#in your house before that this is the final step to your brothers ascension | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecameronchronicles · 1 year

Text

Silent Night

TW: Stalker/Dark(ish/Obsessed Rafe. Language. Smut.

SUMMARY: Rafe’s POV how he intends to rectify you giving your virtue to some Pogue…

WORD COUNT: 3000

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Silent Night

It was now or never. The nerve filtering into cowardice as I watched her set the final present beneath the tree weighed down with an excess of pointless ornaments. But just as it had been for the last three hours, I became distracted by the way she moved. But not because I craved to possess her as that could have been done at any party or any time in which she was asleep at Tannyhill just down the hallway. It was because she fascinated me and held my interest in a way no other girl ever had. Not even clad in lingerie, an idea that when paired with her was enough to send my eyes in a roll at the thought. Yet nothing deserved to be across that soft skin taunting me from the other side of glass as she made the last minute preparations on this Christmas Eve. Little did she know, she was about to give ME what I'd always wanted.

A cliche key beneath the mat was enough to grant me access once the lights had been cut for the day's end. The sound of a shower just above a set of steps had allowed me the time I needed to drink in the atmosphere around me. Of all the times Sarah had invited her beyond our threshold, never once had I seen the inside of HER house. And it was just as much a picturesque scene as was expected in any other Kook house. A perfect tree with too many presents and decorations as gaudy as they were humorous. And my fingers came to a trace at all of them that has incorporated her. Her presents. Her pictures. Her jacket that hung over the banister as if an invitation left behind for me to find. Everything was enough to return my focus as I could have just as easily have remained in the shadows.

A careful ascension beyond creaking wood had whittled away my confident steps forcing me slower and therefore more impatient until I crested that final step. It would take a turn and a small venture to the end of the hall before her bedroom was accessible at my fingertips, which shook in excitement. But as she crossed the portion of the door left ajar by reasons unknown, I resorted to the shadows on instincts hearing her humming some annoying pop song as I realized I'd have to introduce her to new music. Better music.

But first, to me.

I watched her from between the hinged and slit of the door, watching the lingerie kiss her skin as I'd never been so jealous of fabric before. A minimalist set with a single bow between her breasts and a matching one just below her navel and o was fighting the urge to palm myself flat. I'd seen her in every color bikini and yet there was something different in this. Maybe it was because the cotton of her panties wouldn't be able to hide how wet I'd make her, as I knew a suit had done before. Either way my eyes followed her throughout her nightly routine until the phone in her hands was a means of unwinding and eventual rest.

It was now. I had to act now. Before her friends or brother came home. Before she would awaken and find a way to escape what I knew if just given a chance to show, she would never want to be without. I just needed that chance. And I knew I had to take it now.

Opening the door slightly, the scent of her recent shower and the shampoo used, or maybe it was even the perfume or lotion, sent my eyes to close to luxuriate. The perfect combination of fruit and the promise of innocent vanilla reminded me of her. Sweet and elegant. And how I didn't want to taint her. Just train her. To me. To know me. Only me.

Once reaching the side of her bed, I fought the carnal urges immediately at the forefront. I could easily bend her as I saw fit as I outweighed her. And yet, I wanted to care for her. Even though the flashes of her crying over my cock, a smirk breaking the tempo I knew she would be a natural to master, had pulled my fingers to play with the button of my jeans, I hesitated still.

I wanted to take care of her. Not fuck her. She was better than that. She deserved better than that.

My ambitions altered to the exposed skin allowed to me by her choice of pajamas. A matching silk set with candy Canes that made me smirk temporarily at her innocence while my touch teased the strap holding her modest. But I didn't want to see her naked. I mean I didn't want to JUST see her naked. I wanted to see all of her. And I wanted it to be because she wanted me to.

Slowly, I set myself closer as I debated where to begin. I was certain she would awaken at any given shift of the bed, so I would need to move quickly. But with the way she laid, it would prove difficult for both the angle and the fact I didn't want to disrupt her. She was perfect. For all ways but one, anyhow...

She let a pogue take that innocence over the summer. A good girl, my good girl allowed some filthy surfer rat learn those sweet moans, that singular relinquishment of unique tightness, the blood I should have had as a badge of honor for my patience. God knows I waited. But it didn't matter. Tonight she would make it up to me.

It would be this thought of HIM touching her, of HIM kissing her, and of HIM getting to know those intimate details he didn't deserve to think about let alone have as a memory, that left me proactive. The second she adjusted to her back, I straddled her flat, her eyes shooting open as she found her hands bound by one of my own as my other came over her mouth.

"Not. A. Fucking. Sound." Her eyes narrowed as she made the details of me in the recently disturbed slumber, adjustment made rather quickly as she spoke my name into my palm. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. She was always disobedient, pushing limits and boundaries in the form of party tricks or life's risks. But THIS was different. She was waging war against a devil, and no matter how angelic she was, she had a debt to pay and I'd come to collect.

"Rafe?" My eyes recovered from the roll as I lowered my hand to her jaw.

"The only time you're allowed to make a sound is when I make you come." Her eyes widened as her lips parted to speak, finding the interruption of my hand tightening her cheeks into quietude.

"Then you can scream all you want. God knows you'll have no other choice..." Her eyes narrowed as she watched me use my belt to bind her hands together, but not to the headboard. I wanted her to have some freedom, at least this was what I told myself as I honestly just loved to watch that hope fade behind her eyes when she realized it had finally come to this. Those teasing glances and shy smiles as she pulled hair behind her ear. Those damn swimsuits. That pogue. All of it would be amended tonight. And soon.

"Please-" I silenced her with a kiss even if my palm desired a more blunt strike. If she were any other girl, I would have acted on it. But she was too flawless to be marked with such ugly red swelling. At least where everyone could see it.

I offered my tongue for a moment, savoring her response, as she would hesitate before joining it at the second I would withdraw.

"Next time you don't wanna listen, it'll be my cock." A mic of exhilaration and fear illuminated behind her eyes.

"One sound and this will end rough for you. I want rk be gentle...but either way, I'll get what I came for..." Her eyes narrowed to question me.

"You really don't know why I'm here?" She shook her head slowly, obeying in remaining silent, but considering risking a potential bluff as I'd only shown her my reservation. I knew this. I didn't need her to tell me. She wanted to see if I would make good on my threats. But a part of her loved to obey...at least for now...

"Because I was the one who was patient. I was the one exercising self-restraint and then you go and give yourself to that pogue...like he would even know what to do with you?!" My jaw clenched.

"Did he even make you come? Did he know where to touch you or curve his fingers? Or was it is tongue because he couldn't last inside that tight little pussy, huh?" I was more aggressive than I wanted to be with her. But the idea of anybody touching what was mine was enough to disregard that kindness.

"Just nod. Did he make you come." When she didn't, I immediately understood why. She knew if she agreed that it would anger me further. And if she disagreed then the anger would exist for a different reason entirely. But with the certain fear behind her eyes, I knew it was because he had. The asshole got to know...

"Well. For that, I'll just have to make you forget he has." My hands were quick at her hips, removing the shirts and revealing those panties to me. The cute little bow flicked by the end of my finger as she blushed to witness my descent.

"Did he use his tongue?" She hesitated again as I hit the bed, forcing her to answer me. She nodded.

"Was THAT good?" She slowly bowed her head.

"Well I promise you..." My fingers hooked around the edges of her panties, pulling them loose as she chilled beneath my touch.

"I'm not going to be good. I'm going to be it. No comparison." I teased my lips down her stomach until setting each of her legs over my shoulders. One final look up to her, wrists bound and pulled in a bend towards her cheek, making me smirk at my perfect and behaved girl.

I rewarded her obedience in slow strides of my fingers complimented by the flicks of my tongue at her clit. The poor girl may have come for someone else but it wasn't enough to affect her against me. She was still trembling to each and every one of my touches, allowing me the consolation as if I'd been the first.

"God, you're soaking me-"

"I'm sorry-" Her cheeks paled.

"I'll let that slide because you sound so pretty apologizing. But next time, I'll have to give you a reason to remember to stay quiet." I returned to my convictions, tongue and fingers bringing her to that edge as I basked in her response to me.

Her taste. Sweet and salty in perfection. A hint of vanilla and even a bit of sin in how she fought against her body, but I was victorious against those advances.

Her moans. I would work every second of every day between her thighs to hear that symphony. Hell, I'd do it even if she were silent.

Her motions. Erratic and accepting of me despite the way she fought me. Her eyes screwing shut or pulling into a roll as I scoffed to see her come undone above and around me.

But she wouldn't have the chance yet. Not until I got to have everything he did. For that, I slowed my tongue and removed my hand, now pulling it to her breast. Softer skin hardened at the center by an excited nipple and I needed more. Both hands were now stationed on either one as I rose to taste her. Salt from pending sweat came to the tip of my tongue mixing with that which remained from my endeavors, as I watched her over me. Her face was in pure bliss. Pleasure taunting her and my body weighing her in place, and she relished in it just as I had in touching her.

"Please..." I clenched my jaw as I noticed her hands were in the direction of my seam.

"You wanna play with me too? Wanna get a feel for what is gonna make you come, is that it?"

"Plesse, Rafe...I'm so wet."

"And so disobedient-" She was positioned in quick succession from the comfortable rest made of her back and again the headboard with my clothes removed and in that preparation behind her. As much as I had exercised self control in the years or even minutes leading up to this, I needed more. I needed her. I deserved it. And I was gonna take it.

"Rafe-" I pulled her hair harshly, courtesy damned in her disregard to even try to remain silent.

"Oh my-"

"You want me to make you come and still have some ability to walk, you're gonna shut the hell up." She stained, leading me to ball up the panties discarded at her side, and use them as assistance for this. Even if there was no reason behind it as we were alone within the cover of the hour and the isolation, making her bend to me had made that moment that much more worth it for me.

I wrapped a hand around her neck, tightening to keep her quiet, releasing as she began to shake or the feeling of her pulse was worrisome at my thumb. Breath play was my own foreplay, and I lived to make her breathe or stop breathing for me, but only in short interruptions. Because I much preferred the heavy breathing in the return of my merciful release.

"You want to come don't you? I can feel it and I’m not even inside of you yet..."

"Plesse..."

"Only because you asks so pretty.." I forced her against the headboard as it battered into the wall.

"One fucking sound and I'll brand my name on that ass do no pogue-so you won't have to worry about anyone else even trying to touch what's mine. Might do it anyway for when you wear those bikinis...walk around your room with those windows open...where anyone can see you-"

"Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to see you? You don't think your tease need enough?" I asked into her ear between thrusts as she just rested her head against my shoulder. The most beautiful weight making me guilty for being so rough. At least it would have if she didn't clench around me in enjoying it just as much.

"Fuck!" I growled behind clenched teeth, my head falling over her, before I took her neck back into my grasp.

"I want to hear how loud you can be for me. I want Maybank and all his little pogue friends to know who is fucking you like this. So when you come...say my name, won't you, sweetheart?"

"Rafe..."

"Good girl. Not too dumb by my cock yet...means we still have work to do, but don't worry, we'll get there..." Her eyes pulled into a roll I saw in my peripheral vision as I pulled her hand to the headboard sending the second hand follow. Our fingers interlaced as I kept her in place, my other hand focused on her clit.

"Right there-"

"Really think you have to fucking tell me?" I spat behind her. "Think I don't know how to make you come? I've already edged you more times than you've disobeyed me...which you will STILL pay for." I reminded her of my words sharpening as I was deeper and faster than before.

"Rafe Rafe Rafe!" She spoke my name for mercy, a slow pace of my hips adding where my fingers had remained in quick succession.

"Please don't stop. I need it...."

"And yet you can't keep that pretty mouth quiet, can you, baby? If you didn't take me so good here," I applied pressure to her clit, "I'd already be coming down your throat. Fuck, I'd be so sore and raspy...your cheeks red and wet from cryinf..." I growled at the thought.

"You are gonna make me come quietly. And then you're gonna get on your knees. And then maybe you'll get to-" She grinned.

"Anything but a nod and you won't even get the consideration." She nodded as I worked her back against me. A varied hold on her throat in continued breath play before as this touch faded to her hips and back to her clit, my hands hungry to know all of her. More importantly, to erase him before me. Because I knew for certain there wouldn't be anyone after me.

"Knees." I spoke as I guided her while I teetered on that edge, satisfaction taunted by her lips as I appeased us both by setting myself behind her smile.

"Good girl. Finally being quiet." I teased as she gagged but took me in stride. Leaving some point she made to herself before I spilled at the vacation of her tight little throat. I continued my praise before she offered small pleas as my hand wrapped around her neck and my fingers were irrationally swift in their motionings. Bending to hit that sensitive cavern and withdrawing to edge her continuously, my name belted from between moans and needy wants. I watched every action of her body as I pulled her to the edge once and for all, allowing her the release as she gave it as I'd hoped.

"Oh my God..." She looked at the mess she'd left as I smirked.

"I-"

"Didn't it feel good?" I asked lowering over her as she had propositioned herself on her elbows as I cleaned off her thighs with my thumbs and brought her to my lips.

"What are you-" She questioned while watching me spit that collected cum onto her swollen sex, left battered by me.

"If it takes the whole night, so be it..."

"I did what you wanted-"

"Wrong sweetheart, I'm still waiting for you to be quiet. So until you can come quietly...I'll keep fucking going..."

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @belcalis9503 @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #outer banks #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #Cameron Chronicles Christmas 2022

139 notes · View notes

mlem2460 · 2 days

Text

TC Notes

Livin' in the Overflow

Part 4

Optimism is not an option, it's an order

Michael Todd

does the time u spend w God last past the time u spend w God?

ur personal time w God should overflow into other parts of ur life

sidebar: i had Jesus tell me to shut up in a convo 1time & it felt very rude (completely deserved & i realized i was bein a hypocritical bish & He had me go back to apologize, but still....)

overflow = whatever u need, already there & available when u need it

I'm living in the overflow

the thought of order can become overwhelming

u dont need to get it all together, u just need to take a step in the right direction

journey w Jesus bout progression, not perfection

Philippians 4:8 NLT

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable.

optimism is not an option, its an order

order don't happen in ur hands first, it happens in ur head

ur actions follow ur mindset

the church needs to be more optimistic; cause it aint an option, its an order

\\\ optimism = hopeful & confident bout the future/successful outcome of an something \\\

change of scenery w the same thoughts just give u a new tent for the same circus 🤡

if God came down in person to tell u His plan for u, would ur own thoughts kill the message before it could be received?

ur thoughts can be the assassination to ur ascension

dont let ur thoughts kill what God spoke life into

Phil 4:8 NLT

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable.

ur thought life is ur responsibility & priority

part of living in the overflow, is already thinking in the overflow

u wanna get ur life in order so u can live in the overflow? start w optimism

this is not personality based

God has given us emotions & u r allowed to feel

but do not fix ur thoughts somewhere u dont want to be

do not fix ur thoughts somewhere/on something that u do not want to become ur life

\\\ God's not gonna fix ur thoughts \\\

supernatural optimism is not empty positivity

how can u have faith for something, if u dont first hope fpr it?

perfected pessimism doesnt protect u fr disappointment

there r people who have lost the fuel for faith, because they have stopped hoping

Hebrews 11:1 KJV

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

Hebrews 11:6 NIV

Matthew 18:19-20

the church needs hope to fuel faith for miracles

it may not happen, but without hope? it cannot happen

Philippians 4:8 AMP

Finally, believers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable and worthy of respect, whatever is right and confirmed by God's word, whatever is pure and wholesome, whatever is lovely and brings peace, whatever is admirable and of good repute; if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think continually on these things [center your mind on them, and implant them in your heart].

God knows us & He knows we become drained focusing on things not of Him

ur faith walk is gonna require ur own discipline

at salvation God renews ur heart, but u still have the same brain

take responsibility for the thoughts/area that is hurting/harming u

or nothing changes

God's people: get ur hopes up

God's never needed us to hold up His name

if u do get disappointed? He can handle that

if it aint happen for u? kno He got a reason

ur mind is ur house & home

have u taken care of ur home?

would u tolerate intruders in ur home?

2 Corinthians 10:5 NKJV

...casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought i to captivity to the obedience of Christ,...

do not let ur thoughts kill the life God breathes into u & ur life

u cant stop a bird fr flying over ur head, but u can stop it fr making a nest there

i aint gon focus on the negative, but the everyday blessings & future promises

cast ur cares

fix ur thoughts

\\\ ur life becomes the fruit of ur thoughts \\\

my life today is the fruit of the thoughts i've constantly & consistently visited thru the past

\\\ the enemy would love to turn ur mind into a trap house \\\

lack of maintenance of ur mine (home) will allow the deterioration of it

a pretty house of the outside can still have rot on the inside

my God is a Restorer

if i welcome Him, He can renovate my home to restore its former glory

squatter laws: some places have passed laws that allow people that stay in an unattended property long enough to claim it as their own

u paid for it & u own it, but didnt take care of it & now someone who's been there so long can display rightful ownership of it

not another day in this mind

i have the mind of Christ

i have thoughts that glorify God & bring me into my purpose

0 notes

jaskicr · 3 years

Text

have a little yentriss soulmate au<3

summary:

The first time they meet, Triss knows that Yennefer is her soulmate. But Yennefer has Ascended, and sorceresses don’t have soulmates - the Ascension takes their soulbond away from them.

So Triss tucks this secret into the depths of her heart, and through the decades, Triss and Yennefer grow close until they’re best friends. There’s a hollow absence in Triss now that the Ascension has taken her bond, but Yennefer stays by her side, and that’s more than enough.

(Still, Triss falls a little in love with Yennefer, with the kindness behind her sharp smiles, with the fierce glint of determination in her eyes, with the gentle way she holds Triss in her arms. But Yennefer doesn’t love her the same way, doesn’t think Triss loves her that way, and Triss can’t ever have her, can she?)

Decades later, in Rinde, a witcher makes a wish, and a bond is forged. At that same moment, in Temeria, Triss falls to her knees as her soul is cleaved in two, and her bond with Yennefer breaks.

----

Underneath Triss’ hands, her brother is dying.

Adrevar is gasping for breath, clutching at the wound on his chest, gushing crimson, the wound that their father had inflicted in his alcohol-induced rage. Triss flutters around him, frantic and desperate as she presses a balled-up piece of cloth to the wound, hoping to stem the bleeding even a little.

“Please,” she begs, pleading for Adrevar to be okay, pleading for him to be healed, to recover and go back to being the bright, joyous brother she knows instead of this pale boy gasping in pain. Seeing his face contort and twist, feeling how he shakes and convulses under her hands, Triss prays to any and all deities out there, a mantra of pleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokay murmuring in her mind.

Please -

Something sharp and warm crackles in the air. Adrevar’s wound starts to close.

Triss’ hands are glowing, and she trembles, staring at them, not quite sure what’s happening but something is happening. She’s doing something, so she continues her mantra, heart in her throat.

“You’ll be okay, Adrevar,” she gasps, pleading to someone, anyone, that this will continue working, watching at the wound closes up a little more. “Please, please -”

Adrevar lets out a pained cry, a piercing sound that jolts Triss out of her concentration, and - no, no, the glow has faded from her hands and the wound is bleeding once more, leaching Adrevar’s face of colour. Triss tries desperately to summon that light back, tries to beg for that previous miracle to happen again, please, please - but nothing happens. She can do nothing but watch as life drains out of her brother’s body, leaving his eyes blank and lifeless, his form limp and stained crimson on the floor.

She cries the entire night, never leaving Adrevar’s side, even as his blood dries on her hands and the stench becomes unbearable. She cries, wondering if her glowing hands had been nothing more than a hallucination, nothing more than a trick of her mind - and gods, if that had been real, why hadn’t she been able to help her brother, why couldn’t she have saved him?

She doesn’t leave her brother, and the next day, a tall, stern woman comes to the door of her house, and Triss is taken to Aretuza, tears still running down her cheeks, grief and regret heavy in her heart.

----

She is told that she has the potential within her to be a sorceress, and she will be trained to master the chaos within her - a few years at the Academy, gaining control of that potential until she’s finally fit for the Ascension.

“The… Ascension?” Triss asks, and that tall, stern woman - Tissaia - smiles thinly at her.

“The final step to becoming a sorceress,” Tissaia explains, and Triss thinks about the mages she’s heard about in tales and stories, seated at the sides of kings and queens, impossibly beautiful, the world at their fingertips. “You will be immortal. You will be powerful. And you will be remade.”

It sounds ideal, everything Triss could ever want - beauty, power, immortality - but the scars on her back ache, her father’s furious words echo in her mind, and she knows that nothing in the world comes without a cost.

“And the price?”

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Tissaia muses, glancing at her appraisingly. “Yes, there is a price. You will not be able to bear children. And your bond with your soulmate - it will be broken.”

She turns and strides away, leaving Triss staring at her back.

Losing her ability to bear children and losing her soulmate - she’s heard stories, stories about mages being without a soul, and Triss grows cold at the thought of never finding the other half of her soul, never knowing who she is bound to, forever unable to start a life with them. But she thinks of her dead brother, healed slightly by her chaos before dropping dead again, and she thinks of all the people she could help if she were to Ascend, all the lives she could save.

She will never be able to have children. She will never find her soulmate. But if she can help people, if she can save little girls like her from having to watch their brothers die in front of their eyes - perhaps that will be enough.

---

Triss is making her way towards the potions room when she first passes Yennefer of Vengerberg.

She’s heard the whispers. The stubborn, headstrong initiate, a few years older than Triss, with a twisted spine and a crooked jaw and bright violet eyes, and Triss watches as she strides past, chin held high and eyes fixed on her destination, books tucked under her arm.

Something in her heart grows warm.

The next time she passes by Yennefer, Triss is curled up in a corner with a heavy tome in her lap, illuminated by the faint glow of the nearby torch.

Yennefer doesn’t see her, doesn’t sense her presence as she starts pulling books from shelves, flipping through them vigorously, gaze determined like she’s on a mission, like there’s something she will achieve. Triss watches her, watches the fierce determination in those bright eyes as Yennefer finally grins in triumph at finding what she’s looking for, heading out without a single glance towards Triss.

Triss catches glimpses of her all the time - a flurry of skirts at the end of a hallway, a flash of violet in the corners of the library, a whisper of chaos in the opulent rooms of Aretuza, a giggle and the sound of kissing as Istredd pulls her around a corner, and Triss finds herself acutely aware of Yennefer’s presence each time, even when she tries to focus on her magic and spells and potions.

Yennefer should just be another student at Aretuza. She should be no different from Sabrina and Fringilla, no different from all the other girls, and yet Triss’ eyes are drawn towards her every time she strides into a room, a stubborn tilt to her jaw and a fierce fire in her eyes, practically vibrating with the chaos that resides within her, a gravity to her that makes Triss want to come closer, closer.

But she never does. Instead she watches this fierce, violet-eyed mage-to-be from a distance, resisting the way warmth curls within her every time Yennefer crosses her path. Yennefer never notices her, even as Triss feels an inexplicable urge to gravitate towards her, so Triss watches her, bright and fierce, from afar, until she Ascends and leaves Aretuza.

link to keep reading on ao3 in reblog!

#yentriss #yenntriss #trissefer #yennefer x triss #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer #triss merigold #triss #the witcher #mine*

134 notes · View notes

corinnesamuels · 3 years

Text

Guarding the Gates

Chapter 11: What’s Eating Sirius Black?

In which Lily finds out a Marauder secret, Remus returns, and the Order celebrates big wins. But the tide is beginning to change, in more ways than one.

Something is wrong with Sirius Black.

His body is usually so fluid, but lately, his movements have been punctuated by a tense staccato. His hair is beginning to skim the tops of his shoulder blades when his preferred length is just shy of his shoulders. And those shoulders? Often slumped, when his back usually stands so proud.

At first, Lily thinks these things are due to Remus’ mission. Dumbledore hadn’t allowed them to check in with him, so the only way they knew if their friend was okay—if he was safe—was during the headmaster’s mission reports. They were all on edge for Remus. Dorcas had resorted to biting her fingernails, a habit she had long since let go of but now serves as a marker for her most angst-filled days. James' knees bounced uncontrollably as he sat, nervous energy pleading to break free. Peter looked sad and seemed jumpier than she had recently seen him. Marlene helped Lily brew potions, keeping a store set aside and preserved specifically for Remus’ return. They didn’t know what he may need, but they wanted to be prepared for whatever news may come their way.

But something is eating at Sirius. Lily knows that he misses Remus and is worried about Remus, but she has a feeling something else is going on. She has seen Sirius Black when he’s worried. A worried Sirius Black snaps at others when he speaks, he paces, God, he smokes. This version of him isn’t anxious…this version of him…

This version of him is sad.

When his Patronus comes padding through her bedroom, asking her to come by Potter Manor to help him, James, and Peter cast the necessary spells to make his bike fly of all things, there’s no enthusiasm in his voice. None of the adoration he usually uses to describe that overly large hunk of metal. Just a quick ask and a brief “thanks” before the silvery dog dissipates into the air.

Right, then. Lily says to herself as she pulls herself from bed that morning. Let’s get to the bottom of this.

She consults a few books on more advanced potions and charms theory and taps her fingers together as she thinks through what she may need to pull off this admittedly dangerous, reckless behavior. But if Sirius is going to get back to normal, that’s the exact kind of behavior that tends to get him going.

When Lily apparates to Potter Manor, she does so with her favorite cauldron, two small blocks of wood, and the potions and charms books in tow. She knocks on the door and is delighted to see Fleamont, who has spent the day brewing something or other by the scent of him.

“So good to see you, my girl!” he says as he hugs her tightly. Fleamont steps back to observe her, placing both hands on her shoulders as his eyes lock onto hers. She can’t help but notice how similar they are to his son’s. “Are you being safe out there?”

Lily smiles sadly. She doesn’t want to lie to him but hates to see him worry. He’s too old to have this weighing on him. “As safe as one can be.”

Fleamont sighs but doesn’t put up a fight. “I’m so proud of you kids. I just…” He trails off and shakes his head. “I just want you safe.”

“Well, today, I may need a bit of help when it comes to keeping the Wild Boys safe.” Lily grins conspiratorially as she changes the subject. “Could I trouble your potions stores for an experiment?” She opens the potions book and points to one in particular that causes Fleamont’s eyebrows to rise appreciatively as he pulls his spectacles down to the tip of his nose.

“I have a feeling this has to do with Sirius’ motorbike.” Fleamont lets out a dry laugh before pushing his glasses back into place. “I’d rather not know the details of that, but I’m always interested in a good brew.” He waves her along into his study.

Fleamont helps Lily gather the necessary ingredients and gives his thoughts on the tips and tricks she may utilize in the brewing process, telling her that he was on his way out to run some errands but to make herself at home when it came to his stores.

By the time she makes it out to the old shed Sirius had pulled his motorbike around to, it seems that James, Sirius, and Peter are already outside talking through the methods they plan to use. But as she gets closer, she can tell something else is going on.

“The fact that you responded that way tells me that you know what I mean, but I’ll play.” She hears James say. “You showed up on your motorbike today saying that you wanted to make your bike fly—”

“You like to fly on a broom, I think I’d like to fly on a bike.”

“—and make it invisible.”

“How else will I keep it hidden from muggles?”

James tilts his head to the side and mulls it over. “Okay, that bit is fair.”

“It’s a necessity, considering the fact that this motorbike is the size of a small boat.” Lily says dryly as she approaches them. They must have been deep into whatever conversation they had been having because they hadn’t heard her approach. Her description of the bike isn’t an overstatement. The motorbike looks large enough to hold someone of Hagrid’s build, though Lily doubts Sirius would ever allow such a thing to happen. Entirely too risky.

“Ha ha, Evans.” Sirius says sarcastically. “I’ll remember that when you want to have a go on it.” He points a wrench at her to emphasize his point.

“You’ll remember and you’ll still let me ride it when I ask.” Lily laughs again. Sirius looks torn between denying it and smiling, because they all know that Lily is absolutely correct. “I think we’ll need some potions help in addition to the charm work and possibly the transfiguration. I’ll start this while we talk through the spell work. We’ll need a few levitation charms, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Sirius nods. “An ascension charm too. I reckon we’ll need something to regulate the speed, too.”

“And by regulate, I’m sure you mean enhance?”

“You know me so well, Red.”

Sirius, Lily, and James throw ideas back and forth, making note of what will and won’t be helpful, tossing out stray ideas and replacing them with better as Peter flips through the charms book with a hand pressed to his forehead. “If I had known this would feel like being in school again, I’d have skived off.” He says. James and Lily laugh, but Sirius just shakes his head.

They spend close to an hour thinking through spell theory and eventually have what they feel is the correct layering of charms, transfiguration, and finally, the potion, which is now a light blue color and giving off spirals of smoke. Lily estimates that it will take a few attempts to get the combinations just right, and Sirius and James agree. They’ll have to experiment if they want the bike to be able to fly and be invisible for long treks at a time.

The spell work is intense. They take turns going over the complicated wand movements and pronunciations, taking extra time to patiently guide Peter through each before they begin casting. At a certain point, they decide that they have made enough headway for a break, and Lily turns back to the potion, giving it a few good stirs before preparing more ingredients. There’s something about potions making that puts Lily in the zone. It grounds her, brings her focus.

Being in the zone may be why she didn’t see something hurtling toward her until it was too late.

“What is that…Lily, look out!” She hears James yell. Before she has time to look up, she feels his hands swoop in and yank her out of the way from the projectile.

A mottled SQUAWK! rips through the air as feathers, dirt, grass, and unfortunately, the contents of Lily’s cauldron go flying.

James and Lily land on the ground with a thud. “What was that?” She asks as she catches her breath.

“A barn owl, looks like.” Peter says, examining what Lily had assumed to be a rogue missile. “I hope you didn’t injure yourself, mate. I appreciate the dedication, but this is a little beyond the pale.”

“Bloody bird.” Lily mutters irritably. She’s just realized that some of the potion had landed on her shirt. She tries to scourgify it, but it’s no use. Knowing there’s nothing to be done for it, she sighs and goes to assess the damage. James gingerly approaches the bird and looks it over before taking the letter from its claws.

“Pads, it’s for you.” He says to Sirius, handing him the envelope absently before returning his attention to the owl and the odd angle one of its wings now sat in. He taps the wing lightly with his wand, and the owl hoots deliriously in his arms.

They are all so preoccupied—Lily with salvaging the potion, James with making sure the owl isn’t injured, and Peter with James—that none of them realize Sirius has gone quiet. But when they look up at him, they know instantly that something is wrong.

“It’s from Dumbledore.” Sirius says. “It’s—Regulus is missing.”

Lily doesn’t quite know what to say, seeing as she didn’t know the two Black brothers had been in contact. She looks to James and sees his face fall slightly before switching quickly into the look of a supportive friend.

“Maybe he’s just laying low, mate.” James says kindly as he sets the owl back onto the ground. He walks over to Sirius and clasps him on the shoulder. “No need to give up on him yet.”

Sirius presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, and a huff of air rushes from his chest. “Right…Right. I just need sleep or something. Think I’ll go have a quick kip, and we can finish this later if that’s okay?” His voice has taken on that overly polite quality Sirius employs when he’s avoiding something.

“Of course.” Lily says softly.

Sirius nods again and walks stiffly into the house, no doubt into the room he’d once occupied when he moved in with the Potters as a teenager.

Lily turns to James for answers, and he runs a hand through his hair tensely. “Regulus reached out to Sirius a few weeks ago. He's joined the Death Eaters and didn’t say that he wanted out, but…Sirius wondered if maybe he did.”

She lets out a sad sigh. “And so, Sirius offered to help him, and Regulus turned it down.” Lily surmises. James nods grimly. Lily isn’t surprised to hear that Regulus had joined the Death Eaters, considering who he spent his time with in school. They had never been subtle about what they planned to do after Hogwarts. But she also knows that as much as Sirius likes to pretend that he’s not troubled by his brother’s choices, Sirius had always wanted to be able to save him.

“Poor Sirius.” She says

“He asked Dumbledore to keep tabs on him even though Regulus said he didn't want help.” James says. “Dumbledore has spies everywhere. We might as well make the most of them, I guess.”

“Can’t hurt.” Lily agrees. She glances at Peter and sees his discomfort rising by the second, causing her to think, not for the first time, that they were all too young to be so burdened.

Lily looks to where her cauldron and supplies once sat, neat and organized, awaiting her attention. Now the ingredients are scattered across the grass, and what is left in the cauldron is contaminated. What isn’t in the cauldron is stuck to her shirt and beginning to smell. She pulls it close to her nose to confirm and grimaces when the scent hits her nostrils. “Do you mind if I borrow a shirt?” She turns toward James, who has conjured a bowl and some water from his wand for the deranged barn owl. “This one is ruined.” She throws a glare toward the bird, which James catches with a smirk. Thankfully he refrains from laughing.

“Sure. Do you want me to grab it?”

“No, I can find one. I need to go borrow some more ingredients from your father’s stores anyways.” She waves her hand lazily as she turns toward the house. “And you need to go back to Hogwarts.” She says pointedly to the owl. James doesn’t try to stop himself from laughing this time. She notes with a smile that Peter joins in.

“You did stick your beak in it, mate.” She hears Peter say as she walks away.

As she walks up the stairs to James’ bedroom, her heart feels heavy for Sirius. She knew in her gut that something was bothering him, but she hadn’t imagined it would be this. Men like him weren’t supposed to hold sadness in their bones. She didn’t recognize this version of him. Her friend was reckless, rebellious, irreverent, and fiercely loyal, but today he didn’t even have the words to describe how he felt or his usual quick wit to deflect from it.

She resolves to talk to Dumbledore about Regulus. Surely there must be something they could do.

As Lily opens the bedroom door, she starts at the sight of one of the largest dogs she’s ever seen lying on James’ bed. Its fur is jet black and shines like silk. Too well-kept to be a stray. The lads hadn’t mentioned anything about James getting a dog, but Lily has learned that sometimes it’s better not to ask questions. The dog notices Lily’s presence and seems to exhale heavily.

“Oh no.” She says as she reaches over to scratch behind its ears. “You’re too gorgeous of a dog to seem so sad.” The dog leans into her touch and seems to relax. If Lily didn’t know any better, she’d have thought the sigh it let out this time almost sounded…content?

“James, Sirius, and Peter haven’t mentioned that one of them got a dog, but you never know with them, do you?”

The remains of the half-brewed potion on her shirt must be affecting her perceptions of reality because now it looks as if the dog raised an eyebrow at her in confusion.

“I need to grab a shirt before I get too delirious.” She thinks out loud. She opens a few drawers in James’ dresser before finding his t-shirts, and with no one there to see her, she can’t help herself. She brings the shirt to her nose, closes her eyes, and inhales deeply. The dog barks, and it almost sounds like a laugh to her ears, but she’s already determined that the potion has become some kind of hallucinogen--like those mushrooms the muggles are doing--so she doesn’t think much of it. Instead, she smirks at the beast before tossing the shirt atop the dresser.

“Since you can’t talk, we’ll just keep that between us, shall we?” The dog looks confused again, but Lily notices as she begins to pull her shirt up that its eyes grow abnormally wide for a dog. Seeing the fright in its eyes concerns her, and she releases the hem of her shirt to reach out to it. “Are you okay?” she asks. When the dog’s expression doesn’t change, she shrugs and goes back to taking off her shirt. When she has it halfway over her head, the dog yelps as if it’s been kicked.

As she pulls the shirt off and drops it in a heap on the floor, she wonders if maybe the dog actually is an injured stray—

“For fuck’s sake, Evans! What are you doing?!”

The voice startles her, and she looks toward the door expecting to see Sirius walking in on her. But he isn’t walking in the door.

He’s on the bed.

He’s on the bed with his eyes covered, laying where the dog once was. And she’s standing in the middle of the room in her jeans and a bra.

A piercing sound rips through the air, and it takes Lily a while to realize that it’s her that’s screaming.

She’s still screaming when James barrels through the door thirty seconds later, wand drawn and Peter on his heels. Now fully in distress, Lily places a hand to her forehead as she tries to control her breathing. The potion must have seeped through her bloodstream now because she can’t be seeing what she thinks she saw.

“What the fuck.” She gasps.

“What the fuck is right!” Sirius says irritably, still covering his eyes with one hand and extending the other to ward her off. “The shirt, Evans!” He gestures blindly in her general direction with the hand he’s using to keep her away.

“What is going on?” James asks tensely. He looks from Sirius to Lily’s face and has to catch himself when his eyes drop just a notch lower before shooting back up to her eyes. Eventually, he gulps, looks away, and uses one of his hands to cover Peter’s shocked eyes. “Why are you shirtless, exactly?” His voice sounds abnormally strained.

“I told you I needed to change shirts.” Lily sounds lost. “But then there was a dog here, and I was petting it, and then it was Sirius.”

“Put. On. The shirt.” Sirius growls, eyes shut tightly. In a daze, Lily realizes that she is standing in the room with the three men, breasts very nearly on full display, and hurries to pull on James’ clean shirt as she feels a red flush rushing up her chest and cheeks.

“It’s on, it’s on.” She crosses her arms over her chest protectively and looks around the room awkwardly. “I think I’m hallucinating. The potion must have caused it because earlier I saw a dog there.” she gestures shakily toward James’ bed.

“Yes, I was taking a nap on James’ bed, and you came in here, sniffing shirts and taking off your clothes.” Sirius sounds as if the whole ordeal has offended him.

“Why were you on my bed?” James asks as if Lily hadn’t just mentioned that she’d seen a giant dog in the room.

“I didn’t feel like walking all the way to my room.”

“It’s just two doors down?”

“That doesn’t change my answer in the slightest—”

“You were taking a nap in here?” Lily cuts in, beginning to panic. Half-baked potions were dangerous. There was no telling what damage they could do. “I swear I saw a dog. Do I need to go to St. Mungo’s?”

Sirius scans the area around her head as if he’s observing her for a head injury. “Red, the dog was me. What the hell did that potion do to you?”

“I need to send a message to Marlene. I need…” But then the switches begin to click in Lily’s mind. The dog had been in the exact spot Sirius now sits. It had thrown her the same curious and confused looks that he does. Rolled its eyes like he does. Smirked at her like he does—Oh God. Sirius saw me sniffing the shirt. She doesn’t dwell on it long because the bigger, more pressing fact is glaring her in the face.

“You’re an Animagus.” She says breathlessly.

Read the rest at ao3!

Start from the beginning

#jily fanfic #jily #jily fanfiction #first wizarding war #First War with Voldemort #Harry Potter #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #mwpp #the order of the phoenix #mutual pining

17 notes · View notes

thunderbird-one-ai · 3 years

Text

Oldest To Youngest Pt2

So this turned into a multi chapter. I had so much fun writing the first section and so I thought I’d include Gordon since Scott and Gordon are @tsarinatorment fav bro pairing. (I apologise for Gordon because I cannot write him to save my life)

I also changed Scotts age a little, to kind of make it fit better as I got some nice feedback on this on A03, so if that person is here another thanks to you to!

I apologise to @angelofbenignmalevolence for having to beta my work ^^’ [Part 1] - John

Gordon knew that he and Alan were the best pranking duo on the island, maybe even the world. But Scott had given them a run for their money. It had been almost a week now since they had found the oldest Tracy now younger than any of them. It was Gordon who had found him.

It was after a rough rescue, everyone went to bed including Scott, which took everyone by surprise. Apparently, he had taken the rescue hard, which they could understand. They couldn’t save everyone, and Scott took those losses personally, more than anyone else. When the sun rose, everyone was already up except for Scott, which was out of the ordinary. After a bad mission, Scott would normally be up at first light, push himself throughout the day to keep his mind busy. Gordon thought that maybe he was blaming himself too hard again. Nothing a little prod and maybe a small prank wouldn’t solve to get him out of his room at least.

For someone who would always want to make everyone know he entered the room, Gordon was light on his feet, making sure to not stomp around to ruin the surprise prank. However, when he opened the door, Gordon was met with a seemingly empty room. The bed was unmade which wasn’t like Scott at all. The bathroom door was wide open, so Scott definitely wasn’t in there either. He knew Scott hadn’t left his room, so he had to be in here somewhere. Gordon quietly made his way into the room, keeping an ear out for any signs of his brother. He did eventually hear some movement, coming from the wardrobe of all places. No way Scott could fit snugly in there without the door being somewhat open.

“Scott aren’t you a little old to play hide-,” Gordon opened the wardrobe to be met by bright, scared blue eyes that belonged to a young teenager. “Scott?”

“I want to go home…” the young brunette mumbled, tears brimming at the edges of his eyelashes. “Hey kid, it’s okay. How did you even get here?” Gordon said, still shocked that there was a young child in his brother’s room, which if he thought a little harder, this kid looked a lot like his brother just almost twenty years younger. “Dad says I’m not allowed to speak to strangers…” the kid said, though he sounded far from confident in his own words. The poor kid looked terrified. “I’m not a stranger okay? I’m… a friend,” Gordon said, giving a small smile and kneeling down in front of the young boy. “I’m Gordon and I’m not here to hurt you, I promise okay? I’m just confused as you are right now,” “I don’t know where I am…” the young boy mumbled. “Well, this is my house, and this is my brother’s room,” Gordon said calmly. He didn’t want to make the boy more fearful than he already was. “So, you know my name. What’s yours?” The young boy looked reluctant to speak more at first. Gordon gave a small, warm smile to help the kid feel more at ease. He even moved back away from the wardrobe so the kid could make a quick getaway if he wanted to. “Scott….” The boy finally mumbled. Gordon forced his jaw not to hit the floor. No way. No way could this be his brother. Impossible. Nope. None of Alan’s sci-fi movies ended well when something like this happened. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Scott. Now I want to help you get home as much as you want to get home, back to your Dad. But we can’t do that with you hiding in a wardrobe now, can we? I have a really, really smart friend who might be able to help us,” Gordon said as he slowly held out his hand for Scott to take. It was obvious Scott was scared; he had seen that same lost expression on many children’s faces when Gordon had to rescue them from less-than-ideal situations. This wasn’t so different from a rescue, so Gordon fell into this role easily, though this was a very unique and strange situation. After some tense seconds, Scott’s hand slowly held onto Gordons. It was a big step, sometimes it took minutes for kids to grab his hand. Gordon stood slowly, matching Scott’s speed of ascension, everything had to be done at their speed, otherwise, they’d be back to square one. “Now we’re standing again. Are you feeling okay? No injuries?” Gordon asked, years of training not easily lost. “I’m okay, head hurts a little though,” “Headache maybe?” Scott nodded and Gordon made sure to continue to take things slow. Head injures seemed to be a running curse on this island. Not in the family because this wasn’t Scott. Nope, this wasn’t his older brother now young again. Definitely not, because that wasn’t possible. He kept a reassuring smile on his face as he led Scott out of the room and into the overhead balcony. “Er…guys, we er…have a situation,” Gordon said and that statement sounded very weird since it was coming from him and not John. The entire room went dead silent when each Tracy looked up to see Gordon holding hands with a child. Jeff was the first to move. Gordon saw his father bolt up the stairs, a confused and slightly fearful look in his eyes as though it looked like he knew this child. A child he hadn’t seen in a long time. Scott clearly was the same because the word Dad echoed in the large quiet room. Scott had let go of Gordon's hand in favour of wrapping them around his father’s neck, holding on tightly, looking scared just like when Gordon first found him. “I didn’t mean to hide. I didn’t know where I was,” Scott said in between happy and fearful sobs, making Gordon’s heart lurch. “It’s okay, Scooter. You’re okay. Do you know what happened?” Jeff said, holding this child in an almost suffocating embrace. Who was Gordon kidding? This was Scott. He’d seen family photos from when they were all younger. This was Scott Tracy. His older brother. Gordon didn’t even begin to try and think how in the world this happened because it would make his head hurt. No, scratch that, it would make Johns head hurt and give Gordon a migraine. Gordon saw Scott shake his head. The kid really did have no idea what was going on. He didn’t even recognise Gordon. “Why do you have grey hair Dad? Did they do that to you?” Scott asked looking a little more at ease now he saw a familiar face. “Well…I thought it was time for a change,” Jeff said clearly lying through his teeth, “Let's get you to the infirmary and give you a once over to make sure you’re okay hm?” Scott nodded and Jeff picked him up with ease despite Gordon's quiet protests that he could do it. His father wasn’t exactly a spring chicken anymore, not that any of his sons would say so, but Jeff seemed very set on carrying his son to the infirmary. Everyone moved in unison to follow them. A quick check over showed that this indeed Scott Tracy and that he was healthy, apart from the obvious headache and stress. Everyone seemed to sigh, relieved that he was okay, but the main issue of ‘what the hell happened’ and ‘how do we fix this’ came into the conversation. Jeff had moved over to one side with Virgil and John as they discussed what to do. That was over two hours ago. Gordon and Alan were able to set up the games system which Scott looked very interested in, much to their surprise. After a few games, Scott seemed to have calmed down and even moved to sit next to Gordon for the next game. Scott wasn’t great, in fact, he was losing every time, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. The real challenge was with Alan, who was pulling out his old tricks to beat Gordon again. One of which, resorted to throwing a cushion at Gordon’s face to distract him to take the lead. “That’s hardly fair. You’re playing dirty! We have company,” Gordon protested. “You cannot use Scott as an excuse to be bad at the game, Gordon,” Alan replied grinning and storming ahead in the game. Gordon glanced to Scott; he was not about to lose this game in front of his big/ little brother. He had a reputation to uphold! Gordon focused on the screen in front of him, desperate to get ahead of Alan and prove who the real gamer was out of the two of them. He then noticed Scott’s character was well behind the rest of them in comparison to the previous round and then noticed Alan’s character suddenly halting. “Hey! No fair! Stop I’m going to lose!” Alan shouted suddenly as Gordon crossed the finish line, claiming his victory. Gordon then looked to his right and started laughing out loud. Scott, his cool calm collective brother, had picked up the very cushion that Alan had hit Gordon with before and started hitting Alan instead with it. No wonder Alan’s character lost; Scott was distracting him. “Come now Alan, you can’t use Scott as an excuse for being bad at the game,” Gordon replied grinning. “Thanks, Scott. You’re the real best player,” The comment got Scott grinning widely and giggling. Gordon noticed that Alan was in his annoying playful mood due to the fact the youngest (second youngest?) had picked up a cushion. “Now you’re in for it, Scott,” Alan said, and Scott starts running. Grabbing another cushion and giggling louder, Alan was on the chase. Alan was easily faster, Scott being younger and not quite as fit as his older counterpart was losing his lead. Gordon was going to be on Scott’s side in this game. Gordon was above the two as Alan and Scott raced around the table. Gordon held out his hand above the sofa and Scott grabbed it. If Scott didn’t love flying, he was about to now. Gordon lifted him up high in the air above the sofa and Alan. “Target acquired! Throw it!” Gordon shouted and Scott threw the pillow, hitting Alan square in the face, “Direct hit!” Both Scott and Gordon cheered in victory. Gordon moved Scott slightly, so Scott was now sitting on his shoulders, something Gordon never thought he would ever witness. He’d had Alan on his shoulders once but that was it. Gordon had been on Scott’s shoulders many times growing up. Maybe now it was time to repay the kindness. Gordon did not know what the future held for the family. But he would protect his brother to the ends of the earth. Just like Scott would always protect him.

#irrelief #irrelief2021 #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #DeAged!Scott #fluff

15 notes · View notes

argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

Fight or Flight - Chapter 7: Resignation

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4200

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: Thirty hours since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: What day of the week is it even? Oh well, here’s a chapter, hahaha. This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

“My fellow Cordonians, it is with a heavy heart that I speak to you today.”

His words echoed in his mind, over and over again, his speech something that was likely to stay burned into his mind for the rest of his life. After all, he couldn’t predict anything quite as memorable as having to announce his loss of title to his citizens and the world at large happening to him at any point in the future.

“I never anticipated having to bring this news to you, but even though I am no longer King of Cordonia, I have no intention of yielding the power of the crown to anyone who I feel is a threat to the safety and prosperity of this country.”

Stefan was following the media coverage of his speech that he gave this evening that provided an overview of the day’s events, including his removal from the throne, Bridget’s ascension to queen-regent until the Conclave, and his intention to name a regent for her tomorrow. Liam knew he personally should be watching to see how people were responding, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. His emotions were frayed, raw, and strung out. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control. He hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. Not since Father died, in all honesty.

The weeks surrounding his father’s death were sort of covered in a surreal blur whenever he reflected back on them. Not only had his relationship with Father been more complicated and fraught than it had ever been before at the time of his passing, making his loss a thorny storm of emotions, but he’d barely even had time to mourn in any capacity. His country had been in the midst of an active terrorist threat, plus he’d been processing true heartbreak for the first time in his life. He had somehow gotten through those days, those emotions, those struggles though. He knew he would get through everything happening now as well, but at the moment, that seemed like an impossible task.

“I know that this is an unprecedented combination of events, comparable to nothing that has occurred in hundreds of years of Cordonian history. But I have seen the strength and resilience of our citizens first-hand, and I am confident that we will emerge from this Social Season stronger than ever.”

As far as next steps went, naming Rashad as Bridget’s regent was really his only option. Thankfully, in spite of the man’s ambivalence when it came to his noble title, he’d agreed to fill the role and was coming to the hearing in the morning to allow for a rapid transfer of power. He was one of the only truly neutral parties available who was appropriately titled and qualified. Liam had brought Hana with him to broach the topic with Rashad, but her gentle powers of persuasion proved unnecessary. The only point at which the conversation was anything but pleasant and agreeable was when Rashad wanted to schedule a meeting with Riley and Drake to discuss how best to handle legal and physical custody of Bridget in ways that would be in accordance with the results of the no-confidence vote, but Liam had been easily able to convince him to table that topic until he was sworn in as regent.

“No matter my title or role, know that I will always serve the citizens of Cordonia in whatever way they require.”

He half-heartedly pulled more documents from his desk drawers, trying to focus on the task at hand. He needed to determine which pieces of information were private, and should come with him to Lythikos, versus those that he needed to leave behind as essential information to allow Cordonia’s next leader to govern. In all honesty, he probably should be creating a sort of quick-guide, a makeshift introductory pamphlet with the most important pieces of information required to lead the country to ease the transition of power. However, another part of him felt like that would be a mistake. Maybe he should allow things to be rough initially, giving the people a chance to miss his leadership. It’s not like Rashad was completely incompetent, so it shouldn’t cause a dangerous power vacuum if he just left Rashad without any formal instructions. And, after all, didn’t a no-confidence vote indicate he shouldn’t be attempting to wield any power at the moment? If this was the wish of the majority of the major houses, maybe he should just let their little scheme play out and backfire on them in spectacular fashion. But was it fair to subject the common citizens to engage in such a game of political chicken?

A wave of loneliness and isolation washed over him as he weighed his options. This dilemma was just one of many he was facing at the moment that he wished he could discuss with Drake. Over the years, Drake had, more often than not, served as his sounding board, devil’s advocate, and unofficial advisor. The countless instances they’d sat in this office at the end of the day, sipping whiskey while Liam solidified his stances and bounced ideas off of Drake had helped him prepare to face political opponents, foreign negotiators, and skeptical members of the press time and time over. Now, he had to make decisions on his own, without his most trusted friend and ally.

For perhaps the tenth time that evening, he pulled the slip of paper Hana had given him out of his pocket and stared at Drake and Riley’s phone numbers. He could call Drake to talk, he supposed. But he was struggling to work up the courage to do so. He couldn’t just pretend nothing had changed and ask Drake to listen as he worked through his thought process. Drake had different priorities now. That much was wildly apparent.

There was also the small matter of the fact that Liam knew he would need to hide some of his thoughts and feelings from Drake at the moment. He’d done it before, back during Drake and Riley’s engagement, but part of doing so involved keeping his distance from Drake at that time. Drake just knew him better than anyone and could more easily read through his diplomatic mask. It was really only in the past six months or so that it seemed things had fully returned to normal, Drake’s marriage to Riley no longer a point of awkwardness between them. Now, for Drake to flee in the middle of a coup, it felt like the foundation of their friendship was being torn apart yet again.

A few sharp taps on the door interrupted his thoughts. A second later, the door swung open, revealing Olivia with a bottle of wine in her hand.

“I thought you might want some company,” she said as she strode across the room, grabbing two wine glasses off the bar cart before flouncing into the seat across from him. “I won’t even make you switch seats with me, even though the monarch’s desk should technically be mine tonight.”

Liam forced a smile as she sat down and moved to uncork the wine, noticing the vintage of the bottle for the first time.

“Olivia, that bottle is worth over ten thousand Euros.”

She grinned at him as she poured them both a glass. “Exactly. This fine wine was procured by a member of the Rys family, and therefore if anyone deserves to drink it, it’s you.” With that she handed Liam a glass and picked up her own. Liam could only shake his head lightly before tapping his glass against hers gently.

“To the end of Rys rule in Cordonia,” he said with a little shrug before taking a sip. He saw Olivia raise her eyebrows over her own glass.

“Liam…” she started as she set down her glass on the desk.

“It’s nothing, just a bad joke,” Liam lied, waving his hand through the air. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you which documents you think are the most important ones to leave for Rashad?” he asked as he placed a stack of paperwork on the desk between them, trying to divert the conversation.

His question was met with silence, so Liam glanced up from the documents. Olivia was staring at him intently, and she took another sip of her wine before she responded.

“I can certainly help with that, but Liam… are you… shit, I don’t know what to say. This fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

He let out a little snort at that. “Indeed, it does.”

“I can’t believe those assholes are trying to pull this bullshit. Like fucking Barthelemy would make a better king than you. You’ve given up everything for this country.”

“It feels that way sometimes. I was happy to do so for so long, too. I always knew that leading Cordonia was an honor, and after my brother’s abdication, I never resented needing to prove to my people that I would be a worthy king. But now…” he trailed off, unable to vocalize the rest of that thought. After everything he’d done to be a good king, a better king than his paranoid, ruthless father ever was, and this was how the universe chose to repay him.

The tense silence hung in the office for a few moments before Olivia spoke again. “Speaking of your brother, I hope you don’t mind, but I gave Leo a call and told him what was happening. I figured this isn’t the sort of thing he should hear about on the news. I think he’s flying back. He seemed pretty upset over the whole thing.”

Liam just hummed at that. He loved his brother, but he wasn’t sure if the man who willingly chose to shed his title of Crown Prince would be able to sympathize with his personal pain of having his title stripped from him. Maybe he could help provide some nice distractions, though. Leo was always good for that.

“Thank you,” Liam finally said with a nod, “I planned to call him tomorrow.”

“No problem. I just figured you and Drake might have… a lot to discuss.”

Liam gave a weak smile and shook his head. “I actually haven’t spoken to him yet.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly at his comment. “Well, that needs to be addressed.”

He frowned, taking another sip of the admittedly very excellent wine before he responded. “Quite frankly, Liv, I don’t know that I want to discuss my reasons for not calling him with you. At least not tonight.”

“Tough shit. You have no reason not to call him anymore. And seeing as he’s been your… confidante,” she said, clearly taking a moment to decide how to describe their relationship, “for decades, it strikes me as pretty concerning that you didn’t rush to call him at the first chance you got.”

Liam sighed heavily. He didn’t really want to get into this all, but she was clearly not going to let him brush this off. “I don’t know what to say to him. He left, and I just…” Liam trailed off, unable to fully vocalize the pain he felt in regards to Drake’s actions.

Olivia pursed her lips for just a moment, her bright red nails tapping rapidly against the stem of her wine glass. “I can’t figure out if you are attempting to punish him or protect him here.”

Her response caught him off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you clearly are all sorts of angry and frustrated with him at the moment. I just can’t tell if you think that’s justified, and this is some sort of passive aggressive punishment, or if you realize you aren’t being fair, and you don’t want to make him feel any guiltier.”

“Are you saying that my irritation with him isn’t justified?”

“Irritation would be fine. But I don’t believe for one second that you would avoid talking to Drake if you were merely irritated with him.”

Liam was expecting some sort of sly comment about how surely talking to Drake was always irritating, but it didn’t come. Instead, Olivia continued on, serious and solemn.

“You must be insanely upset with him if you haven’t given him a call, and I’m going to be honest, that scares me. I’m backing you at the Conclave, Liam, and I intend to throw the Nevrakis name behind a winner. So that means you need to be emotionally ready for this fight over the next couple of months. I can’t have you caught up in some petty bullshit with Drake fucking Walker.”

Her statement was a surprising one. “I would have thought you would have been the one person who might understand my rather complicated point of view on this subject.”

She shook her head. “Drake and I may not see eye to eye on… a lot of things, actually, but I still think you are being absurd here.”

“This critique strikes me as slightly hypocritical, as I am having a hard time picturing you not being at least fairly angry with the mess they have created here. A mess that could have been avoided if they’d stuck to your plan, I might add.”

“Of course I’m angry with them! They put almost zero thought into this, and I’ve been scrambling for more than a day straight to try and prevent this all from spiraling into total disaster. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand why they did it. This was all in service of keeping their family together, Liam. You have to know that.”

He did understand that intellectually, but somehow her assessment just didn’t sit right with him. “Yes, Olivia. I can comprehend that their motivations are the safety and security of their daughter, but what I cannot bring myself to do is approve of their decision to commit treason and abandon the citizens of Valtoria they took an oath to serve.”

Olivia took a long sip of her wine before she replied, “Do you want me to pretend that I believe your last statement there, or do you want someone besides Drake to call you on your bullshit? I can do either, you just need to tell me what you want.”

“Of course I want you to be honest with me, Olivia,” he said, completely baffled by her assertion.

She just raised her eyebrows and stared at him, giving him one last chance to ask her to lie, apparently. All he could do was raise his eyebrows right back and take a drink from his own glass, almost daring her to do her worst.

“You aren’t pissed that they are shitty nobles who just abandoned their posts without a second thought. You are pissed that Drake isn’t here to serve as your emotional support.”

Liam opened his mouth to retort, but Olivia shook her head and just kept going.

“It’s understandable, really. He’s been the one you could always turn to, and now it feels like you can’t rely on him at a time when you really fucking need that kind of support. But you need to at least recognize that personal pain as the source of your anger here and not hide behind indignation over the way Drake and Riley fulfill their roles as duke and duchess.

“Those two have always been shitty members of the nobility, and you have never had an issue with it up until this point. In fact, you seemed to tacitly approve of their antics as you granted them power that other dukes and duchesses could only dream of.”

Liam frowned, the blood pounding in his ears as he tried not to let Olivia’s words anger him. “What do you mean?” he breathed out, focusing on not letting this situation escalate. A defensive Olivia was the last thing he was mentally and emotionally equipped to handle tonight.

“Liam, you essentially handed them the reins when it came to the Auvernal negotiations.”

“Those negotiations all centered around their child. It felt wrong to not grant them a certain amount of control given the circumstances.”

She tilted her head back and forth for just a moment. “Sure, I get that. And I’m really not trying to make you defend your decisions here regarding that whole mess. But you have to admit that Drake and Riley have kind of always just done whatever the hell they wanted, and until today, you never had anything to say about it.”

Her assessment echoed through the room as Liam leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of wine. He didn’t want to think he was being solely motivated by his emotions here. He’d worked for years and years, since he was a young boy, to ensure that he kept any feelings in check, guarded and secured for private moments. But Olivia did have a point - Drake and Riley bucking tradition and proper conduct for members of the nobility had never really bothered him before.

“Liam, I’m not trying to kick you while you’re already hurting. It’s probably natural to feel hurt by Drake’s decision here. I just think you will be able to move past this a little easier if you are honest about why his actions bother you.”

Liam glanced across the desk, meeting Olivia’s gaze. “I sometimes just…” but he couldn’t complete his thought. To vocalize that he just wanted the most important person in his life to care about him on a personal level above all others would be immature and selfish. Drake had a wife and child to think about. Of course they warranted more of his consideration than Liam did. But it was just one more thing he lost in the past day or so, that one person around whom he didn’t need to censor himself, the only individual who gave him honesty without question of motive.

Olivia reached across the desk and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Like I said, being upset is pretty natural here. If it makes you feel any better, I wanted to reach through my phone and stab them both in the gut when Drake told me they had no intention of returning, even if it meant treason charges.”

Liam let out a little chuckle. “How are you so… calm about this now?” Using that word to describe Olivia in any situation felt out of character, but there was literally no other way to describe her at the moment. She looked at ease, sipping thousands of Euros of wine like it was nothing.

“I’m not sure if ‘calm’ is the right word; it’s more like I’m… resigned, I guess. They are both stubborn as hell, and they made this choice because they thought it was best for their kid. Even I can’t fight that.”

“I just wish they would have gone to Lythikos. Then we could be fighting this from all angles together.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? That was your whole plan, and it still seems better thought out than their fugitive act.”

“From our perspective, sure. But we are worried about Cordonia as a whole. They are just worried about keeping their daughter. And given that Rashad already brought up wanting to meet with them to discuss custody, it seems like they were at least a little bit justified in their concerns.”

Liam frowned. Hana must have filled in Olivia of the details of their conversation with Rashad. Liam had gotten the impression that Rashad wanted to find a way to keep Drake and Riley as active participants in Bridget’s life based on the way he requested that meeting, not tear them apart from their child. “Do you really think Rashad has any interest in keeping them from their daughter?”

“No, not exactly. But I also think that coming to live at the palace as Bridget’s nannies or guardians or whatever Rashad plans to throw out there as a way to obey the letter of the law when it comes to the no-confidence vote is a far cry from being recognized as her parents fully. At the end of the day, I just think they aren’t willing to compromise on any aspect when it comes to being a family.” Olivia pursed her lips and glanced into her lap before she continued, “It kind of makes me wish my own parents would have felt that way.”

Her confession was so vulnerable, so honest, it nearly took his breath away. When they were younger, Olivia had sometimes talked about her fears, her pain, her neglect, and Liam had always been willing to lend an ear and supportive shoulder for her to lean on. But as the years marched on, those conversations had dwindled and eventually ceased. Olivia became more defensive, not allowing herself to be perceived as weak by anyone. And in some regards, she thrived. But clearly, that pain from her childhood was still a part of her.

Liam could identify with her in some respects. Father had always devoted more time and energy to Leo. After all, not only had he been the Crown Prince, but he acted out more, drawing more attention nearly every step of the way. But that had largely left Liam to spend time with Mother, who always tried to balance his formal lessons with genuine warmth and affection. And even though she’d been killed and taken from him when he was still quite young, he at least had her guidance and devotion for a while. That was more than Olivia could say about her parents.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Mother might have made the same choice as Drake and Riley, had she been placed in that position. He didn’t recognize it as a child, but looking back on her words now, he saw her concerns, her worries, and her desire to keep him safe. Did she regret her station? Regret raising her son in such an environment? Or did the fact that he’d never known her as an adult mean that he just saw her actions through the rose-tinted glasses of a child?

“Bridget is lucky in that respect,” Liam eventually said, reaching across the desk and refilling both of their wine glasses. “I suppose that’s why royal lineage tends to be emphasized and protected for generation after generation. It’s the only way to battle that instinctual urge to protect one’s children and instead force them to carry massive responsibilities.”

Olivia shook her head. “Or generations of people who strike up primarily political marriages just eliminates all love and empathy from the gene pool.”

“What would you have done, if you were in their position?” Liam asked before taking another sip of wine. The more he thought about it, he wasn’t sure what he would have done if it was his own child. All the options that worked their way into his mind seemed terrible.

Olivia paused to take a drink as well, her free hand tapping a rapid pattern against the surface of the desk. “I don’t know. I’d like to think I would be able to plot things out rationally, but I might have violently lashed out. I don’t think I would have run, but that’s just never been my style. But I don’t know exactly how it would unfold.”

“It’s hard to imagine, acting on that gut emotional response, isn’t it? All our lives, we’ve been taught to negotiate, to employ diplomatic tactics, to foster alliances to protect our titles.”

“You might have been taught that,” interjected Olivia, “but I was taught to fight to protect the family name to the death,”

“Touché,” said Liam, a real smile forming for the first time that day, “but I think my point remains. I don’t think I could let my child be taken by another, but at the same time, it’s as if I cannot imagine myself being guided by my emotions, even if it would make sense to do so.”

“You would protect your kid, Liam. You would figure it out if you were put in that spot.”

“I hope so. I think you would as well, and with minimal bloodshed, I believe.”

She laughed at that, dropping her head back, causing a few strands of red hair to fall loose around her face. “Well, let’s just be grateful we don’t have to find out the truth of that assessment, but it’s getting late, and we still have a lot to do before we need to vacate the palace in the morning. Do you want some privacy to talk to Drake? I can sort through those-” she said, gesturing to the stack of papers left between them on the desk “-while you give him a call.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. I still don’t know what I’m going to say to him, but…”

“You’ll figure it out,” she said with a shrug, gathering the papers in one arm. “Just meet me in my quarters when you guys are done.”

Liam gave her a little smile as she left his office, pulling out the paper from Hana and staring at it for a few seconds before pulling out his new, prepaid cell phone and calling the number on the top of the page. It was time to talk to Drake.

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

Fight or Flight: @masterofbluff @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256 @iaminlovewithtrr

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr au #trh au #trr fanfic #trh fanfic #trr au fanfic #trh au fanfic #king liam #olivia nevrakis #choices fanfiction

62 notes · View notes

laketaj24 · 4 years

Text

Heat

Author’s Note: I am extremely new to the omegaverse. Therefore, when you read this be kind and shoot me some advice if you have any. I would like to make this a series because I really had some fun writing it. So if you think you have a suggestion for part two send it!!! It is for mature audiences because it’s a little freaky. (okay a lot, damn.) I hope that you enjoy!! Please let me know what you think!!! Happy Reading!! (Taglist, Requests Open)

Pairing: Alpha!Ubbe X Omega!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Intense SMUT

The low red light of the club was not his favorite. The woman swung around the pole effortlessly to the floor, moving their hips in a seductive wind but it was not the women that had drawn him into the place. Ubbe took his seat in the leather glass room that topped the club, from there he could see everything, hear everything. Every voice was amplified, even if their lips hadn’t moved he sensed their thoughts, felt their fear, impulses, elation even their lust which was excessive in the place.

“Scotch, no ice.” He tapped his leather jacket in search of his lighter and sat back in the seat as the nearly naked waitress left. His eyes watched the bounce of her ass, the slight jiggle of her thighs as she took each step. “Fuck.” He groaned.

“I don’t get why we are here.” His older brother nursed the beer. The amber liquid squished in his mouth before he swallowed and sighed. Bjorn’s eyes moved from the waitress’s body over to Ubbe. “There are other things we could be doing.”

“You can go,” Ubbe said matter of fact. His lip twitched as he looked out into the crowd. The thud of the music below hummed the windowpanes. He stood from his seat as the song changed. The red lights were focused on her and so were his eyes. His eyes watched as the honied woman started her ascension on the pole, her dark hair swung in a whirl and the sweet floral scent pricked his senses. His cock jerked. “Her.”

The door opened and the rush of the scent his nose. He fought the urge to growl, the urge to charge down the steps and pull her from the stage. Bjorn leaned forward and watched his brother’s eyes widen and fist clench. “What was that brother?”

“Her.” Ubbe turned and retrieved his drink from the tray. “What is her name?”

“We don’t give names sir.” She smiled.

“I want her up here,” Ubbe added with a cocked brow.

“Private dances are two thousand dollars.”

He scoffed and stepped closer. “Does it look like I give a fuck about the price?”

She giggled. “Why not me?”

“Out.” He dismissed her with a snarl.

Minutes passed in silence, but his heartbeat refused to stop flooding his head. The search for his omega had become never-ending. He’d fucked his way through half of Florida, craving the sweet pussy of one woman and finally, it seemed he’d found her.

“What is it?” Bjorn cleared his throat.

“None of your concern.” His anger spiked as Bjorn started his invasive questioning. He could hear them forming in his head.

“You’re never this quiet.”

“Can I enjoy it? Or are you going to talk the entire time?” He looked over.

“Oh, in a mood.” Bjorn stood and buttoned the middle button of the blazer. He tossed two hundred down on the table. “Goodnight brother.”

You entered the room on alert, Mya said the guy was on edge as it was, part of you didn’t want to go. But the part that needed to make sure rent was paid strolled into the room without a second thought. Your heels clacked against the white marble floors. This room was special, VIP Black Card Guests only. Just for entering 1500 dollars was added on to your wages for the night. The man sat in the chair, his legs spread, and hood pulled over his head. All that was visible was the silhouette and his beard.

“You called?” You asked.

He straightened in his seat and his eyes flashed amber. “Actually, I think you called me.” He smiled and pulled down his hood. The tattoos on his face jump out immediately. You knew those markings; he was an alpha.

Your body surged at once. He was the alpha. Your teeth pulled gently on your bottom lip, the tiny jolts of something raced through your veins. “Is that so?” You shook your head. “That’s now how this works.”

“It’s precisely how it works.” He reached for the round whiskey glass taking a sip and then he stood. His frame was larger than you expected, taller than he looked. “But it’s the only time you’ll call me, and I’ll answer.” He unsheathed his finger of his rings and placed them on the table.

Fear plagued you. “Excuse me.”

“How polite.” He smiled again. “I am Ubbe and I think you know what I am.” His shoulders moved, swayed with untethered confidence. “And I think you know what to do.”

Without a word you turned from him and bolted to the door only to hear the thud of his shoes as he rushed over to you. His heavy frame boxes you against the wall. Your bare flesh against the steel door. You weaken feeling the arousal seep thorough the middle of your panties. The smell was loud, even for you.

“Don’t make this hard.” He warned. “I see no alpha around, you’re mine now.”

There was no alpha around and there hadn’t been in this part of the city for years. It was the reason you felt safe enough to even leave the house while in heat. Hearing the men taunt you on and praise you only added to the excitement. Fuck, just before you came to the room, you’d found yourself in your dressing room legs parted and three fingers deep in your own pussy.

Ubbe smiled. You could feel him sifting around in your head, raiding those thoughts you didn’t think anyone could hear. It was evident he could though, the wickedness in his blue eyes exposed it all. He had plans for you and there would be no fight.

He moved the black g-string aside and his fingers moved your plush petals giving him free access to your swollen clit. His thumb pressed down and like a button the arousal dripped slowly on his fingers. It was there for a reason during the heat. Your nipples were erect against his chest, teasing him each time they rubbed across him. Ubbe’s head dipped to the supple mound and his teeth light nipped before he tugged it towards him, and you hissed. “I know you want me to fuck you.” He growled. His fingers gripped the meat of your thighs.

“No the I don’t.”

“You lie.” And it three movements his hand was pressed against your throat while the other plunged three fingers deep into your pussy. “All this,” He withdrew his fingers and tightened his grip around your neck. His other hand wiped the slick nectar on your stomach before he sucked the fingers eliciting a groan from himself. “is for me.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“You will.” Ubbe loosened his grip before he sunk to his knees and pressed his lips onto your clit. They were soft, plush even as the lapped up the juices that flowed from you. Your legs wobbled as he became accustomed to your taste. Instead of greedily licking at your pussy he took his time dragging his tongue from bottom to the top sucking the clit. Then taking his attentions back inside of you. One finger joined the mix, it twirled, prepping for the additional two he dipped and continued to fuck you with as he ate you.

“Harder.” Your hormones had taken control of the situation, whether you knew him or not you wanted him to fuck you as he did. “Ohhh shit, yes. Fucking yes.” He obliged fucking harder, quicker strokes into you with his thick fingers. You could hear how wet you were for him, feel the drops of arousal flowing down the line of your legs. Ubbe devoured you, listened to the way you moaned and came under his tongue, remembering strokes and triggers. Your hands in his head, you tugged at his hair when the sensations took over all over you. Your toes curled in the high heels lifting you higher from the ground. Ubbe continued to lap you up. Your head thumped against the door and you couldn’t tell if you were woozy from coming or the hit.

He stood and unbuckled the leather belt and dropped it to the floor beside the leather seat. He bit his lip and tugged himself free and his cock stood erect, curved and huge. Your mouth all but waters thinking of him fucking into you. Ubbe’s eyes never left your body as he backed into the chair. “Have a seat.”

There was nothing that would stop you at this point. The world could end in a blazing flame right outside these doors and you wouldn’t care as long as you were mounted on his dick. Each step you took to him made your heart beat faster until you were there in front of him. He stroked himself, his hand unable to fully grip the girth of his dick. His impatience reared as he pulled you over him and slammed himself into you. A heady scream erupted as he started his course. His strokes were perfectly timed, finding a rhythm and a place that no one had ever been before.

You were so full of him, your walls stretched painfully around him and all you wanted was more. You bounced on him looking down into his blue eyes with lust. More. Faster. Your hands anchored on his shoulders while you bounced on his cock and each time your clit met his skin the small jolts of an impending orgasm teased. “Oh fuck! Ub-,”

The black loop of the belt fell over your head down onto your neck. “Alpha.” He proclaimed as he tightened the belt and your air was cut off. His free arm wrapped around your body and slammed into you. “I want to fill you, babies.” He grunted.

Your eyes rolled as the strokes became faster. The belt tightened and your hands numbed your body wrecked into oblivion. He looked down with a smile plastered on his face. He pulled you up from him and pushed you over the table. His cock slapped at your ass. The thick head swiped your wet pussy before he slapped himself against your clit a few times. “I want to go deeper.” He turned the belt around, pressed the nape of your back to arch you properly and dived into your pussy again. He was deeper, it felt like he was in your stomach. Your tits pressed against the table and your arms flailed knocking the sticky amber liquor on the table.

He didn’t seem to care. “Deeper.” He grunted as his hips slapped onto your ass. The words came and then you followed, again. Your body shook under him in waves, even your fingertips felt elation. His cock plunged impossibly deeper into you and you squirm. Your legs lift from the ground only for his hand to meet your ass and knock them back down. Something was happening. His cock swelled more, stretching your pussy until you thought he’d never pull out of you. His knot had formed, thick and fucking perfect. He came with an overjoyed groan shaking against you as the warm cum flowed into you. Your nails dug into the wood as it triggered the last orgasm.

You panted, unnerved. What the fuck happened? Ubbe pulled himself from you and the white cum gushed out of you slowly only for you to feel his thick finger prod back into you. You were exhausted, broken and confused and for some odd reason, you wanted to start all over again.

Your eyes met his, they faded from blue to amber. “Alpha.” You panted, somehow obedient to his desire.

“Yes,” He answered.

“More.” You smiled.

“We must leave.” He grinned. “And we can fuck in the car on the way to your new home.”

“And where is that?”

“Kattegat, where else? Come.” He snapped as he pulled his pants up and lit the cigarette. “Now.” He left no room for negotiation.

#ubbe #ubbe x reader #ubbe x you #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson imagine #ubbe ragnarsson #vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fan fiction #ubbe lothbrok x reader #laketaj24 #laketa j writes #omegaverse #alpha!ubbe

493 notes · View notes

chaoslordjoe · 4 years

Text

Bloodlines AU - Misfire

The following skit you are about to read is based on a roleplay between me and my friend @darksaiyangoku involving my BlackSun offspring, Alex Belladonna. Dialogue has been tweaked to break free of me and others’ usual transcript format.

Blake guided her daughter through a killing house constructed from a spare shack outside her family’s manor. Alex had her flintlock-esque pistol at the ready scanning the room, while Blake had Gambol Shroud aimed at their 6′o clock as they both kept scanning.

All targets eliminated on the 1st and 2nd floors. But the clock was running as the third floor had one room left. With 50 seconds to go, they had to find it.

“Who’s taking which side, mom?” Alex inquired.

“You take the 3 on the left,” Blake answered when they stopped at the door to the target room. “I take the 3 on the right.”

“Got it, got it.” Alex replied with a nod.

Shifting Gambol Shroud into it’s kusarigama form, Blake swung it across the room being careful not to hit Alex or their her own targets. With a viscous shout, she went for the kill.

Alex peaked inside, twirling her flintlock and snapping her fingers. In it spawned an orb of ghost-fire which she quickly bounced off into the door frame and inside. But the fire didn’t burn anything up, instead it was meant to blind targets which thankfully affected neither Huntress present.

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

Blake was not impressed by her kid’s stunt. Sun immediately noticed when they came back appearing irritated.

“Okay...Let’s just take some space from each other, girls.” Sun offered.

“Yeah, dad.” Alex sulked, handing Sun her pistol.

Blake sighed. “I’m gonna go see mom for a bit, honey.” She told Sun.

Before Sun could ask if training really sucked that hard, their daughter went straight to her room while Blake headed to the gardens.

Inside the tiny greenhouse, Kali was busy feeding the fish. One of her favorite activities while Ghira was off on diplomatic work. Had to kill time somehow when your spouse is a politician.

Kali greeted Blake who sulked over to the bench.

“Great...” Alex moaned from her bedroom window, shutting it and putting on her cat earbuds booting up one of her RPGs on the computer.

“Hey mom.” Blake said.

“Is everything okay, dear?” Kali asked, seeing Blake shake her head. “Would you like to talk about it?” She then offered.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” The assassin answered. “Training with Alex got a little...Overwhelming.”

“Overwhelming?” The grandmother questioned.

“Well, no. It’s hard to find the right words, but the way Alex is progressing has me concerned. She’s way too comfortable using magic during combat, almost to a fault. It’s lazy and frankly, irresponsible. What if she ends up attacking one of her teammates by mistake? I got lucky, I’m not sure others would.” Blake rambled.

Sun peaked in seeing his wife in her current state of Blake-y-ness. In an attempt to break the tension he offered to check on their little girl after asking if the women needed anything.

Kali replied with some of her son-in-law’s famous banana cream pie. Going to check for leftovers, Sun then turned to Blake. She requested her husband to go fix up some tea. Soon as he left, Kali offered to go talk to Alex later on. To which Blake reassured that she could handle it.

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

Last she left off, the teen was fighting a loot boss. The Belladonna scion frowned, tail flicking along with her ears being drooped as she left-clicked away at the boss’ minions thinking about how upset she made her mother.

An hour after a kitchen search for leftover pie and some tea, Sun went up to Alex’s room, knocking on the door to see her in sad sack mode.

“Ale- -”

“SHIT!” Alex exclaimed, slipping out of her chair and dropping her headset on the carpet floor. “Ohh, fuck my life. Need something, dad?” She asked Sun while attempting to ensure her ears weren’t cracked.

“Yeah. How you doing, pumpkin?” Sun cooed.

“Eh. Tell you the truth, I feel like I really screwed things up with mom.” Alex answered.

“How much did you hear?” Sun continued.

“Enough to know that my training is probably on hold.” She bitterly answered.

“You’re not in trouble, honey.” Sun corrected her. “Otherwise you probably wouldn’t be farming this boss here. Also, Fire Resistance affix. Just saying.” He then joked.

“I tried using the best fire gem I got.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m guessing mom wants to talk?” The girl asked.

“Well, you grandmother does.” Sun replied.

Immediately getting the memo, the young sorceress gave her father a thankful kiss on the cheek going downstairs to join Kali in the gardens.

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

Seeing that the tea was ready as she poured herself a cup, Kali smiled at her granddaughter who was awkwardly staring at the floor, ears flattened.

“You wanted to see me, granny?” She asked.

“I did. Come here, sweetie.” Kali insisted, patting a seat.

While the matriarch swirled her tea, Alex’s ears seemed to flatten further expecting a scolding. Kali wasn’t always the fun grandparent, after all.

“I think mom’s angry.” The younger cat began.

“She’s not angry. Just concerned.” Kali corrected.

Shaking her head, Alex muttered something. “I can handle my Magic. I’m not- -Granny, I’m using it to- -”

“Can you repeat that?” Kali asked, cupping one of her Human ears.

“I’m using my Magic because I’m not scared of it!” The teen blurted. “Back when mom was feeling worried about if I had dad as my favorite, I overheard her talking about how it felt like she was scared of her own Semblance again!”

Although Kali was stuttered, she still offered a hug. “Oh, honey. Come here.” She said, embracing her.

“I like to show it off because I don’t want you guys to worry so much.” Alex said with her and Kali’s animal ears brushing up. “But- -I don’t know where to start with hiding it.” She admitted when they released.

“I never said anything about hiding it all.” The elder cat said. “I’m proud of having a sorceress for a granddaughter.” She admitted.

What Kali spoke of was the presence of magical beings in this post-Salem world of Remnant. In Ozpin’s ascension to the afterlife so that he could finally be at peace, he had made a deal with the deity brothers to destroy the four Relics, spilling their energies out into Remnant.

This ‘Reliquary Cascade’ had even gone so far as to bring back select magi from the old world before the collapse of the first iteration of Humanity. But in Alex’s case, she received powers of witchcraft from being near a shrine full of dark magics.

The shrine detonated, causing her as a kitten to being stuck in a space between the spiritual and physical planes of existence on Remnant. Now, she primarily uses her powers as a means of crowd control with hexes, circles and lots of ghost-fire.

“I mean, I know the whole ‘secret society’ thing we have going on.” Alex continued, despite not being a member of it. “If I or any other magical kids show off our powers, people freak out. So I like to show it off in your company.” She then confessed with her shoulders slumping.

Showboating was one of Alex’s habits she picked up. Being a prankster like her dad, Sun, she always enjoyed a good joke or display of awesomeness. There were a lot of green fireworks on Menagerie’s day of independence.

“I get it now. We’re not saying to stop, just maybe take a step back for a bit during your training?” Kali suggested. “Your mother wants your physical prowess to be at peak condition. And your powers are wonderful, but it shouldn’t have to be your end-all-be-all style.”

“Right.” The younger cat replied. “I wanna be as badass of a swordswoman as her, if not more. I’m just not a kitten anymore, Gran. I gotta prove it. Was I lost in the moment?” She pondered.

“Maybe a little.” Kali answered with a nod.

“Clock was ticking, so I had to think of something. I don’t even have a good one in mind for blinking to a target.” She said in reference to her ability to teleport a short distance. “Did your Semblance ever scare you?” She then asked.

Kali gave a grim pause.

“...Very much.” She finally answered. “Alex...My Semblance was as dangerous as it came. You’ve heard about the myths of the Berzerks, right? The ones your Aunt Nora told you about?” Kali asked.

“You were one of ‘em.” She plainly guessed.

“Yes, and that was also my Semblance.” Her grandmother answered. Almost like a war flashback. “I was much stronger and faster but at the cost of my sanity. I would lose myself more and more every time I used it.”

“How’d you keep it together?” Alex asked.

“It took plenty of training, combined with intense meditation.” Kali said looking less horrified. “In the end, my Semblance was more focused. My sanity was kept intact and it helped me during battle.” She admitted with another smile.

“Was this before or after you met grandpa?”

“During, actually.” Kali answered, her old smile widening. “You’re not a kitten, Alex. You’re growing up to be a fine magi and Huntress. And we couldn’t be prouder of you for that.” She said, now grinning.

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

Finishing her tea and giving her grandmother a quick hug, Alex ran up to Blake’s room to see her less irritated on the bed and relaxing with a book. She tried knocking on the door only to step on a squeaky floorboard.

“I know it’s you, Alex.” Blake spoke without her eyes diverting from the book.

“You got me.” She said, opening the door fully. “I just talked with gran. How are you feeling?” The teen then asked.

Blake still didn’t remove her gaze from the book.

“A little disappointed, I won’t lie.” She scolded. “You’ve got a knack for magic and I won’t forbid you from using it, but you can’t just throw it out there willy-nilly. It’s dangerous.” She then added.

“Yeah, I...I was being a moron about it.” She admitted. “I just wanted to prove that I didn’t fear my own powers. That I coulda used it in a...Clutch moment.” Her ears flattened as she confessed her mistake. “I just wanted to see if we were cool. And if we could try again tomorrow.”

Looking up from her book and sighing, Blake sat up.

“Alex, I understand what you’re feeling and that you don’t fear your powers. That you’ve learned to embrace them.” She said, holding her daughter’s chin up. “But using them too much is another extreme. If you focus too much on your witchcraft while neglecting your other skills, they can falter. You gotta keep in mind how others could be affected if any of your spells backfire.” She concluded.

“I can’t live with the idea of them affecting you, dad, Gran, or anyone else who’s not in my crosshairs hanging over my head. I’m- -Well, I’m sorry.” Alex moped.

And then, Blake embraced her kitten. “I’m sorry too.” She replied.

Their remorseful hug lasted for a minute, with Alex pillowing the side of her head into Blake’s chest with the tension gone.

“What’s tomorrow looking like, then?” She asked.

Blake smiled.

“Another training session.” She answered.

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

By the time they reached the third room of the killing house again, there were 20 seconds left. Alex noticed her targets popping up rapidly as if it were Whack-A-Grimm.

“Crap, I can’t make out which is which!” Alex exclaimed.

“Use those sticky bombs I gave you.” Blake insisted, cocking Gambol Shroud and firing.

Alex nodded, using some of her mother’s sticky grenades she borrowed. She chucked both and hit one target. Could’ve hit the second, but the buzzer blared with Blake winning the challenge.

“Argh!” Alex grunted. “Okay, mom. We’re even.” She conceded, inserting a fresh clip into her pistol.

“That wasn’t so bad, Hellcat.” Blake admitted. “Though, this is what you get for neglecting your physical condition.” She teased.

“Yep. Guess I’ll join dad and Yang in the gym next time before this.” The teen snarked.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up a good appetite. You hungry?” ?her mother offered.

“Normally I’d ask about kahuna burgers.” She replied.

“But we’ve got salmon fillets!” Blake beamed.

“Oh fuc- -Er, hell yeah.” Alex caught herself.

“I’ll pretend you almost didn’t swear, young lady.” Blake said with a glare.

“Yes, mother.” She said. “Let’s eat!”

#rwby #rwby au #blacksun #Blake Belladonna #sun wukong #kali belladonna #rwbaby #rwby next gen #rwby future #Alex Belladonna

10 notes · View notes

dailyaudiobible · 3 years

Text

02/15/2021 DAB Transcript

Exodus 39:1-40:38, Mark 1:1-28, Psalms 35:1-16, Proverbs 9:11-12

Today is the 15th day of February welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is a joy and privilege to be here with you today as we put...put our foot out and take the next step forward into the week, into the month, into the year, and into the Bible. So, we will be concluding the book of Exodus today so this will be our final reading in the book of Exodus for this year. We concluded the first of the Gospels, which was the gospel of Matthew yesterday. So, when we get to the New Testament today, we will be encountering our…well…our first change of pace in the New Testament, but we are still in the section of the New Testament known as the Gospels. And we will be beginning the gospel of Mark in a little bit. But we'll talk about that when we get there. First, Exodus chapters 39 and 40 and we’re reading from the Common English Bible this week.

Introduction to the gospel of Mark:

Okay. This brings us to the second gospel in the Bible, although it is probably the first gospel written in time. This is the gospel of Mark. And the Mark that we believe wrote the gospel of Mark was not a disciple of Jesus. He wasn’t one of the 12. He wasn't an apostle, like the apostle Paul either. Really, he would been more a disciple of the apostle Peter. So, we seem to see Mark show up in the book of Acts which obviously we haven’t gotten to yet. But there he's known as John Mark. And he lived in Jerusalem. He came from a seemingly wealthy family. They owned a home in Jerusalem. His mom's name was Mary, and…and she had a servant named Rhoda. Mary was one of the early believers and she opened her home to other early believers. And some of our church traditions...there are…there’s thinking that her home may have been the place that contained the upper room. Like, she had an upstairs to her home where there wasn't upper room where the Holy Spirit was poured out on the early believers after the ascension of Jesus, but also where Jesus had his last supper. So, Mark was around all this pretty much his whole life, even as a boy. So, as the story goes, Peter was captured by Herod and we’ll resist the story when we get a little bit deeper into the New Testament. And Herod planned to execute Peter because he had put other Christians to death and had seemed to please the people. And, so, he was, you know Peter was a ringleader. And, so, he’s planning to put Peter to death. So, he's in prison. But an angel comes and frees Peter from jail and it's to John Mark's house, right, to Mary's large home that Peter first came. And all the believers were there at that house praying for Peter's freedom for his life, pleading to God for his life. And that prayer was answered. And, so, Peter’s sprung from jail and he comes to the house, he knocks on the door, the servant girl Rhoda comes to the door and she sees him and it’s like she can’t believe it’s him. So, she slams the door in his face, and then she goes in and let’s all the other believers know, “like, apparently Peter's outside.” And we’ll get to that story, we’ll like…we’ll give it its due when we actually come to it, but this gives us a little bit of a background just a little essence of who Mark is. And, so, Mark's been around the gospel of Jesus Christ his whole life. His cousins name is Barnabas, who is a dear friend of the apostle Paul. It's Mark the goes with Barnabas and Paul on Paul's first missionary journey. So, this isn’t like somebody who doesn't know what's going on. This is somebody with a bit of a pedigree, and it's believed through the traditions of the church that…that…that John Mark became a disciple of the apostle Peter, travelled all over with him, and even serves as an interpreter for him in Italy, especially in Rome. And everywhere that Peter goes, and we’ll see this after the Holy Spirit's coming, this transforms Peter so radically that he becomes a very powerful teacher of the gospel and he teaches the gospel of Jesus everywhere he goes. And, so, John Mark's heard Peter's testimony over and over everywhere they go. And, so, it's basically thought that what Mark writes down in the gospel of Mark is largely the testimony of the apostle Peter, the things that the apostle Peter was teaching about Jesus while he traveled around. It's also believed and there's a like pretty strong consensus that…that Mark is indeed the first of the Gospels written that we have in the New Testament and that Mark and Matthew, the gospel that we just read, and then Luke, the one that we will read next after Mark, like that's not confusing enough, that these three really share a lot of commonality. In fact, they’re known as the synoptic Gospels because they share so much of the same material. And it’s believed that Mark is the original, the very first written testimony of the life of Jesus Christ. And, you know, language scholars will look at the Greek in the book of Mark and, you know, consider it pretty primitive, not…it’s not particularly grammatically correct it…it…it…seems as if maybe more written by like somebody whose mother tongue isn’t Greek or that it is poorly educated, can barely write. It’s more like, you know, like a school kid’s grammar. But there’s a charm in the simplicity. And, so, let's dive in to the second of the four Gospels that we will encounter in the New Testament, the gospel of Mark chapter 1 verse 1 through verse 28.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for these days that we’re in right now, that we’re transitioning into new territory in both Old and new Testaments. We began the gospel of Mark today and Holy Spirit come. We feel like we've heard these stories maybe our whole lives. Let us hear them as if we've never heard them before, let us hear them fresh, let us understand like we’re gonna move through the four Gospels and this is our time to walk alongside Jesus to learn. And, so, Holy Spirit, quicken us. Make us awake and aware of what You are leading us to understand as we continue forward in the gospel of Mark. And we concluded the…the book of Exodus today, a very dramatic story of the end of slavery and the story beginning in the wilderness where identities are being shifted and complete new culture is being created there in the wilderness. And, so, as we prepare to move forward into the book of Leviticus tomorrow, we invite Your Holy Spirit. Again, draw us to what we need to know. Draw us to what we need to see and understand. Give us eyes to see and ears to hear, that we…that we may become fully awake and fully aware in this year of going through the Bible, so that we end this year and can never look at anything the same again because we’ve been transformed. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com his home base, it’s the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here like I say every day. I must have said this 5000 times now, but welcome to everybody who’s never heard me say that before because every day…every day we get to say hi to somebody that's never been here. And, so, this is where we get to go deeper.

Check out the Community section, that’s how to get connected. That's where the Prayer Wall lives.

Check out the resources that are available in the Daily Audio Bible Shop that are built to be companions for the journey that we are on through the Scriptures this year.

And as always, if…if you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, if the mission that we share in common that we call the Global Campfire, the mission to bring the spoken word of God read fresh every day and offered to anyone, anywhere, anytime freely and to build community around the rhythm of just moving step-by-step day by day through the Scriptures in a year, if that has brought life to you than thank you for your partnership. So, there's a link on the homepage. If you’re using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And also, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement you can hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the little red button up at the top or there are a number of numbers you can use. In the United States, in the Americas for that matter, 87-942-4253 is the number. If you are in the UK or Europe 44-20-3608-8078. And if you are in Australia or the lands down under, in that part of the world, 61-3-8820-5459 is the number to call.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning Daily Audio Bible this is Sharon in Southern California I just heard the prayer request from I think she said her name was Latasha, she's a young mom with children and she's having housing issues. I just wanted to say Psalms 27:14 says wait on the Lord, be of good courage and he shall strengthen thine heart. Wait I say on the Lord. The Lord is with you always and He will grant you the answer to your prayers. Stay steadfast and wait for him to answer. I know I've been through the same situation, not knowing which way to turn. Don't let anyone force you or manipulate you into a decision you don't want to make. I know it's not easy and it's…it's difficult to wait because you see pressure on every side, but I promise you the Lord will answer, and He will guide you. I'm praying for you in your situation and I'm sure a lot of us here on the DAB are also praying for you knowing that the Lord will answer your prayer. Lord, in the name of Jesus I pray that her situation is fixed and done just as You want it to be and let Your will be done in her life and in her situation. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Hello family this is your brother Chad from Jomo and I was calling today February 11th is the Bible reading and brother Brian was just…said something pretty profound and yet oddly so simple. That's his normal way. I love it. But he was saying we can take what we're reading today, let it go in one ear out the other and then go back into the chaos of the day or and / or…or we can take what we read today and…and let it bring us peace, let it bring…bring us answers, let it bring us another way to deal with this crazy life that's going on around us right now. Just…just it's all about growing. I'll take the “or” Brian. I'm so sick and tired of taking the “and” man. I'm doing __ . I'm…I'm…not one that lets the word go in one ear out the other, but I do have a tendency of letting the world wash over me and silence the wonderful word I've taken in for the day. It's like by the end of the day it’s like I forgot what I've learned at the beginning of the day in God's word. And I find that to be a great shame, that there's just so much going on that…that's taking our attention away, that’s sidetracking us. or just beating us down. And we need to stay focused on the Lord family. He is our guide. He can handle it man. He's got the broad shoulders man. We, I need to learn to stop trying to take it on myself. I…I never mean too. I always mean to leave it in God's hands and yet I found myself carrying this stuff around that I don't need to be carrying this extra luggage. So, family give it to the Lord today. He can do all things in Jesus’ name. I love you family. My time is up. Have a blessed week. Brother Chad from Jomo.

Hi guys it's Luke from Australia, first-time caller. I've only been listening to DAB four since the beginning of the year listening to the daily devotional and I can say I am loving it, OK. It is awesome to just be able to listen to the Bible and…and how Brian reads it, explains it, prays. It’s just awesome and I'm sure we all notice that. I just felt honored to touched to call in and let you guys know that it is an honor to be part of a family such as DAB family, the community and…and the love and support that is on here is just awesome. My mom introduced me to DAB beginning of this year, end of last year. And I can't get enough of it. So, thank you mum. And yeah, keeping all of you in my prayers. And let's have a good year this year. Alright. Love you all. Bye.

Hey family, Darrell calling from Atlanta and I do not use word family lightly at all. I absolutely celebrate the fact that we're all brothers and sisters, we’re God's family. and I know that sometimes that can be cliché-ish if that's a word, but it's not. It's the truth. We read God’s word, Brian reads it to us every day, which Brian I love you man. I'm going on my third year and I can't possibly thank you enough, this is a phenomenal thing you're doing here. But God's word tells us all over the place that we're family, we’re His kids and you are my brothers and you're my sisters and I greatly appreciate you coming on here every day. And I I've called in I think one time before for prayer. I've called in several times just to encourage but today I'm absolutely asking for prayer. There is a cousin's fiancé who very recently was battling what they thought was Covid. He is a young healthy man of 25. Again, he's a cousin’s…cousin of mine, his…her fiancé. His name is Davy. I am asking you today is a critical day. This is a critical time for him. Please pray. They've ruled out Covid. They've tested him three times and yet his lungs are filling up with fluid. He has double pneumonia in they don't know what's going on. Critical prayers today. It's getting very serious. Again 25 years old, healthy otherwise Davvy. Please pray that God would remove the fluid in his lungs, replace it with the air, and restore him to the way God created his body to be and to function and that God would direct the doctors and open their eyes. Thank you so much, guys.

Hi, I'm just…my name is Rebecca from Canada I'm just sending in a prayer for Latasha from California. I just felt like the Lord wanted me to…to pray for community over you. So, yeah Lord we just thank you so much that that she called in and gave her situation about the housing and the frustration that that's been. So, Lord we just pray for wisdom Lord, that You would just direct her in the right path, that she would know what she needs to do and yeah Lord that You would have favor with the management, that there would just be breakthrough in this area. And Lord we also just pray that You would just surround her with good community so that she would know that she's not alone, Father that she would have just new friends, Father that would just come around her and encourage her and support her and her family. And we thank You Lord that You see herm and You see what's going on and Lord that You’re a God of provision. So, we just ask for provision in this area Lord, that she would know that her and her family are taking care of and cared for by You Lord and that she knows she's not alone and that we care for her here at the Daily Audio Bible and all across the world we're praying for her. Thanks.

Good afternoon Daily Audio Bible this is Tracy Baker calling auto Fort Worth TX calling to applaud Janelle in China. I heard your…your call in this morning and it really touched me because we take for granted when we don't have and aren’t truly thankful for what we do have. Me for one, my job is very stressful. I'm expected to do a whole lot that is not actually in my field and its stuff that I really don't care to do and with no formal training as well. So, I'm muddling through it as best as I can, but it is so so stressful to be doing something that I'm not really wanting to do though and paid very well for it. But, you know, money isn't everything. So, again you know, and like Janelle says I'm very thankful that I do have a job as…as…as it were. So, thank you very much Janelle for giving me that reminder to be thankful for what we do have. Have a great day.

3 notes · View notes

desiderium-eden · 4 years

Text

@kapisola

“This seems a little familiar,” Allisae started, keeping her tones relatively serene as she bounced, Noah in her lap.

“Like someone visiting you in a dream, maybe.” Avelan added as he reached over a smoothed back Noah’s hair from his face, before both twins looked at Lazuli with smiles, sly in their message and yet melancholy for what this moment meant.

Avelan takes the wooden box that had been sitting beside him and puts it on the coffee table, mumbling something about it being filled with kidneys before handing her an envelope, heavy with something other than paper inside.

“We’re giving you this house,” he explains as he sits back down. “We won’t have much need for it in the future, but we can’t really let this place go so easily yet. Nero’s told us you’ve been searching for somewhere new to settle, hopefully this works out for you and you can look after it for us.”

Inside the envelope, Lazuli would find a ring of keys, all labeled, as well two pages of paper: one being the deed to the property and the other being a blank with, for the moment, nothing written on it other than “FOR AFTER ASCENSION.”

————————————————————————-

Dear Lazuli,

We saved all the heartfelt dramatics for this letter, so you won’t be able to distract or joke your way out of them.

Everything has been hard, the world feels as though it’s crumbling around us and it might literally be so. Yet regardless of how much pain you’ve been through, or how much you’re currently going through, you still go to great lengths for others. And that’s one of the very many things we love about you.

But we also hope you’re looking after yourself, as well. It’s been difficult to talk to you as of late with everything going on, but we’ve noticed the steps you’ve been taking in doing just that. We don’t mean to sound patronizing, but we’re proud and happy for you, and we wish you all the luck.

Regardless of whether or not you think otherwise, you have and always will be family to us. We want to remember you. So, please, keep these items safe for us. If you’re angry with this kind of farewell or upset with us for leaving, feel free to break and rip up these items right in front of our faces the next time you see us, and consider it our wake-up call.

—–The brother and sister you never asked for, Avelan and Allisae

PS. A couple of those are Noah’s as well. Please make sure that he doesn’t miss everyone too much. We’ll all be back soon.

The glow of Dmitri’s tree had lessened a bit since things went to shit. A sign that he, and perhaps Yggdrasil as well, was pushing himself. Maybe a bit too far. But it was still a constant. Providing enough warm, golden light for her to read. Enough to make up for the moonless sky.

With everything that had happened the day of the Ascension, Lazuli didn’t really have the time to read the letter the twins had left behind. She was a bit ashamed to admit she’d even forgot about it. Only remembering when she had come across it when she finally had a day to just clean the manor.

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders tightly. Even though it was summer, she still felt cold. And allowed herself to pour over the words that hadn’t been there when she had first received it.

“…”

It felt …. laughable. She wanted to laugh. The way they had described her ... The pain she went through .... was nothing. Nothing compared to the others. What they saw as thinking of others was only her acting on her selfish whims. To say that they loved that about her ....

One hand had begun to move towards her wri-

“Lazuli? Is something wrong?”

She blinked. Visibly spooked seeing Dmitri emerge from his tree. Though met with his concerned expression, she smiled. “It’s nothing,” she said, tucking the letter into the folds of the blanket as the hugr sat down next to her. She followed his gaze to the manor gifted to her. Not a single light on. Giving the home a rather sullen air.

“You should sleep inside.”

“Nah. It feels so big. And empty. There by myself. It’s oddly suffocating.” Lazuli snuggled up against her cousin. “I’d rather stay out here if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. Thank you for staying with me.”

“No problem. I can’t leave a scaredy cat like you alone at the end of the world.”

Dmitri grew quiet. Now staring up at the still moonless sky. Lazuli heard a soft swallow. Before slipping her hands in his.

“Hey. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. We have very capable friends. They’ll save the world.”

“’They’? Not ‘we’?”

“’They’. I don’t think I can even do anything to help. Even meeting with Hades, we couldn’t stop what Pride did to Alli. And right now ..... I’m honestly at a loss. All I can do is stay out of everyone’s way... And if by some small chance, everything goes to shit...The only thing I can do is make sure you’re not alone.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do... If you die.... If I lose any more people... I don’t think my heart could take it.”

#Lazuli IC #Dmitri IC #submission

4 notes · View notes

rayesketchit42 · 4 years

Text

the king's ascension. Prolouge.

“ celebration”

Oc Fic| DarkWing Duck 91’ universe.Zeke Corvo and Dave Curant (belongs to @dorky-crow )

Story contains: mentions of abuse, slurs, swearing, violence, and blood.

A/N: I might just really wanna write fights haha well here we are back at it again with Dave and Zeke. Going more into Zekes pov this time around. This is a soft start as well just to catch up to where they are in this story.

____________________________________________________________________________

The feeling of my knuckles ramming into the fresh feeling of feathers. The contact of bone hitting bone sensing a bit of pain through my hand as I pushed forward with more force making the victim of my punch fall back into the wall behind him. It was just something I never really got over the rush and delight it gave. I moved in on my new found prey and grabbed the duck by the neck pinning him to the brick wall. Eyes narrowed on him, as the duck look of fear filled me with the most delighted feeling. Only for it all to fade as the footsteps of my brother brought me back to reality.

"Now then are you going to pay up or do I let my brother here finish what he started?" Micheal, Zeke's eldest brother, said.

The duck was quick to follow with Micheal's wants so I let him go. Dropping him to the ground. Then took a step back well Micheal spoke with the duck some more. This was what I was, just a pair of fists so Micheal didn't have to dirty his own hands. This was my use in the family, the role I fill.

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

I looked down at my knuckles. They still kind of throbbed from last night. And let out a heavy sigh as I looked up to the school building. My other life where I was a normal high school student who had a paper due and a test today. This part of life was truly nothing but well mundane. Well outside one thing.

"Zeke wait up!"

I could just hear the smile from his voice alone. I stopped cold in my tracks and looked back to find Dave. He was quickly scurrying over trying to close the distance between us as fast as he could, soon out of breath once he finally got to me.

"I I s saw you a and"

"Breath Dave " I said to the small black bird. He didn't grow much since we were kids still small and light as a feather. Once Dave caught his breath we started to walk towards the front doors of the school.

This odd friendship I got into had managed to last as we moved on to highschool. Not that I hate it, being around Dave was just. Nice.

"Well see after she found her seal skin she took it and ran out of the lighthouse. Her husband watched to see her jump off the cliff and return to the sea." Dave finished, having been telling me another of his fairy tale stories. "Were you listening?" Dave asked a bit of hesitation in his voice.

"Of course, she was a silkie. The man stole her skin, so to keep her around. So is that like those mermaids you mentioned before?"

Dave smiled before going to answer. Dave never really outgrew his love for fairy tales if anything it grew even more. Always telling me about a new one or just something about them. Different versions or similar ones he found interesting. It was actually that interest of his that led to the surprise I had for Dave. *

As much as I hate being a tool for Micheals use it did provide some benefits. Zeke just grinned to himself thinking of the admittedly poorly wrapped gift in his bag.

They had made their way to Dave's locker as he kept happily chatting to Zeke. Making a switch of stuff to put in his locker and stuff to put into his locker. Zeke quick to take a moment to stash his surprise into Dave's locker when he wasn't looking. He wasn't the most observant and shut the door once done.

"Ready to go to class Zeke?" Dave asked once all settled.

"Of course lead the way."

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

Come lunchtime Dave was wiggling around in his seat, I was pretending not to notice. It was a bit mean but it was a good tell when Dave had something on his mind. I finally decided to end it though when Dave kept looking up at me every few seconds.

"Something up Dave?"

"W well I was wondering if you uh could come over tonight? Uh to my house I mean. See mom wants to make a big dinner and."

"Oh for what?"

"For what?" Dave said, starting to fidget with his hands as he tried to think of what to say. "W well I mean today is a special day and uh I wanted to have a friend over."

Oh I really shouldn't. I know I shouldn't, but I just can't help it. Teasing Dave and messing with him it is just too easy. I leaned over the table easily getting Dave to look at me he gave a small awkward giggle as a response.

"For what? I mean if it's something special I could see about stopping by and staying around."

Dave instead got quiet and looked down clearly feeling disappointed but I couldn't give in yet no matter how sad Dave looked. instead I moved away and got up and stretched out my arms sticking to my act.

"Well if that's that we better get ready for the next class right?"

"Oh I need to get my books!" Dave said getting up as well and running off to get to his locker.

I smiled and hung back, sitting back down at the table timing it in my head. On when Dave would return. When seeing him running back to the table excited, nearly bouncing on his heels as he moved his feet as fast as he could.

"You did know!"

"Know what?"

Dave just smiled and looked at the poorly wrapped present in his hands. Then glanced back at me unsure if he could rip it open yet. I just nodded to answer. And, he ripped into it staring quietly at the book. Slowly opening it up and looking over the pages. It was the same copy of the book he owned a while back. The one that got messed up when we first met.

"Y you found a copy?" Dave finally said.

I nodded a bit again. Well found is a stretch I kind of went looking for it. When out running jobs and what not. I got lucky last night finally seeing a bookstore that had this book. I rubbed at the back of my neck as he spoke. "I happened to remember what it looked like and when I saw this I just thought."

God why am I rambling now. It's just a book.

I looked back to Dave and just smiled seeing how happy he was with his gift. The moment ruined when overhearing judgmental whispers from those who passed by the pair.

Not today.

I glared watching the kids run away the moment my eyes landed on them. Nothing was going to ruin Dave's birthday, I was going to make sure of that.

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

And I was doing good on that promise Dave was home happily eating the dinner his mother made and showing off the book he got . Both his parents glanced over to me and again I felt a bit flustered. They knew I was planning on getting him that book, after all I asked if they remembered where it came from. I stood up and started to clear the table for them any excuse to get away from those stares. I was around their home enough these days that I just fit right in around the place and was not a guest in their eyes. Dave was quick to help out as he gathered some dishes as well and followed along with me, into the kitchen. I took some plates from Dave to lighten up his load. Always trying to grab more than he could handle so to help.

Dave went on and on about how great his day had been as I absently listened. This was nice. I liked being here, part of why I was always over at the Curant's home. I can be normal here, except it was just an act. No different than a kid playing house. I looked at my knuckles and gently made a fist. I knew what I really was when not pretending.

The soft touch of Dave's hand suddenly, over my own took my attention. He was always so gentle, Dave looked over my knuckles gently rubbing his thumb across them as he asked if it hurt. I could live in this warmth that seemed to take me over whenever with Dave. shake that thought out fast. I pulled my hand away from Dave. Careful not to come off in a bad way as I took hold of my hand and traced over my knuckles. Dave's warmth gone.

"I'm fine, just a bit tender is all" I said then smiled, he knew I fought but not, the extent beyound that. "think your parents are ready for your cake we should head back."

As much as I wanted that I also had to deny myself of it. Because of the things I do and enjoyed doing. This was just an escape to be around the Curants, a way to destress.

#oc fic #zeke crovo #some pinning going on

2 notes · View notes

gloomy-goober · 5 years

Link

Warning for this chapter: -Dangerous stunts, ocean, drowning, weaponry, uuuuhhh...that is about it (Also stupid line break picture for the tumblr version)

Sand crunched under his bare feet as he walked along the beach. The sun hung low in the sky and created a long shadow that disappeared into the dark green water. Wood and shells scattered the shore as waves began to move higher and higher as high tide came back in to greet the moon.

Sea foam wrapped around his ankles as he diverted his straight path along the sandy shore to a cluster of rocks. He grabbed onto a stone; the cold, wet algae finding a way under his fingernails as he pulled himself up. Each pull and tug, movement of ascension, was met with some hesitation as he adjusted his grip so he would not fall back onto the rocks below.

The man pulled himself up onto a hidden path, more likely a part of the rock had broken away long ago and left this flat section. The ledge he stood on was barely wide enough for him to stand, his back forced to be against the rock wall behind him, so he did not fall.

Salty wind blew his messy bangs into his face as he began to inch around the rock, careful of every step that he took. He used his bare feet to feel for any loose stone before he put his weight fully onto it. The journey would have taken an inexperienced climber twenty minutes, but he did it in half the time.

Down below him the beach was gone. Waves hit the rocky sides of the cliff angrily. The dark churning water only seemed more menacing as the light of the sun began to disappear. Soon he would be left in the dark, but he did not care.

A grin stretched onto his face as he hopped nimbly to a ledge much wider and easier to keep balance. Enough room for him to feel perfectly safe and steady.

The bag that he had been carrying was put down carelessly as he looked down over the side. Down at the choppy waters. His grin fading into a look of confusion when he thought he spotted something under the dark waves.

Cautiously, he moved closer to the edge and squinted down. The darkness of the oncoming night no longer a comfort as it hid something under the waves. His toes curled to clutch at the edge of the rock; body resisted the want to look closer in fear of falling.

“Hello?” His voice echoed off the walls and was drowned out by the sound of waves, “Are you one of mine?”

There was no answer. He stood up straighter and took a small step back from the edge of the cliff. He furrowed his brows in thought. The shadow below the waves had been too vague for him to tell what waited below the waves.

“Guess I am not doing an evening dive,” he sighed to himself. A black expression appeared on his face before he shrugged and he turned on his heel, “Ah well. Can still work on my super-secret project.”

With a flick of his wrist the cliff face that housed the ledge he stood on opened-up like a door. Green torches came to life and showed a long hallway that seemed to go on for miles. Water dripped from the ceiling and the hall gave a blast of cold, damp air.

The man took in a deep breath and sighed. A happy smile on his face as he moved to grab his bag. He did not make it over to it. The cliff ledge he stood on shook and made him slip on the slippery rock. He held his hands out to catch his balance.

For a moment it looked like he would be safe as his lower back hit the rock he had been balanced on. His breath left his lungs with a small wheeze as the surface under him fell still.

Something below him had smashed into the rock.

Something under the waves.

He turned his head to look down back at the water that was below him. Somehow, in this vulnerable position, the drop down seemed much farther then before. In the darkness of the newly settled night he saw nothing. Only heard the crash of the waves. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he tried to sit up.

Another hit shook the cliff more.

He began to slide.

Hands unable to grab onto anything he felt himself tip off the ledge. Wind whistled around him loudly as tried to shake himself from his shock to grab onto something; anything.

He heard someone screaming. He vaguely wondered who it was. Who noticed his fall?

He only became aware that it was his own scream when what little air he still had in his lungs was knocked out by the force of the water as he landed. The pain from the hard smack hurt. The waves tossed him under and then smashed him against the cliff that he had once stood on top of.

The saltwater stung his eyes as he forced them open as the waves continued to pummel him against the rough surface of the cliff. What little air he still had escaped in bubbles as he tried to figure which way was up; which way was towards air.

Black danced around his vision as the waves smashed him back against the rocks once more. He did his best to shake it off as the cry from his lungs pleaded with him to move. To get oxygen.

He pushed off the cliff side with all his might; hands and feet scraped by the harsh surface so that the saltwater could sting them. It was worth it for the sweet taste of air as he broke the surface of the water.

The man gasped and sputtered. Trying to get as much air into his lungs as possible before he would have to try and swim back to the beach. At least, that had been the plan.

Something below the surface of the wild waves had moved closer. Something had brushed against his leg. He tried to see but the darkness of the night, the movement of the water, and his own tired mind could not find anything to spot. He only got a clear lock on it when he felt something wrap tightly around his ankle.

Not a sound left him as the creature pulled Remus back under the waves. The ocean seeming to calm once the deed was done.

The mindscape, or palace as the twins insisted, was calm. Thomas was in bed reading a book that he had wanted to pick up for a few months, so the sides had the rest of the night free. Patton took this as an indication that they could all have a family dinner and game night. While met with different reactions from certain sides, Roman had jumped on board immediately.

He did not have to do much in terms of creative ideas while Thomas was focused on another’s creative work. This was how he found himself dancing around Patton in the warm kitchen as they finished up the final preparations for dinner.

“I think these biscuits are ready to go, Padre.”

Roman turned the oven off with a tap of a button and pulled on the oven mitts. The biscuits that he pulled out were golden brown. The heat the emitted did not stop Roman from reaching for one once he set the baking sheet down and pulled the mitts off.

Instead of a rewarding treat he found his arms full of plates and cutlery.

“Not yet they need to cool, my hungry prince,” Patton giggled. “Besides, don’t want to ruin the appetite so close to dinner time.”

“But Patton,” Roman pouted, “It is just one.”

“One that will burn your mouth like last time,” Patton moved to stir the mac and cheese.

“It was not that bad.”

Patton sighed and shook his head in fondness at the impatience of the creative side.

“Alright, how about this, you can have one as soon as you finish setting the table for me.”

Roman stood up straighter and hugged the tableware he had been handed, “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Roman grinned brightly and rushed to get out of the kitchen, “I am holding you to that, Pat!”

A quest was obtained and Roman was determined to do his best job at it. His goal in sight, the tasty treat that he would get to eat before dinner even began. Maybe if he was lucky, he could sneak some of the Wild Berry Crofters onto it before Logan came downstairs.

He hummed a tune to himself as he placed all the plates in front of every chair. Cloth napkins appeared out of thin air, folded into swans at the flick of a wrist, before they landed gently on each plate.

The last napkin swan had just touched down onto the shiny surface of the plate when a sudden feeling of panic seized him. The cups and silverware fell to the ground as the usually put together prince braced himself onto the nearest chair. He clutched at the front of his uniform as the pain seemed to only grow, centering on his chest.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He had to do something and yet, he felt frozen. Frozen and doubled over in the dining room; stuck in place to stare down at his shoes.

Something was wrong.

“-man?”

Something is wrong.

“Roman!”

He distantly heard a voice calling his name.

“Something is wrong,” he mumbled the words to himself under his breath.

“Roman, what is wrong? Are you okay?”

The warm hand that touched him freed him from the spell of terror, but he only became more worried as the pain turned into simply a dull throb. A dying memory, a dying force, buried deep within him.

Patton looked at him with worried eyes behind his glasses; obviously trying to find a physical injury on the side before him.

“What happened? Did you stab yourself with one of the steak knives?”

Roman gently moved Patton’s hands off him and rushed towards the stairs.

Something is wrong. Something is wrong.

“Roman!?!” Patton was at his heels. “Roman, please, tell me what happened? You’re worrying me.”

“I’m fine,” Roman insisted as he pushed into his bedroom. He nimbly jumped over his brother’s mess so he could get to the wall of weapons that was situated on his brother’s side of the room. “But I think I am going to be late for dinner.”

Roman picked up a net, his sword, and then hesitantly grabbed Remus’ morning star.

“What…what do you mean you are going to miss dinner?” Roman turned to find Patton standing in the doorway, a scared look on his face.

“I’m fine, Patton,” he tried to give a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. “But…But Remus isn’t.”

The dull ache in his chest told him he could not delay. Could not wait for Patton to question him more on specifics. The longer he stood there and did nothing the more likely it was that Thomas would lose half of his creativity; that he would lose his brother.

Roman only paused his rush to get out of the room to give Patton a quick hug. The morning star slung over his shoulder, his sword strapped to his belt, and a small hope. A small hope that moved him fast out the door and towards the imagination.

That he could get to his brother in time.

31 notes · View notes

blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years

Text

Queen of Hearts - Chapter 4

Thirty-year-old Rose Tyler’s matchmaking business is doing very well indeed, bringing her clients such as celebrities, athletes, and the now-happily-married son of the mayor. All of which brings her to her newest client - one whose royal rank is a far cry above her own title as Queen of Hearts.

Ian, King of Gallifrey, calls off his wedding four weeks before the happy day as he realizes he can’t spend another minute of his life with his betrothed. The catch - he must take a wife before his Coronation, only a month away. In desperation, his sister and aunt conspire to find him is happy ever after - and it’s going to take a master matchmaker to do it.

Based on the Hallmark Movie ‘Royal Matchmaker’. Chapters will be posted every Sunday.

As always, beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma! @doctorroseprompts

Masterlist | AO3

—

Tuesday, April 2nd (continued)

Once dessert was cleared Rose expected to be dismissed, but instead the king came around to her end of the table and offered her his elbow. “Would you care to take in the night sky? I imagine we see significantly more stars than you would in London.”

“I would love to,” she smiled, taking his arm and letting him lead her out to the back patio. “Dinner was incredible – you eat like that every night?”

“Most nights,” he agreed, “though usually on a much smaller scale. Our chef is magnificent.”

They stopped then, and Rose tilted her head back. “Oh my God.” The view was breathtaking; Gallifrey was nestled in the foot of the Alps, with not much in the way of major cities for miles around, resulting in crystal clear skies and more stars than she knew existed. “This is… spectacular.”

“Thank you.”

He spent a few minutes pointing out different stars, telling her their stories, completely enthralling her even as she made a mental note on their candidates: Must love nature.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, a tad bit smugly, and she glanced over to see him smirking at her.

Catching her tongue between her teeth, she raised a humorous eyebrow at him. “You think you’re so impressive, don’t you?”

A (hopefully) mock-offended expression crossed his face. “I am too impressive!”

“Mhmm,” Rose hummed, turning her attention back to the sky.

“So tell me, Queen of Hearts, do you really believe in ‘true love’? That two people are meant for each other, the universe ordains it, chose them for each other?”

She tried not to let her surprise at his knowing the epithet show. “I do, absolutely. Do you, King of Gallifrey?”

“Not in the slightest,” he scoffed derisively, waving his hand. “The very idea is absurd.”

Finally tearing her gaze away from the sky, she met his eye and arched an eyebrow. “No more absurd than thinking the universe chose you to rule Gallifrey.”

The king stiffened, face twisting. “That’s different.”

“How so?” She wasn’t necessarily trying to be argumentative, but was genuinely curious how he could see the two as completely separate ideas. “Either the universe, or God, or whatever you believe in is capable of such… interference, or planning, or it’s not. Person to person, person to pet, person to kingdom… It’s all the same.”

“I am the king,” he spit out, drawing up to his full height, “by the will of God himself. You insult me by suggesting what you have. Donna may have I hired you, but that is a mistake she will soon remedy. If you speak to all your clients as such, I’m shocked you’re still in business – for now. Get out of my sight.”

Rose’s eyes went wide, and she stepped forward. “Your Majesty, I’m so-”

“Out!” he roared, and not bothering to curtsey, Rose fled.

Racing back up the stairs to their rooms, she slammed the door shut behind her before leaning against it, chest heaving.

“Rose? How was dinner?” Mel asked innocently from her perch at the desk.

In response, Rose sank to the ground and burst into tears.

Ian stalked away from the Palace onto the grounds, beside himself with fury. How dare she, he thought viciously. Who does she think she is? A no one. I am King. She is nothing.

His feet carried him automatically towards the lake, and he looked in vain on the way for something to kick, a rock or stick or anything. But of course they were the royal gardens, in the royal palace, and were expertly maintained. He would have better luck finding the secret entrance to the Hundred Acre Woods, or some such ridiculousness.

Finding himself on the shore of the lake, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to will his anger away. When that didn’t work he snapped them open, looking about and quickly locating a few decent skipping stones. Rolling his shoulders back and concentrating, he threw the first, counting the skips one, two, three, four, five, shit until it sank.

The next three did fairly better, none making it to ten, and on impulse he kissed the last stone before imagining Rose Tyler’s face, preparing to throw it with the hope some sort of voodoo would occur and the further it went, the sooner she would be out of his palace, his hair, and his life.

A noise behind him startled him into dropping the stone on the very edge of the water, and cursing, he turned to see who was there.

“What?”

His snarl would have scared off anyone in the kingdom and most medium-sized wild animals, but the man who stood a few yards away was married to Donna, and therefore didn’t blink.

“All right?” Lee stammered out, sounding absolutely no different than if Ian had offered him a cuppa. That was the odd thing about his brother-in-law – he was absolutely the most even-keeled person he’d ever met, borderline incapable of reacting with strong emotion. That wasn’t to say he didn’t feel so, Ian knew how passionately he loved Donna and their children, but still managed to be a steady constant – in perfect balance with his wife, who had a tendency to fly off the handle and start shouting, living up to her fiery hair. They were well suited, Donna and Lee, which to her great annoyance only further eased Ian’s worry over potentially abdicating.

And, perhaps, some resemblance existed between the siblings.

Shit.

The bubble of his anger punctured, Ian sighed and let his shoulders slump. “D’you know what your wife did?”

Lee shrugged. “With all she does to help,” he got out laboriously, but without stuttering, “it’s hard to keep track.”

Ian felt that like a knife to his heart; he knew Lee’s intention wasn’t to guilt him, but he was guilted all the same. “Thanks.” Then he looked around, frowning. It was a quiet spring evening, the grounds naturally deserted, and it occurred to him to wonder what the other man was doing out. “Why aren’t you at home, kissing your kids to sleep?”

“Donna saw you,” he smiled wryly, “asked me to bring you to the house.” Lee gestured behind himself towards the cottage a few hundred yards along the bank, the only bright spot but for the palace and the moon.

“Fine.”

They trudged along in silence, Ian studying his brother-in-law out of the corner of his eye. The man was perfectly content to be married, to be a husband and father, to be a part of something more than just himself.

For the first time, Ian wondered if he too might, possibly, be able to find happiness in another person. His thoughts drifted towards the person hired to find that perfect woman, and scowled. And they lived happily ever after, he mocked. He’d thought, at the time, that River would be the best he could do. When they’d met she was working on a dig as an archaeologist, one who had gotten hurt and been brought to a nearby village where it just so happened Ian was working as part of Doctors Without Borders.

Sparks had flown, and it had been so refreshing to meet someone who only knew him as Ian, had no idea of his family or his destiny to be king. When his father grew ill and he was recalled to Gallifrey they’d kept in touch, and when it came time to choose a queen, he’d approached her.

In hindsight, perhaps it had been too easy to convince her to take the role, to play the part – as the year passed and preparations were made, he became less and less sure he could suffer a lifetime with her. Her berating of Luke had been the catalyst, but his first reaction at stumbling upon them had been vague relief, which told him it was the right move to send her away.

They walked into the cottage, and Ian had to take but one look at this sister to know that somehow, she knew he’d had words with whatever-her-name-was. Rose.

“Don’t start,” he warned, before letting out an unregal ‘oof’ as he was tackled by the twins.

“Uncle Ian, Uncle Ian!” they cried in chorus, clambering over him, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly.

If he had to have one, this was the kind of family he wanted.

Wednesday, April 3rd

Leaning back in his desk chair, Ian sipped leisurely at his coffee as he watched the sunrise. He’d been up most of the night thinking, playing with a stress ball Donna had gifted him upon his ascension. It had originally been blue and green, a fairly accurate depiction of Earth, but now most of the green had cracked and faded, leaving it a robin’s egg blue. Still, the toy was soothing, and he enjoyed having something malleable in his hands as he worked out his thoughts.

“Ian?” A soft tap on the door announced the arrival of his guests, and he called them in without looking back.

“Yeah.”

His keen ears picked out the sounds of them walking across the office, settling behind the two visitor chairs and remaining standing.

“You can sit,” he rolled his eyes, keeping his back to them until the sun was above the treeline.

Once it had risen he turned back to his desk, finding his sister and aunt waiting with identical, expectant scowls.

Giving the stress ball one final, severe squeeze, he put it back in his drawer and settled his elbows on the desk, pressing his palms together as if in thought. “Do you believe in Divine Right?”

Irritatingly the two women exchanged glances, but it was Donna who spoke. “Do you?”

Folding his arms on the desk in front of him, he glared at his sister. “I’m asking you.”

“I think…” she bit her lip, clearly searching for words, which didn’t make him feel better. “I think that it’s possible,” she started slowly. “I think it’s the only thing keeping monarchies in existence today. I think that if you believe it your subjects will, but if you doubt it they will too.” Then she rolled her eyes, unusually serious spell over. “I think that’s a terrible way to get out of choosing a bride and taking the throne. Honestly, Ian!”

“Sarah?”

His aunt pursed her lips, meeting his gaze head on. “I think, by definition, God’s ineffable plan is just that – unknowable. Anything is possible. In my opinion, there have been too many terrible rulers to believe that God specifically chose them to rule, necessarily. Too much bloodshed and fear, starvation and sickness. Every deposed king once believed God himself put him on that throne. Them perhaps more than most. The issue, so to speak, arises when the common people no longer believe it.”

“Ian? What’s this about?”

“What about ‘soul mates’?” he asked derisively. “The idea that God created the perfect partner for you. Do you believe in that?”

Sarah’s expression cleared, a knowing smile playing at her lips, and he scowled. “Anything is possible,” she repeated, “and I suppose the two ideas are opposite sides of the same coin. At the end of the day, why does the idea persist? Because people want to believe it. If they believe they will find a perfect other half, if they never stop searching, perhaps they will while they may not have otherwise. If a people want to believe their ruler was chosen by God, they will accept that. Of course, having a fair and caring ruler certainly helps.”

“And you?” he turned his attention back to Donna, unhappy but unsurprised with Sarah’s answer and expecting the same from his sister.

The redhead shrugged, crossing her arms, the same smirk on her face. “Absolutely. Just look at Lee and I – we were made for each other. Does that not qualify?”

Looking between them he groaned, knowing that with them in agreement he didn’t stand a chance. After all, around three that morning he’d realized why he’d flown off the handle at matchmaker girl – the truth that the two concepts were similar, and he wasn’t certain he believed in either one. A dangerous thing for a king.

“Fine,” he muttered, pulling a stack of papers towards him in a vain attempt to look busy. “The girl can stay.”

Holding up a copy of his speech to hide his face, he pretended not to see the women high five as they left his office.

Bloody women.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #Doctor Who #12xRose #12th Doctor #Rose Tyler #AU #Queen of Hearts #royalty AU

13 notes · View notes

kusunogatari · 5 years

Text

[ @uchiha-madara ] 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩

It had been his fate, really, to fall in love with the sea.

It wasn’t enough that he was born and raised in the coastal city, home to their land’s busiest port. Or that his father, and his father’s father, had all sailed in the royal navy. Some claimed the Uchiha had saltwater in their veins rather than blood, so tied were they to the ocean. Since the founding of the country they sailed for, and the crowning of the Senju line, the Uchiha have been right beside them: their closest friends and allies. The military might to the divine right to rule.

Madara Uchiha was born a scant two months after the next crown prince, Hashirama...during the night of a battering winter squall. The sea had been boiling in the ports, thunder rumbling and lightning reaching across the pitch-black sky. His father Tajima liked to say that the sea knew its next king was born that night: the eldest of the five Uchiha sons. He who would conquer the waves and tame the winds.

For while the Senju were rulers of the land...it was the Uchiha who held dominion over the waters.

Madara grew fast, and every minute spared was spent learning his place. Be it playing on the beaches with his brothers, or accompanying his father on short sailing routes when only a boy, he was never far from the sea. He could climb rigging soon after he could walk. Talking was mastered only to learn to bark orders. Everywhere he turned, he was called, “lil cap’n”, as he felt was only right. He became the youngest ever to enroll in the naval academy...and the youngest to graduate with full honors. When he was scarcely sixteen, he was appointed to his first ship.

By twenty, he’d take his late father’s place as admiral of the entire royal navy. Over six hundred ships, and over forty thousand men were at the command of a genius - and admittedly ruthless - mind. For five brilliant and bloody years, Madara led the charge to expand not only the Senju-ruled kingdom’s trade routes, but its territories, colonies, and influence over the continent and beyond. Wars were waged and won. In his half decade at the helm, he claimed more victories and spoils than his father in the entirety of his career.

And his accomplishments did not go unnoticed.

...but nor did his methods.

There was no denying that the heir of the Uchiha was an unmatched tactician: not only armed, supplied, and populated beyond his enemies, but managing to plan and outwit as to minimize his own losses.

But the losses of the other sides were, as time went on, found to be too steep. Too cruel. Hashirama spoke to him on many an occasion, begging he rein in his bloodlust.

“What’s the purpose in conquering a people if there are no people left?!”

“We’ve people of our own. Send them out, make new colonies! You tasked me with expanding our borders, and I have done so. Better than any man before me!”

“You salt these new lands with hatred and disdain for our flag! If you continue to take beyond what is necessary, you’ll only incite uprisings.”

“Uprisings I will have little trouble crushing.”

“We cannot rule by fear and force alone, Madara.”

“That’s your lot, Hashirama. Not mine. Mine is to fight, and to win. By whatever means necessary.”

“That is my point - you go above and beyond what is necessary! From critical to cruel! If you cannot make these judgments more fairly, then I must -”

“Must what?” He turned to his childhood friend - the boy and man he’d grown alongside, planning their futures to be won together. Dark eyes seemed to burn with challenge. “You think you can remove me…? I have earned my place, with blood and with sweat. I’ll not be upended so easily, Hashirama. Those men are my men.”

“No, Madara…” Hashirama’s gaze was somber with realization...but also steely with resolve. “...they are mine.”

If there was one fault within him...it was Madara’s temper. When it burned, it blazed, and rational thought would fall to cinders in its wake. So, Hashirama thought he could take all he’d built? Been born and bred for? No...this navy, this armada, was his and his alone.

...or so he thought.

That night, he gathered his highest ranking officers. Spun a tale of spurn and betrayal. Invited them to rise up against the Senju who dared try to yoke them.

But for many...his rousing speech fell on deaf ears.

Most - even Uchiha among them - turned their backs on him in favor of their king.

They say it was then he finally snapped.

Embittered, he’d taken what few remained - enough for a crew - and boarded his helmship: a beautiful frigate of lacquered granadillo wood. A stunning red in color with dark hickory accents, it was peerless. Strong but swift, loaded with thirty cannons, a heavy battering ram, and midnight sails, it had been a symbol of death and bloodshed at the fore of his armada since his ascension to admiral.

And now...it would be so on its own.

In the dead of night, with a favorable wind Madara claimed was divine, they left the ports behind, knowing full well their treachery would earn them a new name.

Pirates.

It was with a heavy heart Hashirama watched the ship abandon the harbor from his castle windows. “...I’ll give you this night,” he murmured to no one. “But come daylight, Madara...all you’ve left behind will be reclaimed. Your ties are cut. Cling to your ocean...for the lands you’ve forsaken will no longer house you.

“Step again on my shores...and you’ll be brought to make amends for your crimes. Your barbarity...and your betrayal.”

And so, Madara migrated from the most renowned commander of the royal navy...to the most feared and ruthless pirate on the seas. The trade routes he’d fought to clean of those now his kin were retaken: plundered at every opportunity. Should a ship bear his country’s banner, he’d pursue it to the horizon until it was looted and sunk. Some might call such actions petty...but for Madara, they were simple repayment for all Hashirama had robbed him of. If the ships of the Senju port were no longer his to command...they were his to take.

He’d make Hashirama regret his decision...and there would be no recompense. No amends. The Senju king had made his bed, and now he could lie in it.

One did not cross Madara Uchiha without begetting a grudge that could - and would - outlast empires.

And that was exactly what he planned to do.

...but the fates have other ideas.

Standing at the wheel, feeling a warm breeze at his back, Madara looks out over the decks. His crew - nearly two hundred and fifty men - are all in sound shape. They’ve only just left a pirate-held port, fresh from a two week reprieve from the sea. Their supplies are restocked, their spirits high, and their goals on the horizon.

He’s gotten word of a large convoy of Hashirama’s ships heading through...but taking what they believe will be a less noticeable route.

Hashirama, however, underestimates Madara’s mastery of the area. There’s not a cove or a beach he doesn’t know. If they think they can outsmart him...they’re very much mistaken.

And now, it will cost his old friend dearly.

...there’s only one thing standing in his way.

As they approach the series of islands the Senju ships are rumored to try hiding amongst, dark clouds gather at the fore. His plan - to lie low in an inlet before streaking in from behind - might get a bit...wet.

“Cap’n,” his first mate murmurs, stepping up with a bowed head of respect. “Perhaps t’ain’t my place t’say, but...I’ve no love for those clouds. They bring a rattlin’ in me bones that warns a’trouble.”

“This ship’s handled its fair number of squalls,” is Madara’s rumbling rebuke, hold steady on the wheel. “I’d gladly stand a bit of rain and wind for whatever lies in the hulls of those ships.”

“A-and I agree, cap’n! T’ain’t no better vessel than yers,” his companion admits, bobbing in apologetic bows. “But the achin’ in me joints tells me this storm’s a leap above t’rest. Perhaps we can...chart a course t’intercept the Senju convoy further down the line…? Out a’ the path o’the storm?”

Dark eyes give a cool glance, earning a flinch. “These islands serve as good cover, and the tide is favorable. Those fat ships won’t have our maneuverability, loaded with their cargo. We’ll dance circles around them until they run themselves aground. Then, they’ll be ripe for the taking. We’ll barely have to lift a finger.”

“...aye, cap’n.”

Looking back to his route, a haughty grin curls the former admiral’s lips. Oh, he’s going to enjoy this...and what’s a plundering without a bit of boiling in the ocean? Surely she’ll be glad to be fed all the fools he’ll throw overboard. Then she’ll calm.

She always does.

On they sail, weaving their way between the group of islands until finding the cove Madara’s had in mind. Dropping anchor, they face out toward the route their informant described. Here they’ll bide their time.

Not long after they tuck away, the wind begins to pick up, fat drops of rain shattering atop the decks and soaking the sails.

Ever patient when he needs to be...Madara waits.

It’s just dusk when a ship’s prow passes their hiding place. By now, the wind’s are whipping, swirling and knocking the rain any direction it feels.

“Steady,” Madara commands to those awaiting to lift the anchor. “Steady…”

A dozen ships pass by, utterly unaware. Half are the galleons carrying the cargo, two small gunships, and four brigs.

Child’s play.

Only once he’s sure they’re all past does Madara signal for the anchor to be raised. The tide’s lowering, leaving the narrow strips of sea between the isles shallow. One wrong move, and those swollen ships will be run ashore until it raises again.

Plenty of time to board and loot them. And with so little space to maneuver, their protection won’t have a chance to turn around to defend.

“NOW!”

With the anchor aweigh, the winds swiftly carry them from the cove, sails taut as they quickly build momentum. Below on the gun deck, canons await to be fired. Streaking out past the rear gunboat, they cut in front, dropping lit barrels of powder. As soon as the hull connects, the barrels explode, wreaking havoc and letting seawater through a gaping hole in the hull.

Alarms then sound as the convoy becomes aware, but there’s little to be done. Trapped between the isles, there’s nowhere to go but forward.

Gaining on one of the brigs, Madara commands they fire, cannonballs tearing through the broadside. The return fire is delayed, the enemy ship unprepared for combat. As his own crew reloads, Madara makes to cut to the other brig. A few of its cannons, loaded quickly, fire prematurely, skirting before the bow. Disorder in the chaos only works to his advantage. Cutting cleanly between the ships, another round is shot, this time from both sides, nailing both rear defense vessels.

The former begins to lag, heavily damaged. The latter, however, is hit with a shot to their powder room. A huge portion of the ship blows out, and water quickly begins to claim the ship. That’s two of the brigs down, and the rest are out in front. That leaves the large cargo ships exposed between Madara and any hope of defense. While they might have a few canons, most will have been spared to allow more weight in their holds.

A feral grin overtakes Madara’s face. This...this is what he lives for!

Out beyond, one brig attempts to turn between two islands, clearly trying to circle back around to come up behind them. But they misjudge the tide, running atop a sandbar and beaching as the high winds carry them far along the shelf.

They won’t be going anywhere for a good while.

In the same breath, two of the cargo vessels simply give in, beaching themselves against a left hand isle. The other four keep going, but it’s clear that with their limited canons, and only one remaining brig to defend them beyond the tiny gunboat at the helm, there’s little chance of outwitting or outgunning a ship like Madara’s.

“Hold on, lads!”

Streaking up to the galleons, Madara orders high fire. Masts crumple as cannonballs shatter the wood, leaving the huge ships stagnant in the water without a way to propel. Three of them he cripples before moving to the last brig. The final cargo vessel attempts to get ahead, and he leaves it for now.

Fire exchanges between them, Madara’s larger cannon volleys making quick work of his enemy. The gunboat, realizing it’s outmatched, simply beaches to the right.

But the last cargo ship is determined.

Leaving the rest of its armada behind, it attempts to make it out into open sea.

“Oh no you don’t -!” the Uchiha growls.

“Cap’n! Should we not return and loot what we’ve got? It’s a clear cut now!” the first mate calls over the squalls.

“I’ll be damned before I let one of Hashirama’s ships get away from me!” is the shouted reply. There’s a red glint of fervid revenge in Madara’s eyes. It’s all or nothing...anything less, and he might as well have attained no victory at all.

His pride won’t stand for it.

Forward they plunge through the growing waves, the storm nearly fully upon them. The wheel fights his grip every moment, the tides tearing at the rudder. Rain so thick he can hardly see the ship before him is mopped from his face, drenched into his hair and clothes until he feels he’s gained his weight over.

“Cap’n! The storm, it’s too much!”

“To Hell with the storm!” He’ll not come this far and give up. He’d rather die…!

They make it out of the cluster of islands, and then the weather truly hits them full force. Waves several stories tall, no longer inhibited by the land masses, toss them about like a leaf. Again and again they crest over the deck, sweeping anything not hammered down about and overboard.

He can hear the cries of his men, but they go unacknowledged. The hunt is on, he’s in too deep - there’s nothing beyond death stopping him now -!

Buffeted by a wave, the ship suddenly janks to one side. Thrown from the wheel, Madara lands with a heavy thump against the railing. Both gravity and water pin him down, the whole ship tilting as it’s swept up another wave. He can’t quite regain his feet…!

Reaching the apex, the crest crashes down atop the decks. Pinned to the railing, his body screams in protest at the weight of the water, unable to breathe, and then -

The wood gives out, and he plummets off the side, smashing into the sea with a clap. The weight of his garments drags him all the further, limbs fighting to break the surface. As he does, he sees the ship streaking forward, still propelled by its sails through the gusts.

In a matter of moments, it’s left him far behind.

Around him, debris from the deck either floats or sinks, and he manages to cling to a bobbing barrel. By now, they’re miles from the islands, and he hardly has a hope to swim back...especially not with the storm dogging him.

For the first time in his life...Madara fears the sea.

The waves batter and bruise him, throwing him about before parting him from his float. Struggling to find something, anything to hold on to, he finds a slat of wood. It dips under his weight, but once maneuvered, manages to hold him. Fingers make a white-knuckle grip along its edges, and Madara tucks his face against it from the pounding rain.

Eventually, the exertion is too much...and everything goes black.

When next he wakes, Madara feels a groggy confusion, but...why?

...then it hits him. He’s no longer swaying and sweeping atop water. He’s still.

Cracking open his eyes, he stares up into...leaves? What…?

Beneath him is something soft. Movement earns a rustle, and he sits up with great effort and a grunt. He’s in...some kind of strange hut. Perhaps ten paces across, circular, and with a sandy floor, it’s simply open along one side, giving a view out toward a beach.

Where...where is he?

It’s then he notices he’s been...redressed? His own garments hang nearby, drying, and he’s instead in simple trousers and a shirt, both dry. Likely the only reason he hasn’t caught his death. Feet bare, he swings them over the edge of his cot and looks around. A myriad of chests litter the hut, all overstuffed with seemingly random belongings.

His legs wobble as he stands, but he fights through it, stepping to the doorless doorway. Out beyond is a large fire pit, rigged for cooking. The whole thing sits back in a small inlet of trees and large rocks, protected from the wind. Surely the only way such a structure survived the storm.

The storm…!

All over again, Madara’s knees go weak. His ship...did the crew survive? Did they regain control? Or was all lost? And where the devil is he? Can he even begin to return?

...is there anything for him to return to…?

Without a ship, he’s a captain no more. Sure, he has his stash of gold and trinkets, but no way to retrieve them. And he can’t know if any of his crew - the only people he trusts - have survived.

A hand drags down his face, taking a deep breath. No...he can’t panic. He’s alive. Start there.

And someone clearly rescued him. He hardly hauled himself out of the depths and into a bed. Even if he washed up on shore, he has no memory of making his way here.

Someone else is here...but where?

The beach is too muddled to look for tracks, and he’s unfamiliar with the place - he hardly wants to get lost. Stepping out a few paces, he gives the view a once-over before he just so happens to find what he’s looking for.

Someone’s walking back down the beach toward him. A woman in a flowing skirt and strange, twisted top that encircles her chest, midriff bare. Against her hip is a wide basket. Like him, she wears no shoes.

But most shocking is the wild white waves of her hair - like a tangle of seafoam along her scalp, carried askew by the breeze.

Noticing him, there’s a pause in her strides before closing the cap. “...you’re awake,” is her soft offering, barely above a whisper.

“...aye,” he replies. “Are you...did I…?”

“Come, sit. I will explain.”

In her woven basket is a plethora of fruits, several fish, and greens. As Madara sits atop a stone near the firepit, she goes about sorting and preparing it.

“I found you in the waters just offshore,” she begins, skewering the fish with practiced ease. “Dragged you here...you’re quite heavy.”

The comment earns an amused snort, but no reply.

“You were soaked through, so I stripped you. You’d have gotten ill otherwise...I’m surprised you didn’t. A bit of a fever was all - you slept three days.”

Three days…? No wonder he feels so...off.

“And now...here you are.” Flint sparks dry vegetation, gradually fed wood. Finally glancing up to him, she shows mirror-like silvers, framed by white brows and lashes. He’s never seen anyone with such an appearance.

“Was...was there anyone else?”

“No...only you. You were in the storm…?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate - Madara’s not in the mood to tell such a story.

“...I see.”

“Where are we?”

“A small isle with no name...it is among the cluster here in the south sea. No one comes here...there’s nothing to be gained.”

“You live here…?”

“...when I must.”

Dark brows furrow. What does that mean…?

“Hungry?”

“...starved,” he admits. Already the smells of the fruits she’s cutting are making his stomach do eager circles. “...may I have your name?”

“Ryū,” she replies without hesitation. He’ll take that as a truth, then. “You?”

“...Madara. Madara Uchiha.”

Despite his notoriety, there’s no recognition at his offer. She just keeps going, handing him a crude bowl with the fruit. Then back to peeling and whittling she goes with a strange-looking knife, hands quick and clean.

As starving as he is, Madara makes himself take his time. “...do you have a...boat, or a ship?”

“No.”

The blunt reply earns a blink. “Does...someone come ‘round?”

“No.”

“...then how do you ever leave? You said you only live here when you must. How do you…?”

“I swim.”

“You swim…?”

Checking the fish, Ryū turns them before looking to him again, studying his face. “...you want to leave?”

“Of course. I’ve a life to return to. I have to see if my ship…” He fades out, not wanting to address the possibility of it being lost.

“...you rest first. Then I’ll take you.”

“You just said you have no ship.”

“I don’t need a ship. I told you...I swim.”

“That’s not -” He’s silenced as she holds out a skewer, snatching it and looking to her suspiciously. “...what are you…?”

At his question, she stops mid-bite, considering him before giving him a smile.

Her teeth are...are…!

“You never know what you’ll find lurking in the ocean,” she replies airily before finally taking her bite of fish.

Staring, Madara completely forgets his own. No...that can’t be...but…?

“...mermaid…?” he dares to whisper.

“Mm,” she hums in affirmative reply. “Hence only being here when I have to be. You’d be surprised how many humans end up lost in these waters. So...I haul them out. Bring them here. Then let them go.” Another bite. “I stay until they’re strong again. Then I head back out into the waters.”

“How...how has no one -?”

“Found me? Told of me? Anyone who’s been washed up is already believed to be mad from the sea. No one believes a washed-up man’s tales about a mermaid saving his life.”

“...why do you do it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

A pause, considering his food. A few bites pass before he asks, “Are there others?”

“Yes. But I stay alone. Most of my kind are not...fond of your kind. But I find you curious. None have tried to hurt me yet.” A pause. “...though I don’t fully trust you.”

“Probably wise,” Madara replies dryly. Lost in his thoughts, he finishes his food in silence.

“Here.”

Looking up, he sees her offer a waterskin. It’s then he realized how long it’s been since he’s had fresh water. “...so, how long before I can leave?”

“A few days. You were quite weak - you’ll have to build up some strength, first. Then I’ll take you to the next island. There’s a town there - you can find your way from the port.”

“Ah...that might not be wise.”

“Why not?”

“Do you know who holds this port?”

The mermaid blinks. “...no. Why?”

“Well...I’m rather notorious among humans. I might not be welcomed.”

Something lights her eyes for a moment - understanding, perhaps? “Then...where do you wish to go?”

“Do you know the port of Isla Verde? I’d be safe there.”

She thinks. “...that...is a great many miles from here. It would take many, many days to get there.”

“But...you could take me?”

“Mm...maybe. But what would you give me in return?”

“I have gold. Lots of it. Just need a way back to it.”

A hand waves. “I care not for gold. All I need, I have in the sea. Besides, I collect many things from it you humans lose. Where do you think I got your garments?”

“Then what could you want, if you have all you need?”

A thoughtful hum. “...I shall choose when we arrive. For now, I must think.”

“All right, fair enough.”

“And you must rest. Regain your strength. Here we’ll stay a few days more. Now...I must go hunt.”

“We just ate.”

“And hunting takes time. Stay, rest, eat. I’ll be back.”

Watching her go, Madara sees her step into the tide. Up to her waist she walks, stopping at an outcropping of stone. She pulls aside her garment, tying the fabric in place before sinking.

She disappears.

But then, with a leap, she breaches the surface, hopping out before diving into deeper waters. Rather than like a fish, from her hips extends a tail more like a dolphin’s: white, like her locks.

He just stares, still wondering if he’s actually dead, and this is all just some strange purgatory dream.

After a time, he grows restless, walking along the beach in one direction. The island is, indeed, rather small - it takes him all of an hour to come back around. Sand encircles the entire perimeter, a large rocky outcropping jutting from the center. Palms and other fruit-bearing trees pepper the isle, grasses and ferns growing more densely the further in you wander. A spring bubbles from a clearing, running clear and smooth. Taking a break to drink, Madara reclines under a palm tree, staring up through the leaves.

It’s like a tiny little paradise.

Were he a simpler man, he might entertain the idea of just...staying. There’s water, shelter, food...and the island itself is rather gorgeous.

Though it also hosts rather...strange company.

He’s not sure what to make of his savior. She seems pleasant enough. But to think that such a creature is truly real. Not just some fable of the sea.

It makes him wonder what else is possibly lurking in the dark depths of the waters he loves so ardently.

But, either way, he can’t stay. Not with the stirring that still pulls at his soul. That which longs for conquest and adventure, excitement and experiences! If he knows anything about himself, it’s that he’ll quickly grow bored of this place. Beautiful it may be, but...stagnant. Unchanging.

Too...peaceful. Peace is to be idle.

And to be idle is to go mad.

Returning to the inlet of the hut, he realizes that his companion has returned. Still transformed, she lies on her belly atop the rock, propped atop her elbows and staring out into the horizon. Idly the fin of her tail flicks up water over the smooth skin, sun reflecting off the pale white flesh.

Stepping up into the water to his ankles, Madara makes to call to her, but...stops as he hears something.

...singing…?

In a haunting minor key, without words, the mermaid croons into the breeze. Parts are reminiscent of shanties he knows, but...sadder. More mournful than cheery as meant to keep up the spirits of the crew.

It sounds...incredibly lonely.

“I stay alone. Most of my kind are not...fond of your kind. But I find you curious.”

Is that the whole truth? Or is there something she’s not told him?

Wading out a bit deeper, the sea lapping at the hems of his trousers, he waits for a lull in the song. “Serenading the gulls?”

Over her shoulder she glances to him. Her tie-on skirt is still hanging along the rocks, her strange top drying around her chest. Beside her, a net of crustaceans and fish is tied in the tide. “I like to sing. A pleasant way to pass the time.”

“Why don’t you just go home?”

“...home?”

“Back to...wherever you came from?”

Something shifts in her expression. “...I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I am...not welcome.”

That earns a frown. “Whyever not?”

“I’m a danger.”

Madara can’t help a scoff. “You? Dangerous?”

“...my color is a threat. Wherever I go, I’m easily spotted. If I stay with the others...I bring them attention. Put them in danger. So...no, I can’t go back where I came from.” Her gaze returns to the sea. “...I was cast out. For the good of the others.”

He’s...not sure what to say to that. It makes sense. Something so brightly-colored - so different than the tones of the ocean - would stand out. “...is that why you approach humans? Because you’re alone?”

For a moment, she doesn’t answer. “...you always leave, in the end.”

“You could come with me.”

Again she turns to him, expression sharp, as though both troubled - and yet intrigued - by his offer. “...why?”

“If you’re tired of people leaving, find people you can stay with. True, this isle is amazing. A little utopia among the waves. But few are so content to remain in one place too long. Keep a man someplace he cannot leave of his own will, and no matter how you cater it to him...it will be a prison all the same.”

Something in her expression falls. “I...did not see it that way. I have the freedom of the sea...I never thought…”

“So, come with me.”

“I cannot stay with humans. The sea always calls to me. I cannot stay away forever.”

“You don’t have to. I sail! I’m rarely far from the water. We stop and explore isles, conquer other ships, visit harbors...”

“But you don’t know if your ship still sails. If your crew still lives.”

“I told you, I’ve gold. I just need to get to it. Another ship can be bought. Another crew can be found.”

“...why do you insist I go with you?”

“You saved my life. Perhaps I could change yours.” His arms open in a gesture of offering. “...maybe that could be my payment to you.”

The mermaid considers him, expression unreadable. “...I will...consider it.”

“That’s all I can ask. Besides...you may be right. I need more time to rest. Then...we can hit the open waters. Make up our minds.”

Her lips lift just a hair. “...you travel far? On your...ship?”

“Wherever I please. There’s much of the ocean to explore, and I’ve seen a great many places already. I answer to no man but myself. We could go anywhere you wanted.”

A wistful look colors her eyes. “...perhaps that would be...pleasant.”

“There’s nothing like it.”

A more genuine smile curls her mouth before looking to the horizon. “...we’ll see what we feel in a few days. You may yet change your mind.”

“And so may you.”

The conversation trails to silence, so Madara retreats up the beach and back to the hut. In truth, he’s still exhausted. His limbs feel heavy, and his mind slow. Nearly drowning, as it so happens, leaves one a bit tuckered. So, for now, he heaves himself back upon the cot, plans and what-ifs soon melding into dreams.

.oOo.

AHHH IT’S FINALLY HERE! I’ve been prepping for this event for weeks xD Really hoping it does well! Anywho, I’ve written a pirate!verse MadaRyū before...but that was with a human!Ryū. Madara’s pretty much the same in both stories, as is the verse background, but I decided to make Ryū a mermaid for this one, cuz...why not? Especially since I technically wrote it in May...Mermay, right? lol For anyone unfamiliar, I’ve written this ship (mostly in canon and modern verses) with Phoenix for a good long while now! I love their dynamic no matter what universe we write them in. And given I had that random fic of this verse before, I thought they’d fit best in it again! Phoenix, if you see this (which golly I hope you do lol), thank you for writing all your beans with me, and letting bonds grow between our muses. It’s always a pleasure writing with you, and I hope to again soon, no matter what verse we end up in! <3 Anyway, I don’t want to carry on for too long - happy OC x Canon ship week, everybody!

#narutoocxcanonshipweek #noxcsw #uchihamadara #uchiha madara #suigin ryū #blue waves and black flags [ au ]

6 notes · View notes

rambleverse · 5 years

Text

The Golden Dream: Finale - Oakvale Warder Prestige Class Story

“You once had authority on your side; you had experience and power, and it was good. You knew your place in the world, and how everything ought to be. Yet, it was all smoke and mirrors in the end. You did not know, in fact, what you thought you understood. As you lost, and lost, you found yourself withdrawing, losing your connections, or finding them severed long before you realized the loss.” “It was not chance-- it was inevitable, as are all things in their season. Yet, even as winter consumes autumn, so too does the cold give way to warmth in spring, and new life forms. Take the generosity offered; your closed door is nought but a spoke on the wheel dipping, so that another might rise. What are we, if not the Phoenix People, who rise from our own ashes? Look deep inside. Look beyond yourself. Look into the ways what you have never. Your purpose as you knew it, has died. From the earth it is buried, find new growth. Lift yourself from a fall, and find that you too may have depths you had never yet seen; loss brings forth the best in us.”

The Oracle, Elleynah Stormsummer

Summer

He learned the lessons of the roots and green grass; he learned the lessons of the high sun. In the quiet places of the earth he found a quiet in himself, and in its still serenity he listened. There the voices spoke through him. The breath of nature in a curled breeze--it said parts of him he could not know alone. Together they grew wiser. Together they were strong. Like sky and earth they made a picture: a horizon for the light. He could not live alone: nothing truly can.

When the summer sun went elsewhere, and Azul’sar grew gray, the apprentice knew that seasons change. He gathered friends for guidance. He traveled while he could. Walking with the sun before him, he saw its light bring life everywhere he went. Beyond the vale, beyond the years, he lived for all the world.

Through the golden wicker-eye he dreamt the druids circling on their elder, and he saw himself among them. Some cried tears, some laughed, but they held hands around the entwood clearing. Ouron saw them bless the master with familial words but few goodbyes. When Azul’sar closed his eyes at last, he knew that it was not the end. From his body came the grass, and from his spirit came the solstice ent. As seasons change, so too must life.

Autumn

Nethermoon lived a life alone. He kept so little people that he made his life from things. Ouron filled his heart with metals. He clogged his lungs with dust. He packed his mind with people’s words. He asked questions on his behalf, and gave answers for himself. He wrote books that he alone would read, and made logs for private reference. In his house he rose to greatness, so he might never need to leave.

When his silver went to gray, Ouron felt a chill. He built his house beside the Sun, but when it drifted toward the night he grew afraid. If the sun designed to move, then he would scheme to keep it. With rune and ley and fleeting years he made a cage to keep the light.

Ban’dinoriel they called it: a gate forever shut.

Winter

After Azul'sar, the young ward grew into keeper of the Vale. As Shan'do he felt the eyes of those around him like never before. He watched the saplings rise into trees tended by his hand. He watched the brooks surge to rivers, and heard their voices carry his name to the sea as a friend. The wind brought him tales of strife: first trolls, then Hordes, the name Arthas, and the black-winged death. The Vale endured with him. They did not fear. They knew the cycle.

When his dreams turned to gold he glimpsed the old elf with painful eyes in blue. Always watching him, mumbling, scared--he pitied him. The druid knew him for a visitor, but did not know his reasons. Waxing years did not change him. Life did not touch him. The ghost carried nothing with him to the space they shared until the day the vision came.

Ouron watched the elf before him rise despite him. In so many ways the child grew apart from how he knew himself. He was strong in heart, sure in mind, wreathed in love and simple purpose, and Ouron grew to loathe himself. He rolled in verdant envy gilt by remorse.

What could have been?

What could I be?

Why must I know this?

Why am I here?

Ouron saw him weave life from magic and back again. Ouron saw him master the mysteries of the Order of Things with a breath. He stepped above him. He stood superior, Ouron knew it from that for certain.

The vision changed them.

Ouron saw it first and for what it was: acrid clouds before a blackened sky. The horizon burned the blood on the earth. The outworld beasts tore through tree and elf alike. They poisoned the earth and sundered the water. For the first time in this life, Ouron spoke aloud.

“They...they won't survive.”

These first words cut like rusted wire through his mind. He spoke? In years he hadn't-these were dying wails he heard, friends voices from the day before-he hadn't spoke but now--he saw their grieving faces drained of blood--why show me now--he saw the honored mother cut--

Then the end.

Side by side they watched it happen. They saw him rise; he was verdant, brilliant, superior. He rose in ancient entwood flesh. He rose with a heart loved by the green places of the earth. He fought with furious magic both wild and deep.

Then Ouron Nethermoon: Keeper of the Oakvale Grove, Steward of the Wild lands, Honored Child of Sun and Moon and First of His House--fell with his people and his Vale.

“How many years?” the Shan'do asked. Great was his wisdom, and so the truth of it lay plain before him.

Ouron felt his throat again. He felt his blood curdle to stone. His tongue dried between his teeth.

“Please” the druid asked.

Ghost looked to ghost, “Years. A handful of years” he said.

“And you? Did you-”

Ouron shook his head, “I...I was a mage. I was not there when Oakvale fell.”

“Fell?” the druid said, “Then you survived?”

“The Legion fell at the Dawnspire. I saw Baal die with my own eyes.”

“...”

“It's not right” Ouron said.

“You think this is a lie?” he asked.

“Not that,” Ouron knew it too. “You deserved better. I lived--”

“You lived to be here,” he said, “in all my life. You lived to be here.”

“You deserved better than to be a memory” Ouron said. He turned his head to his other side. The druid looked at him with pity in his eyes--even here--even before his own death.

“Ouron?” he asked. The mage nodded. To his shock the druid smiled.

“That's all any of us can be.”

“But--” the mage gaped.

“If this is the mother's plans for me, then I will see it through” the druid said. They stood alone, together now. The death before them faded to the dark. “But if you still live, then we have little time to bring you here.”

At last the mage knew what to say, the words came to him like a memory.

“The engine’s detonation will be our anchor point,” Ouron said, “its magic bends time inward, toward its core. If we work in tandem, we can bring you to me.”

“Or you to me,” the druid said, “have you done this before?”

“Only once, and I had help” Ouron said.

“Then I will trust your guidance, elder mage” the druid said. About them the sleeping dream faded at its edges--the Shan’do in his own time began to wake.

“You honor me” Ouron said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” the druid said, “I trust myself, don’t you?”

Spring

Shan’do Nethermoon worked astride to worlds. In his life he walked from vale to vale, gathering the means to ensure his people’s future--wherever they may be. In his dreams he studied in his Other’s company, and grew to know himself better with the passing days. They were not alike, not wholly, but both lived in tandem as they could. At times they met their task gladly, and others mourned in equal parts for failures real and dreamt. The elder took the entwood flesh, and in his heart prepared his Order’s final secret gift.

Despite it all, when the last night fell, they met within the dream to make ready for the dawn.

“Shan’do” the mage said, “I’ve watched your life unfold before me. I’ve felt and seen things none should see.”

The druid for his part smiled sadly, “A burden we now share, my friend. To see a life not lived...it can’t have been an easy thing.”

“I made my choice, Shan’do. I had nothing left to lose. But you--your order--”

The druid held his hand and stopped the thought at once.

“Nothing grows from nothing, Ouron. For the tree to bloom, the seed must die.”

Ouron felt the dream stir. This time though, it turned at its center. Somewhere another elf, in another life, edged away from deepest slumber. The golden dream of seven thousand years at last passed as all dreams do.

And with the end of winter came the spring.

From deep within the Oakvale den, Ouron Nethermoon’s eyes opened wide from sleep. The dirt of death fell from his flesh and robes--his eye of wicker gold burning like a cresting copper star. At last his lungs drank air, his body ley, his soul sweet exhilaration, love, and grief. For two lifetimes worth his being roared with the essence of living! From the darkened hole he whooped to the sun above--its light fell on his fallen twin.

The impulse took him.

“Share the gift” his hand spoke as verdant miracle twisted in his fingertips. There was still time.

He let the instinct of his heart guide his stride, and leapt upon the sleeping ent. With defiant cry against all sense he beat his hands into the ancient’s open chest. Great thumping cracks shook wood and burrow too, as the rabbit hole above them broke and widened.

THOOM

CRACK

With every strike he hammered life into his brother’s fallen heart--the sun now on his back--he worked for all the world to see. Raising wildly hand to sky, he watched the light, ley, and viridescent life gather up his arm--to save--TO LIVE.

Oakvale roared with their ascension--with quaking steps they strode the forest vale reborn, and from his other’s flowering head he called for all the world to hear.

“I AM OURON NETHERMOON.”

#ouron nethermoon #oakvale warder #prestige class #oakvale #the sunguard #prestige class story

12 notes · View notes