikes that just now started to pop up, well-versed on muggle matters, curious, well-read and chatty, idealist, appreciates a good challenge, can be very random at times xD

Strengths: enthusiasm, sense of justice, perception, improvising, communication skills, highly empathetic, helpful

Weaknesses: tends to worry a lot, can be impulsive

Stressors: not being able to solve a problem or help people out (drives him crazy), he’s not that easily stressed tho but when he does gets a bit emotional

Comfort: reading a good book out in nature, friends, riding a bike or horseback riding

Priorities: his friends, social progress, justice

Favourites

Colours: neutral colours

Food: -

Drink: Earl Grey

Flowers: lavender, dandelion

Books: North and South – Elizabeth Gaskell

Weather: warm and sunny

Hobbies: conversing, reading, writing, telling his friends about muggle inventions, fencing

Style: usual upper class/noble wear but prefers to dress more casually

Relationships

Significant Other / Love Interest: Emmeline Antonia Falcon @endlessly-cursed

Will add a brief summary of their story later…

Best friend: Oscar Alatar Erdstern — met in their first year at Hogwarts, hit it off instantly and have been friends ever since. They often stay up late to talk about anything and everything.

Friends:

Violette Jolie Durand — met her a week before school started (5th year), strolling through Diagon Alley, running errands. Overheard a conversation she had with a shop-owner, mentioning that she’s transferring to Hogwarts. So he decided to go talk to her. Violette was a little wary in the beginning but Abe was persistent and soon they found out they had a lot in common and became close friends.

Primrose Gray @endlessly-cursed

Henry of Alderly @gaygryffindorgal

Open for friendships. If your interested DM me :)

Random HC

likes to read books outside or between shelves in the library

loves his brother but thinks he‘s a little too stuck in his ways

supporter of social movements (of both magical and non-magical nature)

his brother got him into quidditch; practicing with him since his brothers first year at Hogwarts

doesn’t really like all those big feasts he has to attend but does enjoy a good conversation or debate with the few people that share his views or are at least open to a constructive debate

great conversationalist

likes bikes so much because they give him a sense of freedom

gets super excited when he learns about a new muggle invention

is a bit of a rebel, doing things his own way rather than conforming to set rules – which gets him into trouble from time to time

knows how to speak a little bit of German, thanks to Oscar

sometimes writes poetry to process thoughts and feelings, but keeps it more of a secret

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #my ocs #ocs #mcs #aestehtic #moodboard #ravenclaw #abraham alden #wizarding world #hphl profile

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yasminsqueendom · 9 months

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1. Where There's Smoke...

WC: 4304

CW/TW: Mental Health Struggle, Emotional Manipulation, Harassment (at the end)

Micky was used to pain. The emotional kind, not so much the physical. She didn’t feel sorry for herself, though. She had things to do. Big things. She had big dreams. She was a writer. Micky wanted to have her own show on Netflix one day. Blackness was in fashion again, and she was going to cash in on the trend. Since every big corporation was jockeying for the title of the “most inclusive” she was sure there was a space with her name carved into it somewhere. Just gotta find it.

But, something was always in the way. First, it was her needy mother borrowing money from her that she never paid back. Then, it was her grandmother wanting her to put her “super-bitch” cape on to come fix some shit. Or it was her crazy ass brother threatening to kill everybody because he blamed the world for all his problems. She was still fucking her ex, and still pretending that it didn’t mean anything to her. Her friends were flaky at best. Her cat, Rufus, was aging and ill. She got no help, but she gave it all without question. She was effectively alone. Somewhat by choice and somewhat not.

So, she wrote.

She wrote about sex, politics, vampires, sorcerers, children, parenting, history, slavery. She only wrote Black shit. She never centered any other perspective in her content. And she almost exclusively wrote from the perspective of women. Her characters were complex. They weren’t heroes, some of them were in fact quite evil. Her characters had fears, and attitudes. Some of them were wholesome. All of them suffered in some way or another. And that was her only regret. She hated that the stories were always tainted by pain. Yes, they usually triumphed in the end, but they had to suffer first.

Her biggest frustration in Black creative circles was THAT narrative. Pain was a Black woman’s doorway to….what? Success? Love? Peace? Self-Actualization? And Jesus, or some aspect of the church was always sprinkled in. Another annoying part of the narrative. Even when she saw faces like hers on the screen, she still wasn’t represented. Micky knew what the struggle felt like, but she REFUSED to fall into the trap of “Black woman suffers, finds God, finds a man, prays, and all is well.” Life didn’t work that way for so many like her. Yes, struggling was a part of life for a lot of people, but the church wasn’t fixing it.

So, she wrote.

Today, though, she didn’t feel like writing. Her mind was spinning as she considered the phone call she just hung up from. Her brother was veering off the rails again. Threatening his baby’s mother, and scaring all the hags of the family. Tuh. Micky almost had to laugh at that. That’s what she thought of the suddenly “concerned” elderly women of her family who never once cared what was happening with her brother when he was a child. Now that he couldn’t contain his rage anymore, they were calling on her to put her “super-bitch” cape on to save the day. She had told them to shove it. And now, she was doubting her decision.

He had lost it on the phone, calling their mother all kinds of trash ass bitches. He hated her and their grandmother and wanted both of them to die and SOON. Micky was at a loss. A decade separated her and Mark in age. She couldn’t deny the things he told her about his upbringing because she hadn’t been alive for the first ten years of his life. She had to remain neutral. Or should I get involved. But how?

When her mother had asked, Micky lied and said Mark was just “blowing off some steam,” but she knew better. He had never sounded like this before. He kept repeating how he needed to die. How THEY needed to die. And Micky was shook to the core. How am I supposed to deal with this shit? Why do I always have to come to the rescue? It wasn’t fair. All these grown people, who had been growner than her for most of her 25 years, didn’t want to handle their own fucking problems. It made her mad. It brought up that knot in her chest that she couldn’t break apart. It triggered her anxiety in ways that only her fucked up family could. And yet, she had to stand firm in her truth.

Fact: all the fucked up shit that happened when her brother was growing up took place long before she was even a thought. And, yes, some things happened later, but she was a child through most of it. She had memories of all the loud arguments, and all the times their mother threw him out of the house. She knew her mother had put an unfair amount of pressure on him to take on adult responsibilities, in the absence of both of their fathers. Her brother had never truly been a boy. He’d always had to be a man. Even before Micky was born, their grandmother had worked him like a slave. He knew how to repair electrical systems, and pour cement by the age of 10. It had been brutal, and he never recovered from it.

The part that dug at her heart the most, was that none of the people responsible wanted to own up to that. None of them wanted to come clean and say it outright. They wanted to quiet him, but not heal him. And Micky couldn’t heal him, because his pain wasn’t something she could touch. To him, she was his baby sister that needed protecting. In reality, he had never protected her from anything. But to him, she wasn’t even a viable option to help him. And she knew all of this. Mark needed to burn up his rage slowly so that it wouldn’t explode. He used to smoke and drink it down, but since he’d stopped eating meat, and only eating raw vegetables and occasional starch, sobriety was forcing him to deal with uncomfortable truths. The explosion was coming and she couldn’t stop it.

Writing was the only thing that made her feel better sometimes. Right now, though, that seemed impossible. She couldn’t find the inspiration to tell a story. She certainly couldn’t gather the strength to tell a story that didn’t involve pain. It was what informed all her decisions. Her survival depended on her being able to get all that shit out somehow.

She looked around her small, raggedy apartment. $15 an hour didn’t get you shit in the city. Rufus, her cat, was curled up on her futon. She almost wished she’d gone to work today, but not really. Her day job was cashiering, and every day at work pushed her to want to get out somehow. She just had to make it. But, between her personal life and work, she couldn’t maintain her motivation. It would come and go in waves. She saw all the online posts about grinding, hustling, and working non-stop until your fingers damn near fell off. But art didn’t work that way. You needed the feeling behind the words. Otherwise, your creations were bullshit.

Frustration tightened the muscles in her neck and shoulders. A migraine was coming on. The pressure from the hags, and the rage from her brother put her in an uncomfortable position. She didn’t like the chaos that was brewing in her family, but she also knew she couldn’t stop it. She had to get to a point of acceptance, but grief didn’t work like that. It took you all over the place, snatching your edges all the while. Then, leaving you torn up and cross eyed, it dropped you off at “acceptance.” She wanted to scream. More importantly, she wanted to write.

Her phone buzzed. He is sending threats to your grandma again. Micky wasn’t going to respond to her mother’s text. She had to stand by her decision. Her eyes moved to the corner of her phone screen before it went dark. She had been sitting here for an hour. Lost in her own damn mind for 60 long minutes, barely moving at all. Her legs were numb. Her toes were tingling. She needed a distraction.

Her phone buzzed again. Wyd. Erik, the ex, was back in town. He hit her up every few months for some ass. She’d let him hit, too. Shit, why not? I’m single. But, she knew exactly why she needed to walk away from him. He wasn’t worth the headache. He was an asshole of immense proportions. She knew the way this would go. Micky would ignore him for hours, maybe even a day. He would send “oh you done with me?” She would reply “what are you talking about?” It would go on and on until he either ended up at her place, or she at his. It was the same thing every time. He would show interest for a week, maybe two. Then, he would disappear again. He wouldn’t even open her messages. She would hate herself for giving in, again. Another few months would go by. She would delete his number, but never block it. She had it memorized so she always knew when it was him.

And there was her biggest problem, she couldn’t let go of the past. She kept reaching back, and every time she did, she hated herself more. Hell yeah, pain was a part of anything she created. But, she was lonely, and the only people that were always around were the people that needed her for something. Girl, shut up! Now you sound pitiful. She pressed her finger to her phone to unlock it. Another 15 minutes had gone by while she was feeling sorry for herself.

She typed up her messages. Mom, I can’t deal with that right now. I already told you how I feel. She stood up and leaned against her counter as vertigo overwhelmed her. Her blood rushed through her body, making her nearly faint. When the feeling passed, she typed her other message. Nothing, you? Then, she turned off her phone. She needed to get out of this claustrophobic studio apartment, but she wasn’t going to see Erik, and she certainly wasn’t going over her mom’s.

Instead, she hopped in her little 2-door hoopty and drove to a park in a nicer area. There was one down the street from where she lived, but it wasn’t nice. The city never had enough “funding” to keep neighborhoods like hers from falling into disrepair. It was all bullshit. Still, she needed a clean space to clear her thoughts enough to write about what weighed on her heart. She kept a journal in her bag, so she was always prepared. When she wasn’t feeling creative, but still needed to express herself, she would write about the very real shit she was living. She found a place to park, rolled down her windows and pulled out her journal and a pen. She never liked to interact with strangers too much. She would walk around after she was done writing, but she rarely engaged with anyone. Another thing I have to work on. Being comfortable alone. The words began to pour out of her:

Here I am about to be this man’s slut again. I never write his name down, or even save his number, but I always know. And he knows, too. He ain’t shit, but I keep fucking him because he likes it and so do I. I need to feel something different sometimes. Even when I know he’s just going to hurt me again. It’s worth it at the time. Be honest, bitch, you like that shit. You like that you don’t need to do anything. You like how effortless it is at first, but then he pulls away again, and you realize you fell for him again. You’re so fucking stupid.

Micky needed to pause. This wasn’t how she intended to write about her day. After a few deep breaths, she started again:

Anyway, the family is off the rails again. It’s sickening. I have to keep being super-bitch and it’ll be the damn death of me. Fuck that. I have to learn the power of the word ‘no’ or I’m assed out. I come from a broken family. A family that breaks the men it makes. Not on some hotep shit, though. It’s just hard as fuck being Black. Mothers keep their sons so fucking close and then release them thoroughly unprepared for the world. Niggas ain't innocent, though. They don't know how to navigate spaces without a display of "dominance," and they certainly don't teach their daughters how interactions with men should look.

Her thoughts kept going to dark places. She was losing interest in journaling. Not a first, sometimes months would go by before she could write down that inner monologue. It rarely ended on a good note. She decided she would write the next time some good shit happened to her. That way she would break up the monotony of negative thoughts. Yeah right.

She wrote some more until her hand ached. Closing her eyes, she listened to the sounds of people moving around her. Kids were playing on the slides. Dogs barked at each other from opposite sides of the street. Some lowered voices carried on the wind, a laugh sprinkled here and there. Overall, a happy ass place. Somehow, this illusion of contentment put Micky further in her feelings. There was no way all these people were this…..pleased.

Whoa, bitch. Be realistic. These people had problems, too. At least, that was a reasonable expectation. Micky just didn't want them to look so…. happy, because she was so damn sad. Once she could put into words the dark feelings that swam in the depths of her soul, she started to feel better. She could walk around looking just as happy if she really wanted to. She needed a change of scenery. It was her day off and here she was worrying herself about things she could not control. That simply would not do.

Eventually, Micky rolled up her windows and got out of her car. She considered her appearance: a hoodie, tights, sneakers, hair twisted into a protective style. Her hair only came just below her ears. She liked it better that way, it was easier to manage. She didn't wear makeup despite the acne scars on her forehead. The weather was cooler than her preference, sitting at 65 degrees. But, her anemic ass was always cold. It was just another fact of life for her. Nobody cares how I look. Stop worrying about shit that don’t matter.

She started walking. After a while, the happy sounds around her grated on her ears. She reached into her hoodie pocket for her phone. She didn’t know what notifications she expected, but her phone was eerily silent. It had been a couple of hours and no one had responded to her yet. Somehow, this pissed her off even more. Music. She opened up her music app, looking for her “Bad B!tch” playlist. She had left her earbuds in her bag, and her bag was tucked just under the backseat of her car. Damn. She looked around, no one was close enough to hear her music if she played it quietly.

Micky resumed her walk, lost in her morbid thoughts, when she heard the last voice she expected. “Hey, Ms. Thang.” She nearly jumped out of her skin. There is no fucking way! She felt that familiar hand rest in the middle of her back. The intent was to calm her down, but calm was the last feeling moving through her body. She turned to face the man of her dreams and nightmares.

“Erik?” she ground out. Of course her ex would be here. Why not?

“Why you jump like that? You know who I am.”

“What the fuck! You know better than to run up on me like that!” The anger was coming back, now that the fear wore off. How dare he creep on her? AND have the nerve to touch her without identifying himself first. They both came from hard places. He knew that was disrespectful at best. His shit-eating grin proved it.

“I live near here. You know that. I wasn’t creeping on you, ma. Chill.” She wanted to punch that fine ass face almost as bad as she wanted to kiss those thick ass lips. He caught her eyes wandering. “See something you want?” This nigga. Micky turned to walk away. After a pause, she heard his footsteps behind her. “What’s wrong, ma? You usually more talkative than this.” Leave it to him to feel observant today.

“I’m not in the mood for this, Erik. How did you know I was down here?”

“I didn’t know. It’s a beautiful day, and I had some free time.” Micky pursed her lips at that.

“It’s a Tuesday. Why aren’t you at work?” Why of all times did he have to be here now?

“Oh, you know my schedule now?” Those damn dimples popped. Certain body parts of hers twitched in response.

“Nah. I know YOU.” She kept walking. He had almost immediately caught up with her. It took nearly no effort. He stood at 6 feet and 1 whole inch. That’s how he always said it to her. “One whole inch, ma.” It was disgustingly cute. Meanwhile, her 5 feet 6 inches brought her forehead right to his lips. “So why you not at work?” She asked again.

“I just got back in town yesterday. After I slept off the jetlag, I hit you up. I’m not due back in the office until tomorrow. And you clearly not at work either.” He let the sentence hang. The implication was clear. Did she want to spend that free time with him?

“I just needed some fresh air. You brought me here a couple times. I come here on my own now. And honestly, I like it that way.” Now, think on that.

“You tryna tell me to leave you alone?” She looked up at him. She wanted a distraction, but she was feeling a little too vulnerable for this game right now. The timing was too bad. He looked good as hell in those basketball shorts and that tight ass t-shirt. She openly raked her eyes all over him, making it clear what her desire was. But she made sure to look him right in the eyes when she spoke.

“Yes, Erik. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” She watched as his confidence wavered slightly. He was confused by her words contradicting her body language. Suddenly, his vibe changed. He hadn’t made another move, but all of him was focused intently on her. God dammit. This nigga think I wanna play cat and mouse. He looked like he would chase her if she ran. “Oh, aiight.” He finally responded.

She turned away from him again, focusing on the song that was playing on her phone. There were no footsteps behind her this time. After the song ended, she peaked back one time. He was nowhere to be seen. Because that’s not creepy as fuck. But, she wasn’t going to worry herself about it. After the way her day was going, she didn’t have the energy for the bullshit.

Eventually, it was time to turn back. Her phone showed her that another 2 hours had gone by. It may be mid-Spring, but it was 6:00 in the evening. The sun would be going down soon. There weren’t as many people around as before. Damn, it’s the tail end of rush hour, too. She decided to slow walk her way back to her car. The fresh air had done her good. Her phone was still quiet. No one else had messaged her. It would have been a relief if it weren’t for the undeniable feeling of trouble brewing. Her anxiety was cutting up, but she wasn’t likely to ignore a gut feeling. And this feeling was deeper than usual.

The sound of someone walking behind her got her attention. She turned the music off on her phone and pulled up her dial screen. If she was in danger, she would be ready to call for help. She gripped her house keys in her other hand in case she needed to protect herself. She shrugged until she could feel her pocket knife loosen in her bra. Micky didn’t play that shit. She had been distracted earlier, but Erik’s antics had straightened that shit out real quick.

“Yo, ma!” It wasn’t Erik’s voice this time. Fuck. She walked faster, choosing to increase distance rather than to turn around and engage. “Slow down, sexy. I’m just tryna holler.” She released her keys in her pocket and reached instead for the blade in her bra. They usually went away if she ignored them. She wasn’t going to jump to conclusions just yet. He would get the message either way. “Don’t be like that. Damn, you fine.” Micky was getting fed up. She had walked in a vaguely triangular shape, so she wasn’t too far from her car now. The thought of this creep following her all the way there made her skin crawl. She had to act.

“Thank you, but I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Have a good night!” Hopefully, he would get the message, but Micky knew better than to expect a fool to act smart. “Come on, sexy. You won’t even give me a chance? That’s fucked up.” Fuck. Clearly, dude wasn’t getting the message. “Don’t be a bitch. That shit ain’t cool. Come on, girl. Let a nigga hit for the one time.” Micky gripped her knife, and slowed her walking, controlling her breathing. She could see her car now. It would only be a short sprint to the vehicle. He wouldn’t be expecting her to run. “Bring ya ass here!” His voice sounded much closer, causing her to jump. When she looked back, he was almost in reach. She couldn’t see him that well, as the sun was setting behind him.

“I will stab you. Back the fuck up!” He paused at that. It was finally getting through his thick skull that she didn’t want shit from him. At that exact moment, her phone started buzzing in her hand. “I’ma get my nigga to fuck you up! This him right now!” She didn’t even look when she answered the phone. The idiot had slowed down, but he clearly wasn’t giving up. She answered her phone, and acted the part.

“Hey, baby. I’m in the park still, right by the parking lot. Somebody following me.” There was a short pause before she heard “Get to the car. I’ll be there. Stay on the line.” She obeyed, never once turning her back on the asshole that was bothering her, she cleared the last 30 or so feet to the car. “My nigga coming, so you might wanna disappear.” She didn’t want to look away from him to focus on getting her key in the door. So she stood next to her car, watching him watch her. He hovered about 10 feet away, clearly debating on if she was lying or not about help coming.

Headlights blinded her for a moment as a brand new Lincoln Navigator screeched into the parking lot. At this point, the park was mostly empty, all the parents had taken their kids home. No one was around. Micky decided to use this exact moment as a distraction to get in her car. She turned the key in the ignition, put it in reverse, and started to back out when she noticed that Erik was hopping out the Navigator. Oh shit! He really came. She knew he only lived 5 minutes away, but she hadn’t expected him to show up.

He turned toward her car. “This him right?” Before she could respond, the dumbass started booking it away from them. Erik looked like he was about to chase after him, until she rolled down her window and yelled at him to stop. He glared at her, but at this point the would-be attacker had a head start. It wasn’t worth the chase.

“You aiight?” Erik walked toward her car, keeping one eye in the direction the dumbass had run.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Micky flashed her blade before replacing it in her bra. She sat in her car for a moment, staring straight ahead. This is too much. The tears came hot and fast. There was no way this day could get worse. And then to top it all off, she was crying in front of Erik. His eyes were wide as saucers since he’d never seen her cry before. She turned her face away from him. Of all the times to cry, I had to do it now? She heard her car door open.

“Turn it off.” Micky obeyed the quiet command. “Come on. I’ma take you home.”

“No, it’s cool. I can drive. I just need a second. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just don’t want you sitting here in case he comes back.”

That made sense to her. She restarted her car. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t even look to see who was calling me. I should have known it would be you.”

“Ain’t nothing. You want me to come over?”

“Erik, I don’t want sex right now.”

“That’s cool. I wasn’t offering it.” That got her attention. Since when?

“Whatchu mean?”

He had the audacity to look offended. “I’ll follow you, okay?” He closed her door and started his car up again. True to his word, he waited for her to pull off before he followed.

#black panther #fanfiction #erik killmonger #black writer #black fiction #where there's smoke

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softly-potter · 1 year

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The Lists | Chapter One: Write Offs

Summary: After losing her brother, Wanda keeps a list of everything important to her, so that she can keep them at a safe distance, but Bucky has a list of his own.

Pairing: Wanda X Bucky

Word Count: 4,448

Warning: Angst, Depressed Wanda

Find Chapter 2: Stay Here

Losing someone you care about is never easy, but when the first death you experience is from a young age, the pain is slightly different. The understanding of it, recognizing it, makes losing someone all the more painful, just in a different way.

When Wanda and Pietro were orphaned, they were devastated. Pietro was mostly angry, all appalling and bitterness and muscle. Wanda was emotional, weepy and saddened. As difficult as it was, they survived, almost easily, both adapting the stubbornness of their father and the intelligence of their mother. Nothing could overcome them when they were together.

And then they weren’t.

Losing your other half, your soulmate in blood and bone, was something that rocked Wanda to her core. They were born together; she’d always believed they’d died together. Sokavia had different plans, and it left her splintered, shattered.

Vision was her second chance.

He showed her a softness she hadn’t ever felt, a love that was different from the type she had with her parents and brother. In his arms she was safe, she was looked after. Everyone in the world viewed her as a weapon, a threat. But when Vision kissed her, nothing could convince her that she was anything but ordinary, and that's all she ever wanted.

It’s no wonder she died a little when she lost him, too.

She secluded herself to the small room of the compound when she came back from the snap. The world was safe, the world returned to its previous state before Thanos. Well, everyone's world except hers.

She thought of them often, nightmares and tears plaguing her every night. Listing them all down, she jotted the names of those who were important to her, those that she had left, slashing the names of those where gone.

Pietro Vision Natasha Steve Clint

She tried not to be angry that Clint left the compound. He had a family, after all, a family that wasn’t her, and she was happy that he was happy. It didn’t mean his absence didn’t hurt.

Training everyday seemed to help. She joined Bucky and Yelena in missions occasionally, but the casualties that inevitably happen always shook her, made her sick. She stayed in bed for nearly three days after failing to catch a woman who fell from a blast, her head landing on rubble, cracking on the left side, her blood spritzing like a water gun.

While she was kind, Yelena didn’t seem to understand Wanda's gloomy disposition. They were friends, but Yelena couldn’t help but scoff at the tears that seemed to pool in Wanda’s eyes at the end of every mission. She tried her best to be supportive, even if she didn’t completely fathom the grief, and that earned her a spot on Wanda’s list.

Bucky seemed to be the opposite. Wanda never saw him cry, but sometimes she could hear him, muffled sobs echoing off the steel walls of the compound down the hall from her own. Some nights, when she woke up crying, Wanda considered reaching out to him, but the fear of misunderstanding made her pause. She wondered if he heard her cry, too, because after partially bad nights, she found more often than not fruit cut up on a plate, left in the center of the dining table. He never confirmed his actions, but one time he walked into the kitchen early in the morning, and when he spotted her lifting a melon slice to her mouth, he had grinned before silently retrieving his coffee, and exiting the room.

She wrote his name down easily.

Staring down at the paper, Wanda realized she had many many weaknesses. Every single name on that list was something that could be used to harm her, torture her. She folded it quietly, tucking it in the bottom drawer of her dresser, hoping to forget its existence, the list of her undoing.

It took time for Bucky to work his way into her heart deeper than he already was. For a long time, he was just a name on the list; someone of importance. Time is fickle, the way it can change things, and it changed the way she viewed him. It became easier to breathe when he was in a room. Her heart ached more now when she heard him sob at night, so much so that she’d creep from her room, settle in front of his door. Sometimes she'd just sit there, listening to the way his cries bounced off the walls, other times she’d knock. He never answered, but his sobs eventually subsided, and she knew her presence helped in some way.

The fruit plates became more frequent, random apples and oranges showing up in her bedroom occasionally. She couldn’t help the smile that they evoked. Wanda didn't understand why he tried so hard, didn’t know why he stared at her with such piercing and entering eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. It confused her how he jumped at every opportunity to be partnered with her, and her heart stuttered every time he put his own safety below hers. Sometimes he’d smile at her, and the fear of his generosity gripped her ferociously.

It confused her deeply, because this was not the Bucky she had heard about. The Bucky she had come to like, to care for, was soft. The Bucky she had heard about was steel, a hardened killing machine. The stories seemed like two completely different people.

Wanda sipped from the mug that was stuck between her palms, the hot liquid warming her skin. Bucky laid out on the couch, his feet across Yelena's lap as the super spy flicked through the channels on the TV.

The mission hadn’t been awful, but it was long, a few things going haywire. Yelena had her hand pressed to the bandaged portion of Bucky's leg, and Wanda tried not to feel guilty as she watched them, her head still pounding. He’d been injured taking a bullet for her. She’d been too distracted, too focused on the danger in front of her that she hadn’t noticed the ground guns reloading. She remembered being thrown out of the way, the side of her head colliding with the ground, and through her blurry vision, she saw him on the floor beside her, blood pooling through his pants.

Wanda was always prepared for a mission to be her last; she knew she was too sloppy, unfocused. What she wasn’t prepared for was Bucky. The damn soldier just couldn’t let her die. She knew almost for a fact that Bucky had a list of his own, and it scared her that her name was probably on his.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda stretched her neck, knowing full well no matter how tired her body was she wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night. Yelena yawned, raising her hands above her head before chucking the remote to the side. She placed her hand on Bucky's leg again, massaging gently, and Wanda was appalled at the jealousy that twisted in her gut.

She gave Yelena a thick smile. “You two would be a cute couple.”

Yelena blanched, eyes growing twice the size and she let out a sharp laugh. She glanced at a still sleeping Bucky, then back at Wanda, before letting out another laugh, her hand over her lips. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Wanda shrugged, lifted her mug again.

Yelena shook her head, laughing more. “No, no, no. Is that why you’re hesitant? You think me and him are…together?”

Wanda felt her cheeks burn, and she hated the way the other girl was staring at her.

Yelena sighed, craning her neck back. “Oh, Wanda. Don’t you know?”

Lifting a brow, Wanda cocked her head, but said nothing. Saying nothing was safe, gave nothing away. shifting, Yelena gently lifted Bucky's legs off her lap, placing them on the couch. He stirred, his eyes still scrunched, and a few words in another language escaped his mouth. Sitting beside her, Yelena gave her a gentle smile.

“It’s you, Уважаемые,” she said quietly, and wanda felt her skin prick at the kindness in the other girls voice. “He's always had his eyes for you. He and I are simply two people with an understanding. But you and him?” Yelena let out a low whistle, clicking her teeth. “You two are an entirely different story.”

Wanda gaped at her words, clutching the mug like it was a life line. This wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to feel like that, not for her. Anyone but for her.

Yelena yawned, cracked her fingers. “I think I’ll head to bed,” she hummed, standing slowly before giving Wanda a small grin. “I know it’s probably scary, not being able to control what you feel. But…maybe give him a chance.”

Wanda tried to smile but it felt odd, pulling at muscles that didn't get used very often. Maybe Yelena was right. Maybe the risk would be worth it, having those deep feelings for someone. She felt like she’d been in a constant cycle of loneliness. Was Bucky lonely, too?

Yelena smacked the uninjured side of Bucky's leg lightly, and he jumped slightly, sleepy eyes cracking open.

“Time for bed, ребенок,” Yelena said, giving Wanda one last knowing look. “See you in the morning.”

The spy shuffled away, leaving the two of them alone. Bucky sat up, his dog tags sliding into view against his t-shirt as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Wanda watched his movement, taking in the way his left arm whirred quietly with every motion, and the way his muscles flexed in the low light of the television.

Catching herself, she abruptly stood, turning to take leave to her own room. She placed her half full mug on the counter, gripping the edge before glancing at him over her shoulder. He was watching her, brown eyes void of anger or fear or despair. Something else was placed there, something she could have sworn she’d seen before from another man that was taken from her too soon.

She looked away, her back to him as she slowly exited to the room. Pausing by the doorframe, she cleared her throat, gripping bravery by the reigns and pulling.

“Goodnight, James.”

A beat of silence passed, and she winced.

“Goodnight, Wanda,” he replied. His voice was riddled with sleep, and she heard him shift slightly. “Sleep well.”

She bit her lip to repress the smile that she knew was growing and walked out of the room.

#bucky barnes x wanda maximoff #rare pairing #winterwitch #bucky barns fanfiction

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