#ever since she got casted out of heaven she's been on the verge of a heart attack
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I have to say, I've always loved your expressions, and Vaggie's face as she's calling the police in that High-School AU post is probably my absolute favorite face you've ever drawn.
Hehe thanks. I love drawing funny lil faces
It's almost therapeutic
#asks#these are my personal favorites#love getting to play around with expressions with vaggie#ever since she got casted out of heaven she's been on the verge of a heart attack
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JC adopts stray/rouge cultivators after the war au to cope with the destruction of lotus pier. also i love your writing so much!!
Gratuitously Acquired - ao3
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1
At first, he took anyone who would join, needing numbers – needing people. There were plenty of cultivators that wanted to be associated with a great sect. Plenty, too, that were barely more than criminals, wanting to use the smoke and ash of war to obscure the past, to cover up old crimes and wash themselves clean.
Jiang Cheng wasn’t in any position to refuse them. Soldiers were soldiers.
After the war ended, though…
Some he cast out. Others, even more despicable, he slaughtered for what they’d done.
A few –
“Yan Qiao.”
The female cultivator in question, who had been sneaking out of the still mostly ruined Lotus Pier at night in flagrant violation of curfew, froze in her tracks.
“Uh,” she said. “Sect Leader Jiang. Fancy finding you…here…now…at this time…”
Jiang Cheng looked at the basket of buns in her hands. “You’re stealing leftovers from our kitchens to feed orphans among the common people,” he said. “Again.”
She blushed. “No one wants them now that there’s better available, Sect Leader! Really, they’ll only go stale, and then rot – and I never stole when it was the army eating them!”
“That’s not the point,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. “Tell me, how in the name of heavens did you really get branded as a criminal? Distributed too many alms? Did too much charity?”
Yan Qiao coughed, turning red. “I told you before, Sect Leader. I killed a man.”
“He must have done something particularly heinous, then. You’re shitat killing.”
“Now I am. Sect Leader, if you don’t mind…”
“You’re one of the ones who wants my surname, right?” he interrupted. “Consider it granted.”
Yan Qiao – no, he supposed he’d better start thinking of her as Jiang Qiao – gaped at him. “But…Sect Leader!”
“I’ve barely granted it to anyone, so you’d better live up to it, you hear me?” Jiang Cheng said in his best threatening voice. He’d been assured by several people that it was really quite threatening, anyway. “I don’t want any excuses. Now go feed your damn orphans, and in the morning I want a report on how you think we can do it in a more structured manner. I can’t have you sneaking off every night anymore! Now that you’re a Jiang, you’re going to have work.”
-
2
When they were done with war and started firmly on rebuilding, the Jiang sect’s name was firmly reestablished as a Great Sect once more, it was the opportunists that came.
Smiling faces, sycophantic voices, cowards one and all – like beetles crawling out of the woodwork, not willing to risk their lives, but willing enough to beg for scraps and advantages later on when it seemed safe enough to do so.
Jiang Cheng wanted to chase them all away, but his sect was still weaker than he wanted to admit, still rebuilding, still more army than civilian operation. They had valiant soldiers by the dozen, but they needed more than that. They needed administrators, supervisors, artisans, smiths, merchants, laundry-women…
They needed workers. The ones they got – well, cowards they might be, but skills they had.
He still rejected most of the worst of them.
Most.
“Bo Zhou,” he said, inspecting the surprisingly flush list of taxes they’d collected that quarter, and the man in question turned to grin unrepentantly at him. “You’d tell me if you were a con artist in a previous life, right?”
“A previous life, Sect Leader?” Bo Zhou said. He was still grinning, but then, he was always grinning. He had a crooked leg and an even more crooked heart, and he’d probably steal candy from little children if he happened to have a hankering, but he was amazing at getting people to do what he wanted. Too amazing, really. “Why limit yourself? What about thislife?”
“…Bo Zhou. Tell me you aren’t a former con artist.”
“I may or may not have had a sideline selling snake oil and protective talismans before I became a cultivator,” Bo Zhou admitted cheerfully, and Jiang Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose – less out of actual irritation and more to keep from actually laughing. The only person he knew that was more shameless than Bo Zhou was Wei Wuxian; he couldn’t wait to introduce them once Wei Wuxian stopped skulking around in wine shops long enough to get back to doing his job as Jiang Cheng’s head disciple and right hand. “Who would’ve known that making all those fake talismans ended up making me pretty good at making actual talismans when I became a cultivator? Really, who could have called that?”
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Who taught you how to cultivate, anyway? Can I – I don’t know – seek vengeance on behalf of the rest of the world or something?”
Bo Zhou rolled his eyes right back at him. Shameless! “Is this about the taxes? Just be happy I got them all!”
“I can’t just be happy! What if this money is stolen property?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sect Leader. They’re what we shouldbe getting, and from all the right people. You told me this was the right amount yourself!”
“Yes, but no one ever actually pays the full amount!” Jiang Cheng enjoyed the way Bo Zhou’s jaw dropped. “I just wanted to see if you could actually do it.”
“I’m hurt at your lack of trust.” Bo Zhou paused, considering. “Also a little impressed at you for keeping a straight enough face to trick me. Well done, Sect Leader.”
“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “You too, Jiang Zhou.”
“It’s Bo…” He trailed off, comprehension arriving and speech departing, and this time he didn’t have a quick retort. He’d been nagging Jiang Cheng on and off for the Jiang surname for the last few weeks, more joking than anything else – he knew that Jiang Cheng hadn’t given his surname to the vast majority of the new people in his sect, only the very few he thought were worth it.
Jiang Cheng enjoyed the newly dubbed Jiang Zhou’s moment of speechlessness thoroughly, since he was moderately sure he wasn’t going to get another one anytime in the next – ever, possibly.
“You proved your worth and your trustworthiness,” he said, patting Jiang Zhou on the shoulder. It occurred to him that he should probably come up with a courtesy name for the man, although he wasn’t sure the man would want one. “Also, congratulations, you’re now the person in charge of tax collection. See if you can think up some new thoughts about supplementing our income, will you? We have so many costs, and I don’t want to rely on Lanling Jin more than I can help it, not like Gusu Lan…”
“Oh, really?” Jiang Zhou interrupted, abruptly excited. “I have so many ideas! How ethical do you want to be about this?”
Jiang Cheng paused. “…very?”
“Be reasonable, Sect Leader!”
“…moderately?” he tried, a little more desperately.
“I can work with moderately. I don’t suppose you’d accept ‘thin and barely plausible veneer’?”
“No.”
“Oh well. Moderately ethical it is!”
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3
Most of the Jiang sect was slaughtered during the attack on the Lotus Pier. Disciples Jiang Cheng had grown up with his whole life, had expected to see by his side in the future, his friends, his family, even his petty childhood enemies – all gone.
Well, not all gone. There were some Jiang disciples that had been away from Lotus Pier at the time, whether on some errand or a night-hunt or other reasons; they rushed back to his side as soon as they could, of course, and formed the core of Jiang Cheng’s new Jiang sect. When he’d felt utterly alone, when even Wei Wuxian was missing, they had been there for him. They’d preserved their lives and then they’d promised them to him, and it wasn’t until they knelt before him that he really felt like a Sect Leader.
There was no way he could give any of them up now.
“Jiang Meimei, you can’t go,” he said, having completely abandoned all shame in favor of clutching at her robes as if he were a child. “I need you!”
“I’m not even a proper Jiang disciple!” she exclaimed, exasperated – or possibly just annoyed that her grand plan to sneak out in the middle of the night had been stymied by his ambush. “Just because my surname is still Jiang doesn’t mean I didn’t get kicked out, remember?”
“I thought you just left,” Jiang Cheng said, temporarily distracted. “No one ever really talked much about it, actually, but to the extent anyone did, they said that you’d decided that your inclinations were more suited to being a rogue cultivator. That you didn’t want to be weighed down by sect expectations –”
“Hah!” Jiang Meimei tossed her head. “As if it wouldn’t be better to be a roving sect cultivator than a rogue cultivator! I won’t deny that I had a fair bit of wanderlust in my youth –”
“You’re only ten years older than me, you’re not that old.”
“Shut up, brat.”
“You can’t tell me to shut up, I’m your sect leader.”
“You’re my baby cousin is what you are, and, again, I’m actually not part of the Jiang sect!”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng argued. “You’ve been at my side during the entire Sunshot Campaign.”
“I wasn’t going to let my baby cousin get himself murdered, now was I?” Jiang Meimei sniffed. “But I’m still a rogue cultivator. They kicked me out when I wouldn’t accept a marriage, and I’m still firm on that.”
Jiang Cheng blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to be married? Really?” he asked, concerned. “But what about poor Liu Lingling? You shouldn’t be sleeping with her if you don’t intend to be serious about it! I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for the current project you’re working on to finish to find a matchmaker to exchange birth characters –”
“They wanted me to marry a man,” Jiang Meimei clarified, but her habitual frown had eased considerably; she looked almost on the verge of a smile. “A-Cheng, you’re being dense again. You’re the Sect Leader of a Great Sect now. You know that that means you need to have alliances, marriage contacts with other sects, and that means using your subsidiary branches.”
“Jiang Meimei, you’re the one being dense,” Jiang Cheng said. “You think I’d force you into a marriage? I don’t have subsidiary branches. I barely have a sect, even after all this time. I’m not Wen Ruohan, handing out my surname to anyone who wants it – I only give it to the ones that matter, the ones I want to keep, and those of you that actually share my blood are even rarer, even more precious. How could I give you away?”
Jiang Meimei pursed her lips.
“I really do need you,” Jiang Cheng said quietly. “You weren’t part of the Jiang sect at all, not really, but you still came to help me – you were there from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign, and you’ve never strayed, never left. You’re my right hand. I can’t do without you.”
Jiang Meimei turned her head away. “It’s not that I want to leave you,” she said. “But becoming a rogue cultivator was hard enough the first time. I couldn’t rely on any of the things that I had always had, everything always changing. I was young and angry then, I could handle it, but things are different now. I’m less flexible, less compromising, older, more tired – I can’t just walk out on a whim and just rough it anymore. I have a girl who, yes, I want to eventually marry; I want to have children. I need certainty. Are you going to give it to me?”
Jiang Cheng looked down at his hands. He’d known it was going to have to come to this, but he’d been dragging his feet, not wanting to succumb to a reality that already existed. Had existed for longer than he wanted to admit, as if simply denying it would mean that it wasn’t the truth.
Like a child.
“Yes,” he said, though it tore his heart out of his chest to do it. “I will. Jiang Meimei…will you take the position of Head Disciple?”
Wei Wuxian wasn’t coming back. Jiang Cheng had already cast him out of the sect, just like Jiang Meimei had been, except in Wei Wuxian’s case it had been something that Wei Wuxian himself had demanded. He was living in Yiling now, and by all reports was quite happy there with his little Wen sect family that he’d picked over Jiang Cheng and all his family.
He was never coming back.
It was time to move on.
“Yes,” she said, and shoved her pack into his chest. “Now go unpack that for me. Consider it payment for driving me to extreme measures!”
“I’m your sect leader, you know,” he grumbled. “Officially, now. You could show me some respect.”
“Would you rather pay for my wedding down the line?”
“I’m going, I’m going!” And then, as he scurried over away, he shouted over his shoulder: “As if I wouldn’t be paying for it anyway! You think my Head Disciple’s going to be married in anything other than top style? Better start planning…”
“Don’t rush me! Brat!”
-
4
Jin Ling wasn’t surnamed Jiang, but he was the most important person in all of the Lotus Pier – and Jiang Cheng wanted to make sure everyone knew it. It hadn’t been easy for him to get the chance to help care for Jin Ling, especially here, so far away from home; Jiang Cheng had expected to barely be allowed to visit, to have to cool his heels outside of Lanling City begging just for a glimpse of him. Being able to take him home to raise for half the year, even if it was due to the dangerous infighting amongst Lanling Jin, was more than he’d ever dreamed.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t clear that Jin Ling himself agreed.
“He’s still crying,” Jiang Cheng muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Surely he’s got to stop sometime? I mean, just – physically?”
“They say a boy resembles his mother’s brother,” Jiang Meimei said, echoing the gesture. “If he’s got your lungs and stamina, Sect Leader, we’re doomed.”
“I’m rethinking the whole having children thing,” Liu Lingling said blearily, having fallen asleep on her soon-to-be wife’s shoulder several times, only to be woken up by the next round of crying. “I need sleep.”
“Go get some, both of you,” Jiang Cheng ordered. When his cousin scowled at him, he scowled back. “I’m serious. If he keeps this up, we’re going to need to go into shifts. I can last a bit longer.”
“That’s a filthy lie.”
“It is not. Your sect leader has given you an order – get to it!”
It was a filthy lie.
Jiang Cheng opened his eyes when the crink in his neck grew too irritating to ignore, at which point he realized he’d been asleep – and, more importantly, that Jin Ling was somehow not crying.
He sat up with a start, suddenly terrified: had something happened to him? Had he been silenced forever? Had Jiang Cheng failed this one last duty he had to his sister?
“Shhh, little one,” someone was whispering, not far away. “Let me tell you the one about the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd, yeah? You seem like someone who’d appreciate stars. It all started –”
Jiang Cheng went to go look.
A teenage girl was rocking Jin Ling in her arms and telling him a story in murmured tones, and Jin Ling was yawning and trying to gnaw on her shirt. She wasn’t even a cultivator, as far as Jiang Cheng could tell. Her clothing suggested some level of poverty, her accent the countryside – how’d she even end up here?
He wasn’t sure he cared.
Jiang Cheng didn’t want to disturb her, but he did anyway; a shift of his weight, a scuffling of his feet, and the floor creaked. The girl jumped, startled, but luckily Jin Ling was already most of the way asleep and just grumbled a little instead of starting to screech.
“How’d you do that?” Jiang Cheng asked, nodding at Jin Ling. “Make him stop crying.”
“My mother had seven kids after me,” the girl said, answering automatically. “And her sister had six. Someone had to learn to deal with all those babies, and it ended up being me. Think it’s just habit after this long.”
Jiang Cheng couldn’t handle one baby. He couldn’t even imagine.
That’s when the girl seemed to remember herself, and bit her lip. “Uh, sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I heard him crying and I couldn’t resist...I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here. It was an accident.”
“How did you get here?” Jiang Cheng asked, because accidental or not, a security breach was still a security breach. “And who are you, anyway?”
“My name’s A-Hua. I’m here to work in the kitchens, just got hired this morning; the fourth cook is my uncle’s wife’s cousin, she got me a job, said it was a good place to start – I was trying to find my way out so I could go to the servant’s quarters to get some sleep, but then I got lost…”
More likely she’d decided it was better to try to stay somewhere indoors than go out in the pouring rain to try to find her way to the right set of quarters, Jiang Cheng thought to himself. “Give me your hand.”
“Uh. What?”
He ignored her stare, took her hand and felt her pulse. There was a little bit of natural talent there, though not much; she might, if she tried hard enough, become a cultivator, but she’d never be more than a servant.
Unless, of course, she did something unusual to impress someone.
“Forget the kitchens,” Jiang Cheng told her. “You’re hired on a provisional basis to keep an eye on Jin Ling.”
The girl nodded, eyes wide as saucers. “Can you – do that?”
Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can. What’s your surname? You can’t go around being called A-Hua, we have at least seven people that I know of that go by that name.”
The girl looked distressed.
She probably didn’t have a proper surname. Some people in the countryside didn’t.
But they really couldn’t go around shouting “A-Hua” every time Jin Ling was crying, which was basically all the time.
“Fine,” he said, giving in. “Do well, and I’ll consider letting you use mine. But only if you do well!”
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5
Jiang Cheng was covered in mud thanks to a successful-but-at-what-cost night hunt and angry about it, stomping around the lotus pools on his way back to town, when he heard the familiar sounds of someone having a panic attack.
He slowed, involuntarily, and took a look: it was some teenager dressed in black, heaving miserably by a tree.
Jiang Meimei had once said that Jiang Cheng was a bit weak when it came to teenagers.
Jiang Cheng said that was nonsense.
Jiang Hua chimed in, quite loyally (if perhaps not with the best timing), and said he wasn’t.
Jiang Cheng yielded the argument at once to keep Jiang Meimei from laughing herself sick.
In view of that, he was better off ignoring the kid. After all, what was it to him that some kid was having a fit of anxiety right next the same old lotus pool that he used to have his own teenage fits of anxiety next to, under the shade of the same old tree that had sheltered him – one of the few places that remained untouched by the Wen sect’s aggression, one of the few places that was exactly the same?
Jiang Cheng groaned and walked over. “Okay, fine. What’s your problem?”
The kid looked up at him. He had dark circles under his eyes. “I think my heart’s about to explode.”
“That’s just the anxiety,” Jiang Cheng said, and sat down next to him. “What’s causing the anxiety? Don’t say that someone is better than you and your parents are disappointed in you.”
“What?” the kid blinked. “No, it’s not – it’s not that. I’m about to screw up the very first job I ever got.”
Jiang Cheng considered that. It was just different enough from his own issues that he didn’t suspect a plot, and yet close enough that he might actually be able to offer some expertise.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked reluctantly.
“Not to some mud-man,” the kid said, and – hey! It wasn’t that bad. He thought, anyway. Actually, it probably was that bad. “I just…I’m the only one left. I have to make something of myself!”
Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched. “What do you mean, you’re the only one left?”
The kid stuttered through his story. It wasn’t as bad as Jiang Cheng had initially feared, but it was still pretty bad – his small village had had bad harvests, and there had been starvation, a bad winter; the kid had been sent out to get help, but it had taken too long and he’d arrived back to find them all already gone. He’d been lost, but some traveling cultivator had agreed to take him on as a disciple provided he proved himself, had taught him all sorts of skills, cultivation and talisman-writing and music –
“Music?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Not the sword?”
“There was only the one,” the kid explained. “Obviously he kept it for himself.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t think much of that – surely this cultivator, whoever he ws, could have shared, just long enough to teach? – but he didn’t comment. It seemed fairly clear that the kid didn’t actually think very highly of his teacher, although he was very earnestly trying to be appropriately filial.
It was a little cute.
“…and I was supposed to wait here for someone when they came by here, some fancy rich person, and then get them to follow me, but it’s been ages and no one’s come by at all!” the kid wailed. “I’m such a screw up!”
“You don’t even know who you’re waiting for?” Jiang Cheng asked, and the kid shook his head. “How were you supposed to get them to follow you, then?”
The kid scratched his nose. “My master said that if I showed off some of my cultivation, they’d follow me right away.”
Jiang Cheng suppressed a smirk. “It must be very impressive cultivation, then.”
“…not really. I only know one trick,” the kid admitted. “But it’s not that hard, and it looks impressive – here, see, wait; give me a second, I just need to whistle –”
Zidian crackled to life on Jiang Cheng’s finger before the kid finished the first stanza.
“Stop that!” he cried out, leaping to his feet, and – startled – the kid stopped, blinking owlishly at him. “Is that what your master taught you?!”
“Yes?” the kid said. “Did I do it wrong?”
Jiang Cheng gnashed his teeth. “That’s demonic cultivation. Never do that, okay? Ever.”
“But then how am I supposed to get the fancy rich person to follow me, assuming he ever showed?”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed. If he hadn’t tripped over that branch and fallen into the mud – if he hadn’t taken an extra half-shichen to struggle out of the mire – if he’d walked by in all his usual finery, rich person that he was, and seen some kid practicing demonic cultivation…
He’d have given chase in a heartbeat.
More to the point, everyone knew he would. His reputation had been pretty much set in stone by this point.
“Let’s go find that master of yours,” he said. “Right now.”
Of course, that ended up leading Jiang Cheng straight into the bastard’s trap, which would have been a problem except that he’d taken the time to send someone to tell Jiang Qiao, who’d been waiting for him back in town, that he’d be a bit late and not to worry, just wait where she was.
She’d ignored his instructions and arrived just in time to knife the demonic cultivator – a human trafficker whose operations Jiang Cheng had shut down with extreme viciousness only a few months before – right in the belly, gutting him like a fish in a swift easy motion.
“I think I’m getting the hang of it again,” she said, smiling at the knife, and Jiang Cheng made a mental note to ask exactly how manymen she’d killed to get that criminal brand of hers, except the poor kid was sinking down to his knees with a horrified look and, shit, that horrible bastard, evil as he might have been, was probably the last person the kid had in this whole rotten world, wasn’t he?
“Does Jiang Hua still have those beginner manuals we dug up for her?” Jiang Cheng asked, and Jiang Qiao nodded. “Good. Tell her that starting today, Jiang Jianwen here’s her little brother. She’s been pining over raising someone ever since Jin Ling got to be too old to snuggle.”
The kid looked up with wide eyes.
“No, you don’t get a choice on the name,” Jiang Cheng told him. “Whatever name this piece of crap gave you, just forget it, you hear me? You can do better than him. But no more demonic cultivation!”
-
+1
“I wish I could visit the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, looking wistfully downriver. They were very close by, but he still didn’t dare, even though Jiang Cheng had grumpily extended an invitation through Jin Ling. So much had happened – he just didn’t know where to even start.
He didn’t want to get into all that messy history with Jiang Cheng.
He just wanted to visit, that’s all.
He missed Jiang Cheng, but he missed the Lotus Pier, too. The food, the places, the air…
“I just need a secret way in that even the sect leader doesn’t know about,” he sighed. He’d once known them all – but there was a different sect leader now, and a different Lotus Pier. He couldn’t risk it: Jiang Cheng might find out that he’d snuck in and feel hurt, thinking that Wei Wuxian was avoiding him, when he was just avoiding the conversation; that would just make everything worse.
Lan Wangji would have distracted him, but Lan Wangji himself had been distracted – some man in Jiang sect colors with a heavy limp and an excited sort of air had rushed over, shouting something about wanting to talk about tax policy and possibly also games of chance, and Lan Wangji had all but fled. It had been so funny that Wei Wuxian had nearly laughed himself sick.
“I know one,” someone said, and Wei Wuxian glanced over: it was a young man in Jiang sect disciple robes, little more than a teenager – only a few years older than Jin Ling, if he had to guess. He was smiling, ducking his head a little; he looked proud of himself. “I mean, if you really want. But only if you don’t mean any harm!”
How adorable, Wei Wuxian thought, and grinned at him. “I just want something spicy without having to go through the whole process of greeting people, is that a crime?”
“Not at all!” the kid exclaimed, beaming, and Wei Wuxian almost felt bad for conning him. Almost.
“Do you really know a secret way in?” he asked, pretending to be doubtful. “Really?”
Sure enough, the kid – Jiang Jianwen, apparently, he must be the kid of one of the ones that survived the massacre – was easily lured into insisting that he did know, and then to agreeing to act as guide.
And, moreover, it turned out he really did know his way inside, which made this the easiest infiltration ever.
Or so Wei Wuxian thought right up until he felt a knife point touch his ribs.
“Well done, Jianwen!” a young woman – also in Jiang colors – said, reaching out and ruffling Jiang Jianwen’s hair.
“Aw, it was nothing,” he said, just as bashful as he was when he’d been talking to Wei Wuxian. “I couldn’t have done it without shixiong luring off Lan-er-gongzi.”
Wait, that’d been part of this, too?
That was worrisome.
“Hardly nothing,” the older woman standing behind Wei Wuxian said. She had a certain sort of rock-hard steadiness that was more worrying than the knife she was holding on him – she was a powerful cultivator, familiar with killing and scarred with a criminal’s brand, and yet she seemed entirely at ease in a way that suggested a strong sense of righteousness, with no guilt or weak points he might exploit to make an easy out. “You successfully conned the Yiling Patriarch into following you right into a trap.”
Wei Wuxian wondered if he could deny it.
“I don’t know, shijie, that doesn’t seem that hard,” the first woman said. “Isn’t he the kind of person to run head-first into danger at the first instance?”
“Head-first into danger, and like his tail’s on fire away from dogs,” the older woman agreed, and – damnit. There was clearly no denying it; they actually knew him. Though from where, he had no idea. “A-Hua, Jiangwen, let’s go – we don’t want to be late for our meeting.”
“I don’t suppose I can convince you to tell me who we’re going to go see?” Wei Wuxian tried, putting on his most charming smile. “Or, perhaps, who you are, and what you have against me…?”
“Jiang Jianwen you know,” the woman said, rather unexpectedly. “I’m Jiang Qiao, and this is Jiang Hua. Our shixiong is Jiang Zhou – he’s the one that makes Lan-er-gongzi lose his wallet every time he’s forced to visit Yunmeng.”
Wei Wuxian was almost distracted with the tantalizing prospects of stories about Lan Wangji. Almost.
“You’re all surnamed Jiang?” he asked, surprised: he might have believed it for Jiang Jianwen, maybe, he was young enough to be the son of someone in the last generation. But Jiang Hua and Jiang Qiao looked absolutely nothing alike either to each other or to Jiang Cheng, and at least Jiang Qiao was old enough that he should’ve recognized her if she’d been a Jiang. There’d been a lot of people in the old Jiang sect, even if you limited it to those surnamed Jiang, but he’d been Head Disciple back then – he’d known almost all of them.
“We’re adopted,” Jiang Jianwen said. He looked very proud. “Sect Leader Jiang took us into the family as part of the branch lines.”
Wei Wuxian had never once in his life wanted to have the surname Jiang, not even when he’d been mocked for not having it. He’d never even thought about it. Not ever.
He felt a stab of envy at the word family, though.
“He gave you his surname?” he asked, and tried not to feel jealous when they all nodded. “Oh.”
It made sense, he tried to tell himself as they walked through the back streets of the Lotus Pier. The Jiang sect had been demolished, and Jiang Cheng practically the only survivor but for whoever happened by coincidence to not be at home – the Jiang sect would need branch family members, and adoption made sense. There was no reason to resent the idea of Jiang Cheng giving the name he had always treated as being so precious to a branded former criminal, to a con man, to a commoner from the countryside, to a –
“You were a what?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed.
“A demonic cultivator,” Jiang Jianwen said bashfully. “Not a very a good one, though.”
Wei Wuxian wanted to say something to that. He didn’t know what, but something.
“Enough chatter,” Jiang Qiao said. “We’re here.”
Jiang Hua opened the door and Wei Wuxian stepped inside.
Then he tried to step back out, only to be crowded in by the others.
“No, no, no,” he said. “No, I was willing to play along until now, but this is a step too far. You don’t understand! She’s going to eviscerate me!”
Jiang Meimei – older than the teenager he remembered her being when she left the sect, but still unmistakable – grinned with her teeth bared.
“Oh good,” she said. “At least your brain is still working. Now come on and have a seat, and we’re going to talk about how you’ve been treating my baby cousin recently…”
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Do you have any headcanons about the Hazbin's (minus Charlie) lives back when they were alive?
I scrolled through all 42 pages of the hazbin tag on my blog and literally every one of my premortem headcanons are about Alastor and Sir Pentious lmfao
So sure! Want an entire novella about my headcanons for Sir Pentious's backstory?
For Alastor, I can offer:
a traumatic toddler experience
his mother observing him with ghosts as a child
Alastor working with demons (funny)
Alastor working with demons (creepy)
Alastor and his asexuality/aromanticism (mostly postmortem but it has some premortem flashbacks)
Alastor with friends in the 20s trying to explain he does not get horny
a fic that didn't ACTUALLY happen but that demonstrates my headcanons for how he works with demons
And moving away from fics and on to tumblr posts!
For Alastor:
Alastor fought in World War I
another WWI post
headcanon about how he died (I've since changed my headcanon—hunting accident rather than manhunt—but the position's the same)
excerpt from one of the fics above about Alastor's first kiss
early headcanoning on Alastor's relationship with the queer community in life
Alastor saw but didn't learn the lindy hop in life
Alastor's accent makes people (in this case Sir Pentious) think that he's upper class when actually he's just had theater training
Alastor's family tree comes from a mix of socioeconomic backgrounds and before he died he achieved fame but not fortune
Alastor does not feel broken/insecure due to being ace/aro and never has
what people in Louisiana thought of Alastor as a radio host
what did Alastor look like (and Sir Pent)
Alastor only saw 10% of the Golden Age Of Radio and that's fucked up
fun fact when Alastor was on air radio stations weren't "just news" or "just (one genre of) music," a single station would play music and news and soap operas and sports etc
random links of queer history, 1920s gay culture, slang, and NOLA history
Alastor's mother grew up while Sir Pentious was menacing the US and she has very vivid memories of living in fear of him, and also she doesn't know her son is a cannibalistic murderer
Alastor wore glasses in life and only switched to a monocle in death
Alastor was never identified as a serial killer and there's probably unsolved true crime documentaries made about his killings (and these documentaries unknowingly use a recording of the killer's real voice, a clip from a news broadcast where Alastor read about the killings on air)
check out how hyped this newspaper in the 20s was for radio like goddamn
Alastor listened to radio all day every day
more 1920s research links
very loose overview of New Orleans race relations 1890-1920
how NOT to write about Voodoo
reminder that "alastor did magic in life" is a headcanon until we SEE him using magic before he died—also "Voodoo" is a religion not a magic power
how Alastor avoided getting caught as a serial killer
I doubt Alastor was famous enough for queer historians to have discovered he existed, only niche radio broadcast historians know about him
Alastor was raised to be courteous to (respectable) women, but not to genuinely see them as equals in a modern sense
1920s hair facts and headcanons on Alastor's hair
scene from one of the above fics of baby Alastor being haunted as shit
Alastor is a hedonistic thrill killer not a mission-oriented killer
his killing method was shooting from a distance, like hunting game
Alastor was kinda psychic in life and his psychicness interacted with radio signals
this includes developing a hella accurate sense of time
Alastor's always been hella into Mardi Gras
here he is in a ridiculous Cajun Mardi Gras costume
how the Great Depression probably affected Alastor
Alastor feels 0% empathy for other people but 500% empathy for fictional characters in musicals
For Sir Pentious:
he was so infamous that today he's a common character used in historical fiction in the same way that Victorian-era historical fiction commonly uses Queen Victoria as a character
(and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle references him in a Sherlock story)
(and he really did call himself Sir Pentious in life)
(and every character who lived after him had to study him in school, including Vaggie writing a paper about him and Alastor was cast as him in a school play)
(and now let's talk about historians dying and meeting the people they studied in Hell)
he has a son who's probably now in heaven
Sir Pent is trans
no seriously he has a son
Sir Pent has a chain of deadnames he used before settling on "Sir Pentious" and all of them are snake puns
one of Sir Pent's chosen names
based on Victorian sexual mores Sir Pent probably got kinda homoerotic with some dudes
this is just big Trans Sir Pent energy
what did Sir Pent look like (and Alastor)
I don't think Sir Pent used a wheelchair in life (but do think he had to for a while after he died)
Sir Pent is Pussyeating World Champ no I do not accept arguments
Sir Pent and his wife were very loving until his wife went "nope, you're planning world conquest, that's too evil for me"
he rigged his clothes to self-combust so he could choose death if he was ever on the verge of capture
his wife was named Helena and here's why
this is his self-destruct binder/corset
the one headcanon everyone shares
Sir Pent ain't Jack the Ripper
And there's a ton more headcanons on @dontasktheradiodemon my Alastor ask/RP blog but listen, I just went through 42 pages of one tag and it's 3 a.m., I'm not going to comb my roleplay blog for every premortem headcanon I've ever mentioned about him over there. It includes stuff like "he did deliberately shitty horoscope readings on air" and "the first time he summoned a demon he was on the Western Front and also coming down with Spanish flu so he's not sure how much of the ensuing chaos was real vs fevered hallucinations or how much was the Germans' fault vs the imp's" and "he lived a few years in New York and did drag."
These are not the only headcanons I have. These are just the headcanons I've been asked about or made time to type down. (And not counting all my postmortem headcanons. Or the premortem headcanons sprinkled into postmortem fics.) Feel free to ask me for more. Ideally with a topic you'd like to hear about; otherwise asking me "do you have any headcanons?" is like walking into a library and asking "do you have any books?" Gimme a section to start with.
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Rue: Chapter 4 (Jasper Hale x OC)
Not everyone is excited for a reunion.
Especially when expectations are not aligned.
**Note: Feel free to leave me a comment and tell me how you feel about the story so far!
I had a bit of difficulty writing this part I must say; but I don’t believe that two people meeting again in forever can go back to being in love like nothings happened.
But lemme know what you think!**
Elsewhere.
Adeline ran as fast as she could, her chaser right at her heels as she darted into the woods. Rain pelting heavily, the moon hidden behind clouds, the woods seemed darker than usual.
To make matters worse, she was slowing down. She had been starving herself greatly recently, in a self-loathing attempt and now she deeply regretted her foolish decision. As if it wasn’t enough she was having trouble controlling her hunger, now she was being chased down by an unknown assailant, vampire. She ignored the constant tugging at her heart again, begging her to stop, to turn around and just look at her chaser.
It occurred to her then that this person was the same one who was at Whitehorse. Judging from the female vampire that had approached her just now in the bar, someone or some persons were interested in her. It might not even be her father. But bullshit, she wasn’t going to let this unknown stranger get to her. Nor was she going to let them ruin her peace of mind she had fought to safeguard for decades now. She needed a plan, and she needed it fast.
There was a clearing just a few miles south, if she could just make it there…! Pushing her limits, she ducked under a pine and concealed herself into the night, mindful not to tread on anything that might give her away. Circled the perimeter and watched as the man who had been chasing her stopped in the clearing, apparently confused that he had lost her track somehow.
Now-
Blood pumping, she darted out and aimed for the jugular. Her hand clasped onto the man’s neck in a death grip and pushed him up into a tree.
“Who are you and what do you want from me?” Adeline hissed. The man, blonde she noted, made no move to subdue or even try to escape her clutches. His face was still partially hidden under his hair, but she was aware of his amber orbs observing her behind his curtain of hair. Neither did she miss the scars, multiple healed bite wounds littered across his porcelain neck and clavicles, screaming danger. Her heart hammering in her chest now, a tidal wave of anxiety washed over her and an eerie sense of foreboding was looming overhead. Her mind was trying to make a connection, something about this man just… But the anxiety got to her again and she tightened her grip over his neck even harder.
It occurred to her then that the man’s companion was also nowhere to be found. Was this a trap after all?
“Answer me.” She growled impatiently. “Who are you? Why are you after me? Where is your companion?!”
Yet he only remained mum. This only further enraged her.
“Speak or I’ll rip your pretty head off of its rightful place.”
“Just like how you ripped my heart out all those years ago?”
Momentarily Adeline was caught confused by the man’s reply, until he looked up and the dim moonlight casted shadows on his smooth marble like face. Adeline gasped, dropping her arm and taking a step back. A chill ran up her spine and grasped painfully onto her heart, tightening; just as her mind roared, losing its usual powers of logics and deduction.
“Jasper?”
*
Back at the parking lot, Jasper had suddenly felt a breeze, a sliver of a shadow passing by, and then the strongest urge he had ever had to run after the shadow. Unknowingly, he had let the urge overtook his actions; until he saw Adeline materialising out of thin air, running at top speed a few yards before him did he finally realised what had happened.
He had chased on then, close on her tail.
And now he watched, somewhat in fascination, at the myriad of emotions that ran through Adeline’s eyes in that instant. Shock and disbelief gave way to confusion, then guilt and grief. He’d forgotten just how expressive she can be at times and how he could read her like an open book.
Except it was his Adeline. His sweet Adeline.
There was no mistaking on his part. She had not aged a single day. Her hair was shorter now, but her countenance, and those expressive cornflower eyes they were the same, fresh from his memory. There was no doubt in it. Now that his vision was so much better, he could even notice features on her face that he would have missed as a human. And yes, he could also smell her sweet hybrid scent, so similar to Renesmee’s yet also different in it’s own way. Oh how his cold dead heart felt, ready to burst, he had never felt so alive since his transformation. Perhaps he shouldn’t be too hasty in accepting this hybrid thing, but it would explain so much of her past actions. And it would also explain so well how they were seeing each other right there and now. And more than anything, he was just… feeling all kinds of emotions now that she was here again. Joy and shock at the prospect of reunion, apprehension and nausea at how events would unfold. But mostly he felt a deep inner relief and serenity for the first time in years. One he did not know that he had been missing until beholding her again for the first time in centuries.
She was the missing piece he had been seeking unknowingly all these years.
He had meant to step forward, to embrace her, to touch her, anything, something just to confirm her presence right in front of his eyes. To hold onto her, to make sure that she wouldn’t just disappear again into thin air again.
But even as he pondered on his actions, those haunting orbs were now settling to something between fear and distrust.
Adeline, her hand trembling against her lips, was slowly backing away as she tried to process the events that had transpired; unsettled, she did not even notice that she had backed herself into the trunk of another tree.
“What sick joke is this?” She finally let out a shaky laugh. Her eyes darting everywhere but him.
With a sinking heart, Jasper swallowed harshly, his throat dry. He’d run through this in his head for uncountable times now. A simulation of their reunion, heartfelt exchanges and eager embraces, passionate declarations; or cold-hearted refusals and further blows to his heart. But nothing like this, not this deer-in-the-headlight shakiness, blatant denial, this refusal of even a simple acknowledgement.
“Adeline it’s me. It’s your Jasper.” He finally breathed, closing the distance. Reaching out a finger to twine her stray locks behind her ear, before leaning in to take a whiff of her floral scent.“It’s Jasper.” He repeated like a broken record.
“No… that’s not possible…” She murmured to herself, frozen in place by shock. Until fear flashed in her eyes again and she jerked away as if she had been electrified.
“What power do you possess? Did Father send you to lure me back?” She swallowed in alarm and closed her eyes, her cornflower orbs filled with unshed tears and undisguised fear.
“Adeline?”
“Please, I’ll go, willingly. Please… just stop what you’re doing, stop messing with my mind will you?” She continued to implore, on the verge of tears. “Stop this. I’ll go mad if you don’t.”
His heart almost broke again at her desperation, her pleads weighing heavily on him.
“No Adeline, darling. It really is me.” He whispered, cupping her face gently to catch her attention.
“No, you died all those years ago. In 1863.” Adeline shook her head furiously, as if every word was a bodily pain inflicted on her part. “I saw the stone, Mrs Whitlock told me so.”
“No, no.” Why couldn’t she just see him for what he was? Why was she so adamant on disproving his entire existence? “I was turned, I was found by a coven of vampires and turned.”
“I don’t believe you.” She finally looked him in the eye and he could see the determination behind, the determination to reject his being altogether as nothing more than a illusion of hers, put into her mind as some cruel joke.
His insides raged then, why couldn’t she see the obvious? He did not come so close to her only to lose her again! Not this time!
“So I will go. I will not shackle you to a life of secrets and miseries. Nor will I bind you to eternal gloom and slaughter your happiness, take your sun and hide your moon.” He recited in a sudden outburst of spite. “Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you.”
Adeline gasped audibly, her eyes grew big as saucers, and a tear glided down her cheek. Her lips trembled and he could feel the turmoil and shock in her. He could practically hear the whirling of the cogs in her brain moving, as she finally put two and two together. Her eyes darted frantically, as the truth dawned on her.
“This can’t be.” She finally let out a hysterical laugh and muttered weakly, backing up shakily and holding onto a branch for support. “This is impossible.”
“It’s the truth, darling. I-”
“No!” She screamed with all her might. “No.” She mumbled again raking a hand through her curls roughly and shaking her head in denial, even as tears were streaming freely down her face now. “You died… you died…”
“Adeline…”
“I have to go.” She muttered to no one in particular. “I can’t, I can’t, this can’t happen, this shouldn’t have happened…My fault, my fault. I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have…”
“Adeline!” He reached for her then, to stop her, to pull her out of her panic.
“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, slapping his hand away. “Don’t…” Adeline chewed on her lips and swallowed nervously, before looking at Jasper, her eyes a sea of emotions and anguish. “Don’t try to find me ever again.”
Without so much as a backward glance, Adeline bolted in the opposite direction with lightning speed and melted into the night.
Left alone in the open, Jasper clenched and unclenched his fists. This was not what he had anticipated, in fact the worst had happened. There was a new agony in his heart, a heaviness weighing on him. Could broken hearts break a second time? If so, his had died a second time today. He could make chase, to corner her, to confront her; but was her blatant rejection not evident enough? Did she need to spell it out in black and white for him?
Letting out a heart-wrenching howl, Jasper dropped to his knees. His eyes were burning like coals but no tears would ever fall out, unlike her. He had lost that ability all those years ago, oh but how he wished he could cry now! To let release any, even the slightest of his unsurmountable grief.
But he could not.
Why couldn’t things stayed the way it had been back in Texas? If she had been a simple dressmaker, if he had never joined the army; they would have married, settled down, had a children or two and grew to see each other old. Buried together in the local cemetery, side by side and that would have been it.
Life was so so cruel.
He punched his fists repeatedly into the ground out of frustration.
Until he felt the strangest sensation.
A pull. There was a strange pull at his heart; tugging at his heartstrings, urging him on in the direction Adeline had just disappeared into.
Jasper stood up slowly, gauging at this new sensation.
It was as if an invisible pathway had just opened for him. There was a new lightness in his heart now. A giddiness at what he had just discovered.
And he thought that finally he understood what this all meant now.
*
This couldn’t be happening.
It was impossible!
Surely he was an imposter?! Her Jasper! Her Jasper had been dead for more than a hundred years, he couldn’t possibly have came back from the dead? And to become a vampire of all things?
A vampire? God forbid, that would mean that someone had changed him!
But she recalled his topaz eyes that shone eerily in the moonlight, the icy cold skin that had cupped her face so lovingly, that marble smooth and hard skin, the bite marks littered all over his neck. Literally nothing about him screamed human; those were the features of a top predator.
Was this some form of joke the universe was having on her? Her Jasper alive all this time? An immortal not unlike her, but stronger and more lethal?
No! No! No! No! She’d left this hole years ago. She wasn’t going to dig herself into another hole now! It couldn’t have been him! Dead as a door nail he was. She’d seen his grave, she was there.
Though no one ever recovered his body. A treacherous voice whispered in the back of her mind. And anyhow what was that line that he had recited then? It was word for word from the letter she had written to him all those years ago. No one other than himself could have read it.
Her treacherous mind continued to drift into dangerous territory, and though she tried to steer it away, the barriers were all but down now.
She’d rather it had been a stormy night. That thunder and the rain, they would have distracted her from her thoughts. But no.
The moon was a beacon hung against a starless backdrop, and through the half parted curtains, the clear moonlight filtered in, illuminating every feature of his in a white halo. Everything was so calm, so peaceful, in comparison to the raging storm within her.
She’d never stare into those warm brown eyes again, never run her hands through his thick golden curls, never feel his chuckle rumbling deep in his chest or his beating heart on her palm-
“Darlin’?” Jasper’s lashes fluttered, he had sensed her uneasiness somehow and was struggling to rise from his slumber.
“It is nothing darling.” She murmured before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, relishing in his strong embrace one last time. “It was only a dream.”
He grunted and soon his breathing was even again.
With his handsome face and his wits and charm, he’d be able to rise up in the ranks, and get a fine rich Southern Belle for a wife quick enough.
Father’s threats were still fresh in her mind.
Better this than a mangled body, six inch deep in the ground.
Better leave now when he still loved her, than when he learnt of the truth, the ugly horrible truth.
Every move was another battle. How she withdrew herself from his arms, how she struggled not to sob or to crawl back into bed and confess every little sin she had committed. To stay for another day, for him to tell her that everything would be alright for another day. How her heart broke to leave the ring on the dresser and the heartless note she had written.
One final kiss to his forehead because she couldn’t bear to turn back a second time for she was sure that she would lose her resolve and strength to leave him.
But another day would become another week, another month, another year. What then when Father returned for her? Or when he realised that his wife had not aged a single day since she turned 17?
Better this farewell now. Better to look back with love and fondness and regret, than to let it be corrupted by hate and disgust or worse… blood.
Tomorrow he will wake and she will be gone. And when the time is just right, he will forget her, he will move on, fight the war, get married, grow old. All men do, the world must go on. And only she will be stuck in time, reminiscing the past through rose tinted lenses.
It was alright so long as he lived. She would live with this pain. She would bear this petit mort.
Every. Single. Time.
Until there was nothing more left of her heart.
Was this all for naught then in the end?
Was there no need for to leave him then? Or was his death inevitable regardless of what she did? Was it something that she had done? Something she had miscalculated?
Was he even Jasper to begin with?
She needed to be somewhere, anywhere other than being alone with her thoughts. And as the little house at the end of the lane grew bigger, only then did she realise where her subconscious had lead her to.
“Adeline?”
Standing at the doorway was her half brother, Anakin, smoking. Jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail, tanned torso bare displaying all his tribal tattoos. His black eyes held surprise as he eyed her carefully.
“I didn’t think I would see the likes of you for the next few years.”
“Change of plans Anakin. Is Father here?”
“It’s only me and the tyke; you know me and the old man can never stay in the same room long before ripping each other throats.” Anakin snorted before flicking his cigarette butt away. “But Ad are you alright? You look awful and you’re shaking so badly; and you’re soaked through and muddy. What happened, Ad?”
“Nothing.” She mumbled. “Just invite me in for a bath will ya.” Though now that he mentioned it, she was feeling kind of faint. Intending to push her way in, Adeline stumbled instead and Anakin was by her side in a flash, supporting her.
“Shit you’re weak. When was the last time you even fed Ad?”
“Addieeeeeeeeeeee.” From within the house, a shrill cry sounded. It was followed by loud footsteps and a young girl of 7 or 8 bounded straight into the foyer; her features were Asian, soft brown eyes and straight dark hair. And a sunny smile on her face. “You came!”
“Hey Loreen.” Adeline tried to smile and felt another wave of nausea.
“Lorie be a good sport and run the bath will you? Addie needs a good bath and rest after her long journey.”
The child straightened her back immediately, sensing the edge in Anakin’s voice and the urgency of the matter. “Alright.” She chirped and turned to go into the bathroom.
“I see you’ve both been well.” Adeline remarked offhandedly, to which Anakin rolled his eyes.
“Bath and get changed. I’ll go get you some blood.” Anakin sighed eyeing his dirty sister. “And take those shoes off, I don’t want you trekking mud into the house. I just cleaned the floor this morning.”
Adeline pulled at his sleeve before he could turn to leave.
“Anakin thanks.”
The frown line over his faced softened and Anakin smiled a lopsided smile.
“Well what are family for?”
This time she didn’t have a smart comeback.
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Here’s my first fic for the Harry Potter fandom. Hinny Fic.
A one-shot behind my art. For more, visit my Instagram art page: @dan.artchive
Read here: FFnet or AO3
It was a warm and sunny Friday that shone through the streets of Diagon Alley. Two Aurors wearing their dark red Auror robes were casually walking through the crowd of shoppers. The first Auror appeared to be average in height that had brown hair, tanned skin, and bright grey eyes. The second one was a tall, stocky, strawberry blonde bloke with pale skin and piercing blue eyes. One would think that the pair were normal wizards walking through the famous Wizarding shop in London but the two of them were under a charm to look different. If Alastor “Mad-eye” Moody was alive, he would have seen right through the charm with his eerie magical eye, hence, the moniker, “Mad-eye”.
Apparently, the second Auror was on the verge of nervousness the entire day playing out the worst scenarios possible in his head that could happen on what he was about to do that afternoon. The first Auror found it amusing that the man, who saved the Wizarding World, was worrying over a huge question that could be answered by a yes or no. They strode to the lone jewelry shop in magical London to obtain the thing.
“Okay, here we go,” huffed Harry Potter, the second Auror in disguise. He opened the door and the bell above it rang, signaling the store keeper that someone has arrived.
“Relax, mate, I’m sure she would say yes. You’ve been dating for almost four years now,” said Ron Weasley, the first Auror in disguise for the nth time, assuring him again and again that nothing would go wrong. They had this conversation over a month ago when Harry asked for Ginny’s hand from all the Weasley family members, in secret, of course. If Ginny knew, she would have thrown a fit stating that no one gets to decide to who she marries.
Harry only nodded to the words of comfort coming from Ron. He greeted the store keeper a good day and asked for the ring that he requested to be made a week ago. The store keeper, named Jane, asked for his magical signature (a receipt in the Muggle world) for security and clarity purposes. Upon seeing the signature, Jane’s eye widened in shock and confusion. Who wouldn’t be confused if the magical signature (designed to be forge-proof) of Harry Potter were to appear but the man before her was completely different from the famous Harry Potter? Nevertheless, she kept her confused thoughts to herself and headed to the back of the shop to obtain said requested ring.
It took about two to three minutes before Jane arrived bringing the velvet box. Harry gingerly grabbed and opened it to see a beautiful engagement ring perfect for his beloved girlfriend. The ring was a beautiful silver band encrusted with diamonds around it with the peridot gemstone, her birthstone, on top of it all. It was perfect. Perfect ring for his perfect love of his life. Harry thanked her and requested to keep it a secret for now, because Harry realized that sooner or later, the press will know and would have published it in numerous papers with exaggerated headlines.
********************************
It was now four in the afternoon when Harry realized that Ginny will be off from practice in an hour. Somehow excited yet nervous, Harry fumbled the velvet box silently praying to the heavens that she would say yes. Harry, who took half a day off with Ron, was lounging in the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place after they went to retrieve the ring from the shop. Ron, who stayed with Harry after, was still snoring on the couch sometimes murmuring Hermione’s name.
Harry aroused Ron from his sleep telling him that they need to go to Holyhead in ten minutes to finally ask the question. Ron, internalizing Harry’s word, was now fully awake and as excited as Harry. The pair then groomed themselves decently, especially Harry.
Ten minutes and a crack of noise later, the pair of Aurors, now not disguised, were sauntering along the grounds of the Holyhead Harpies’ stadium after some security checks and asking their purpose of visit. Harry told Ron to wear his invisibility cloak only to remove it until after the proposal, after she says yes, that is if she says yes, and snap a surprise photo.
The pair strode down to the stadium’s Quidditch pitch stands just in time to see the Harpies in the middle of their cool down routines. Harry roamed his eyes to a sea of women in green robes to locate where his girlfriend was. After a moment or so, he located her. There she was, looking so hot and sexy even in her current state; hair a mess, flushed cheeks and sweaty.
Thirty minutes later, the captain-slash-coach, Gwenog Jones, was now giving post-practice announcement, one of them was a two-day break much to the delight of the Harpies. Afterwards, the Harpies, who were now heading to their locker rooms, saw Harry approaching the team fumbling something under his robes. The ladies greeted Harry with a wave of hand, some nods, some saying “Wotcher, Potter”, and some pointing to their lead chaser, Ginny Weasley.
Harry returned their greetings and then walked to the center of the pitch with Ron behind, still under the invisibility cloak. He saw Ginny starting to remove her protective gears on her legs. He walked to her and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek only to be swatted by her small adorable hands pointing out that she was sweaty as hell. The two of them giggling while a hidden Ron was fake gagging. She was about to remove her protective arm gears when Harry took hand and donned his serious, loving and passionate face.
“Gin, I-I don’t know how to start this but…,” started Harry, rubbing his thumb along her hand. Ginny, who knows her boyfriend really well, noticed how rubbing his thumb along any surface, this time her hand, is a sign of him being nervous of some sort.
Ginny was about to speak out her thoughts when Harry gently asked her to let him finish.
“Gin, the past years has been my absolute happiest moments. Living like a normal person, no mad dark wizard after me every year, no life threatening activities ever since – well, except for the raids and field missions,” he said, chuckling at the last part.
“What I’m trying to say is…,” continued Harry, hoping the next words that will come out of his mouth would be not be too much for her. “I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore.”
Ginny’s jaw drop every slightly with tears now starting to roll down her flushed cheeks. She was too frozen to remove her hand from his. The thing she was scared the most was now slowly happening. The thought of Harry leaving her for someone better than her was always at the back of her mind.
Unbeknownst to Ginny and Harry, Ron was fuming. This was not what Harry told him. This was not the scene he pictured out when Harry told Ron that he was asking his only sister to be his wife. Ron was about to pull the invisibility cloak when Harry went down on one knee, his other hand trembling as he held the velvet box. The box opened itself knowing that Harry had probably cast a non-verbal spell. The box, to Ron and Ginny’s surprise, was not the ring but a golden snitch.
“Ginevra Molly Weasley, my love, my dear Gin, I’m sorry for shocking you like that. I love you and I don’t think that I can go on in this life without you in it. I may be a prat, a git, or whatever do you call me sometimes when you’re annoyed, but this prat loves you with all my heart,” he said, professing his love for her. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, all flustered. “Would you let me be the happiest man and be my wife? Will you marry me?” asked Harry, gently taking the snitch from the box and caressing it softly along her hand revealing the peridot ring.
“Y-yes! Of course I will marry you, you prat,” said Ginny, hitting Harry square in the chest. “That’s for scaring me like that, Potter.”
Harry slid the ring to her ring finger and kissed her. “I love you so much, soon-to-be Mrs Potter,” confessed Harry, hugging her so tightly.
“I love you, too,” replied Ginny, inhaling his fiancé’s lovely scent that she loves so much. When the couple pulled apart, Ginny asked about the snitch in question.
“The snitch…It’s the snitch I caught from my fifth year, isn’t it?”
Harry nods. “I got it from Madam Hooch. It seems that she has been keeping all snitches that won every House finals. Took me a lot of time convincing her but at the end she caved in,” he chuckled.
Suddenly, a bright flash interrupted the couple’s sweet moment. Ron had finally removed the cloak and took a photo of the newly engaged couple, much to Ginny’s chagrin. Ginny was supposed to be mad at him for interrupting their moment but she noticed that his eyes were slightly puffed so instead of being mad at him, she hugged her brother.
“Alright, you,” said Ron, slowly pulling himself from his sister, trying to discreetly sniff and not to sound hoarse. “Go to your future husband and I’ll snap a photo of you.”
Ginny obliged and went to Harry for their first proper photo of their engagement. Harry, in his Auror robes, held her by her waist while pressing a kiss on her head and inhaling her flowery smell despite the sweat. Ginny leaned against Harry, her puffed eyes showing nothing but love and happiness with her bright and wide smile. She showed her ring to the camera while pointing at it. The snitch hovering close by.
Harry was over the moon, the girl he pined for most of his sixth year, who then became his girlfriend for almost four years, was now about to become his wife. At the prime age of twenty two, he was at his happiest.
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When dreams come true ft Jared Padalecki - 4th year anniversary
Rome, May 19th 2016 ... The day the ultimate dream came true! Some of you may remember I bumpted into Jared (or in fact, JARED bumpted into ME) while out and about in Rome that day, a few of my friends know all the details too, but I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned here exactly how and under what impossible circumstances this happened. So ... story time! (& stuff about jib5,6,7)
BACKGROUND
This wasn’t the first time I met Jared, I had met him before at JIBCon5 in 2014, so this was my second time (I was supposed to see him at JIBCon6 in 2015 too which I attended as well but you guys know what happened that year).
He was lovely that first time, I told him it was my first Supernatural convention and he gave me a warm welcome, made the entire experience so wonderful for me, during the photo ops, the autograph session (where I gave him a scrapbook with messages from fans I had been in contact with) and the panel question I asked him (I completed one of his sentences which was actually a Sam Winchester quote from SPN and it made both of us and the entire audience laugh xD - I have a photo of me somewhere from that moment and I haven’t seen myself smile so widely ever!). Anyway, like I said, the first convention was fantastic, a beautiful and most memorable experience (despite the fact that Jared had a misfortune that time too since he broke his arm and missed one of his panels as a consequence).
The second convention while it had its moments, it sat (and still sits to be honest) heavy in my heart because I was constantly worried about Jared’s wellbeing and everyone including me was heartbroken. The rest of the cast did everything they could to keep us all entertained, they truly did but there was a dark cloud over our heads that couldn’t be ignored. The first thing we talked about with Jensen at his meet and greet (because of Jared’s absence, I was given the opportunity to be in that M&G, sitting right across from him and Robert Singer who was present at the con as well). Jensen was genuinely worried, he surely put on a brave face but whenever Jared was mentioned, he’d get emotional. While I asked show-related questions at the M&G, I wasn’t sure what to ask Jensen or tell him when I got his autograph and then I thought of the simplest thing: “So, I may be really sad about the empty spot next to you (Jared’s spot on the poster Jensen was signing for me) but I wanted to tell you that I truly appreciate the fact that you’re such a supportive and caring friend towards Jared. Everyone deserves a friend like you to have their back.” Then he took my hand, shook it, looked me right in the eye, put a hand on his heart and told me a sincere “Thank You”. Frankly, I loved Jensen even more at JIB6, he showed both a brave and vulnerable side and he tried so hard to give everyone a great time. My best photos with him are from that con for sure!
So, you see, I HAD to try and give my luck a third chance to live the perfect experience. I wanted to live it all, photo ops, autographs, M&G, panels but I also had a secret wish: to be one of those fans who accidentally meet their fav randomly in the city (NO stalking because that’s just fucked up, only by chance). I always saw posts of lucky people who got to meet him outside of conventions. He’s not one of those snob celebs, you see. He’ll always smile at you and talk to you and get pictures with you. So, I dreamt about it the entire year before JIB7. @darlingjared and I would talk and joke about it all the time, praying that our stars will listen and make a surprise meeting possible. Of course, deep down we know the chances were extremely low. Rome is a HUGE city with hundreds of places of interest. He could be anywhere, on the opposite site of where we’d be.
The day finally arrived, and we got to Rome (Thursday, May 19th 2016). Soon after I arrived at the Hilton hotel, I got to my room to get some rest after the flight. Not much later, I got a text saying Jared was at the hotel!!!! (no idea why??? the convention was starting the next day and he wasn’t to appear until the day after that). Before I could get dressed to go check, he was gone but I heard he was really sweet and greeted everyone who said hi to him.
In the afternoon, after I met with my roommate and @darlingjared ,we took the Hilton bus that took us downtown; it left us near the Victor Emmanuel II monument. Naturally, we went for walks around the city. We had a bite to eat and then got lost in a street trying to find our way to the Trevi fountain, so we asked around and managed to get to our destination. We spent a few minutes there, taking photos and then continued our way, meaning to get to the Spanish steps. While we were heading there, rain started pouring, so we took shelter for a few minutes until it stopped. We thought, damn, we will never meet him during this weather. When it stopped, we did some shopping at a supermarket and since the time had passed and we had to grab our ride back to the hotel since the Hilton bus had a specific route schedule, we said let’s just pass the Spanish steps quickly, go down via Condotti and head back. (I have to mention here that my BEST DECISION EVER was to wear the Always Keep Fighting T-shirt for this walk). At this point, we were certain we wouldn’t meet him, so we basically forgot about it and just started chatting with each other and laughing. I mean, we walked around many places, we got lost, we got stuck in the rain. What were the odds??? So, we’re laughing at our own jokes and for some reason we had our attention focused at the right side of the street. I turn my head straight at the PERFECT time, seeing that beautiful, smiling giant, coming my way through the crowd and adressing me before I had the time to react:
Jared: “Hey, I love your shirt!”
I fucking froze. Can you imagine?????? Not only did we eventually meet him but HE came to us FIRST to talk!!!!! We didn’t have to notice him and shyly go talk to him, wondering if we’re disturbing him, asking for pictures. He casually just approached us because he wanted to, because he’s kind and simple like that. I was so shocked, mouth agape, that he just went in for a hug to bring me back to reality!!! Now, name me another actor, another celebrity who will stop on his own to talk to you and hug you, I DARE YOU TO FIND ONE!!! He’s pure and special like that. He hugged each of us (gosh, he smelled like Heaven and looked so good in that sexy coat he wore, his hair kinda wet from the rain), asked us how we’re doing and then we asked if it would be ok to take some pictures with us. He said “sure!” and we took our phones out. Mine was brand new and I hadn’t even taken a picture with it, so, basically Jared blessed it first xD My hand was shaking so bad that I couldn’t take the picture, so, he put his hand on mine to steady it and took the selfie. He took pics with all of us, we thanked him and then he told us to have a good time and that he’d see us again at the convention. Needless to say when he left, we started losing it because we couldn’t believe what had just happened!!! It was out of this world. To this day, as I’m writing this, I still can’t believe it. We wanted something so SO much, that the universe made it happen. It’s one of those times that you know the stars aligned so that something you desired with all your heart could come true!
The entire convention was absolutely phenomenal. Jared remembered my face throughout the weekend, I asked him interesting questions during his panels and the one he shared with Jensen for which he later thanked me when I saw him at the photo ops (he particularly liked my question adressed to him and Jensen about the proudest they’ve felt about themselves in real life and about their characters on Supernatural and the other one concerning what Sam and Jared would tell each other if they met in real life which he found great because he said he had never been asked that before.) The M&G with him was a blast, he sat with us longer than what was expected, got to ask him two questions there (I have another detailed post with everything that was said in the M&G), he was super chill and eager to answer everything we wanted to know. When I got his autograph, I told him everything he means to me, thanked him for inspiring me to be a better version of myself, straight out told him I love him and he was so kind and gentle and shook my hand and told me he loved me back (also gave him a custom made chocolate I ordered particularly for him with #AKF as a theme). “I love you, always keeping fighting Jared, never forget.” I was on the verge of tears for multiple reasons but I had to say that to him. I was not in a good place back then and Jared was a beacon of light, of hope that kept me going. At our last photo op together, I asked him to hug me “like there’s no tomorrow” and he held me so tight in his arms, I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t care. I didn’t know what he looked like when he hugged me but getting out of the photo op room, the girl who was behind me stopped me in the hallway and said: “Omg, he was so sweet with you! Loved what he did with his eyes. Your photo will look beautiful”. I was confused because I was looking at the camera when the picture was taken, so I had to wait for my photo op to get printed to see what she was talking about. My heart melted when I saw this:
I mean, look at that SOFT face. He’s so sweet, you can FEEL his kindness radiating by reading his expression. Some people may think nothing of this but it meant the world to me back then. It was as if he was telling me “things will get better, you can do this” without using words.
When Jared hugs, he does it with everything he has, like he’s said before, hugging is showing you care about someone and damn, he does. He’s an actor but he doesn’t pretend during these moments, I can assure you. He’s a person who feels things deeply, he’s someone who understands what it’s like to struggle with your personal demons and that’s why I’ve always related to him the most. He has a heart of gold and personally, I’ll have his back always. He didn’t have to be so kind to me but he was and I will never forget that.
So this is my story. This post was probably too long but I had to share these thoughts.
Jared, I know you don’t remember me but if you ever see this, thank you for being you, don’t ever change. I love you, man. #AKF
~Elena
#Jared Padalecki#jibcon#jibcon7#jibcon5#jibcon6#long post#I love him to the moon and back#forever grateful#you've changed my world
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Broken - Gwilym Lee
I got this idea a loon time ago and I finally managed to writing it. enjoy :)
Requested by: no one
Warning(s): angst, cheating
Masterlist
With every step I take it feels like the day just gets worse and worse. Without any good reason my boss fired me. I don’t mind the fact that I don’t have to work there anymore, but I do need the money.
Of course, my boyfriend, Gwilym, is rich enough to make a living for the both of us, but I’ve always told him that I don’t want to be dependent, I want to make my own money, and I want something to do in my day to day live.
It has been a month since I’ve seen him and that’s another factor that makes your day even worse. Barely able to hold back the tears, I open the lock on the front door, which seems to be open? I guess I forgot to lock it this morning, or my mum came over during the day to return some stuff she had lent and forgot to lock the door when she left.
When I step inside though, those possible ideas are quickly thrown out of the window as I see Gwilym sitting. “Gwilym?!” I whisper-shout in surprise, tears gathering in my eyes at the overwhelming sensation of finally seeing him again.
I run up to him and jump into his embrace, before he can even do anything to stop me. I hug him tightly, but when I feel him moving back a bit, my brows furrow in confusion and I let go of him. Once I finally take the sight of him in, all I can see his sadness and… guilt?
I swallow hard, he hasn’t even said a word yet. “Gwil?” I ask quietly, my voice more vulnerable than ever. Gwilym gulps and breaks down right in front of me, on the couch, with his head in his hands.
He looks up after a moment, his bloodshot eyes meeting my confused ones. “I- I’m so sorry… I-” he starts, confusing and worrying me even more. I move to sit down beside him. Gwilym recollects himself, wiping his eyes and sitting up before turning to me. “I did something, (Y/N). Something I should never have done, something I regret with everything I am.”
The worry grows even bigger and that’s showing on my face, as I can see Gwil on the verge of breaking down again. “What did you do?”
“I- I…” his voice breaks again, but he tries not to break down again, “I slept with someone else.” He swallows a huge lump in his throat, not daring to meet my eyes.
I didn’t know this day could get any worse, but boy… how wrong was I. I’m so shocked by his words, I’ve gone numb. I can’t think clearly, and I can barely move. Gwilym looks up, confused by the silence. But when he sees my face, he knows enough. “(Y/N), please say something.”
As if I’m snapped out of my shock, tears well up in my eyes and I look everywhere, but at him. I try to form a proper sentence, but nothing seems to make sense. Gwilym says my name again and I shake my head, moving away from him. “How…” I finally manage, standing up from my seat on the sofa. “How could you do that?”
Gwilym follows my actions, standing up as well. “I don’t know what came over me. I swear I didn’t do it because of her. I don’t even know her, (Y/N). I can’t even remember her name…” he whispers brokenly, seeing how much I’m hurting. “We went out with some of the cast members and had way too many drinks. We started playing ‘seven minutes in heaven’ and I just went along with it, nothing happened, until one moment this girl, she just…” he chokes out a breath, not wanting to hurt me more than he already has, but he knows he owes me the truth. “She literally just put her hands on me… and she started kissing me and because I was so drunk, I didn’t really know what I was doing and I honestly thought it was you. I dunno why, because if I’d thought about it, that wouldn’t even be possible, but I was highly convinced it was you. A- And then, the next moment, I wake up and I realise what happened, what huge mistake I made. I immediately took my stuff and left.”
I stand there, listening to his story, desperately trying to remain strong. I open my mouth a couple of times, but nothing comes out. I can feel Gwilym’s eyes boring into mine, but I don’t give into the feeling of wanting to look back into his. “I’m out of here.” I choke out in a whisper, unable to be in this house any longer. I move past Gwilym in order to grab a bag and I throw as much as I think I need into it.
“Please, don’t leave.” Gwilym, who must’ve followed me into the bedroom, cries out. “We can get through this. (Y/N), please!”
I continue to ignore his pleads, walking into the bathroom to grab my stuff. When I’m done in there, I want to leave the bathroom, but the doorway is blocked by a rather tall figure standing in the way. “Don’t go, please. Yell at me, scream at me, but- but please don’t leave me.” He cries, eyes redder than I’ve ever seen possible.
“Move.” I say, trying to keep my tears at bay. Gwilym shakes his head, “No, I’m not letting you go.”
“I said ‘move’, Gwilym! Let me go!” I yell, my anger bursting through, taking over the pain. Gwilym’s eyes widen in surprise; he’s never seen me so angry. I gulps and steps away from the door, and I immediately walk past him, back into the bedroom. I quickly think of everything I need and soon realise I’ve got everything, so I grab my back and head for the door after taking my coat with me.
Gwilym tries to get me to stay the entire time, but right now, I simply can’t be around him. I need time to think, time away from him. It’s rather funny, isn’t it? For a month, I wanted nothing more than to be with him again. Right now, all I want is to be as far away as possible from him.
I put my stuff into my car and get in before Gwilym can do something to stop me. At first, I have no idea where I’m going, but I soon think about the beach house my parents own, by the sea.
Fortunately, I always have a spare key with me, so I don’t have to go to my parents and explain everything. I really don’t have the energy to unpack my stuff after entering the house, so I just throw the bag onto the bed in the bedroom and go back to the living area, plopping down on the couch and looking out at the sand and the sea.
I finally let myself think about what just happened, the anger fading and the sadness entering my body. Soft cries fill the room and all I can think about is Gwil; he was so broken. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so sad, crying so hard.
Gwil is probably at home, thinking I just left our relationship behind, but I didn’t. I love him so much; I can’t give up on us that easily. He did something horrible, but he knows that, too. If he didn’t care so much, if he didn’t realise what mistake he’d made, he wouldn’t have been so devastated. But he knows.
I just needed some time, time to think, to clear my head.
That night, I simply can’t sleep. Gwilym is all that’s on my mind. Even though I’ve only been here for a couple of hours, I desperately long for home; for being with Gwil.
Knowing I probably shouldn’t, I grab my phone and dial his number, the picture of the two of us on his profile bringing tears to my eyes. It rings a couple times, before Gwilym’s very hoarse voice speaks up. “(Y/N)?”
“Hey Gwil,” I say quietly, clearly not having thought this through enough. “I just… I’m not really leaving you, us… I just wanted to clarify that.”
I can feel a pang at my heart when I hear Gwil crying again, “I’m such a fool, (Y/N).”
Not being able to hold myself back any longer, I tell him I’ll be home in half an hour; I need to be with him right now.
Gwilym’s sitting on the front porch, an empty cup of tea in his hands as he shivers from the cold, tears still running down his cheeks. My heart breaks at the sight of him like that, but I don’t pity him too much, knowing it was his own doing.
“Go inside, Gwil.” I say quietly when I reach him. He stands up, shoulders slumped, and walks inside with me behind him. I close and lock the door, setting my bag down in the hall before joining him on the couch.
Only hours before, we were sitting in the exact same position.
No words are spoken for a while, Gwilym crying into his hands while I’m sitting beside him, contemplating on what to do. The urge to lean forward and pull him into my arms is too big to resist, so that’s exactly what I do.
Gwilym is surprised, but doesn’t hesitate one moment before burying his face into my chest and wrapping his arms around my waist. “I’m so sorry.. so, so sorry.”
The lump in my throat becomes too big and I break again, tears silently rolling down my cheeks as I hold Gwilym like it’s the last thing I’ll do. “I know, I know… we-” I take a deep breath, my voice shaking, “We’ll be alright. We’ll get through this.”
After Gwil and I have both calmed down a bit, Gwilym leans back to look at me, his hand carefully moving up to cup my cheek, “I don’t deserve you, (Y/N). I’m so stupid… I’m an idiot. You deserve so much better than me.”
I shake my head, tears gathering in my eyes once more, “I don’t want anyone else, Gwil. I love you; I want you. Yes, you did something horrible, but I can tell you’re also feeling horrible about it. As is said: we’ll get through this.”
Gwilym nods, trying hard to believe my words, not sure if he’s dreaming them or not. “You can’t… you’re not leaving again, are you?” I ask, not sure if I’ll be able to get through, or over, this if he’s going to be away again.
Gwilym shakes his head roughly, “I’m not going anywhere. I… I quit the project. I couldn’t be there, I knew I had to be here, with you.”
For some reason, that calms me down a lot; knowing that Gwilym will be home for a while. Knowing he won’t be seeing her again.
“I love you, Gwil. But what you did was really fucking stupid and I’m gonna have to learn how to trust you properly again.” I say, my eyes gazing into his. He nods, “I know, you need time, I know. Take all the time you need, I promise I’ll be here, waiting for you… I won’t go anywhere. You’re my future, (Y/N), no matter how long you need.”
“And you’re mine, Gwil. Promise me you won’t, ever, do anything like that anymore.” I’ve never heard Gwil answer anyone so quickly, his words almost come out as a desperate shout: “I promise!”
The action causes a small chuckle to leave my mouth, and I wrap my arms around Gwilym’s, still shaking, figure. “Let’s go upstairs, freshen up a bit, and go to bed. Today’s been an awful day.” I say and let out a long sigh.
Gwilym nods, carefully taking my hand in his and grabbing my packed bag when we pass it on our way up. A short fifteen minutes later, we’re both in bed. Gwilym is hesitant to snuggle closer to me, so I take the first step and lay my head on his shoulder, burying my face into the crook of his neck.
He immediately wraps his arm around me, holding me close to him. All that’s going through his mind his how lucky he is with someone like me; he messed up really bad, yet here he is, with me in his arms.
We’re both entirely exhausted from all the emotions from the afternoon, and before anything, I start drifting off to sleep. But, just before I completely fall asleep, I hear Gwilym speaking in a very quiet and vulnerable voice: “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. For the rest of my life.”
#gwilym lee#gwilym lee x reader#gwilym lee one shot#gwilym lee imagine#gwilym lee fanfic#gwilym lee fan fiction#gwilym lee fanfiction#gwilym lee fan fic#gwilym lee drabble#fanfic#fanfiction#fan fic#fan fiction#imagine#drabble#reader insert#angst#cheating
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Fashion Central
Takes place before the Magi Love Kingdom movie for UtaPri and after chapter 280 for Skip Beat.
It should have been an enjoyable three-week school trip to Japan. Three weeks of seeing the sights, learning a bit about the culture and soaking up new experiences in a new country. Except it hadn't been so far. Lila had taken credit for all the tours that had been booked. They’d had to fund-raise over €50 000 for it and thanks to Lila, Marinette had had to do most of the work herself. Chloe’s dad had donated a decent chunk of money for the trip but it still took multiple bake sales, car washes, raffles, auctions and even a go fund me page to reach their goal. She had even had to pay for certain tours out her own pocket as Mlle Bustier had insisted those tours be included in their trip. Once it had been met, however, Lila had swooped in and claimed all the credit for it. She had done this so often that Lila’s actions didn’t surprise Marinette anymore, though it still stung.
The flight had gone well and despite all her travels, Lila had made a fuss of how uncomfortable her seat was and had had the whole class in a rush to offer her their travel pillows. They had made snide remarks about the fact that Marinette hadn’t offered her pillow, even though Marinette was using hers and they hadn’t even thought to use theirs. Marinette had simply put her headphones on and played the set of four unreleased Jagged Stone songs as she designed his new album cover. She spent the first 3 hours of the 12.5-hour flight doing the album cover making sure she was happy with it before saving it and sitting back to relax. She changed her playlist to one she had made that included some of the songs from the idol groups Starish, Quartet Night and Heavens. She even included some of Fuwa Sho’s songs simply so that she could recognise them but they weren’t ones she truly enjoyed.
She knew that most of her class hadn’t taken the time to learn Japanese but as soon as she knew where they would be going she had gone to Kagami’s mother and requested her help. She had picked up the language quickly and while she knew she wasn’t fluent and had difficulty reading it she could speak enough of it to ask for directions if she needed them. She would also be able to understand their tour guides even if they didn’t speak French. She was at the point when she didn’t care if her classmates understand what was being said or not. In her opinion, they had chosen the destination, so it was their responsibility to ensure they could understand anything.
Three years ago she would have done just about anything for her class but she no longer cared. They only turned to her when it was convenient for them these days and that wasn’t something she was willing to deal with anymore. She was the new Guardian of the Miraculous and had been ever since Master Fu had been killed by Hawkmoth. Marianne had been with Fu at the time but she hadn’t been able to do anything to help. The only good thing was that Hawkmoth hadn’t been able to get the Miracle Box nor was he able to gain any of the Miraculous’ secrets as they had moved them a week earlier. Fu had even had the forethought to make sure that the real translations of the Grimoire were on a password-protected flash drive and that only fake versions were left on the tablet. As a result, she had been able to cast a spell that would stop Mayura and Hawkmoth being able to use their powers, although it wouldn't stop them from being able to transform. If they did transform though they would fall very ill for three days for each time they transformed while the spell was in effect.
She had the Miracle box in her luggage as she didn’t want her parents to find it if they ever went into her room. She didn’t think they would, but she didn’t want to risk it either, especially since Lila had spread enough of her poison that although her parents still loved her, they weren't as trusting as they used to be. It was currently disguised as a normal jewellery box, but if anyone went into her bag with the intent to steal from her or destroy her things, they would be unable to find it at all. She didn’t trust Lila not to try destroying her things after all.
The first couple of days in Japan had gone well enough. Marinette had managed to get the only individual capsule room as no one wanted to share with her so she had made sure that she locked all her things away whenever she left. She had made sure that any clothes that she had set aside for any special occasions were kept beneath the false bottom of her bag when she packed it. In truth anything she placed any value in or that could be easily destroyed was hidden in compartments within her bags, she had also made sure to include at least two days worth of everyday clothes in the sealed compartments, just in case. It had proven to be a good idea when she had seen a fine powder on the edge of her bag which had proven to be itching powder. So she had had to send all the clothes from the normal part of her bag to be washed. Alix and Kim had been very annoyed when they had seen that their 'prank' hadn't worked.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
On the fourth day, the class was in Japan, she woke up without her alarm. At first, she was happy about this only for Tikki to hold up her phone sadly. It had been hacked overnight and all her alarms had been deleted. As had all her pictures and numbers and any documents she had stored on it, even some of her games! Marinette sighed, grateful that she had taken to keeping everything important written down in a notebook, that was easily overlooked. She was also grateful that she had backed up all her phone data on a cloud server under an alias as she no longer trusted Max. Seeing that it was already 9 am and that her class left for their day trip at 8.30 Marinette decided that she wouldn’t bother to join them. They would soon find that she had made all the reservations in her name and not under the school’s name so they wouldn’t be granted access without her.
Instead, she decided that she would take her sketchbook and go to the park that she had seen on her map. Tikki flew into the messenger bag that Marinette had brought with her instead of a handbag and the two of them left the hotel. Marinette chose to stop at a coffee shop and get something to eat on the way to the park. She wasn’t sure what she wanted so she got a simple bento and a green tea to go and carried on. When she got to the park she noticed a large area of it was surrounded by cameras and decided to avoid it.
The universe had other ideas for her however as no sooner had she settled down and started drawing then there was a huge commotion. She packed everything away and walked over to the girl that was dressed in a blindingly pink overall with orange hair. The girl was sitting on the ground looking very upset about something. Perhaps it was her Ladybug side kicking in, or maybe she just couldn't help herself these days, but Marinette couldn't help but get up to see if she could help.
“Are you alright?” Marinette asked her, all the while trying to make sure she had the right words and pronunciation.
“I’m alright,” the girl replied sadly, “But the clothes that I was carrying probably aren’t.”
It was then that Marinette looked around and saw all the clothes strewn around them on the grass. She also saw that the girl was on the verge of having a panic attack and made a quick decision.
“Would you like some help?”
“Yes please!”
Marinette helped the girl pick up the clothes and made sure that there were no grass stains on them. She also checked for any that had rips or tears and made sure they went to one side so that they could be repaired, explaining to her companion why she was doing that and rushing to reassure her that she would help with any repairs needed. Finally, they had all the clothes in two piles and Marinette made sure to get the pile that needed repairs before letting her pink clothed companion lead the way.
“My name is Marinette by the way”
“I'm Mogami Kyoko,” the girl replied, “ You didn't give your surname are you really alright with me using your first name?” Marinette could have kicked herself for forgetting the custom of only using surnames until you were granted the persons permission to use their first name.
“My surname is Dupain-Cheng, so I think it might be easier to just use my first name. Feel free to shorten that to Mari if you like. My friend's mom said that it might be easier to pronounce than my full name.” Marinette babbled with a blush to cover for her mistake. “I'm from France so I tend to forget some things. Feel free to correct my pronunciation as well as I've only just learned how to speak Japanese and I know I still say things wrong on occasion.”
“If that's the case you speak well for a non-native speaker.”
Marinette jumped as a male voice spoke from somewhere on her right. She looked around and couldn't stop herself from blushing. She had been so focused on Kyoko that she hadn't noticed they had reached where they needed to be and that almost everybody was looking at them. She was mortified to realise that almost every single person around them was famous. The one that had spoken was Ren Tsuruga, no Tsuruga Ren she corrected herself mentally. The other men that were standing around her were the members of Starish, Quartet Night and Heavens.
“I'm sorry if I'm intruding, I saw Mogami-san slip and wanted to help her. I offered to help anything that might have been damaged...” Marinette didn't realise she slipped into French in her flustered state, however, it seemed that he still understood her as he held up a hand with a smile.
“It's quite alright Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” he said in French a smile on his face. “These things happen. Thank you for helping Mogami-san. You said you could help fix anything that is damaged?”
Marinette looked at him in surprise,
she hadn't known that he would be able to speak French, though it made sense that he could as he is a model along with being an actor.
“I can,” she reassured everyone. “I design in my free time. I hadn't expected to be doing anything today as my class left me behind so I came to the park to relax and do some sketching. If I can help instead that would be great!” She had switched back to Japanese so that everyone could understand her, which everyone seemed to appreciate if she was to judge by the smiles they all wore.
The person in charge of all the outfits walked over at that moment. “If you could help that would be appreciated greatly as we are running short of time as we had a few people call in sick. I'd also like to see some of your designs if I could?”
Marinette handed over her latest sketchbook in answer before asking for some needle and thread and getting to work on all the repairs. She was so focused on what she was doing that she didn't notice the time flying by until someone tapped her on her shoulder.
“Lunchtime!” Kyoko chirped. “It's important not to miss meals. Judging by how focused you were I'd guess you're as bad as Tsuruga-san about remembering to eat though. Please don't tell me that you eat like a bird too?”
“Trust me, I eat way more than a bird ever would,” Marinette said with a laugh. “I've been known to eat enough that people wonder how I stay so small!” Kyoko nodded.
“People wonder the same thing about me. Did you know that your sketchbook has been passed around and almost everyone here has seen it? Even I stole a look and I must say, your designs are amazing!”
Marinette blushed, then thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't put Jagged's newer requests in that book. The downside though was that the was the sketchbook in question was the one she had been sketching in while listening to music from all three idol groups that were currently present and as a result, there were outfits for almost all of them in it. Each of the idols had a different outfit depending on how she pictured them in her mind's eye, yet if you looked at them, each group had a common theme running through it.
For Starish she had gone with a smart-casual vibe, the base colours were Black and gold, yet each idol had a colour as well as certain details that made the outfit unique to them. Quarter Night had an old school formal vibe with the base being a dove grey tone with robins egg blue as accents. This time instead of colour being used to make each outfit unique, she had made sure the cut of each outfit was as unique as the idol wearing it. Heavens had given her more of a challenge as she had wanted to make their outfits look like they had been made from the night sky itself, in an inky blue with silver accents. She had settled for a modern semi-formal look, that was meant to look messy enough to give the illusion of them falling yet still smart enough to be seen in public wearing.
“Thanks, I tend to draw any idea that crosses my mind when I get inspired. Sometimes it's by what I see, sometimes by what I hear and some of the weirder designs that I've drawn come from what I've smelt.” Marinette explained, looking slightly embarrassed.
“Do you always sing while you sew?” Otoya Ittoki asked suddenly.
Marinette froze in embarrassment, her cheeks a shade of red that put her suit to shame.
“I- I what?” She stammered.
“Yes, you were singing as you were fixing all the outfits. I think the song was Set it All Free from the movie Sing,” Ai Mikaze stated rather matter of factually.
“Ugh, I can't believe no one has ever pointed that out to me! Wait don't tell me...” Marinette trailed off as she dived for her bag, completely forgetting that she had an audience, all of whom were chuckling softly by this stage. She was extremely grateful that she had taken the time to re-enter some of the more important numbers under code names, back into her phone before leaving the hotel that morning. She was also grateful for the fact that the person she was about to call was currently in Japan for a working vacation.
“Got it! Now, where was it? There! Come on, please pick up... Penny! It's Marinette here, I've just had it pointed out to me that I sing while I sow. Please tell me Uncle J has never recorded me as I was repairing any of his things... He has! Oh no! Okay has he shown anyone or... Few! No, I just don't think I have a great voice and... Penny! I can't do that! His reputation would tank and then it would be my fault and... Yeah, I get that but still! That's only when there's no-one else around and it's not likely to make anyone worried for his sanity!... Thanks, Penny... Oh, the Album cover? It's almost done as are the next set of Sunglasses so I'll email the designs to you by Sunday at the latest! All the best Penny and don't let Fang boss you around any more than Uncle J does.”
Ranmaru Kurosaki's jaw dropped when he heard what the flustered girl was saying. He only knew of one person who had connections to the names Fang and Penny, and that was Jagged Stone the Rock and Roll artist who had inspired him to reach for his dream. That this girl had simply grabbed her phone and been able to call The Jagged Stone's manager stunned him. It was then that the rest of what she had said, thankful that it was still in Japanese, made its way into his mind and he froze.
“Are you Neti? Jagged Stone's designer and adopted niece? The one he always brags about in interviews?” He demanded.
“Yes?” Marinette replied hesitantly. “I don't normally spread that around though as I'm still in school and I don't want people to try to be my friends just because they know I'm a designer. It's bad enough one girl in our class does that already with other celebrities, I don't want to make it worse.”
She sighed fidgeting slightly before adding “To be honest I wanted to wait until after I finished the online courses I've been doing for ESMOD before I became too well known. I pushed myself to graduate from high school early but despite the school board recognising the fact that I've graduated, the headmaster still demands that I stay with my class as though I'm still a student. At least with sitting at the back, I don't have to worry about anyone seeing what I'm working on. The downside is due to my classes animosity towards me, I can't risk bringing anything that could be important to the school. I even have to be careful with what's on my digital devices.” She sighed again then shrugged. “Three more months and I'll be free,” she murmured more to herself than to them but several people still heard her.
“What do you mean? Is there a reason you were alone in the park today and thus that you were able to spend the day helping Mogami-san and the team with repairing all these outfits?” Tsuruga Ren asked?
Marinette flushed as she sighed yet again and felt very embarrassed but knew that she probably wouldn't be able to leave without telling them the whole story. She braced herself to do just that when she suddenly found herself looking up at the sky with a heavy object sitting on her and wiggling happily.
“Fang! Get off of Neti! You know better, what if she had been busy with something and you damaged it?” An amused yet angry voice yelled drawing nearer as each moment passed.
“Hi Fang, mind getting off of me? I need to greet your daddy and Penny, I was also talking to these nice people and that was rude of you to interrupt.” Marinette was fussing over the salt-water croc as she spoke, reassuring him that she wasn't hurt nor was she angry. In response, the croc rolled onto his back, and in the process off of Marinette, begging for belly scratches much as a dog would. She finally looked up and saw Jagged and Penny smiling down at her and the stunned look on everybody else's faces.
“Why does everybody look so surprised? I had already admitted to knowing Uncle J and Penny so it isn't anything new.” Marinette asked looking bewildered.
It was Camus who answered. “It's one thing to hear that someone knows someone famous and is famous in their own right. It is entirely something else to see for one's self that it's true. Even for Idols like ourselves.”
“Oh! Sorry,” Marinette replied with a soft blush.
Kyoko suddenly spoke up, “It's so cool to meet someone connected to the entertainment industry that won't be directly in the spotlight! What do you love most about fashion?”
That was all that was needed to draw Marinette out of her embarrassment, though it didn't hurt that Penny had pulled Jagged away by his ear with him protesting loudly the whole way. From the sounds of it he had run off as soon as Fangs mysterious ability to find her where ever she was kicked in and as Jagged had been in the middle of an interview at the time, Penny was less than impressed. Fang simply trotted along behind them happily, content at having received his scratches for the day.
For the rest of the afternoon, the two girls spoke whenever they had a free moment with topics ranging from school to fashion to their childhoods and even to the topic of cooking and baking. Eventually, Kyoko gave in and asked if Marinette would like to join her later that day to trade recipes, which Marinette agreed to.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
They met up that night after Marinette cleared it with Mlle Bustier. Marinette had been sneaky with her wording though and as she had it in writing there was nothing Mlle Bustier or the class could do about it. For the remainder of the trip, Marinette could pretty much do as she pleased, up to and including missing all the scheduled tours. The class would soon find she had booked some of the better ones in her name, not under the school's name and if she wasn't there when they went on them, the tour wouldn't happen.
Mlle Bustier had not been happy when Marinette had refused to let them use her name to get into the ones booked under it and had even tried
to punish Marinette when she found out that Marinette had emailed with her picture when she booked as a precaution against Lila claiming that she was Marinette. Marinette had looked at her teacher and tartly stated that the only reason she was still there was because of the incompetence of the school staff and the insistence of the headmaster. She had then shown Mlle Bustier the certified copies of her graduation certificates as well as the very agreement the Mlle Bustier had signed when Marinette had asked to be allowed to do her own thing for the rest of the trip. That had killed all arguments coming from her teacher although it hadn't killed the glares that were being sent her way whenever Marinette made an appearance at the hotel.
On the second day of hanging out with Kyoko, Marinette was introduced to the president of LME. Marinette took one look at him and pulled out her sketchbook. Within seconds she had redesigned his outfit and told him that if he was going to wear cos-play outfits as everyday wear he should at least try to make them a little more practical while still keeping his flamboyant style in mind. It took her a few moments before she remembered who she was talking to before she had a small panic attack but he just laughed and asked if he could commission a few outfits from her. She had also received a massive commission for all of the outfits for the Magi Love Kingdom concert. She wasn't too sure about one of the outfit sets but as it's what they had asked for something fun and off the wall so that's what she had designed.
That was how she found herself working in a design studio in the LME building less than a week later. Since she hadn't had access to her normal sewing supplies, Takarada Lory had given her permission to use one of the lesser-used design rooms. As it was already fitted out with dress forms, sewing machines and other much-needed sowing equipment all Marinette had had to supply was her time and the cloth along with any matching thread that she would be using. Currently, she was working on all the designs she had drawn up for Lory so that she could start working on the concert outfits ASAP. She was grateful that she wouldn't have to make the basic shirts for her screen-print set though.
Marinette had been working hard on the outfits until Kyoko had entered the room and dragged her down to a café area within the building to join her for lunch, LME Hearts. On a normal day, this wouldn't be an issue but today was not a normal day. Today her class was booked to do the tour of LME and it was one of the ones booked under the school's name instead of hers.
The two girls had just sat down to lunch chatting animatedly about different styles of clothes and how they influenced how each character was seen on screen depending on what the style was when a screech cut through the air.
“You! What are you doing here? It's bad enough that you've ruined the school trip by getting us banned from certain tours but now you show up without a shred of remorse for basically stealing the money needed for those tours on one of the few we could still go on.”
Marinette turned at the sound of Ayla's diatribe against her and listened in absolute boredom as Ayla laid out her complaints. Just as she took a breath to continue Marinette decided enough was enough.
“I recommend you get your facts straight before you start complaining Césaire.” Marinette's voice was sharp as she spoke. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Kyoko frantically texting someone but Marinette didn't dwell on that.
“The tours that you were unable to take were not paid for out of the money that the class but out of money I had earned from my commissions. The only reason I booked them in the first place was because I felt compelled to. Either way that money has since been refunded to me as I cancelled them due to your actions. You wouldn't have been able to take them as they were booked under my name for the very reason I have just given you aka I PAID FOR THEM! Had one of you not hacked my phone a week ago, you would still be able to take those tours.”
Marinette's tone as she spoke was fraught with anger and she had crossed her arms across her chest as she spoke. She knew she was probably being slightly cruel but she was past caring. Adrien was frantically trying to get her attention, probably to tell her to calm down and stick to the status quo but Marinette no longer cared. Why should she? The only times Adrien spoke to her these days was to tell her to calm down and to take the high ground. It was as her class started screaming at her again that Marinette noticed the ring on Adrien's finger. A ring she recognised as being Chat Noir's ring from when she had been Lady Noir.
Marinette cursed softly then muttered the spell that would cause Plagg to bring the ring to her when it was safe for him to do so. If Adrien couldn't support her as a civilian, how could she trust him to support her as Ladybug? Chat Noir hadn't been at three-quarters of the more recent battles anyway. She wished she could use the same spell to bring the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculi to her but the caster had to be able to see the Miraculous and be within a certain distance for it to be effective. She wished that she hadn't figured out that Adrien and Chat Noir were the same person but what's done was done and she had to accept that.
She knew that Adrien was a good person, just miss guided at times, who had too much faith in people due to his very sheltered upbringing. She also knew that the main reason that he refused to act against Lila was because he had grown up in an environment that had made clear to him that if you ignored the lies and rumours that were spread through magazines, they went away. If only real life was the same.
Marinette realised she was getting distracted so she quickly returned her attention to what was happening in front of her, only to have to stop herself from rolling her eyes. As usual, Lila was making herself out to be the victim saying that Marinette was jealous and that she was lying about having paid for the extra tours herself. Marinette shook her head and turned her attention back to Kyoko to apologise for what was happening, only for Kyoko to explain she had had to deal with something similar due to her childhood friend turned adversary slash pet peeve Fuwa Sho. Marinette was about to say more when she felt movement behind her and started to turn again.
Her movement was soon halted as she felt something warm and wet trickle down her back. She sighed and said a quick prayer of thanks for the fact that what she was wearing was something that was easy to clean and that she had an extra shirt in her bag.
“Seriously?” half moaned as she turned to face the perpetrator and came face to face with Alix. “How old are you again, five? That was just plain stupid and juvenile as well as being a waste of good coffee! Ugh!” Marinette took her jacket off to check how bad it was and shook her head. “Well, this will need a wash soon but at least it won't stain.”
“Pass it here,” Kyoko piped up. She couldn't understand most of what was being said as she had only just started to learn French but she from what she could see, she knew that the jacket would need to be cleaned as would the shirt. “We have a washing machine and dryer in the building for some of the costumes and in case of accidents. There are also spare clothes that might fit if you need them.”
Marinette gratefully handed her jacket over and was about to start talking to her class again when Jagged walked in, Penny running after him scolding him.
“Neti, I need a break! Sing with me?” He exclaimed then gave her puppy eyes as he asked her to sing with him.
Marinette nodded then reflexively caught the guitar that was carelessly chucked in her direction. She headed to the small stage in LME Hearts and smirked at him then played the opening riffs of Do What You Gotta Do (From "Descendants 3") by Dove Cameron and Cheyenne Jackson. He laughed and nodded, joining in on the keyboard, using it to add in the extra instruments that were needed for the song and started the duet with both of them goofing off completely and acting as though they were the characters in the song.
They were so busy teasing each other while singing that neither of them noticed her classes stunned looks nor the person that was streaming their little performance. By the end of the song, they had ended up being back to back in a way that practically screamed that they had done the routine before. Jagged then started a new song that was more bass-heavy and Marinette closed her eyes before singing in a clear voice. The song wasn't one anybody in the café recognised though. (Alright by Tadpole) The song seemed to have been written especially for the girl that was singing it as fit her a little too well for her classes comfort.
Lila, seeing that the attention was no longer on her, tried to make up another story only to find a rather intimidating man staring down at her.
“You are Lila Rossi, yes?” He asked in a slightly accented though very firm voice which caught the attention of most of the class as well as Mlle Bustier's attention.
“Yes, I am,” Lila replied in what she thought was a confident tone of voice.
“Good. I am Lory Takrarada. I own this building as well as the agency that is run within it. You have 10minutes to remove yourself before I lay charges against you for assault and deformation.”
“You can't do that!” Mlle Bustier exclaimed.
“Ah but I can” Lory stated with a soft smile. “You see, when I met Marinette a few days ago I thought her name sounded familiar, so I did a little digging. What I found shocked me. Multiple complaints of bullying placed by her against the very class she had travelled here with. Some of those can be traced back to before you joined her class but the majority were placed after you joined. I then found Mlle Césaire's tabloid-style blog and all the tripe that she has posted on it. Since that is a public blog, I sent the links to a number of the people mentioned on it. Each of those people has laid charges against both Mlle Césaire and Mlle Rossi.” Lory's stern expression hadn't changed despite the news he was delivering to them.
“Tabloid! I'll have you know I checked my facts before posting anything!” Alya spluttered indignantly.
“No you didn't, or you wouldn't be in the situation you are now in.”
“You can't lay any charges against us as we are not Japanese citizens,” Lila said confidently.
“I think you'll find he can, Mlle Rossi,” a stern-looking woman said as she walked over. “I am Mogami Saena. I will be representing Mlle Dupain-Cheng along with everyone else you are being charged by. Before you ask, yes, I am qualified to do so as I took the international exams.”
“But, but Maritrash isn't even a proper designer!” Alya chocked out.
Marinette had walked over soon after Lory had approached Lila. “Actually, Césaire, thanks to being left behind when my phone got hacked, I have been able to meet several people. One of those people was Takarada-sama here and when he saw my designs he contacted a good friend of his with copies I had given him. As soon as she saw them, she had a contract sent through to him. I am now a proud designer for Swan Designs under Julie Hizuri nee Swan herself. I'm returning to Paris to finish my education at Esmod but after that, I will be moving here to work with Takarada-sama on various projects.”
“ESMOD! You haven't graduated from my class yet!” Mlle Bustier said in shock.
“I'm only in your class because M. Damocles is too lazy to fill in the paperwork that says I've already graduated despite the board of governors and the Department of Education having processed my exams already.” Marinette's voice was dry as she spoke, telling the class exactly what she thought of what she had just said.
“I told you all that the other day, as well as showed you my certificates if you remember. Either way, I'm done. I'm over being treated like something I'm not. I'm tired of being your scapegoat and I'm tired of you telling me to be a good influence on your class when it's not my job."
Marinette then turned and walked over to where Kyoko was waiting for her. The two girls left together to get Marinette into a clean shirt so that her current one and her jacket could be washed.
Paris six months later:
Marinette looked around her room for the last time. She had finally finished sorting out the paperwork that had been needed to be completed for her to move her main study location from Paris to Tokyo. While the paperwork itself had been completed quickly, she had had to find and beat Hawkmoth before thinking about submitting her request. Finding out that Gabriel Agreste had been Hawkmoth had come as a very nasty surprise for Marinette but she hadn't let it affect her passion for fashion. It had just made her even happier that she had agreed to sign with Swan Designs.
Her class had been very subdued for the rest of the trip to Japan and had become prime bait for Hawkmoth after their return. While Marinette wasn't happy about using her classmates that way, she had done so anyway. She had set a trap to lure Hawkmoth out of his lair and once he was in view she had used the same spell for his Miraculous that she had used for Chat Noir’s. When Nooroo had shown up in her room later that night looking exhausted and on the verge of collapse she had been quick to give him a potion that removed the negative energy from him. By doing this she fixed the damage that Hawkmoth had done to the Miraculous as well as freed Nooroo to be able to reveal who Hawkmoth had been.
This let Marinette figure out who Mayura was and from there it had been simple for her to sneak into the Agreste mansion with Trixx's help. She had quickly stolen everything Miraculous related for the safe and set a virus into the computer network that whipped all of their saved data about the Miraculous. It was while she was doing a final check for anything she might have missed within the mansion that she had found Mrs Agreste. It turned out she was in a coma from using a Broken Miraculous too often. After some quick thinking, Marinette had been able to basically kidnap her and get her to a hospital. Since she hadn't used her powers, she was able to explain to the hospital what needed to be done to heal her. A quick trip home to brew the correct potions and Mrs Agreste was on the road to recovery without anyone being the wiser.
Marinette couldn't wait to get back to Japan and start attending their branch of ESMOD whilst still working for Swan Designs. She knew that the friends she had made during her trip there were true friends and she was eager to see them again. As for the video that had been streamed of Jagged and herself goofing around in LA Hearts, well it had gone viral in next to no time and Jagged's popularity had skyrocketed. Her own had too but she hadn't let it influence her. She still firmly believed that she was a normal girl, who lived a mostly normal life. She just had a touch more luck than most people!
The lawsuits that Lila and Alya were facing had made Lila's mother ship her back to Italy to start attending a reform school there to make up for all the school she had missed in France. Signora Rossi had not been happy when she had found out what Lila had done and had supported the people who were suing her daughter. Lila would spend her life paying all the fines that her lies had racked up.
Alya had been devastated when, upon arrival back home, her parents had made her take down her blog and leave a message on its old domain with an explanation of what had happened. They had proofread it to make sure that Alya hadn't lied or tried to shift the blame before allowing her to post it. Much like Lila, Alya would have to spend a long time working to pay off the fines she had.
As for Adrien and the rest of Marinette's old class, they had had to deal with numerous counselling sessions about toxic people and relationships. Adrien had eventually decided to become a scientist instead of following his father's career choice for him. He had been depressed when he had realised that his ring was gone but it was that loss that had made him see what was happening to himself and others around him.
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Chosen Stories From the War #20: What Do You Think the Future Holds?
The sun was barely up, the air holding a cool blue color as the celestial shadow began to cast across the earth. Kon-Mai was already up, making slow rounds through the dimly lit hallways. Dhar-Mon’s snoring could be heard across the hallway from where his room was located. And in a strange and unusual turn of events, Gur-Rai was awake, bright eyed and bushy tailed. He strolled into the infirmary, a whistle on his lips. “Oh, good morning, Doctor!”
Tygan seemed to glare at him. “It is morning, yes.” His voice sounded tired. Most of the lights were off except the ones around a few specific beds and Tygan’s very, very messy desk. A half-full cup of coffee teetered precariously on the edge of the desk.
“You look like you just got mindfucked by a Priest.” Gur-Rai chuckled. “I’ve been there~”
“I did not.” Tygan grimaced with a look of disgust. “I had a late night, is all.”
“Doin’ what?” The Darkstrider leaned over Tygan’s desk, reading over his work. Tygan quickly pulled his papers away, glaring at Gur-Rai like a cat.
“That is below your paygrade, Darkstrider.” Tygan muttered.
“Oh Tygan, you know your secrets are safe with me~” Gur-Rai winked.
“I do not believe you.” Tygan stood up. “If you must know I had several patients come in last night so I am already behind on my work.”
“Aren’t your nurses supposed to do that?” Gur-Rai asked.
“Do not talk badly of them. They help.” Tygan answered. “But they need their sleep.”
“Yes. But so do you.” Gur-Rai took a few worried steps towards him. “Does the Commander know you’re up all-”
“Why are you here, Darkstrider?” Tygan asked.
Gur-Rai seemed to deflate, but only for a moment. “I actually came to see our strange lil Sectoid patient.” He crossed his arms. “If he’s still alive.”
“Oh he’s alive.” Tygan nodded. “I’ve been trying to get some answers out of him but the painkillers affect Sectoids...strangely.” He made a face. “We must wait for them to wear off before we’ll be able to speak with him.”
“Well, where is he?” Gur-Rai looked around in an exaggerated motion. “Can I see him?”
Tygan seemed to hesitate a moment. “...Fine.” He beckoned him over to a bed that was far out of the way, in a small, darker corner. “I put him here because the other patients were gawking.”
“Can’t have people gawking.” Gur-Rai nodded. “It’s quite rude.”
Verge the Sectoid. Gur-Rai smiled slightly as he sat beside his bed. Already, around the painkiller induced malaise and the gunshot wounds, he could tell this Sectoid was...different.
“He has lips.” He mused.
“Hm?” Tygan looked over Gur-Rai’s shoulder. “Oh. Yes, he does.”
Gur-Rai’s hand strayed to Verge’s fingers. Long and spindly, but strong. Five on each hand. Wrinkly knuckles. Very human. As he touched them, Verge whimpered a strange noise, and almost seemed to lean toward Gur-Rai. The Darkstrider patted his arm and Verge noticeably relaxed.
“I like this Sectoid.” Gur-Rai said.
“Well, I sincerely hope he reciprocates the feelings.” Tygan scoffed. “It’ll be easier to get him to talk.”
“Interrogating him so soon?” Gur-Rai chuckled.
The deep quiet that followed was broken only by the ticking of the clock and the gentle clinking of Tygan’s tools. It made them both anxious.
As he waited, Gur-Rai passed the time doing what he always did when he was bored: picking at that one scab on his hand he never let heal. Maybe he’d get a tattoo over it someday. Now that he wasn’t in the Elders’ care anymore, and now that he wouldn’t be restored to factory settings after every major fight, a tattoo might actually be fun! Well not fun to get. But creative, something to show he truly was his own man now.
Verge made a strange noise, and Gur-Rai snapped out of his trance, looking down at the strange Sectoid. At first he didn’t move and Gur-Rai assumed he’d imagined it, but then Verge reached up and began rubbing his black eyes, blinking in the bright light.
“Well, well, well.” Gur-Rai chuckled. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
Verge startled noticeably and scooted away, as far away as he could in bed. He winced, his hand moving to touch the holes in his chest.
“No need for that. I’m unarmed.” He tucked his arms behind his back. “See?”
Verge groaned. “Your...attempt at humor does not console me…” His voice was quiet, but his English was fluent.
Gur-Rai raised a brow. “You can talk AND write? However did you learn that trick?”
Verge took a shattering breath and shook with the very effort of it. “I learned...from the humans.”
Gur-Rai sat on the edge of his bed. “You are quite the impressive Sectoid, Verge~”
“Why do you keep calling me that…?” Verge mumbled.
“That’s your name.”
“It is not.” Verge shook his head. “I have no name.”
“Then why did you write it in the dirt?”
Verge sighed, then broke out into a fit of coughing. “I was trying-” He inhaled, deeply, and nearly choked.
“Hey, hey, gently.” Gur-Rai said. “Gently now.”
“I was writing...V 5 R 9 3.” Verge grumbled. “That is my designation number.”
“Well that’s boring.” Gur-Rai scoffed. “Can you imagine if the Elders just handed me a ‘designation number’ and sent me on my way? I wouldn’t be the godlike creature you see before you today~”
Verge finally turned to face him fully. “You are...different.” He whispered. “You are their son.”
“So are you.” Gur-Rai growled. “They were just more overt with their bullshit when it came to you.”
Verge’s eyes grew slightly wide.
“Oh, do you not know?” Gur-Rai smiled. “I handed in my resignation. XCOM gave me a better offer and I took it.”
Verge relaxed significantly. “XCOM? Where...am I?”
“You are on the famous Avenger!” Gur-Rai said with flair, extending his arms in a sweeping motion. “Don’t worry, this is just one room. There’s a lot more too it~”
“Then I was not recaptured.” His soft, agonized voice finally sounded joyous. “I made it…”
“Of course you made it, you little oaf.” Gur-Rai smirked. “ADVENT would have let you die.”
“That is...certainly true. But to be fair, I have been vividly hallucinating all morning.”
“Never knew pain meds had that effect of Sectoids.”
“We are expendable.” Verge sighed. “There was never a need for it.”
“Well you aren’t expendable anymore.” Gur-Rai assured him. “And now that you’re awake, maybe I can get the Commander to come talk to you.”
.
.
On the banks of the Aquiqui river, there she sat.
Assassin. Shrinemaiden. Many names she had. Many titles. Mordenna. Kon-Mai. There were others. What else?
The shriek of a child from the nearby resistance heaven sent her spiraling back into consciousness, and she opened her eyes and sat forward, head in her hands. Perhaps if she just stopped trying so hard to relax, then the peace of meditation would finally come to her.
The settlement here was, surprisingly, a large one. The people in Aquiqui had been mostly isolated from the initial invasion. And while ADVENT left no stone unturned, it was hard enough to get down the deep banks of the river, and through the thickly laid jungle, that these people were relatively well protected. In fact, they had at first insisted they didn’t need an XCOM patrol and were almost outright hostile, especially when they saw Kon-Mai and her brothers.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear: Kon-Mai heard a cough behind her and turned to see Dhar-Mon, standing tall behind her with his arms crossed, as though he was trying to look intimidating. However, the expression on his face was more curious.
“What are you doing in this place?” He inquired.
“I am meditating.” She sighed. “Or I am...attempting to meditate.”
He raised a bare brow. “Why are you meditating?”
“It helps me organize my thoughts when they are in chaos.”
“Are your thoughts in chaos now, Sister?” Dhar-Mon stepped up so he stood beside where she sat.
She thought for a moment. “Yes, I suppose they are seeing as I cannot seem to get my mind to stop racing along the wind.” She leapt to her feet. She hated to leave so soon but it was clear peace was not coming to her today.
“What troubles you?” He sounded so genuinely concerned.
She shook her head. “I wish I could remember. My memory was always dependent on the chip, moreso than I first thought. Now that it is gone, I feel the rot of memories I had within the Elder’s grasp. And in turn, I fear old wounds are reopening…” She paused, the silence hanging over them as Dhar-Mon pondered her words. She met his gaze. “Why are you out here, Brother?”
“Malinalli and I were going to train, but she was...called.” He pouted. “She has patients that need tending.”
Kon-Mai giggled. “Well, I’m sure she will not forget you, Brother. You are her favorite after all~”
She saw Dhar-Mon blush noticeably, and he stayed silent. She crossed her arms, waiting for an answer, but his thoughts seemed to be occupied.
“You are mad, Brother.” She chuckled.
“I’m not.” He looked puzzled. “Why would I be angry, Sister?”
“I do not mean angry.” She tapped his arm, indicating for him to follow her as she began to walk. “I mean you have lost your sanity.”
He seemed to ponder this as he followed her back onto the slightly battered grass that resembled a trail. “My sanity...yes. I wonder if I ever had such a thing…”
Kon-Mai sighed, nodding in agreement as the two turned and began walking further away from the village. Spending life since “birth” under the Elders meant her own point of reference was iffy at best, and she’d always been the “normal” one of her siblings.
For Dhar-Mon, “sane” had a very different meaning. When he was “sane,” he’d spend hours praising the Elders’ names, but he could see now that that behavior was far from rational. The Elders had told them it was the humans who had no faculties, it was the rebels who had lost their minds in defying their rule. Now...what did it mean to be “sane?”
“How do you feel then, Brother?” She asked. “When you think about her, I mean?”
“I feel sweet and light.” He smiled so genuinely. “I want to tell the world her name. Any little thing she does, brings me such joy to see. When she laughs, it rivals the most magical song.”
Kon-Mai chuckled. “You should ask Gur-Rai for help with this. I must admit I have no experience with love.”
Dhar-Mon stopped. “Love?”
She thought for a moment. “From the way you describe your feelings for her, Dhar-Mon, I would hasten to say you feel romantic desire for her.” She met his gaze. “That you desire a future with her.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was silence. He crossed his arms, huffing. “What future would I have, Sister, that could ever involve a human like her?”
“I don’t know.” She admitted. “...What DO you think the future holds?”
.
.
Verge tugged on his hospital gown. How he wished he could take it off, but Tygan had dissuaded such action. He claimed it would “scare the soldiers.” He did not understand why. Many humans had seen him without clothes.
“And I bet they were scared of you.” Gur-Rai said, leaning against the wall beside Verge’s bed.
“Could you read my thoughts?” Verge asked, his expression hopeful.
“Didn’t need to, it was written on your face.” Gur-Rai hopped up and sat cross legged on the end of Verge’s bed, taking out his pistol and playing with the rounds. Verge began to scoot away, flinching with every noise the gun made, and Gur-Rai stopped and quickly put the weapon away.
“What, don’t like guns?” He chuckled.
“I have never liked them...” Verge admitted. “Sectoids aren’t trained with guns.”
“Seriously?” Gur-Rai sputtered. “The Elders truly have fallen far since losing the Commander. They don’t even train their soldiers.” He leaned forward. “Or WERE you a soldier, Verge?”
“I specialized in espionage.” Verge said, laying back against the pillow. “In the early years of the ADVENT Empire I was in charge of consolidating the minor governments, making them...bend to us.”
“Psionics, then. Like my brother.” Gur-Rai leaned back on his hands. “I think you two would get along.”
“I am unsure about that.” Verge admitted. “Your brother seems quite...eccentric.”
“Well...okay, fair. But he’s gotten a lot better since we left ADVENT.” Gur-Rai admitted. “He can actually talk to people now without yelling! Mostly.”
Verge seemed to stare at him with those big black eyes. Gur-Rai met his gaze and smirked, causing Verge to falter just a bit.
“And you want to say something.” Gur-Rai mused.
“Yes.” Verge gripped at the blankets, and it became clear to Gur-Rai that even out of the grips of ADVENT, the Sectoid was still scared of the Darkstrider. “...Why did you leave?”
Gur-Rai snorted. “You mean leave ADVENT? Why NOT leave? They don’t pay us half of what we deserve, they have shitty benefits, they’re evil tyrannical monsters who slaughter all within their path…” He chuckled, but his voice was heavy and cold.
Verge looked up at him again, waiting for him to continue the thought.
“Well, why did YOU leave?” Gur-Rai asked. “YOU are a Sectoid. A literal genetically-bred slave. You’re not even supposed to have higher cognitive functions.”
“Yes, Madron, I realize that.” Verge snapped.
“Well, you certainly have attitude.” Gur-Rai smiled. “And you wear it quite nicely.”
“At this point, I am not sure if this is an interrogation or a date.” Verge grumbled.
“You’ve been on a date?” Gur-Rai asked in mild shock.
“Not I. But I have experienced them by proxy…” He trailed off. “In the minds of the people I controlled.”
Suddenly it clicked. “You walked around in human suits?”
“Moreso I...remote controlled them with mind-melding.” Verge seemed to have to force the words out. Speaking was painful. Gur-Rai wondered if that was a result of his injuries or...something else.
“You piloted them like drones.” Gur-Rai nodded.
“I did.” He fell quiet for a moment. “And when you spend that much time in the human brain...you realize they have something that the Elders don’t have.”
“And what is that?”
“Empathy.” Verge said. “Humans can...feel the pain of others, without being hurt themselves. They see another human in distress and they help them.”
“Not always.” Gur-Rai mused.
“Not always. But in the majority of my time with them, they would.” He stared at his spindly hands. “And I...I began to feel it too. Even when I was not human. I began to feel deep sadness for my fellow man.”
“And then you became a real boy.” Gur-Rai chuckled.
Verge stared at him blankly.
“That’s a reference.” Gur-Rai hopped off the bed. “And once that happened, ADVENT realized your brain wasn’t working the way it used to, and you ran?”
“Not at first. This shift may have been gradual but I gained awareness before you were even born.” Verge finally seemed to smile at that, especially when Gur-Rai looked surprised. “I was funneling information to various resistance groups through an...associate who was also working within ADVENT, but with a bit more freedom. I had to pretend like I was still brainless, but by consequence, the people above had no qualms about sharing confidential info around me.”
“And then you’d let the resistance groups know.” Gur-Rai nodded. “Clever.”
“It was clever.” Verge sighed. “Until they caught me.”
“They were going to eventually.”
“No, this one was my fault. I got too excited with the discovery. I was...careless.”
“Well if it was that big, I’m sure it was worth dying over.” Gur-Rai looked over to the clock. Half-passed three. He knew the Commander liked to sleep in but Hot Neptune…
“It was very time sensitive, and I’m not sure it’s even worth sharing anymore…” Verge said back again.
“Well, if it’s useless now, why don’t you tell me?” Gur-Rai asked.
Verge looked away, obviously in hesitation.
“Hey.” Gur-Rai gently nudged him. “Do you really think I’m gonna blab?”
Verge looked up, studying Gur-Rai with his eyes. “...Well...I discovered the whereabouts of Colonel-”
“Do not say Colonel Zhang.”
“That is the man.” Verge looked over at Gur-Rai. “...Why?”
Gur-Rai doubled over, laughing hysterically. “Oh, by Andromeda’s brilliant asshole! That is amazing! That is just poetry!”
“What…?”
“We got your message!” Gur-Rai exclaimed. “Or, at least someone did! Nuwa Shen from the Black Market said one of her lil birds picked it up!”
“Black market…?” Verge looked confused. “Little birds?”
“You’re not one of those birds, I take it.” Gur-Rai shrugged. “Well, however you got out the message, it worked! Colonel Zhang is safe and sound on board this very ship.”
Verge’s face relaxed. “He is?”
Gur-Rai smirked. “I bet that’s a load off your chest.”
“It...it is.” He nodded, smiling genuinely. “Thank you, Darkstrider.”
As Gur-Rai opened his mouth to speak, the door to the infirmary opened.
“Sorry I’m so late!” A musical voice sang. Gur-Rai heard Verge gasped, and he himself gestured outward and bowed.
“V5R93, might I present Commander Senuna of XCOM.”
“...Call me Verge.” Was all he could muster.
.
.
Dhar-Mon had remained silent as they walked. Kon-Mai was comfortable in silence by herself, but it always felt like Dhar-Mon was about to say something but stopping himself. The anticipation was killing her. She wished he would spit it out already.
He suddenly stopped, and she had to double back around to see him. “I have never thought about a future without the Elders.” He admitted softly. “Before I met Malinalli, I was sure I was to claim this world as my kingdom. I would rule in their name, as I did from my stronghold, but even then I would not have to think. I would just know.”
“And now we don’t know.” Kon-Mai nodded.
“What dreams do you have, Sister?” He asked her. “For our future?”
“Us.” She said simply. “You, and me, and our brother.” She sat down against a tree, looking up at the sky. “I imagine XCOM would still employ us for...however long we are needed. Perhaps I could teach the new recruits.”
“Teach?” His face seemed to light up.
“Yes...” She cried, her eyes widening. “Dhar-Mon, you can teach psionics.”
He straightened up, and for a moment she saw that arrogance her brother once held in his face. “Of course! They would be honored to learn from a true master such as myself. Why did I not think of that?” He looked down. “You are truly a genius, Sister.”
“Perhaps you can begin with Gur-Rai.” She giggled. “He certainly needs to practice the gift.”
Dhar-Mon scoffed. “Gur-Rai has no appreciation for the gift. Not like me and you, Sister. I would much rather instruct you.”
She felt herself blushing, and smirked. “Well then, Master Madron.” She stood and dusted herself off. “Instruct me on the ways of a true warlock.”
.
.
The Commander pulled up a chair beside the Sectoid. “How are you?”
Verge seemed to falter for a moment. “...Considering my recent encounter, I’d say I am doing fairly well. Though I am still full of holes.” He sat up. “Commander, forgive me but I must know something. Colonel Zhang-”
“Yes, what about him?” Senuna giggled. “My, he’s very popular among the aliens lately. How ironic.”
“...Is he safe?”
“Yes.” Senuna nodded. “Well...physically. Emotionally...that’s another matter.” She clapped and leaned forward. “But this meeting is not about Zhang, is it?”
Verge blinked as he met her gaze, and she laughed.
“Well, why else are you here?” She giggled. “You want to join XCOM, yes?”
“With all due respect, Madam.” Verge said. “My main goal was to get away from the ADVENT troops chasing me with semi-automatics. I have never given thought to...joining your resistance.”
“Oh, bullshit.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “Verge here has been feeding info to the resistance groups! Maybe even us, who knows~”
“Really? That’s impressive.” Senuna’s eyes sparkled. “We could definitely use someone with a skill like that.”
Verge seemed to go pale. “...Please don’t send me back.” He whispered. “They will kill me if they ever see me again…”
Gur-Rai reached out and put a comforting hand on Verge’s arm. “Don’t worry, no one will send you back. You’re safe right here. Right, Commander?”
Senuna looked irritated for a moment, like this had just destroyed the brilliant plan she was thinking of. Then she sighed. “No. That’s fine. You may stay.” Her eyes were slightly harsher behind the smile. “In that case, we could also use a psionic soldier that isn’t at the mercy of Geist’s whims.”
Verge nodded. “In that sense I can be of service. I have seen much combat in my day.”
“And now you have the scars to prove it.” Gur-Rai chuckled.
“I suppose Bradford will need to draw up yet another contract.” Tygan chimed in, causing the three to startle. “Seems he’s been doing that a lot lately.”
“The more help we have, the better.” Senuna stood. “And I certainly accept it, Verge.” She held out her hand. “Welcome to XCOM.”
Verge weakly took her hand, looking up at Gur-Rai in confusion. Gur-Rai just gave him a thumbs up.
.
.
The cascade of psionic power cut through the forest, toppling the smaller trees that could not withstand it’s might. The boom it created echoed through the forest and shook the very ground, as though thunder had just rolled in. Kon-Mai’s sword smoldered with purple sparks as the light died.
Dhar-Mon nodded. “That is a powerful ability.”
Kon-Mai straightened up and twirled her sword in her hand, smiling proudly. “Thank you, Brother.”
“But it is very imprecise.” Dhar-Mon added.
Kon-Mai grimaced and sighed.
“I do not say this to belittle you.” He insisted. “It seems very uncharacteristic of you, Kon-Mai, that your psionic ability only allows you to blanket an area in force.”
“I have always known this technique.” She protested. “Where else could I have learned it if it was not mine?”
He fell silent at that. She had a point. “If you are happy with it’s effect, I will not press you further.”
Kon-Mai looked down at her sword, then back up at her brother. “...What would you suggest, if I were to...perfect this?”
He stood behind her and lifted her sword arm, feeling how it sat in her grip. “...If you extend your arm like this, in this motion…” He made a slashing motion with her arm, pointing the tip forward. “Concentrate on the blade. Let your power flow through the metal. Then swing.” He stepped back.
Kon-Mai closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and holding it. She pulled the blade sideways across her chest, then gently flicked it in front of her.
A bolt of purple lightning shot from the tip of her blade and struck a tree, cutting a hole right through the bark. The wood smoldered with purple sparks but surprisingly did not catch alight.
Kon-Mai gasped and looked down at her weapon. “It is like a gun…”
Behind her, Dhar-Mon smiled. “Indeed. No longer must you rely on close range.”
“I am very inaccurate at long range.” Kon-Mai pointed out. “My eye cannot perceive depth.”
“It does not need to.” He stepped in front of her. “Do it again. Aim at me.”
Kon-Mai gasped. “No!”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I will be fine.”
“I will not shoot at you, Brother! Even if you can deflect it!”
“Did you not say that your aim is poor?” He raised a brow, a smile all too much like Gur-Rai’s crossing his lips. “Perhaps you shall miss.”
Kon-Mai still hesitated. Then she backed up even farther away, until she was a good hundred paces from him. She looked at him again and, even focusing her eyes as much as she could, his figure was slightly blurred. She pulled her sword to her chest, confident her attack would miss him.
She slashed across, and a purple bolt of lightning shot forward, missing the Hieromonk by an entire foot. Before she could yell to him, however, she saw it circle back around, as if drawn to his very form, coming straight at his back. He held up his arm, shattering the projectile into a thousand purple sparks as Kon-Mai screamed.
She sprinted back over to him as he looked at her in shock. “Sister, you did well, what’s-”
“Are you injured?!” She shrieked, grabbing his arm.
“I am well.” He assured her. “Sister, you did not hurt me.”
“How did that happen?!” She cried. “It missed you!”
“It did.” He smiled. “ And yet the missile seeks it’s target, and it shall find it unless stopped by another. You shall never miss, Sister. Not with this.”
She pouted. “Well...that’s certainly useful…” She smacked his arm gently. “But do not ever force me to shoot at you again, Brother!”
He chuckled. “I have rarely seen you so riled, Sister.”
“You are becoming like Gur-Rai.” She shook her head. “I am riled because you’re my brother-”
“-and I am unharmed.” He assured her. “Nothing shall become of me, Sister. Not by your hand.”
She seemed to relax, just a bit, and he took her hands and looked them over again.
“Now…” He took her sword gently from her hands. “Try it again.”
“I need my blade for that.”
He lifted her palms. “Try and imagine a weapon entirely of energy.”
She looked at him skeptically. He stared back, waiting for her to comply, as if he had no doubt she would. Finally, she closed her eyes, her fingers twitching just a bit. He could see the energy was there, within her reach. A little nudge from him and-
She gasped, her eyes flying open, as in her palm materialized a handful of tiny purple blades, shaped like circles. “Shurikens.”
Dhar-Mon looked at her with glowing pride. “Now throw one at me.”
“We have been over this!”
“Sister.” He almost whined. “You must practice this art, and I promise, I will be fine.”
She shook her head. “You and our brother both…” She stepped back several paces and held the star between her fingers. This felt familiar as well, but again, she could not place the memory.
Kon-Mai tossed her star. Her aim, of course, was bad, but she watched with wonder and horror as the star circled past his head, spinning almost like a boomerang, and came around behind him toward the back of his skull. This time he barely turned in time to catch it in his arm, crying out.
She gasped, the rest of her psionic weapons disintegrating, and ran over again. “I warned you! Your arm-!”
“It’s only a scratch.” He said. “Sister, you look so…” He took her shoulders. “You are pale. Do you feel faint? Let us sit.”
“I am faint because YOU insist on getting yourself injured!” She whimpered. “I do not want to hurt you, Brother!”
He paused at that, then smiled. “...Would you have said the same thing last year?”
“Do not jest with me!” She looked like she was on the edge of tears and he guided her to a nearby tree, where they sat. “The Elders fostered nothing but animosity between us, but I still loved you!”
His expression softened noticeably, and as she curled her knees to her chest, Kon-Mai felt Dhar-Mon wrap a strong arm around her. She leaned into his chest, letting herself melt for just a moment. Her muscles were so tense as she curled up into a ball against his chest, like a child against her father. The idea brought forth rising sadness and a sting of tears against her eyes. Dhar-Mon rubbed her back.
“I love you too, little sister.” He said softly. “I always have.”
“Did you?” She asked softly. “Even when the Elders were kind to me? Even when they scolded you? Even when you were angry?”
“I see now that I was angry at them.” He said. “I was angry at them for their betrayal towards me. I hated them for far longer than I ever knew. But I could never hate you.” He kissed her forehead. “From the moment you emerged from your tank, you were my little sister, and it was my duty to protect you.”
She laughed, but it was more of a bark through tears. “Everyone says that. Gur-Rai said that, now you, and here I am juggling between protecting the both of you.”
“You do so much for us.” Dhar-Mon agreed. “It was a mantle you should never have had to take up.”
“Oh please.” She scoffed. “All I do for you and Gur-Rai, I do because I want to.” She looked up at him. “To care for and guide you two makes me happy.”
He raised a brow. “Does it, Sister? Why ever would that be?”
She felt a familiar pang in her heart, on top of the joy and warmth and safety that encircled her right now. And so, instead of answering, Kon-Mai buried her face in Dhar-Mon’s shoulder and let the fragrant wind surrounding them lull her to sleep.
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(Bit of a shorter chapter today! Again, I had another planned but it needed some padding. Enjoy some sibling cuteness in the meantime!)
Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/
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36 Dramione please
Requested by @kgosigadirebone. Thanks for the ask!
Prompt 36: “Is that my shirt?”
Word count: 1520
I totally blew the under 1000 limit I imposed on myself for prompt drabbles. This is a seventh-year AU, in which there was no war and Hermione and Draco are made head boy/girl, despite my personal doubts that Dumbledore would ever have done this. I think Draco is smarter than his father and would gradually have wised up to the politics of life, given how soundly he was trounced in popularity against Harry Potter. I think he would have gotten cleverer and better at hiding his true motives. At least in this version, he is.
***
Draco’s eyes almost bugged out of his head when he opened the Head dorm room to find a half-naked Hermione Granger dashing about in a mad flurry.
In the half a second that it took him to keep from swallowing his tongue, he quickly realised that she wasn’t naked, per se. She was perfectly dressed on top, but her legs from the mid-thigh down was completely bared. She wasn’t even wearing socks or shoes.
Even though she had buttoned up the too-big dress shirt right up to the collar, she gripped the lapels of the shirt still tighter together when she caught sight of him. Her eyes were larger than he had ever seen them, and she made a high-pitched sound like a strangled mouse. "W-what are you doing back so soon? I thought you were at practice!"
He had never realised how provocative a male dress shirt on a petite girl could be, but now he could never not know this. Through the fine fabric, he could make out the shape of her body clearly delineated by the light thrown in through the windows. It was a shape he had never had occasion to see, not with Hermione Granger always wearing more clothes than the situation demanded. He had begun to think that she didn’t have a body under the lumpy sweaters she favoured when not in class.
"Can you—stop staring?" she said almost hysterically, swatting at him across the distance.
Draco cleared his throat. Several times. With effort, he managed to avert his eyes. Who knew Granger had such nice looking, silky-smooth legs? “Is that my shirt?” he asked and was embarrassed to find that his question came out like a croak rather than his usual debonair drawl.
She probably didn’t notice since she was too busy trying to shield the bottom half of herself with the sofa. It also wasn’t a good time to notice how the shirt ended only an inch above her knees. With her half-squatting behind the sofa with nary a regard for concealing her rear, he could see quite far up the back of her thigh and he had to conceal a groan under the guise of a cough.
“Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go into your room—but all my clothes are gone!” The hand not wrinkling his lapels to death gestured angrily in the air. In her irritation, her fuzzy curls kept falling over her face and she kept pushing it behind her shoulder. “I just don’t understand it! Do you know anything about this?”
Draco couldn't quite help the chuckle that slipped out, but he managed to school his features back into deadpan nonchalance when she glared at him. “All your clothes? Even the ones you wear to bed?” Did prudish little Granger sleep in the nude?
That was—interesting.
She turned an annoyed look on him. “The moment I changed out of my—the moment my clothes went into the laundry basket, they immediately disappeared. Summoning didn’t work, so I—I went into your room to have a look, but it seems that it’s just me.” Ire made her draw herself taller and aim a suspicious glare at him. “Was this your doing, Draco Malfoy?”
Draco snorted. “And just how was I supposed to go into your room? All Hogwarts knows that boys can’t just enter the girls’ dorms. Surely, you’re not implying that I wanted anything in your room.” His voice went up on a slightly derisive note and she flushed in response.
He couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down once more. Having stopped huddling down like a cornered animal, her shirt was now pulled across her chest. Possibly, she had no idea that she had pulled on one of his summer shirts, one made up in lightweight voile that was semi-sheer. Under dress robes for sitting in class on hot days, it was hard to fault its mild transparency. In the privacy of a secluded room, on a girl without undergarments, it was pure provocation.
Heavens have mercy. He did not need to know that he could make out the pucker of her nipples through the fabric.
“It’s clear what’s happened here,” he said, shoving any unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind and jerking himself back to the present. “How many times have I told you to just leave the house-elves alone? How many times have your friends and the professors told you? Now you’ve got the house-elves rising in revolt against you.”
She half-rose from her crouch, looking disconcerted. “What do you mean?”
“It takes really extreme circumstances for them to revolt against doing your laundry, which is clearly what’s happened here.”
"Can they do that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I thought they were incapable of rebellion."
He nodded knowingly. "The only time I’ve seen this happen was when my father forbade them from cleaning the library after a precious artifact went missing. This is why I told you to just leave them alone. This is why everyone just leaves them to it."
She cocked her head to the side disbelievingly. Her mouth opened to launch into more questions, but he forestalled her with a gesture at her half-dressed figure. “So, what do you plan to do here? Wear this to class?”
At his words, she turned her back on him and started to cast spells on the throw on the couch, clearly what she had been about before he came in the room. All to no avail. She growled in frustration. “None of the fabrics or sheets or blankets even transfigure!” She sounded on the verge of tears.
He rolled his eyes. “Naturally not. Don’t you think that the castle has more sense than to allow its furniture and things to be transfigured at will by its inhabitants?”
Her lips were pressed down in a flat line as though bracing herself from falling apart. She nodded a few times before peering back up at him through her lashes. “I know, I just thought I’d give it a go. I—even tried transfiguring your shirt, but it didn’t work. I mean, I would have returned it!” she said hurriedly to forestall any comments he would have made. “I’m going to be so late.”
“My clothes have spells against enchantment woven into their fabric.” He found his lips lifting in a familiar smirk. “And they come when summoned by its owner.”
When he raised his wand, he was amused to find her eyes widening in horror. She ducked immediately so that she was crouched behind the sofa, with only two eyes glaring out at him. “Don’t you dare, Draco Malfoy!”
He lowered his wand. “Relax, Granger,” he said. “Keep the shirt. It looks better on you anyway.” Another wave of his wand and one of his robes came flying out of the Head Boy’s room into his hand. He tossed it in her direction and she caught it one-handed, though most of it covered her head. “Here. I’ll go and speak to the house-elves.”
“You will?” The cloak muffled her voice but couldn’t quite smother the surprise in her tone as she pulled it off her head. She looked even more rumpled, even more like she had just arisen from bed in a state of debauched dishevelment. Where her coiffure had always been more than a bit crude, now, with the context of her semi-nudity, it seemed appropriate and even alluring.
He sought for brusqueness. “I’m not a complete monster. Despite wanting to 'keep the house-elves in a state of subjugation, suppression, and slavery.'"
She nodded, her expression softening as his sour pointedness completely passed her over. Her eyes were huge brown pansies in her face, awash with surprised gratitude. "That's—that’s very kind of you. I would appreciate that very much, thank you."
"Anything to please."
His reward for civility was the really quite pretty smile of relief she beamed at him across the room as she quickly pulled on his cloak. He watched for a moment in silence and, when the hem of his shirt rose alarmingly high on a long expanse of silky smooth thigh, he turned and abruptly left the room.
The door closed with a loud click behind him. For a moment, he stood there with his back against the door.
That—hadn't gone anywhere like how he had intended.
A famous prank on Hermione Granger? Check. Embarrass the most prudish know-it-all Hogwarts had ever known? Check again. Strike her where it hurt, in her idiotic crusade that went against all notions of Pureblood ideals? Double check.
Then what had happened?
A flash of leg, some shadowy hints of nudity, and he had completely lost his nerve.
Well, that just wouldn't do at all.
Draco pushed off the door and raked back his hair. He took a deep breath and straightened his own robes. So he had discovered the fact that the most annoying girl in the world didn’t look heinous under her clothes—or in his clothes, for that matter. That didn't mean anything.
Nothing at all.
And he would do well to remember that.
#writing prompts#dramione#draco x hermione#draco malfoy#hermione granger#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#my works#writing#asks#prompts#drabble
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The Smallest Coffins Are Always the Heaviest | Part 3
Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader
Warnings: Angst, mentions of smoking, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating, funeral scene
Word Count: 1k
TAGLIST: @toger-raylor @mrsmazzello @freddie-roger-brian-john @ken-yee-not @benhardyisdaddy
A/N: I finished it after re-reading and correcting things. I hope you all enjoy!
Part 1/ Part 2
Everyone Y/N and Roger had met was at Aubrey’s funeral. It was a sea of black suits, gowns and dress clothes inside of the once lively and happy church. Y/N, Roger, the other band members, and their families sat in the very front. John and Veronica seemed to feel guilt about Aubrey’s death as well, not being there soon enough for them. Y/N was wearing a lace black dress and the sheer black fabric of a mourning veil covered her face.
Roger’s tuxedo stood out from his usual wardrobe of bright, contrasting colors. But this somber, gloomy day did not call for colors. Aubrey’s funeral could call for no other colors than black and white. The only colorful things in the chapel were Y/N’s cast wrapped in purple bandages, signed by close friends and family members, and Aubrey’s open casket, brushed with her favorite color- a light lilac. When she was alive, she had said it reminded her of fresh spring flowers that had just bloomed.
There was only one person in the church that wasn’t crying salty rivers of tears. It was the minister, but he himself seemed as though he was on the verge of bursting into tears. A child’s funeral is nothing to turn a nose at. This reverend in particular knew this fact. It was horrible to lose a loved one at any age, especially a child as young or younger than Aubrey.
Y/N and Roger, as the parents, knew they would have to deliver individual speeches at some point. They knew they wouldn’t be able to do it without tears, though. Losing a child is a parent’s worst nightmare. Roger couldn’t seem to look up at the casket for more than a few moments at a time without once again bursting into a fit of sobs and tears streaming down his face, leaving red streaks over his pale cheeks.
Once the preacher was finished with his speech, he stated for friends and family to come up and deliver their own eulogies to honor her. Starting with the mother of the child and going to the father and family friends.
Y/N stepped up to the podium and felt a pang in her chest as she saw her daughter dressed in a soft white dress. She looked as though she were asleep, peacefully dreaming about the future. But Y/N knew better than to believe she was just dreaming. She knew Aubrey was dead.
Nobody said anything as Y/N stepped up to the podium and unclipped a small stack of note cards that sat on the surface.
“I’d, um, like to thank everyone here, first off, for being here to pay tribute to my daughter,” she began. “I cannot put into words the amount of grief Roger and I are feeling at the moment. The love and support that you have all been giving us has been getting us through this very difficult time.” She flipped to the next card in the stack and a tear dropped down onto the thick paper as she sniffed, her nose beginning to run. Quiet weeps could be heard echoing throughout the room. “I will never forget the day Aubrey was born. I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to be a mother yet, but when I held her for the first time, I knew I’d do anything for her. She was our little angel, a gift from heaven. I feel such guilt in my heart for not being able to save her from her fate, but that was out of my control. I’m just glad that she didn’t have to go through a long, painful process.” Y/N started sobbing as she set the note cards down. “Aubrey, I am so glad that I got the opportunity to be your mother,” she wept, “and you will always have a special place in all of our hearts. Your father and I will never forget what an amazing little girl you were and how much you meant to us.”
Three long years had gone by since Aubrey had passed and Y/N and Roger’s relationship had gone downhill quickly. Roger had turned back to his previous habits of drinking and smoking and Y/N had scheduled a lot more excavations. She was rarely ever home and neither was Roger, leaving the child-raising to John and Veronica. But if she was being honest, Y/N enjoyed being at home with the children while Roger was at a concert or on tour.
When Roger was home, he would bring different women to bed, just like the late 60′s. Y/N didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as so many other women who were sleeping with her husband. She couldn’t really be in the same room as him anymore. The flame of their love was dying out quickly. What had previously been a pair of soulmates was becoming roommates.
They got into dozens of arguments, but none of them had ever escalated into physical violence. Y/N and the kids have had to spend many nights with John or Brian to calm down and get away from the drunk berating and shouting. The kids were now accustomed to being at John and Brian’s homes.
Boxes littered the living room and bedroom as Y/N was packing clothes into a suitcase. She had enough of Roger’s returning party animal lifestyle. She had John taking care of the kids, but not for long. She would be taking care of the kids a majority of her time while she wasn’t out at dig sites and working at museums.
Roger felt a pit form in his stomach as he looked around at the boxes in the house and the moving truck in something that was once their driveway. He sat down on the sofa and rested his face in his hands, beginning to cry. He felt alone. The house would be so empty without them. He had driven them away from himself. How could he have done this? Roger sat in self pity for a few moments before he understood he couldn’t take back the mistakes he had made, and he couldn’t get Y/N back, either.
#roger taylor#roger taylor x reader#roger taylor x reader angst#roger meddows taylor#queen#bohemian rhapsody#borhap#bohemian rapsody movie
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How You & I Will Be - part five (finale)
Fandom: Supernatural
Main characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Bobby Singer (mentioned)
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Serie summary: When a hellhound case in the mountains goes sideways, Dean and Y/N find themselves trapped in a small cabin, miles from civilization. A serious injury forces the two hunters to come to terms with their true feelings for each other. Rescue is on its way, but will it be in time?
Part 5 warnings: angst, severe anxiety, nightmares, hallucinations, swearing, alcohol, description of blood and injury, possible character death. Some fluff.
Music: ‘Lullabye’ by Billy Joel
Word Count: 2154 words
Author’s note: This is it, folks. The end of my mini series, and what a pleasure it was. Thank you @idreamofhazel and @littlegreenplasticsoldier for helping we work on this, you both are wonderful betas. Fair warning when you proceed: I managed to move them both to tears. @littlegreenplasticsoldier even made clear that I will have to hire someone to do my obit at my funeral, because I will have no friends left after this.
Find the ‘How You & I Will Be’ masterlist here!
It turns out Y/N has a little more time on her side than they initially thought. Not that she will be able to remember much, since she laid in Dean’s arms unconscious most of the time, but somehow the huntress has made it till sunrise. Despite her brave attempt, her condition deteriorates with every minute that passes. During the hallucinations, Dean pulled her into his lap, holding the girl he loves with everything he’s got, like he would comfort an infant. The acid trip-like dreams had her in confusion and all he could do to sooth her, cradling her gently, whispering sweet words and promises.
The nightmares seem to have passed now, setting in a new stage that is just as ominous. She has been unresponsive for quite a while, as if she has drifted off into a coma. It feels as if she’s slipping through his fingers like desert sand and there’s nothing he can do about it. Sometimes it takes over twenty seconds for her to breathe in again, which is only a weak gasp for air. Between those inhales Dean keeps her close to his chest, begging silently for her to take another breath, to stay a little longer.
Red ashes have turned into grey charcoal overnight, causing the temperature in the cabin to drop. Now Dean’s leather jacket is the only item that can provide her some warmth; even if there were wood left, he wouldn’t let her go to restart the fire. The storm has passed quickly and it wouldn’t surprise Dean if it was the work of that witch that owed Bobby. The rescue-team was supposed to start their climb at the break of dawn; they are probably well on their way, now that the first rays of sun peek over the ridge, watercoloring the sky with pink and purple. The mountaintop of Glacier Peak is outlined with gold that glows ever brighter as the sun comes up. It’s a beautiful sight, one that Dean enjoys intently, aware that these will be the final moments he’ll have with his girl.
When the sunshine spreads a warmth in the cabin, illuminating the fibers of dust that float in the air surrounding them, Y/N opens her eyes slightly without Dean noticing it. The scenery outside captivates her. The view looks more like a painting from Leonid Afremov than it would seem like reality, and for a second she wonders if she’s hallucinating again. But when she observes Dean, who admires the spectacular scenery as well, she guesses it’s nature’s way of saying goodbye.
“Well…” she rustles, words coming out raspy. “If that isn’t the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen….”
Stunned, Dean looks down at her. He honestly didn’t expect her to ever open her eyes again, but here she is. A moment of clarity. God, it’s nice to hear the sound of her voice again, despite it not being more than a weak whisper.
“Hey, you,” he returns, smiling down.
She smiles back, glad to be able to gaze up into those depthless green eyes once more. He lovingly strokes some wayward hair from her forehead, and places a tender kiss on her skin. Embracing the moment, she closes her eyes and sighs as her grin reaches wider. When he pulls back and witnesses the satisfied expression on her face, he suddenly notices the difference; she’s made peace with her fate. It scares him deeply, he isn’t anywhere close to prepared for her coming death.
“You wouldn’t be able to squeeze out a few more hours by any chance?” he pleads. “The rescue workers are on their way.”
For a moment she opens her eyes again, clearly worn out by the fight for life. She swallows with difficulty and lets the air escape from her lips, finding it harder to inhale every time she does so.
“I’m so tired, Dean….”
Her voice fails, but he heard her. The hunter nods slowly, accepting the true message behind her words. The fight is over. She’s lowered her weapons. With difficulty, he gulps, trying to ignore the sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. After all, he has to be strong for her.
But she’s no fool; she can see right through it. Y/N knows how hurt he is, how he’s trying so hard to prevent himself from caving. She might be okay with the fact that her hour has struck, he can’t say the same. The thought of letting her go causes the tears to pool in his eyes.
“Hey… It’s alright,” she tries to comfort him.
He scoffs, amazed by her urge to care for him, even now.
He manages a quivering breath. “I should be telling you that.”
“I’m not the one who’s about to be left behind, am I?” she reminds him.
It’s a solid point. Who knows where she might drift off to. Heaven, the light, whatever one would want to believe. Dean will remain right here, on this spot of land without her.
“What do you think is gonna happen next?” he wonders out loud. “Lights out and that’s it?”
“Hell, no,” she chuckles, having found a little more spirit to strengthen her words. “It’s gonna be either Vegas or Hawaii. I haven’t decided yet.”
Dean scoffs through the tears, imagining it for a moment. He hopes she’s right, it makes the idea of dying a little less terrifying.
“Maybe my heaven will be driving down the road towards the sunset in the Impala, backseat to myself…” she continues on a serious note. “Maybe it’s this, this moment right here with you. This view.”
Dean follows her thousand-yard stare through the window that portrays the colorful picture outside. As the sun rises further, it casts an golden light over the snowy mountains, and Y/N takes a moment to count her blessings. Sure, she wishes she would’ve had more time, but it isn’t the worse way to go. The man she gave her heart to is holding her close and they got the chance to spend their final moments together. The man who told her: I love you. The man she told: I love you, too. It’s not that bad, actually.
“Promise me something?”
He turns to face her again, waiting for a follow up.
Trying to speak, her voice hitches in her throat as breathing becomes more difficult. Her fragile state indicates it won’t take long now. “Promise you’ll let your friends and family help you. Promise you’ll talk to Sam. Don’t bottle it up this time, okay?”
The pressure on Dean’s chest becomes so heavy that his airway constricts. He is able to keep a hold of her questioning gaze, though.
“I promise,” he assures, choking up.
“And no deals,” she continues. “I know you’ve been thinking it.”
“Y/N -”
But she won’t have it and interrupts his attempt to object instantly. “No, Dean. I don’t want you to get torn up by those hounds. If you make a deal, you’ll go to hell,” she pauses to catch her breath. “And where I’m going… It’s not a bad place.”
Dean sighs after a moment’s consideration, trying to blink away his tears as he admits to her conditions with a nod. “Alright.”
She smiles slightly, glad to have his word and relieved that she got the message across. It remains quiet for a couple of minutes as her respiration slows down even further, taking down her pulse as well. Scared, Dean holds his love, watching her subside, further and further away from him.
“Dean?”
His name is barely audible, it’s more of a breath than her voice.
“Yeah?”
She forces her eyes open, taking in the hunter above her. For the first time since last night, tears stain her beautiful eyes. Dean knows exactly what she’s trying to capture, because he’s trying to accomplish the same. He takes her in, every feature, every perfect flaw. A few lost birthmarks that decorate her face and neck. That scar on her chin that she always tries to cover up with a scarf or the collar of her jacket. The slight frizz in the lock of hair that she cusses about whenever it’s rainy or windy. And damn, those eyes, those gorgeous eyes.
“I-I think it’s time….” she stammers weak.
She’s might be okay with dying, that doesn’t mean that she isn’t scared of what lays ahead. Of course she’s terrified, who wouldn’t be scared of the unknown? Vampires, ghosts, demons; she faced them all. But with every single monster she came across, she knew a way to defeat them. Never, ever, did she show up for a fight unprepared. At the verge of battle she was armed with a weapon of choice, if it was silver, salt, dead man’s blood or the Colt. She knew her opponent, she did her research, she read the lore. But she can fantasize about casinos or white sandy beaches all she wants, the truth is that nothing can prepare anyone for what awaits on the other side.
“It’s alright, Y/N. I’ve got you,” Dean comforts, pulling her even closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I’m right here. I won’t leave your side, I promise.”
She cries against his chest silently, wheezing every time she tries to inhale. Dean’s heart is beating out of his chest as hers will stop any moment now.
“Y-you know what my mom’s favorite song was… to sing to me?” she whispers, referring to their talk days ago, about music and songs sang by their mothers. “It was Lullabye... Billy Joel… She always sang Lullabye.”
“It’s a good song,” Dean gets out with difficulty.
“It is,” you smile into his shirt, before she softly whispers the first lines.
Goodnight, my angel
Time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
Dean joins in with her, cradling his dying girl to the rhythm of the song. The melody somehow makes it easier to pronounce the words.
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know
Wherever you may go, no matter where you are
I never will be far away
She lets Dean take over the vocals completely, listening to his emotional yet clear voice. It hushes her into a deep sleep from which she will never wake again. Slowly Y/N sinks further into the depths of unconsciousness. But she can still hear him, she can still hear Dean. Scientists have proved that the sense of hearing is the last one to perish when a person dies. Seems like they are right.
Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to sleep
And still so many things I want to say
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went…
He stops mid-sentence, waiting for some kind of response from Y/N. A flinch, her chest rising, anything. But nothing happens. There’s no cloud of humid air coming from her lips, even the drum in her chest has stopped playing. When he lifts his chin off her head and loosens his grip on the woman in his arms slightly, he is able to behold the blank expression on her pretty face, eyes slightly opened, but her soul is gone.
“Y/N…?”
Shocked he stares at her as a lump obstructs his throat. A hole in his stomach grows larger when the harsh reality replaces his denial. Dean can’t prevent the tears from building up in his eyes and so he looks up, hoping that they won’t fall down, but they fall anyway. Unable to cope with the avalanche of sorrow that hits him like a freight train, his bottom lip starts to quiver and slowly he begins to move back and forth, mourning, as he presses her lifeless body against his.
He lost her. For a few moments she was his and now he’s lost her. He whispers her name in her hair, tells her he loves her once more and then again. God, he would give anything to see her react to those words, by throwing him that amazing smile.
Softly he continues to sing the song. The earth turns and the sun shines its light on the both of them. His voice is shaking so badly that he has trouble getting anything out at all. Being able to hold and cradle her helps, and so he sets off again where her death caused him to pauze.
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an emerald bay
And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me
Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabies go on and on
They never die
That's how you and I will be
The end, people. Thank you so much for reading my story. I appreciate every single one of you. If you would like to talk about this or if you need a grief-counselor, let me know. Feedback is very much appreciated.
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#How You And I Will Be#Dean x Reader#Dean x Reader series#Reader x Dean#Dean Winchester x reader#Reader x Dean Winchester#SPN fanfiction#SPN fanfic#SPN reader insert#Supernatural fanfiction#Supernatural fanfic#Supernatural reader insert#Dean Winchester fanfic#Dean fanfic#Sam fanfic#Sam Winchester fanfic#Dean Winchester fanfiction#Dean fanfiction#Sam fanfiction#Sam Winchester fanfiction#Dean angst#Dean fluff#Sam angst#SPN angst#Supernatural angst#HYAIWB#How You And I Will Be 5#Kate Huntington#Dean Winchester#Sam Winchester
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Lucifer Morningstar Imagine - You See Him In His True Form
Quick note! All Lucifer imagines I write are from the show Lucifer. :)
Your P.O.V.
''Lucifer!'' I yelled out my friend's name angrily as soon as the elevator doors slid open. I stepped into his penthouse and searched the dim lighten area for him. I found him by the big windows, dressed in a white button up, suspenders and a black bow and of course his fancy pants and shoes. ''Y/N, it's a pleasure to have you here'' He smiled slickly and walked towards me. He had no idea how mad I was at him.
He had crossed lines many times but this time was different.
I was just about to break up properly with my boyfriend, now ex boyfriend Robin, with a good plan. I wanted to do it nicely so no one would get hurt but Lucifer here had taken matters into his own hands. As I got to Robin's apartment and he saw me, he slammed the door shut and started yelling the most bizarre things, such as ‘go away!’ ‘don’t come closer’ ‘please, leave’ ‘he’s bad Y/N’ ‘he’s going to kill me! Then you’ - those things didn’t clear things up. I just stood behind his door, worried as I listened. Damn, I nearly called my friend Chloe Decker, the detective. But what Robin had said next put the pieces together.
’He’s the devil!’
‘‘A vein will most certainly pop soon if you don’t relax. Has something happened?’‘ He noticed my anger as he got closer. Lucifer’s smug smile faded as he grabbed a bottle of wine and poured some into two glasses. Yes, I wanted to yell at him but something about this man made me feel things. He made me less angry, almost calm. When I was around him, I didn’t want my anger to control me.
‘‘Well shouldn’t you know, Lucifer?’‘ I spat right back at him yet I took the glass of wine. In this moment, I needed it. Lucifer looked around and pretended to think of something. It just annoyed me. ‘‘What the hell did you do to Robin?’‘ I screeched out because I was sick and tired of his games. Suddenly, he looked like he remembered. I swear, it was really close that a real lightbulb would’ve appeared above his head.
‘’Right! The douche lover of yours’’ Lucifer chuckled and gladly sipped his drink. I rolled my eyes before closing them, finding it hard to contain myself. My blood was boiling from rage. He just had to be like this. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. ‘‘How are things by the way?’‘ He asked quickly since I used my time to calm down instead of talking.
‘‘Well, ex-lover now..I visited him only to find the guy scared to death. So, I'll ask you this one more time, what did you do?’‘ I looked him straight in the eyes. The air grew tense around us and I could tell he realised I wasn’t cool with this anymore. Lucifer clenched his jaw and then sighed, letting go of his childish play.
‘‘Fine. I had some serious things to discuss with the capricious ass-’‘ He started but as soon as he used those annoying words, I groaned. ‘‘Can’t you even call him by his name?’‘ I broke his sentence. Yes, Lucifer and I were good friends. Trust me, although he was annoying the life out of me, we rarely fought. Tonight could be an exception. Something told me that neither of us would surrender or apologize easily.
‘‘Do you want me to speak or not?’‘ Lucifer raised his voice. It was a little scary but I couldn’t expect him to start yelling or throwing stuff. ‘‘Okay, go on’‘ I encouraged him and tasted the wine. ‘‘As I was saying, I went over to his lousy apartment just to have a chat. I confronted him about the things he had done, because truth be told Y/N, he is a jackass. I even got him to admit the things he had done to you, even got it on tape and all’‘ He smiled proudly as he told me his side of the story.
I couldn’t believe him. Yes, Robin had treated me bad once or twice but it wasn’t life threatening. ‘’Why was he so scared then?’’ I wanted to know. ‘’I might’ve given him a taste of his own medicine’’ Lucifer admitted like this was all a game. Before I had a say in it, he kept going. ‘’ That biscuit arsed chav deserved it tho’’ Lucifer defended himself. By now, I wasn’t sure what he had done but it was no good. Had he hit him? Or were they just throwing words at each other?
‘‘Did you ever stop to think that some of those words could easily describe you?’‘ I raised my eyebrow. Something about what I said pissed Lucifer off. He put his glass down and he walked even closer to me, so close I had to step back. ‘‘Don’t ever compare me to him’‘ He growled seriously. I was too angry to think about my own actions. ‘‘Well I just did. You’re just a freak, Lucifer! God, I don’t even know if that’s your real name!’‘ I screamed back at him.
‘‘Don’t mess dad into this!’‘ Lucifer yelled loudly. I just stared at him in disbelief. In the middle of our heated fight, he still brought up his ridiculous life story. ‘‘Are you for real?’‘ I breathed out. He just nodded back at me. A moment of silence fell between us. I had a thousand thoughts in my head but I wasn’t sure what to do. I thought that for once he would take our friendship seriously but no. He still went along with his story of being the devil.
‘‘I was wrong when I said you were similiar with Robin’‘ I started more calmly, feeling sad. ‘‘Well that’s reassuring to hear. He’s a truly nasty-’‘ He started to call Robin names again. ‘‘You’re exactly like him!’‘ I let him know darkly. It was something I yelled in the heat of the moment and I knew I couldn’t take it back. Something twisted in his eyes once those words left my red lips. Lucifer grabbed my shoulders and stared deeply into my eyes. It felt like a trance and I completely froze as I looked back at him. Then it happened.
His usually soft brown eyes turned bright red. The white in his eyes turned pitch black, making the red stand out more. It’s like he glitched in real life and the next second his skin was deep maroon and leather like. ‘’I’m nothing like him!’’ He growled in a very deep voice. His hair was gone. It was just him but in a devilish form. Just looking at him like this filled me with fear. I was terrified. As quickly as he turned into that beast, he got back to normal.
Shock took over me. I didn’t dare to move nor breathe. Tears stung my E/C eyes and my heart was beating so hard it nearly hurt. Soon I found my entire body quivering. We were both quiet until I dropped my glass on the floor. It made a loud breaking sound and the wine splattered across the floor. Fear had taken over me and my anger was long gone.
‘‘P-Please..don’t..hurt me’‘I whimpered as realization sunk into me. I had been friends with the devil for a year. Recently I had a crush on the devil. All along, he had been telling me the truth. His grip on my shoulders loosened and I attempted to take a step away from him. Just perfectly, my heel slipped on the wine and I lost my balance, hitting the floor hard. I winced out in pain but I didn’t stay on the same spot. For fuck’s sake, he was the devil!
I pushed myself further away from him, getting glass shards into my skin. I didn’t care about the pain. I just wanted away from Lucifer. I saw how his anger faded as well. He stared at me in shock, almost sadly. It’s like he hadn’t planned to do that at all but it happened. I looked at him and let my tears ruin my makeup. I backed off so much that I was leaning against the wall. Then I started panicking.
My breath got uncontrollable and I was bleeding from my hands.’’Y/N’’ My name left his lips which hurt. I felt sick, mentally and physically. ‘’Y/N you’re bleeding’’ Lucifer noticed and walked up to me. ‘’No!’’ I managed to scream and then I gasped, desperate for air. My lungs felt heavy and I was helpless. Lucifer ignored my words and he got down on the floor with me. He grabbed my arm and looked closer at the wounds. He looked genuinely worried.
And I was so scared that I was surprised I hadn’t passed out yet. ‘’I’ll take care of that, you’ll be fine’’ He said quietly as he looked down. He sounded scared and even sad. A part of me wanted to ask him what’s wrong, but I was taken by my fear. Would he kill me now that I knew?
‘‘Breathe! Okay?..Just breathe..I-I’ll call the detective. She can-’‘ He started rambling. Seeing someone else now would make things worse. So I had to gather my strength and try to find reassurance in the fact we had known each other for over a year. ‘‘Please, no’‘ I breathed out and sniffled. He looked at me and I saw that he was on the verge of tears. He was afraid of something.
‘‘What? Why not?’‘ He seemed confused. I just shook my head no. Suddenly I felt like a child and speaking would be too hard. ‘‘Y/N talk to me’‘ Lucifer tried to make me speak. It just made me sob louder and I lost it. I pulled my bloody hands back and covered my face, crying into my hands. Lucifer decided that he wouldn’t just stare at me and do nothing.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer to him. I grew tense but I didn’t fight him. The scent of his luxurious cologne reminded me of our good moments. I tried to focus on them instead of the horrible thoughts. Lucifer had never ever treated me bad and now I felt guilty for saying he was like Robin.
Who knows how long we sat on the floor. My wounds stopped bleeding as the blood congealed. My breathing turned slowly back to normal and I stopped quivering. Yes, I was aware that he was indeed the devil but I tried my best to think of him as Lucifer. Just Lucifer. The man who I knew well. Not the son of God that was casted out of heaven to rule hell. Hell!
‘‘I’m sorry’‘ I whispered after a small eternity. ‘‘No. I’m sorry’‘ Lucifer spoke soon after. I gulped because I was still really nervous. It made me nauseous. ‘‘I shouldn’t have lost control Y/N. Mortals find it hard to handle these things. I didn’t want you to find out this way’‘ He continued more calmly. His words started to make sense to me. He always said ‘mortals ‘when talking of people yadda yadda yadda. Everything made sense. He had been telling the truth all along. I had just never believed him.
‘‘So..y-you’re not going to kill me?’‘ I asked him with a small voice. Lucifer tensed up and he looked at me seriously. It’s like my question almost offended him. ‘‘Of course not! Why on earth would I ever do that?’‘ He wanted to know. Suddenly, he cupped my face softly and wiped away my tears with his warm thumb. It freaked me out to be here but I didn’t have any other place to go to. I’d just cry and go barmy.
‘‘I just- I can’t believe..You..’‘ I tried to form a sentence but I gave up since I didn’t make sense. ‘‘Come on, let’s get your hands fixed. You don’t want blood all over yourself’‘ Lucifer tried to lighten up the mood. He helped me stand up and then he took me to his bathroom. A part of me wanted to run off and never come back but another part of me wanted to stay.I had mixed feelings and I hated it.
He made me sit on the toilet, with the lid down, as he grabbed some rubbing alcohol and tweezers. Lucifer started to pluck out the glass and I winced every once in a while because it hurt. ‘’It’s okay love. I’m done soon’’ He reassured me as calmly as he could. As my own shock had faded a tad, I started to think more. Lucifer seemed sad that I knew. It’s like he was ashamed and worried, worried that I would ditch him forever.
The longer I thought about it, the more comfortable I got. What would it change that I had seen him like that? He was still the same person, right? At least I truly hoped so.
Once he washed my wounds with the alcohol, I groaned in pain. ‘’Fuck’’ I hissed, trying my best to ignore it. He made sure he got every wound before throwing the cotton pad away. ‘’So, now what?’’ Lucifer sighed, knowing that we had to talk about everything. The fight was left undone but trust me, I wasn’t in the mood to fight. I could barely talk without messing up because I was freaked out.
‘‘I really don’t want to fight’‘ I admitted quietly.Lucifer nodded and for once, he seemed to take this seriously. It was a miracle. ‘‘How about you get comfortable in bed, in the good boring way, and sleep? You could probably use a good rest now’‘ He suggested and started to sound more like himself. I couldn’t help but to crack the slightest smile at him.
‘‘You can lend my shirt’‘ He added as he saw what I was wearing; heels and a bloody white shirt and jeans. I mouthed a ‘thank you’ as we walked out of the bathroom. He was right, I could truly use some rest after everything. My breakup had been harsh and during those rough times with Robin, I had grown feelings for Lucifer. I had been so mad at Luci and then I was scared to death. All those feelings overwhelmed me.
Although, I had imagined this moment sometimes, I never thought I’d stay. I had never fully believed Lucifer’s stories but I couldn’t help but to think what if. I thought I’d run to the other side of the world and stay there with a gun beside me 24/7. I was wrong. Now I would be in his bed.
I had been so close to the devil himself all along.
#Lucifer#Lucifer Fox#Lucifer Morningstar#Lucifer Morningstar X Reader#Lucifer Morningstar Imagine#Tom Ellis#The Devil#Chloe Decker#Mazekeen#Lucifer Morningstar imagines#Lucifer Imagine#Lucifer Imagines#Tom Ellis Lucifer
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