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zaffrenotes · 3 years

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To Ruined Friendships

Fandom: Westworld Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader Rating/Warnings: PG-13; spicy language, alcohol consumption, heavy smoochin Author's Note: This entire thing was inspired by a dream I had about one black hat cowboy who cannot for the life of him consume a drink without looking like he's going to inhale it. I tried to work on my other WIPs for an entirely different fandom, but my brain refused to focus on anyone other than Logan Delos. I don't have the energy to create a sideblog for this, so any Logan fans who happen to find this from the tags, please don't judge me for the other fandom(s) I'm in. I already know, lol. Word Count/Reading Time: +/- 2600 words (10 minutes reading)

hell if I know who to tag for this...if I ever write more and you want to get an update, leave a comment, I guess?: @the-blind-assassin-12 @ao719 @the-soot-sprite possibly @ofpixelsandscribbles @burnsoslow

Another night rubbing shoulders with the elite in a penthouse, and all you want to do is retreat into one of the half dozen empty rooms to rest your feet. Beauty always has a price, and tonight your feet were being sacrificed to the stiletto gods in the name of fashion. As a waiter weaves between guests, you deftly trade the empty crystal flute in your hand for a fresh one off their tray, the slim glass chilling your fingertips.

A tiny, imperceptible sigh slips past your lips as you look out at the wall of windows, city skyline twinkling in the distance. Glancing through the crowd, you try to find a familiar face of one of your girlfriends, when you feel someone’s fingers on your back, ghosting over the ink at the base of your spine. Over your shoulder, a warm, though somewhat world-weary voice makes your body tingle. “Hey gorgeous, I was wondering if I’d see you here tonight.”

You know he’s grinning before you even turn your head; a sly smile spreads across your painted lips when you see you were right, and you lean in to press your cheek to Logan’s in greeting. His beard tickles your face, and the movement is small, but you feel him pull you closer to him, pressing his fingertips into your smooth skin. “You know me,” you reply, gently squeezing his bicep for balance, noses nearly touching as you both move to kiss the other cheek. “Any excuse to squander part of my father’s fortune on a party dress.”

His cheek twitches up as he grins wider, and once more, the grit in his voice makes you want to find a dark corner and do unspeakable things with him. “Only you could make a napkin’s worth of fabric look like couture,” he teases, stepping back to admire your outfit. “I own pocket squares larger than what you’ve got on!” His gaze lowers appreciatively, taking you in, before settling at your feet. You shift your weight from one hip to the other; tilting your head back to take a sip of champagne, you’re surprised to see his dark eyes on you as you swallow and lower the glass. There’s a hint of something there, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Been here long? Why don’t we find somewhere quiet to catch up? You can let your hair down, along with… anything else, to get comfortable.” Were it not for the playful expression in his eyes, his proposition would warrant throwing the remainder of your drink directly into his exquisite face.

But you know Logan. You’ve known him too long for the invitation to be anything but amicable, much to your dismay. You’re well aware of the caliber of women he’s taken to the bedroom, and while you consider yourself attractive enough for the circles you keep, there’s no way he would ever see you as more than just a family friend. Knowing that doesn’t keep you from stroking his ego and taunting him at every opportunity, though. “My hair’s already down,” you tease, grinning as you roll your eyes at him.

“You know what I mean,” he replies, brushing your tresses over one shoulder. His thumb lingers on the strip of silk there, slipping between the material to rest on your skin, before pulling away. “We’ve known each other for years now, you’d think there would’ve been one night of indecency.” Before you’re able to respond, he glances up, noticing one of the other guests. “To be continued,” he says, raising his brows to you. He’s already begun to walk away.

“As always,” you reply, raising your glass to him.

You catch his eye more than a few times as you both make the rounds, catching up with friends and being introduced to new acquaintances vying for a way into social circles and business ventures. He winks at you before throwing back a drink, appearing as if he’d take a bite out of the glass to get every last drop of liquid from it. You nod as you pass by him while he converses with another guest, your arm linked with a friend’s as you walk off to powder your noses. You even catch him looking at you from across the room like he wants to ask you something, but the moment disappears when he pulls his phone from his pocket to take a call.

The evening goes on much longer than you anticipated. Even with windows of interesting conversation to pass the time, you begin to grow weary of the company, drowning out a discussion around you while you stake a claim on one of the pristine white couches. Your legs are crossed in front of you, one foot dangling in the air, while the one closer to the floor looks like it’s about to snap away from the rest of your leg. You’re balancing the weight on a sliver of one side of the heels, and you gaze out at the outdoor pool, wishing you could sit by the edge and dip your feet in the cool, chlorinated water.

Scanning through the guests once more, you notice Logan at the bar. He’s in the middle of a conversation with two gentlemen, but he catches your eye, glancing over long enough to notice your legs again. He flicks his eyes upwards to the rooms, tilting his head at an angle in silent question. You scoff and shake your head, blinking slowly to dismiss his invitation, and give up your position on the couch to go to look for the bathroom. He simply smiles as you cross the room, before returning to the conversation at the bar.

You’re outside on one of the balconies, forearms resting on the brushed steel railing as you lean against metal and glass, absentmindedly staring out at the city. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin, now warm and flushed from too much champagne and not enough food; there’s never enough food at these things, and you would sell your soul for a plate of loaded nachos or even a tiny slider. Behind you, there’s a click and a hiss from the plate glass door opening. Jovial music and conversation from inside filters through the temporary break, and you sigh to yourself in preparation of putting on your party face to make idle conversation.

“That is one hell of a view.” An all too familiar voice fills the air after the door hisses shut. Logan.

You respond without turning around to acknowledge him. “Your family sure knows how to pick a party venue, I’ll give you that.”

“We do, but that’s not the view I was talking about.”

Body warming at his suggestive tone, you turn around to see Logan’s eyes fixed on your backside, unashamed of his blatant ogling. There’s a glass tumbler in his hand, with barely a sip’s worth of what looks like whiskey in it. “There you go again, getting a girl’s hopes up,” you tease, fidgeting with your hair.

“You know you’re fucking gorgeous, especially in that dress tonight.” His voice travels as he walks over to a darker part of the balcony, swirling the remnants of his drink.

Emboldened by the alcohol still coursing through your system, you play along, walking slowly towards him. “Let me guess, next you’re going to tell me it would look even better in a pile next to your bed.” You roll your eyes at him, but your heart begins to race at the idea.

He grins warmly at you, a tendril of hair knocking loose when he tilts his head and shrugs. You want to reach forward and smooth it back in place, and run your fingers against the side of his scalp. His hair’s longer than it was before; he’s been away at the park for a longer visit this time around. His unnervingly dark eyes are practically black in the shadows, eyeing you like prey. Extending a hand towards you, he reaches for the strap on your shoulder again as if to adjust it, but instead he lifts it and lets it fall off the slope of your skin, staring at the unblemished swath of flesh before him. You feel the material fall until it rests in the crook of your elbow, thankful to be holding up a glass to keep the silk from falling away any further off your body. “A dress like this? I’d have the decency to hang it up first.” He tugs at the fabric again, pulling it up over your shoulder to return your modesty.

“Keep saying shit like that, and one of these days I might believe you.”

“Should I keep talking then?” He chuckles.

You exhale, shaking your head with disbelief. He takes another step away from where you can be seen, and you follow him. “I’m not drunk enough to take you seriously,” you scoff, looking just beyond his gaze.

Logan reaches forward again, fingers landing on the base of your glass, and he pushes it up towards your mouth. “Then by all means, take another sip,” he grins.

“Bullshit,” you utter through a nervous smile, though you don’t stop yourself from tipping the edge of the flute to your lips and tilting your head up, downing half the contents in one gulp.

“Fuck it,” he whispers.

You swallow, and effervescent bubbles tickle the length of your throat so much that it takes you a second to register feeling Logan’s lips at the juncture of your jawline and earlobe. The way his beard brushes against you as you pull the glass away from your lips makes you lose your grip, and the flute falls to the ground, shattering near your feet. You gasp with surprise, unsure if it’s from the shock of dropping the glass or from the fact that Logan fucking Delos just kissed you.

In one swift movement, Logan wraps his unencumbered hand around your waist to pivot you away from the broken glass. His drink-laden hand blindly stretches out to set the glass on the thin metal railing, and he kisses you properly this time, impossibly soft lips on your open mouth and both of his hands are on your waist. He tastes sweet, smokey and woody from the whiskey, setting your lips on fire as he kisses you. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping at his suit jacket as he leads you both towards an exterior wall. The shock of the cool wall against your exposed back makes you gasp again, and you push Logan away. “What’re you doing?” Your head is swimming, blood pulsing from the alcohol and the rush of emotions as you search Logan’s eyes for an answer.

“Might be ending our friendship,” he laughs wryly. His eyes land on your lips, before looking up to meet your gaze. “Want me to stop?”

The look in his eyes is intense; two black pools stare into you, daring you to continue. You tug the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close as your pelvis tilts forward to meet his. “Finish what you start,” you whisper, Cheshire-grin giving away your desire. He kisses you again, grabbing hold of the back of your thighs as he lifts you. You spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he presses you up against the wall, the pair of you kissing each other like it’s your last night on earth. There’s an urgency in your actions; if there’s a moment of hesitation from either of you, the spell will break, so you ignore the burning in your lungs to kiss him again. When you feel how hard he is pressed up against you, you tilt your head back and let your eyes flutter closed. He takes it as an opportunity to swirl his tongue against your neck, and you think about feeling his tongue elsewhere on your body.

Your back presses against the wall even more, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist tighter, pinning you in place. As you utter curses of pleasure into the night air, your feet feel relief for the first time all night, weightless as you destroy any propriety that existed with Logan Delos.

You can feel the sun against your eyelids, and the soft sounds of someone typing away at a keyboard. Between the dull ache at the base of your skull and your throbbing temples, you smack your lips together a few times, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth. You turn your face into what you think is a pillow, but determine to be a fleece blanket due to its soft yet formless design. There’s a faint aroma of coffee in the air, and you hope your roommate left some in the carafe. “Dear god, don’t let me drink that much ever again,” you groan, voice strained and scratchy from dehydration. “I made a complete ass of myself in front of Logan.” A minute passes without your roommate’s usual prodding; all you hear is typing now and then. “How’d we get home?”

You’re met with more silence, but your level of irritation is nothing compared to the hangover headache growing with each passing minute of consciousness. You’re about to ask for Tylenol, when you hear the click and hiss of a glass door opening, followed by the sound of someone splashing in a pool. The apartment you share with your roommate has no access to a pool, let alone a back door made of glass. Opening your eyes feels like peeling apart pieces of tape, but with effort you blink slowly and allow your eyes to focus, trying to ignore the glare from the midday sun. You realize the fleece blanket you were resting on was your arm, nestled in the sleeve of a plush bathrobe. It was the kind of robe often seen hanging in the bathroom of high-end hotels.

“That was a side of you I haven’t seen before. Good morning, sunshine.” The voice is distinctively, impossibly Logan’s, with a new note of lightness to it that wasn’t present during last night’s party. “Care to see something interesting?”

You push yourself off the sofa slowly, adjusting the robe on you - apparently you fell asleep wearing it, and you have no idea where your dress or shoes are - and sit up. Logan’s dressed casually in black, seated at a desk a few feet away, with multiple monitors in front of him. One looks to be running code or tracking stock market activity, but he disconnects the laptop in the middle of the desk and carries it over to the couch, taking a seat next to you. There’s a video clip paused on the screen, and he waits to make sure you’re alert enough to watch, before letting it play.

The video shows a clip from the hotel’s CCTV cameras, pointed at the infinity pool. The only lights are coming from the pool walls, and the timestamp reflects it was the middle of the night, long after the party would’ve ended. There’s a naked male figure treading water matching Logan’s build, and then an undressed woman appears from the bottom edge of the frame, preparing to jump into the pool with him. You gasp, covering your mouth with one hand, making out a tattoo on her lower back - your tattoo - before cannonballing into the pool and making out with Logan just before dipping under the water’s surface.

Logan pauses the video, beaming an annoyingly adorable smug expression across his face as he resists the urge to tease you right away. Instead, he leans over, pecks your cheek, and eyes the glimpse of cleavage availed to him between the folds of your robe. “Lady’s choice - I could fuck your hangover away, or there’s coffee in the kitchen. What’ll it be?”

#logan delos #logan delos x reader #westworld #zaffrenotes writes #apparently for more than one fandom now #is this a fluke?#cw: alcohol #cw: swearing #cw: mild citrus #more than a lime but less than lemons #I love the way Ben cannot drink or eat like a normal human #it's endearing and I love him for it #chomp chomp Bennie

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thatonethimbo · 2 years

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‘‘what the jake doin’ ‘‘ Jake/reader (platonic, maybe) if any pronouns, would be they/them

(you have a vari but you can choose its gender and if it’s an alpha gleam, or a gamma, as well as an sa, I don’t judge lmao)

- also i tried not showing the pronouns or describing your vari so it’s easier to imagine yours as whatever

- not forgetting the fact i changed a small part, the box hits that dude’s head, he probs deserved it idk

- mmm, ll fic warmup

The night skies hung overhead, as you silently passed the trainers on the abandoned part of the highway. Some of them looked to you as you walked by, one finding themself not at all interested.

As you drew closer to Sepharite (sprite) Junkyard, you immediately pinched your nose as soon as you caught a whiff of the familiar (but terrible) smell.

Beside you, trotted your Vari, who was staying close to you for comfort, wary of the strangers whose dim shadows loomed menacingly. Stranger danger, after all.

Sometime earlier, a stranger took a few of your valuable belongings, racing out of the gate and into the route. You had limped after them, as they had one of their Loomians use a rather effective Tase on your leg.

And then they just simply chucked the stuff into the junkyard, before laughing as they raced off.

Why they did that, you had no idea. But hey, at least you had something to do with your time.

Admittedly, a terrible idea.

Thankfully, your affected leg had mostly recovered by now, but you still got a few tingles here and there as you began trudging through the garbage, gagging silently with your Vari behind you.

Hearing a wooosh noise, you quickly turn to the source of the noise, just in time as you catch sight of what seemed to be a yellow blocky-ring shaped- portal? In its centre, for a second you can see its swirling purple depths disturbed, rippling like water as a wooden box falls out-

-and right onto the head of a homeless man.

Taking the hit quite well, the man doesn’t drop to the ground as expected, instead, he looked down, quickly tearing open the box like he would for a box of chocolates.

His eyes lit up with joy, as he snatched something vari very familiar to you. An orange and black uniform, with the usual thin black vertical stripes and orange coloured emblem of an eclipse.

Before you could go into ‘‘flashback mode’‘, a term you had coined yourself as you were coming to grips with what had happened earlier in your life, the man turned, seeing you.

‘‘Hands off, I saw this crate first!’‘ He snarled, like he didn’t see your clothes, which would’ve been all fine and wonderfully clean had you not ventured into this area in the first place.

You backed off pretty quickly, startling your Vari who was about to fall asleep in a pile of garbage, following you as you returned to focus on what you came here for.

One thing to say, were you able to talk, as you caught sight of your items, was that they were better off staying where they were, stinking of garbage.

Seriously though, you saw a few of the gummies you were saving up for one of your other Loomians, now a full course meal for a Burroach. You tried creeping up on it, but it had screeched at you as you had approached, quite bravely for something its size.

And now, everything felt like it was falling down around you, as the full realization of the situation tumbled down on you like an avalanche. Despair dragged you through its depths, as you stood there, hopeless.

It took more than a week to gather all you had that was now with the garbage.

You were ready to break down into sobs.

‘‘Hey, you, what happened?” Hearing a somewhat familiar voice, you turned, eyes widening as you took in the appearance of the newcomer. His yellow eyes contrasted with his dark, spiky hair, face pulled into a worried expression.

Still, he wore his Eclipse admin outfit, a bit ragged and dirty in some areas, with small stitched-over holes in other parts, along with a torn black cloth around his neck.

He hadn’t changed that much.

Your best friend was here, but he didn’t seem to recognize you...

Did he?

Feedback is much appreciated

#loomian legacy #jake #dimensionman

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mxvladdy · 3 years

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Shake On It

This is an older original work I wrote for a writing prompt given to me on a writing discord I’m on. I really liked it!

Ironically it also pertains to the Christian mythos and such, but is in no way affiliated with Obey Me lmao

Prompt: traveling bible salesman, death of a family member and bouns round- a time machine.

Hope y’all like! I might add to this later on. I got a lot of fanfics and original projects I’m working on as it lol.

Down on your luck? At the end of your rope? Sister's funeral not going as planned?

We've all been there.

Perhaps I can offer you a hand? Promise it's worth it.

Thin smiles and fake condolences. It was all really one could expect under the circumstances, really. You and your sister hadn’t-well- weren’t the most well-received individuals on your family tree. But she deserved better than this, some stale flowers and a note. You had stormed from the viewing room near tears, the only two relatives who had shown looking after you. They had been less than tactful in saying that no one else was coming. Not even your parents were there. So, instead of watching over your twin’s ashes, you sat crying next to the funeral home's rusty dumpster.

How fitting.

Did no one care that familial blood had been spilt? A cold body and no leads and they just shrug it off? You sniff, lips trembling around an unlit cigarette, numb and lost as to what to do next.

“Need a light?” Reedy fingers flick out beneath your nose and pluck the stick from your slack lips.

You jerk your chin up in shock, more surprised that you hadn’t heard them approaching. “Oi!” Your eyes squint as they snap up toward the setting sun. Your uninvited visitor is perfectly shadowed by the low light. They tisk, ignoring you in favor of sniffing your cheap smoke before flicking it to the ground as if it had personally offended them.

“I swear,” they scoff, fumbling in their pockets. Their soft accent is unrecognizable to your ear. “On a day like this. You deserve better, no?” Their hand stops at their chest with a soft gasp. “Ah! Here we are, here we are!” The stranger’s silhouette produces something from an unseen pocket with a grant flourish, offering it out to you.

“A lolli?” You take it from them in a daze, twirling the bright yellow candy between your fingers. You eye them quizzically. It seemed like an odd practice for a funeral home to do. You knew they hadn’t been at the wake. Their form was taller and lankier than the few guests or staff that had been milling about. Did they work in the back with the bodies, perhaps? Out on their 15? You eye their scuffed oxfords and old mud clinging to their khaki pants.

The stranger chuckles, an oddly deep one for their stature. “But of course! Better for you in the long run. Believe you me, lungs full of ash are quite unpleasant.” You stare blankly up at them. What? “Might I join you for a tick? You look like you could use some company.” They continue nodding their head toward the empty space beside you.

“Can’t stop you.” You sigh popping the sickly yellow lolli into your mouth. The flavor catches you off guard. Hands flying up flap uselessly at your burning cheeks. You gag, only swallowing down your initial shock. Chili and lemon? Who the hell…

“Shock to the system huh?” They laugh at your teary-eyed glare. “I find a bit of contrast clears the mind.”

“I guess.” You cough as you thump your chest hard. Wiping at your teary eyes, you get a better look at them. You were correct in your assumption that you had never seen this person till now.

They smile at you patiently, knowing exactly what you were doing. They seemed normal enough. Unkempt hair and thick glasses. Gangly knees draw close to their chest. A rumpled white button-up tent like on their frame. Sleeves pushed up to show off their knobby elbows. Their tawny skin was spattered with freckles, crossing from high cheekbone to high cheekbone. The freckles were interrupted in their smooth transition across their face by a jagged edge on the wide bridge of their nose. From a distance, the crook of their nose wouldn’t have been noticeable. But this close, you recognize the look of a break long since healed. Its off-centered placement only emphasizes their lopsided grin. Their teeth, though, are surprisingly flawless. Their canines flash predatorily off of the security lights as the sun finally sets.

“My condolences.” They cut through your musing, popping a candy in their mouth as well. “I assume you are part of the party inside?” You follow their pointed finger to the door.

“Yes.” You nod and readjust your posture, mind back on your sorrows. They hum noncommittally, finger tapping their nose deep in thought. “It’s my sister- was- my sister.” You explain. “Her landlord found her last week in her bathroom. Coroner says the wounds were self-inflicted.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Not in a million years.” You scowl. You were gonna make it big together, if for no other reason than to thumb your noses at the family that threw you aside. Didn’t know how yet, but you thought you had all the time in the world to figure it out. “We had a plan. Leaving all our work unfinished? It isn’t like her.” They nod, letting the silence draw out between you. The cicadas filling the emptiness.

“What are you planning now?” they ask. The words tickle in your ear, temping thoughts you had long since buried. You knew what you wanted. You wanted revenge, to find and destroy whoever took her away from you. To take your family to task and prove to them that you both had been worth a damn.

“Therapy and a potted plant.” You lie easily, resting your back on the chain link fence. They laugh loudly head thrown back from the power of it. It grates at you.

“Oh, my dear~” They wipe at their eyes, chortling. “I haven’t had a laugh like that in a millennium.” They clear their throat after a bit, brushing at some imaginary dust on their arm. “No need to lie to me. Such peace is not in human nature.” You bristle, wanting to argue, but something holds your tongue. “Perhaps I might have what you seek?” They pull an old briefcase out from behind them. You gape, brows threatening to disappear into your hairline.

It all clicks, as sudden as a blown light bulb. The clothes and glasses. The aversion to smoking. The pushiness. Unbelievable. “You aren’t-no. No!” It was your turn to laugh, the sound bouncing around the back alley. “A freakin’ Bible salesman!?” You lose it, slapping their knee while clutching your stomach and gasping in the sour air. “Oh my God! What, did you get lost on your way to a 60’s convention?”

“Yes, yes. It is quite out of vogue in these times, isn’t it? We had to take a more hands-on approach in recent years. The old lore just doesn’t hold up like it used to.” Their chuckle patting the case, thumbs popping the locks. “But I assure you my book is just what you need.” You stop laughing. A little nagging feeling in the back of your head finally starting to take over.

“Listen- with all due respect."

“Please,” they snap, their tone turning sharp and businesslike. “Lying just insults both of us here.” They hand you the case, nodding at you to open it. “Give it a look. I know you want to.” They lean close then, placing a hand on top of yours. The shadows of the overhead light elongate the digits. Candy sweet breath tickles the fine hairs on your face. “And if the book doesn’t entice you, perhaps a deal might?”

You pop the lid.

The sole occupant of the case lounges on an ornate cushion. The rich blue velvet is inlaid with silver thread and beads, the ornate geometric stitching painstakingly done by some poor sod years ago. Frankly, it looked like a lot of flash and theatrics for a rather ugly book. The leather bound cover is bereft of any discernible writing or art. Despite its apparent age, the paper within is crisp. It's bone white color contrasts harshly with the gold ink used on it.

“I can’t read this.” You look up confused by the random string of symbols and letters. The Bible salesman shrugs, picking at a cuticle.

“You sure? Try again.” Their nonchalant demeanor befuddles you.

“Yes, I’m sure. What kind of mor-'' You glance down at the book again, the leather warming in your palm despite the cool night air. The symbols are the same but it all seems so familiar to you now. Book of The Dawnstar.

“Is this a joke?” You already know the answer. The unnatural warmth and pulsing from the book bring the nerves in your stomach to a sickening curl, tipping you off. But, you don't want to say the word. Magic was a stupid fairy tale made for the big screen.

“Does it feel like a joke?” They ask, lips curling.

“What do you want?” You shut the book with a snap, placing it back in its case. You weren't liking where this was going, but were intrigued all the same.

“Well~ I thought it was self-explanatory.” They take the book back out, fingers going over the front’s cover in odd swirls and dips. Your eyes follow the trail left by their fingers. “Striking deals used to be so much easier, I swear.” They point at you, then at themselves. “I can feel the rage. It called me here. You want answers; more importantly to me, you want revenge. I can help. All you need to do is make a deal with me. You know the saying.”

“For-for real?” You can hardly believe it. This is a prank-or a fever dream. It’s the only explanation. No demon or devils, or stupid magic bullshit. Someone would find you soon, passed out from the stress back here.

“Dream or not, what would it hurt to try?”

“What would it hurt!” you laugh in disbelief. “You know in Bible school they say not to make deals with devils.”

“Pfft.” They wave off the comment. “I’m wounded! Half those fools get the language twisted anyway. Devil, Satan, and my name are not interchangeable . I’m not some low level sprite begging for souls.”

“Why come to me then?” you ask. They shrug, fingers slowing to a stop over their book. “Wouldn’t some--I don’t know--Christian soul be tastier or something?” You begin to panic. The look of exasperation you get in return stops you from losing it completely.

“Is that what they teach these days? Heh, Gabriel must be ringing his halo. But if those stupid little superstitions are whats stopping you from what we both know you desire, let me rectify that.” They rise to their feet, far more elegantly then their appearance would lead you to believe was possible. A haze covers them, the shadows around you seemingly clinging to their body as they turn. “A formal introduction then. Dawnstar, Lucifer. The light bringer, rebel, and protector of those under my eyes.” They bow, baggy clothes replaced with elegant robes of navy. All gangly awkwardness gone in the wake of sheer power. “And you are exactly the entertainment I’m looking for.”

“Entertainment?” You sputter, sinking back as far as you can into the fence behind you. You were sure if you should be insulted or not by the notion. “So you don’t want my soul?”

Lucifer rolls two of their many eyes. “I have bigger, quite frankly purer souls, for that. But they are all rather boring to follow around till they croak. Besides, despite what sweet old pastor Dale says, I am empathetic--to a certain degree. You are right in your assumption that your twin did not take her own life. So I’m offering you a chance to meddle.”

You ponder over the words, mind racing as your spirit soars. This was impossible. “So I can-- what, like wish her back? A soul for a soul?” You rise to your feet, knees shaking as the heavy gaze of the fallen angel bares into you.

“Ugh. Figured you’d say something like that,” Lucifer groans, rolling their neck. “And the answer is no.”

“What? Why!” you snap, heart seizing. You jab a finger at their chest. The cold radiating off of them stops you from getting any closer. “You said you would help!”

They step back, smirking as you rub at your frostbitten finger. “Live and learn, I guess?” Lucifer turns, looking up into the bug-infested sky. “You humans always try that martyr shtick. ‘Oh, trade me for them, please!’. Turns into a never ending headache I’m contractually obligated to help with. Plus, it’s rather boring.”

You sputter. “Excuse me?” Lucifer looks at you, blinking coyly.

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, such clichés get grating every couple of centuries. You, my girl, just have the misfortune of being in one of those centuries. Try something more creative. Make me work for it.”

“Seriously?” You throw your hands up exasperatedly.

“As serious as your great aunt's coming heart attack.” They reply deadpan.

“Fine!” You purse your lips, not evening wanting to think about that last statement. “Help me prevent it.” You fume, all the little thoughts and wishes since the day you got the call boiling over. “I wanna look that fucker in the eyes before they can get to her. I want them to pay for even thinking they could take her from me!”

Lucifer grins, cold dead eyes warming over like coals on an open flame. “Oh yes, now that I will do. Time distortion is such a pain to undo. By the time they catch on, Michael will be up to their necks in timelines to untangle to get to you.” They unfurl a long clawed hand from beneath their robes. You see a symbol glowing, hot and white, on the skeletal palm. “Is that what you truly want?”

“Yes.” You nod, your throat clicking dryly as you approach them again. You hand inches from theirs before stopping. “Can you do that?”

Their smile is all teeth. “With ease. I look forward to watching the mess you make.”

#Vladdy original works #be gentle with me #lol

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comixconnection · 3 years

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Choose Your Three Free Comics!

At long, long last...Free Comic Book Day is here! Unlike the usual “first Saturday in May” celebration that has defined the even in normal years, due to issues with the ongoing pandemic the folks in charge have decided to move this year’s celebration back to August 14th. Want a sneak-peak at the books...?

The following titles will be available at Comix Connection on Aug 14th (while supplies last!). Everybody gets to pick three! Unlike previous years, we will NOT be accepting FOOD DONATIONS in exchange for additional comics. Instead we will be collecting monetary donations to give to the Central Pennsylvania Food Bank. For every DOLLAR donates, you may select an additional free comic book!

We know the line for the FCBD comics can get long (if you want to come in and shop first, you can skip the line and head straight inside!) so in an effort to both entertain you while you’re in that long line and to help it go a little faster by giving you a preview of the various titles so you can decide ahead of time what looks good, the Comix Connection Counter Monkeys have read and reviewed all of the available FCBD books! Take a peek!

CHOOSE YOUR FREE COMICS:

One hundred years before the Skywalker Saga began, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy! In this prelude to the ongoing Star Wars: High Republic Adventures comic series, follow padawans Ram Jomaram, Lula Talisola, and Zeen Mrala as they try to save Lonisa City from the dreaded Nihil. Also read the beginning of Star Wars: High Republic Adventures #1! [All Ages]

“Two brand-new adventures from the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender! In Clearing the Air, Tenzin attempts to teach his rambunctious children a lesson Aang taught him about how to resolve conflicts. In Match Makers, Iroh runs into some trouble with a few friends...that just might lead him to something fun he’s been trying to hide from!” [All Ages]

Who Sparked the Montgomery Bus Boycott? gives a sample of the upcoming graphic novel by the same name, a tale telling the true story of the “Mother of the Civil Rights Movement,” Rosa Parks! This excerpt features the immediate aftermath of Rosa’s arrest, and her decision to start a legal battle that would change the course of American freedom! [All Ages]

“There's nothing better than a beautiful sunny day reading comics, so join us for a look at this summer's fantastic all-ages reads, courtesy of Oni Press! From the gentle, magical worlds of The Tea Dragon Tapestry (by K. O'Neill) and The Sprite and the Gardner (by Rii Abrego and Joe Whitt), the adventurous magical mystery of Mooncakes (by Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu), and the action-packed Jonna and the Unpossible Monsters (Chris and Laura Samnee), there's something for everyone. Sneak a peek at these four fantastic fantasy graphic novels!” [All Ages]

Sonic is 30 years old! Celebrate the anniversary of the world’s fastest hedgehog with this peek into the ongoing Sonic comic series. Things get meta when Amy Rose starts drawing a comic about Sonic, Tails, and their friends...but what will Sonic think when he finds out he’s been turned into a comic book? Prepare for the big 30th Anniversary Sonic Celebration here! [All Ages]

It's the crisis of infinite Archies! Celebrate 80 years of the Riverdale Gang with this tale featuring a dimension-hopping Archie Andrews in his quest to save the multiverse. Then, witness Archie go toe-to-toe with... himself?! May the best Archie win! Plus, get a preview of the newest Archie One-Shot in shops! This title includes several versions of Archie (from classic to TV to horror) and showcases his evolution as a character over eight decades, all while being a tie-in to the company's 80th Anniversary plans. [All Ages]

“Despite the pandemic and the swirl of world events, back issue comics are booming! It's not all record prices (though there are many) or bargain basement deals, but rather it's many different categories! The team that brings you The Overstreet Comic Book Price Guide shines the spotlight on this exciting part of the universe of comic books. Includes tips on how to collect, care for your comics, and preserve them, among other things.” [All Ages]

“Get a sneak peek at book four in the bestselling InvestiGators series! With agent Brash trapped in a mysterious coma, the technicians at S.U.I.T. have designed the ultimate replacement: RoboBrash! This high-tech replica has been programmed with all of the original Brash's crime-fighting skills and know-how--but it seems he's got a few bugs in his system! Will Mango and his new partner be enough to stop the giant ants that are on a rampage in the city? Orchestrated by the spaced-out villain, Maestronaut, and Houdino, the dinosaur escape artist, it seems criminals are certainly upping the ANT-e!” [All Ages]

“My name is Grace, not ‘Kyle's little sister’!” Having a good-looking, friendly, outgoing older brother sucks--especially when you're the total opposite: someone who likes staying home and playing video games. Your parents like him better (even if they deny it!) and everyone calls you "Kyle's little sister" while looking disappointed that you're not more like him. Grace was really hoping she'd get to go to a different middle school, but no such luck. At least she has her friends...until he finds a way to ruin that, too! What will Grace have to do to get out of his shadow?! [All Ages]

Jewish mythology has it that when God created the universe, He left one corner of it unfinished. Opinion is divided on why, but everyone agrees that the Unfinished Corner is a dangerous place full of monsters. Twelve-year-old Miriam is too busy preparing for her Bat Mitzvah to care about the Unfished Corner. She spends her days wrestling with whether she even wants to be Jewish--until a peculiar angel appears, whisking her, her two best friends, and her worst frenemy off to this monstrous land with one mission: finish the Unfinished Corner. [All Ages]

“The City of Gloomhaven isn't "safe" at the best of times, but lately, more folks than usual seem to be disappearing. In a city paralyzed by an unknown menace, only one adventuring crew will do: The Jaws of the Lion! Based on the hit games, Gloomhaven and Jaws of the Lion from Cephalofair Games, comes a fantasy adventure with humor and heart.” [All Ages]

The Last Kids on Earth and their friends each tell their own best story of the Monster Apocalypse, including Jack's high-stakes baseball game, Globlet's attempt to take over the world, Quint's bad-day-away invention, Dirk's bragain with a witch, and June and Skaelka's creepy carnival--plus a surprise story from some bad guys on the run... [All Ages]

Being the new kid is tough, even for a superhero/ward and heir to a billionaire, Damian Wayne (aka Robin)! Join Damian as he struggles to learn patience and understanding from the students at Gotham Metro Academy, including star student and all-around Great Guy, Howard! Plus, an adventure of Amethyst, princess of the mystical realm of Gemworld by bestselling authors Shannon Hale and Dean Hale! [All Ages]

To celebrate the new animated TV series premiering on Nickelodeon Fall 2021, Papercutz is releasing a new series of graphic novels entitled The Smurfs Tales. Preview it here with a number of silly short Smurfs Tales, with a back-up appearance by one of Peyo’s other beloved creations: Johan and Peewit, the young page and the court jester. [All Ages]

In Edge of Balance, a new High Republic story set in the wake of the Hyperspace Disaster, meet new Jedi and their enemies 100 years before the events of the Skywalker Saga! Young Jedi Knight Lily Tora-Asi is assigned to help displaced civilians relocate to Banchii in the Outer Rim. She and her padawans will face more threats there than just anxious settlers, from the insidious Drengir to the Nihil! And in Guardian of the Whills, encounter Baze and Chirrut before they join the Rebellion against the Empire in Rogue One! Presiding over the Kyber Temple on Jedha, the Guardians of the Whills had hoped to maintain the balance despite the growing presence of the Empire in their Holy City. Yet when a rebel named Saw Gerrera appears, Baze and Chirrut must decide if they're willing to compromise for peace, or if Saw's plan is too dangerous to risk. Read the first chapter of these two new Star Wars Manga Graphic Novels here! [Teen]

It wouldn’t be the Teen Titans without heightened teenage emotions and romance! Fan favorites Beast Boy and Raven are travelling away from the dwellings they know to find homes they can feel comfortable in. Along the way, their paths cross, sparks fly, and even a destiny or two might be found. [Teen]

“Street Fighter heads back to school, as the world's young fighters flex both their academic and martial arts prowess! Fan favorites Sakura, Ibuki, Karin, Makoto, and Elena come face-to-face with a new challenger - the leather-clad, motorcycle-riding Akira! It's a square-off of (rival) schools in this action-packed one-shot!” [Teen]

[NOT FINAL ART] “This Fall, jump on board here as VALIANT UPRISING overthrows the status quo with new titles, new creators, and new takes on Valiant's most iconic characters! The VALIANT UPRISING FCBD SPECIAL features: A brand new X-O MANOWAR story from Harvey Award-winning writer Dennis Hopeless and breakout star Emilio Laiso. It's the perfect jumping-on point as Valiant's flagship hero prepares to "Upgrade the World"! Then, get a special advance preview of THE HARBINGER #1, an all-new series from co-writers Jackson Lanzing and Colin Kelly join superstar artist Robbi Rodriguez that promises to take Valiant's psiot rebel in a vivid new direction! Plus, find out how the world's greatest spy responds to being unmasked, hunted, and trapped in a first look at NINJAK #1, the pulse-pounding thrill ride from Ringo Award-winning writer Jeff Parker and legendary artist Javier Pulido. Finally, get a sneak peek from writer Cullen Bunn and artist Jon Davis-Hunt of what's to come when SHADOWMAN returns!” [Teen]

Three epic new Marvel moments begin here! Read the beginning of the upcoming Spider-Man Beyond story that will be starting in Amazing Spider-Man #75! Big changes are coming to everyone’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man...but are they for good, or ill? Also discover the new Venom series, which will take spider symbiosis to whole new levels in the wake of King In Black. And last, sneak a peek at the Luke Cage: City On Fire mini-series, which will pit Luke against not just the Kingpin, but Daredevil too! [Teen]

Gotham is under attack, and it’s by the people claiming to keep it safe! Billionaire Simon Saint has slowly been taking over the institutions of Gotham with his insidious private security Magistrate program. Meanwhile, Batman finds his mind infected by Scarecrow’s fear gas, forcing him to question every decision he makes. It is all leading to the DC-spanning event FEAR STATE that will rock Gotham to its core. Plus, read a preview of Oscar-winning screenwriter John Ridely’s I Am Batman series in which the sons of Lucius Fox struggle with the legacy of both their father and Bruce Wayne as they take up the cowl to defend Gotham. [Teen]

Who is Avenger Prime? And what has spurred the chronal collapse that has them sending their army of Deathloks out to save all of space and time? Discover the start of the end here! Then, journey into the unknown with the Incredible Hulk! Bruce Banner never wanted to smash, he wanted to discover. Now, it’s finally time for the Hulk to expand his horizons with Operation: Smashtronaut! [Teen]

In this story from Critical Role, explore a small but important corner from the adventures of the Mighty Nein. Then, in The Witcher, it's an original tale featuring the iconic witcher himself, Geralt! Created in close collaboration with CD Projekt Red! [Teen]

A fascinating graphic adaptation of historian Timothy Snyder’s book On Tyranny, a collections of essays and reflections on lessons from history and how they can help America steer away from the course of authoritarianism. Recommended for anyone looking to learn more about how tyrants all through history have manipulated people and systems to take away the freedoms of others. [Teen]

“Side A: "BLACK: Interlude" What else was going on the night Kareem Jenkins was shot by police and discovered only Black people have superpowers? Find out in this FCBD one-shot! Side B: "CALEXIT: Hollywood Babylon" Once California refused to be ruled by the US government, its resistance fighters became overnight celebrities. Zora used her infamy for recruiting, but Emmie-X has other ideas.” [Mature]

In 2019, James Tynion IV (Batman) and Werther Dell'Edera (Briggs Land) introduced the world to Erica Slaughter, the iconic monster hunter who came to Archer's Peak, Wisconsin to save the town's children from the monsters only she can see. But Erica is not the only member of the House of Slaughter... With nearly half a million copies sold, Something is Killing the Children has become a true comic phenomenon and this Free Comic Book Day you are invited to enter the House of Slaughter...if you dare. [Teen]

Crewed by teenage geniuses frozen in cryosleep, the JEMISON is on a mission to terraform other worlds and provide hope for the human race. But when the ship is mysteriously stopped over a planet that isn't on any of their maps, the crew finds themselves suddenly awoken ten years early. One half remains behind to try and assess the damage and the other is dispatched to the planet below to figure out the answer to a perilous question: What stopped the ship, and is it friend or foe? [Teen]

As the earth dies, salvation is offered to five thousand children who will be spirited away from our planet’s apocalypse -- but what of the other children, still hoping to find one of the bracelets that give them their ticket off planet? In this wistful one-shot from the sci-fi hit We Live, go into the Broken Lands with a group of friends...but there are four of them, and only one bracelet to be found. How will they decide who gets to leave? Then, preview the Rainbow Bridge graphic novel where Andy has to help his beloved dog Rocket save eternity! [Teen]

“The comic adventures of Max, Chloe, and Rachel from the award-winning video game Life Is Strange continue in this exclusive lead-in to an epic new story arc! This FCBD special features the first comic book appearance of an all-new character who will feature heavily in the Life is Strange universe in 2021! This FCBD issue contains exclusive original material!” [Teen]

“To reclaim the Dungeon that fell to the scheming William Delacour, the plan is simple: Marvin the dragon, Isis, and Herbert the duck must find some magic “fugus purit” and use it to dislodge the current occupants of the fortress. But is this really the Guardian's plan? Our heroes will have to fight against everyone to save the Dungeon. Meanwhile, will Marvin succeed in his engagement blast-of-firebreath 'Tong Deum'? Preview the new series here!” [Teen]

See the next chapter of the super-powered scifi epic The Resistance, and then meeet the “Moths”: a subset of the super-powered Reborn. The pandemic that granted the Reborn their gifts during The Great Death gave power to people like Emily Kai and the rest of the Moths, too...but the moment they use their gifts, their clock starts ticking and they have six months to live. Also, get a sneak-peek at the just-released Not All Robots futuristic techno-depressive-thriller! [Teen]

The second semester of School for Extraterrestrial Girls is in session! Peer into the lives of Tara Smith (fire lizard!), Misako Sato (extra-dimensional fairy!), Summer Cortez (pink tentacle void beast!), and Ekaterina and Zvenislava (anthropomorphic Russian kittens!). They’re all normal teenage girls...except that they’re all aliens stuck on Earth, and since Tara partially destroyed their old school they’ve been sent to bunk at the School for Extraterrestrial Boys while it’s repaired...that’ll go fine, right? Read the first issue here! [Teen]

This official spinoff manga of Rent-A-Girlfriend, the rom-com turned hit anime, features fan-favorite Sumi, the shy girl longing to come out of her shell. Written and illustrated by original creator Reiji Miyajima! Catch up on the manga before the Rent-A-Girlfriend anime returns for a second season, coming soon! [Teen]

Zom 100 is a violent and funny take on the zombie apocalypse! Its main character, Akira, is so depressed in his soul-crushing job that he uses the undead hordes as motivation to finally complete his bucket list! Also included is a sample of the hit fantasy manga Demon Slayer. [Teen]

“Known as the the Weakest Hunter of All Mankind, E-rank hunter Jinwoo Sung's contribution to raids amounts to trying not to get killed. Unfortunately, between his mother's hospital bills, his sister's tuition, and his own lack of job prospects, he has no choice but to continue to put his life on the line. So when an opportunity arises for a bigger payout, he takes it...only to come face-to-face with a being whose power outranks anything he's ever seen! With the party leader missing an arm and the only healer a quivering mess, can Jinwoo somehow find them a way out?” [Teen]

In the small Pennsylvania town of White Ash, there isn’t much going on aside from mining...and keeping the fact that there are elves and dwarves living in the town secret, of course! In this pre-launch of Season Two of the ongoing series, a romantic rendezvous for the grieving dwarf Alex and mischievous elf Lillian doesn’t go as planned...with potentially disastrous consequences! Also read a preview of The Game, a new series where your every action affects impacts the score of your life! Plus a sneak-peak at some vampiric troubles in colonial America in Stake! [Teen]

World of Zorro gives readers a peak at the upcoming titles for the legendary masked swashbuckler, both new stories (that range from the familiar to supernatural horror) as well as newly-translated classic tales! [Teen]

For FREE COMIC BOOK DAY, enjoy this special expanded edition of the hit IMAGE series, STRAY DOGS! Stray Dogs is a comic thriller that features art inspired by classic Don Bluth-style animation, telling the story of a group of dogs brought together by a mysterious loner. Rather than behave like four-legged humans, the brilliance of Stray Dogs is that it gets inside the heads of its canine characters, showing the human world from their perspective. Unique, entertaining, and creepy. [Teen]

The undead Vampirella has been around since 1969, and as the celebrations of her 50th anniversary draw to a close, Dynamite presents a reprint of the first issue of their series that kicked-off her modern adventures! [Teen+]

Take an inside look at everyone’s favorite bipedal shark god, King Shark (aka Nanaue)! Suicide Squad’s many-toothed muscle is currently inside Belle Reve prison, but he won’t remain there for long. PLUS: a sneak peak at the just-released Suicide Squad miniseries Get Joker! [Mature]

“After 20 years of antics coming out of Sunnyvale trailer park, the underground TV phenomenon Trailer Park Boys is finally coming to comics! Full of short stories and activity pages, several of comics' finest join to create a series of comic book specials in 2021 and beyond honoring Ricky, Bubbles and Julian and everything fans have come to love about the series.” [Mature]

Fungirl is a humor comic that is as unpredictable and hilarious as it is observant and smart. Cartoonist Elizabeth Pich’s creation does as much smashing the patriarchy as she does dreaming of delicious donuts and being spit on by llamas. [Mature]

“Tensions between the clans are high, so when Cecily Bain, an enforcer for the Twin Cities' vampiric elite, takes a mysterious new vampire under her wing she finds herself in over her head and dragged into a massive undead conspiracy! Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the city, a rebellious found-family of clan-less vampire cast-outs investigates a vicious killing.” [Mature]

“Preview the forthcoming full color, original Space Pirate Captain Harlock series from ABLAZE, personally overseen by the legendary Leiji Matsumoto! In this brand-new Captain Harlock adventure, planet Earth is threatened by an upcoming invasion by the Sylvidres and despite being banished as a pirate, Captain Harlock won't give up trying to save the world. Will Captain Harlock and his crew manage to solve this mystery and save the Earth from yet another menace? Also includes teasers for 3 highly anticipated upcoming manga/manhwa releases from ABLAZE, including The Breaker Vol 1 omnibus (critically acclaimed martial arts manhwa), Versus Fighting Story Vol 1 (Capcom e-sports shonen manga) and Crueler Than Dead Vol 1 (zombie horror seinen manga).” [Mature]

“An evil so profound it threatens all mankind... the mightiest heroes on the planet uniting to defend us all... a secret crisis of such utter finality that a countdown to civil or infinite war seems unavoidable... but have you ever wondered what really happens during Crossovers? The Seven, Payback, Teenage Kix, Fantastico and every other supe on Earth team up for an annual event like no other... and where the supes go, can a certain "five complications and a dog" be far behind? Vought-American prepare to make their move, in a story that will change the world of the Boys forever: Herogasm #1. The first-ever Boys spin-off mini-series features the pairing of Ennis with Hitman artist John McCrea and covers by Boys artist and co-creator Darick Robertson!” [Mature]

“The most eagerly-anticipated series of 2021 gets the FCBD treatment with this ALL-NEW "bonus" issue of the series! Featuring 33 pages of comics produced exclusively for FCBD, from the creator of Hip Hop Family Tree and X-Men: Grand Design, designed as a perfect entry point for new readers and a must-have for those already on board. Aided by the anonymous dark web and nearly untraceable crypto-currency, there has emerged a subculture of criminals who live-stream and patronize webcam murders for entertainment. Who are the murderers? Who are the victims? Who is the audience? How do we stop it? An outlaw, splatterpunk masterpiece, as seen on Piskor's YouTube channel sensation, Cartoonist Kayfabe!” [Mature]

“An award-winning comic and soon to be Netflix anime series! When dusk arrives in the city of Manila, that's when you become the most likely prey of the underworld. Kidnappers and thieves will be the least of your worries. Beware the criminals that can't be bound with handcuffs nor harmed with bullets. Beware the ones that crave your blood, those who hold your heart ransom, and the ones that come to steal your soul. When crime takes a turn for the weird, the police call Alexandra Trese. Featuring a preview from TRESE Vol 2: Unreported Murders, a section on the forthcoming Netflix TRESE anime series launching this summer (including an interview with Director Jay Oliva), bonus pages with w/ background about the monsters of Philippine myth as told by TRESE creators Budjette Tan and Kajo Baldisimo, and a teaser on TRESE Vol 3: Mass Murders, coming this Sept from ABLAZE!” [Mature]

“2000 AD Presents All-Star Judge Dredd is a thrill-powered showcase of the past and shocking present of the iconic lawman of the future! Witness the birth of the world of Judge Dredd in an incendiary preview of upcoming prequel graphic novel Dreadnoughts by Michael Carroll with art by Watchmen's John Higgins. Fan-favourite Judge Hershey travels to the ends of the earth to dispense her own brand of justice in long-anticipated blockbuster spin-off, Hershey: Disease by Rob Williams (Suicide Squad) and Simon Fraser (Doctor Who). Along-side these teases for Fall 2021 epics enjoy a bone-rattling all new stand-alone Dredd caper from elite writer Al Ewing (Immortal Hulk, Marvel's Empyre) and Caspar Wijngaard (Star Wars, Home Sick Pilots)!” [Teen]

“Four titanic tales of pure fun and entertainment for everyone to enjoy! First up. It's no dog and pony show here! Bringing back the iconic puppets from the San Francisco Bay Area "Charlie and Humphrey"!! The modern-day Gumby and Pokey! A true love for al ages featuring a tale by Justin Sane and John Hageman! Next up is "Red Dawn" Written and created by Brandon McKinney, with inks by Bill Anderson and vibrant colors from Ross Hughes!! The government has created the first "controlled" superhero doing the bidding of a shadow operation until things go bad leaving our hero to blame and now on the run. The following story is only exclusive to this FCBD edition. Written by Greg Boucher and illustrated by Victor Moya they bring you "Rock and Roll Biographies: FIGHt" See how a troubled Rob Halford leaves the world biggest heavy metal band to form his own supergroup and take metal back!! Our last preview is written by Mel Smith, illustrated by Frank Cirocco/Alex Sheikman and hand colored by Gerhard! "Becoming Frankenstein" takes down the journey of a troubled Victor Frankenstein as he grieves the loss of his mother while harvesting the body parts of victims to create life again for his monster! Learn the tales of the victims and who they were before they became what becomes Frankenstein's ultimate creation! : This will be the only edition to feature this Rock and Roll Biographies story featuring FIGHT “ [Mature]

Enjoyed your Free Comic Book Day books? Want to read more? Let your friendly neighborhood Comix Connection Counter Monkey know which ones caught your eye, and we’ll be happy to direct you to the next part of the story!

#free comic book day #fcbd #fcbd 2021 #free comic book day 2021 #comixevent #comixmech #comixyork

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ddaenghoney · 4 years

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chapter eight

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): there’s a very small (paragraph and a half) instance of some guy implied to get angry about oc turning him down, but it’s such a short moment.

Word count: 5347

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

The far wall is an expanse of window facing off on the city surrounding the top of the building, lights twinkling yet hazy. Man-made lighting out in the world creating a cast over those inside the dim party of spotlights flashing around on people that become a blur-- something unable to focus. Just Jimin returning a gaze towards you, feeling like a real luminescence even though his irises only twinkled with the passing strobes above.

How long this feeling of longing would attach itself to you whenever you catch wind of Jimin, you don’t know, but hope you are able to move beyond it soon. Whenever you feel as though you make progress, even in the form of a small step, you still find yourself latched backwards by something regarding him. Whether it is the idea of returning to as you and him were, or just the contradicting answers you’ve found about the relationship, you’re still constantly getting stuck. All because Jimin appears in ways around you like now where he reminds your psyche of his importance in your life, and how much yearning still resides in your heart to be with him again.

After realizing your doubletake turned into a present stare, you swallow thickly, and don’t return that ghosting smile of a greeting he’s sending to you, instead turning on your heel and continuing on. A need to speak to him doesn’t exist outside of the workplace any longer. He’s proven to you that nothing can spark between the two of you multiple times now. You shouldn’t dwell, you should only walk away. Like Jimin has let you.

A bartender greets you after two others, though you take a moment to realize he’s done so, particularly not noticing him until a napkin slides in front of you to house a drink when you give him the word. You think against the idea, if only because of the current state of shock you found yourself having not prepared yourself for the idea of seeing Jimin. It isn’t that big of a deal, you try reasoning, you need to settle in the fact that you’ll always run into him. That you shouldn’t be like this anymore; he isn’t, you shouldn’t.

Yoongi said it’s okay to hurt as long as you need, but you don’t want to. The feeling of longing reminds you of the loneliness. You don’t want it anymore. It makes you feel pathetic.

You want to leave, but you ask for your usual, nodding as the bartender mentions they only have Sprite then goes to make it after you tell him to give it a kick. After you drink it, Yoongi will be back, the conversation will be as short as he told you it would be, and you can both get out of there; nothing to worry about when you’re gone and away. Thanking the bartender, you’re left with a large first gulp hitting the back of your throat. Positioning your body towards the standing bar counter in solidarity you swirl the thin, black straw around to watch the ice in your glass clatter and shake with the strong beverage within it. If you could say whom you are at least then there’d be something to discuss with the people here, maybe even discussion about collaborative work, but that’s a faraway idea. One outside the spectrum of possibility with how things are.

Then you wonder if Yoongi told Hoseok. He’d mentioned that Yoongi spoke of you to him. Unexpected as it was to hear. Though you didn’t think Yoongi is friendless, or closed-off from telling information about himself, you can’t think of an instance at SoundWave where the people around you knew much about him, and neither did you. Maybe at this company he’s decided to keep work and private life completely separate. With the headlines that ended Hoseok’s career swirling in your memory, you could understand why. But with the mutual disdain between Seulgi, someone directly involved, and Yoongi, who is only a friend of Hoseok, you can’t imagine what went wrong between Yoongi and the couple to create that.

On the second drink you are now standing with hardened eyebrows. If you relate your own situation with Yoongi to whatever happened in his past company you can conclude that there are simply things that weren’t shown. In the way that you’re marketing to the public as Yoongi’s girlfriend, his old company could’ve had their own lies that caused whatever went on. You sigh after a particularly stinging sip, then shake your head at your thoughts to dismiss them: it’s not your business. If Yoongi wants you to know, he would tell you.

Your body shifts, straightening slightly as a man never seen before steps to the bar for a drink, hip nearly bumping against your waist at the proximity. A noticeable pace to the side takes you from him as you just give a meaningfully irritated glower at him in the corner of your eye for the rude mannerism.

He catches sight of it; the smirk you didn’t catch on his face when he walked up smothering at your hardened attitude. You think he’s ready to say something, but then he’s obscured from your view. Replaced by styled, richly brown hair and erect posture clothed in a fine midnight blue blazer. Out of your sight, Jimin gives a stronger glare, wordless, but appearing immovable. The man past him doesn’t find the confrontation worth it and turns to the rest of the bar, moving down.

Your expression doesn’t shift, instead your heart thumps loudly in your chest, and you just sigh again. Because he came--eyed you beyond the silent acknowledgement and paid attention to what you would do. Keeping a protective eye on your person. You finish the latter half of your drink when Jimin’s body turns towards you. Checking.

Jimin thinks of his inability to move his eyes from your person when you walked along from him, unreturning of any greeting. Likely trying to avoid, or keep away. Maybe for the fake relationship with Yoongi’s sake, most logically for yourself to not have to deal with anything like the last interaction in the meeting room with him. Jimin planned to give you that distance; not actively trying to involve himself with you when he realizes there’s so much confusion and pain swarming your thoughts towards him right now. He knows that he should have looked away himself, but he’s always captivated by you. Years have gone by of knowing you at this point, and not a day where he’s been able to avoid letting fondness towards you grow whenever he sees you, thinks about you.

“You didn’t need to do that.” Bitter tone like the kick from the drink invaded your speech.

“I know.” He watches you place the glass on the napkin with a clack, ice inside it sliding around.

“Then why did you?” You huff, avoiding eye contact in favor of watching condensation build, waving off the bartender as he offers you another.

Jimin’s posture must show that he’s not interested in a drink as the man continues past him to other guests. His elbow rests on the counter, though his legs are still straightened in an unrelaxed way. He thinks about your question in silence, admiring the way the overhead lights dance across your dress in the passing minute, creating a shine on your dress, pronouncing the curves of your stance. His throat tightens, because he misses you but can’t. Shouldn’t.

“I didn’t think about it.” Your head turns towards the candor. Finding his focused gaze, you consider the idea that Jimin didn’t mean to say that and expose affinity for you. He still feels warm to look at, like the cusp of being pulled into a hug. Knowing the thoughts will just get you hurt, you push them aside facing forwards once more. Your hands cradling the shadow of your drink are only inches from the one Jimin lays on the counter. It’d be so easy to take hold of, and it sounds nice.

But like it’s a memory. An impossibility.

“Don’t you think you should think about it a little.” You murmur in the mix of distant music. “It’s confusing.”

Jimin hears the frailty of your admission, registering that it still stings you to see him. He knows it would, because it’s the same for him, but he’s tugged towards you like he’s left the atmosphere. Floating unstably and hoping there’s a way to land on two feet. A tug-of-war between logic telling him that he should come back to the ground and emotions that say there’s a way to come out of this differently than the course he’s set the relationship too.

But that option isn’t realistic, and at the very least unfair to you because of what it means under the surface of unspoken words.

“I’m sorry.” Simple. Heavy. You hear the sound like it’s a war within himself. The logical side of your mind should also receive an apology from your emotions who don’t want Jimin to apologize at all, instead relishing in the fact that he still remains protective. Something you should do better to not be so happy about.

You blink hard a couple of times and shake your head, trying to keep reality at the forefront of your mind, and gesture a finger to your drink when the bartender from before sends a glance towards you in his rounds. “Congratulations on releasing the mini album, by the way.” Move on, even if it means forcing small talk. It’ll be easier when it drifts into something like normalcy. “The title track did well, I saw.”

Jimin’s head nods as he bites his lip to hide concern, playing along with the direction of the conversation that you’re attempting for the sake of comfort. “Yeah, it did luckily. A lot of the comments were about the lyrics on the last song.”

You can’t tell if he said that for your sake as a way to satiate your desire for ownership like Jimin used to, or if it is a mindless tidbit of information. There’s not a reason for him to feed your want for acknowledgement over the lyrics anymore, because this is the job you had before meeting him and becoming anything at all to him. Back when it didn’t feel like his compliments on the lyrics were meant to satisfy you, that they were just genuine and the grin he used to have about it was pure-hearted. But now it doesn’t give you positivity at all, instead frustration that flourishes in your rib cage.

“Yeah, I liked the way that one turned out after finishing it. I spent two weeks working on it.” When the sentences fall, they feel like an echo between you. There’s spite where you’re usually giddy to receive the feedback of public perception. You never let that sprouted seed flourish into ivy, but before you realize it the thorns slide into the air. Stabbing into Jimin’s ears like they’d cause an allergy, and he thinks back about what Yerin’s told him in the past. He swallows, both of you watching a fresh glass be placed in front of you while the old one is whisked away.

You take a sip as though it were water that would relieve the tension trying to escape in your voice.

“You should be careful how quickly you drink those, Y/N.” It irritates you that the sincere worry of Jimin’s voice is more soothing than water actually would be. The opposite effect occurs with this thought, because you’re frustrated more that he’s beside you, caring about you inexplicitly, but broke everything between you both.

And you don’t know why. It’s senseless given what he’s told you and expressed verbally about how he feels. That there’s no desire to be with you in a romantic way, yet he’s beside you looking out for your interest like a magnet. “If you don’t love me why are you acting like this?”

The glass releases from your grip on the bartop, eyes widening as you look into its fizzy clearness. A still moment passes like a year before you think to see Jimin’s reaction to your blurted question, but you don’t do it. Too afraid you’d see pity, or awkwardness that he’d have to relay the information to you again about not loving you.

Jimin watches you with his own shocked irises while you scoop the drink back up and down it in nervousness. In any other situation it would almost be comical about your method of moving beyond the question, but he recalls the one you just had before it and the worry is simmering back to mask the surprise from your call out. “You’re going to get dizzy if you drink those that fast, lovely-”

“Stop.” You bite your tongue to stop your voice from raising when you turn to face him, still upset and feeling idiotic, more so as his concerned frown registers in your vision. “I’m not that to you anymore. Don’t call me that-- it hurts, okay? It hurts a lot.”

“Wait-” Jimin’s voice isn’t loud, but its volume raises when you take the first step. Gentle hand finding your wrist. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.” You huff, tugging your arm from him and it comes easily. “Why do you care? Just let me walk away again.”

But you don’t want that.

As you continue on you think it’d be best for Jimin to follow you, because that seems right. If he cares this much to intercept you and some random guy, to speak up for your lyrics ownership in the meeting, to tell you vaguely that stopping your relationship is for the best-- if he cares about you in all those instances as much as they would entail then you’d like nothing more than for Jimin to follow and tell you why. Maybe that’s why it feels impossible for you to move on, or fake the healing that he’s already managed to go through since the beginning of the year.

Through the ballroom’s archways you turn past the elevators, unwilling to go to the ground floor because you still need to wait for Yoongi. If there was just some kind of quiet and silence away from that stuffy party than at least you could groan out loud and release the frustration that Jimin puts you into his back-handed affections.

So you try the first door you see, testing it’s handle that turns surprisingly, letting you escape into a much smaller party-space. One absent of people, music, and even decor. Just a few tables, chairs, all unclothed and dull under bulbs that aren’t on. The cityscape across the entrance is enough lighting, though its created with some shadowy lines from the downpour of rain outside.

You take it, walking in further and exhaling, happy to be separate from that party where you felt unable to relax. But your muscles tense again as the door behind you shuts with a small thump, and you turn to find Jimin once more. Your heart rate increases, surprised that he came with you. An enjoyable shocked feeling you didn’t expect.

“You came.” You can hear the relief in your own voice, where it had been frustrated seconds earlier because he never had before. Jimin’s always kept the distance, letting you metaphorically wander far from mutual understanding where he should’ve tried more. Talked to you in the ways he said he would but never did.

“Do you want me to leave?” Testing words as he steps towards you, the appearance of his downcast eyes disrupting the flow of confidence his question gives. You face him as Jimin stops just short of you, at an arm’s length, his chest inhaling air more largely like there are nerves, but his expression doesn’t give that away.

“If you don’t care about me, you should.” You continue locking eyes, unwavering in that moment to see his response; show you the honesty you deserve. That feels closer to the surface, if you could just crack through it a bit more. Maybe it could give you clarity. Jimin’s head tilts shaking gently, and his small smile looks sad,

“It’s never been a problem of not caring about you, Y/N. I do.” You bite your lip to try and hold back your confusion at the flowery voice, and how he seems to look at you like you’re sunlight in the midst of this somberly darkened room. “I care about you so much more than I’ve ever told you, lovely.”

The air you inhale feels like it breaks halfway from his unexpected softness. A frown plays at the corner of your lips at the apparent contradiction: if he cares about you then why all of this. Your mouth opens to question just that, but you stop to watch as Jimin’s eyes fall from yours glancing to the tile beneath your feet.

“It wouldn’t be good if we were a couple though.” You swallow back your nerves and feel an overcoming of frustration when he tells you that again, desperation leaking to get him to level with you as you take the step to meet Jimin. Your hand finds his forearm, jolting him in doing so to find your eyes again as you question quietly, yet firmly,

“Why?” Jimin nonsensically stutters, his whole body tensing like he didn’t think he’d actually be asked, because you hadn’t before. Just going along with his whims because you thought it stemmed from his lack of interest to become more to you due to unreturned feelings, but now that he implies that isn’t the case, how could he expect you to not want to know why. Your head shakes when Jimin bites his lip clearly undesiring to tell you. Maybe even scared. “I,” If these words leave it’d be decisive; inescapable to close a chapter though you have no idea where the next one would lead. You don’t want dwell longer. “I love you, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, arm growing limp in your grasp from the unabashed shock. Eyebrows furrow, and you can only smile sadly in response knowing this would be the outcome of unreciprocated feelings--

“You wouldn’t--shouldn’t.” His head shakes and you lock onto the tear escaping down his cheek in a path. He chuckles entirely bitter, free hand reaching up to brush back his hair. You’re silent, uncertain of how to react to this development. You expected another dismissal, not him seeming to be upset with himself for this occurring. As he shudders from his emotions you unconsciously move your hand to find his, hoping to help him calm down. Jimin’s hand wraps around yours immediately, holding it strongly, like he’d lose you to currents if he didn’t.

“Jimin,” You frown further, concern washing over you as you cup his cheek, thumb wiping the tears that flow as much as you can. He looks at you again, taking a moment to appreciate how utterly gentle you are with him despite how much crap he’s put you through. How he wishes he wasn’t an idol or you weren’t a songwriter. How he shouldn’t be selfish, and drag you back towards him time and time again. That he needs to let you walk away far so he can’t follow anymore. “What’s wrong?”

“I love you too, Y/N.” Your thumb halts as a tear comes to rest on it, heartbeat thumping once in your ear like it wanted Jimin to hear. You look at him quietly, thinking that you didn’t hear him correctly, that there’s no way considering all he’s done to separate you both. Maybe he was afraid the entire time that you didn’t feel the same.

His hand releases yours as he moves it to your waist, the other mirroring the action. It feels right again; the familiarity you’re used to returning. Puzzle pieces appearing to fit again and things will be on track again. It makes sense being in his arms, Jimin is still haven for you.

You test if the situation is all a dream by means of the hand on his cheek guiding him the tiniest bit forward. If you speak you may wake up, if there’s anything to interrupt it’d fall apart, and if it was a dream you think your luck would make you wake up before he ever kisses you. But you don’t; Jimin’s motions follow the lead of your hand and his lips find yours softly, slotting to your expectant mouth perfectly.

Your arms fall around his neck, pulling Jimin closer to you while his hands rub along your sides, embrading you against his chest as the kiss remains entirely sweet and full from missing each other. In the enamor how it is to kiss Jimin while your love if mutually expressed, you disregard anything about the outside world, wishing this small room could protect you from it all. Ignore that you’re both under obligations to the company-- the thing that’s probably why Jimin was so worried. You just want to be with him like this, even if things return to a similar state of how they were before, if you’re both upfront about loving one another that’d be enough to get through it. You just want to be his, want to be a couple.

“No-” Jimin tugs back, hands releasing you quickly, though they ghost your frame until you’re steady on your feet. You gaze at him in confusion, breaths softly leaving your lips from the length of time spent kissing him. He shakes his head, stepping back one more time, further than a simple grasp forward. Your stomach knots that he may tell you to forget it all. “Lovely, I meant it; you shouldn’t love me.”

“Jimin, if it’s just about having to be a secret-”

“It’s not that, Y/N!” He cuts you off, voice picking up in his frustration. You realize then that he never asked your question of why you both can’t be together. Why you shouldn’t love him. You spine feels cold all of the sudden, worry prickling along it like Jimin is about to admit to murdering someone, but you dismiss that naivety. Watching Jimin continue biting his lip and appearing beside himself as he stares at you, trying to build up the courage to say whatever it is that’s the problem.

You almost say that anything he needs to tell you can’t be that bad, that there’s nothing he realistically could admit to you as you think it over. Perhaps it’s something self-conscious, or worry about Yerin, maybe he thinks the relationship would just be unsatisfying due to his secrecy; it’s all feasible. You could work through something together with him-- if you both handle it together it’s something that you can overcome, you try to assure yourself that positively.

“I’m on Yerin’s side about your job.” You blink. The quiet overtakes the room. The words are simple, they sound trivial on first listen, but then the depth of information takes over your senses. Your lips part, and Jimin sees your eyebrows creasing. He knows it makes sense but you’re likely blocking the meaning away. “I don’t want you to take credit for any of your songs.”

“What,” You blurt, nearly laughing because he couldn’t actually be saying this. The one reason that a relationship with him wouldn’t work out to Jimin is that it’s because he didn’t side with you. He doesn’t think you should be publicly noted as the creator of so much music that they listen to. All along, he never helped you because he actively disagreed with you. “Why?”

It’s not a small reason. The longer his words sit between you both, the implications feel like multiple daggers; how he’s watched you hurt in dissatisfaction of never receiving attention for your work, how the songs are changed and mended without caring about your consent, how difficult it is for you to appreciate any idol’s album because your name is never scribbled into their lengthy lists of credits. Watch you feel insignificant, disposable, and worried that your invisibility will leave you with nothing if there comes a day the company drops you.

“It’d ruin so many people’s careers, Y/N.” Timid to admit the truth that you’re aware of. You’re painfully aware of it, but always battling with yourself that you shouldn’t be held back for that calculation.

“Yours.” Your eyes narrow but your voice shakes that this is about selfishness. That Jimin’s unwilling to search for an ultimatum because it risks his security, despite the love his fans give him and the acclaim he has.

“Yeah.” Not so timid anymore, though there’s an inkling of more sadness; frustration about himself or the situation. You don’t know. Your head shakes and a scoff escapes your lips as you look away from him, unable to reason how he’s immovable on the subject. “I spent five years as a trainee, Y/N. I barely made the cut the year I did to debut. I,” Jimin sighs, fist clenching beside him as he admits the truth, “I can’t lose it all. I’m not going to be anything if I do-”

“So I’m just supposed to be nothing instead!” You spit at him, glaring with your words though the frustration is filling hot tears in your ducts. Jimin recoils in surprise from your voice’s loud volume and its hurt tone. “I’m just supposed to let you lie to the world using me for your whole fucking career? Like everyone else in the company!”

Jimin’s lip stings between his teeth, knowing that your words are exactly what he wants. There’s clear selfishness and unethical implications of everything this choice makes. How it shows that there’s a scale between you and his career, and that Jimin’s found which one weighs more in his heart. But listening to it stings like it has every right to, and he hates the fact that it’s like this, but what you say doesn’t matter because this is the reality of the situation. All depending on you are the careers of himself and every other person involved in SoundWave, and he doesn’t want to lose it more than he doesn’t want to lose you, so he’s adamant in his frustrated outburst as he bites back,

“You made that choice!”

Now you stumble in your conviction, recalling the moment of greed entirely too well. Knowing presently that in the past you should’ve thought better about that contract, or got a lawyer to look over it with you. You should’ve considered future implications, but you didn’t. This is your fault.

If you fought for rights then, you wouldn’t have problems today.

Jimin exhales, shoulders untensing as the raise of his voice resonates with how much that would’ve hurt you to hear, especially from him. His entire expression is a frown, worriedly trying to comfort, “Lovely-”

“Don’t call me that.” Defeated murmur. Jimin hears that quality, knows this is like he thought. He understands that this is where the divide exists-- knew it ever since you started going on about the idea of wanting your name to be seen after your lyrics. He watches tears drip along your cheeks in the silence, wanting nothing more than to wipe them away and fix this, but he doesn’t want what you do in order for the relationship to be fixed. He knows it’s selfish, inconsiderate, but he doesn’t alter his stance. “You let us fall in love when you knew it’d all fall apart like this, Jimin.”

He feels the cool streams on his face when you speak distantly. Hurt and appalled by his thoughts like he knew would be the case. You’re right, Jimin let this go too far when he should’ve stopped it the second the disagreement was seen. But he already loved you then.

“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing else to say. You nod your head once, bitterly. Feeling abandoned by him being uncaring in the one area of the relationship you would wish for his support the most. But the fact fills you with the troublesome conflict that this is also your fault too.

All because of silence in definitive moments, veiling your feelings with bright, accepting sheer to hide words you should have said.

“I am too.” You wipe away your tears, stepping to move past him. And as you walk along Jimin knows this is the goal he wanted to lead you to no matter how much it hurts him to stand still. You’re better off without him following.

As you step out of the room, your stare is heavy towards the ground, listening to the saddening sound of the door shutting behind you. Leaving Jimin separate from you by your own accord, and you wish that you could lock it just so you’d be unable to waver and try again to find a median. One didn’t exist where you’d be happy, you have to remember that, force it into your head at every thought of Jimin from now on. Love isn’t enough.

Your shoulders tense when you catch shiny, black dress shoes at the top of your peripherals. Head rising slowly, you see Yoongi standing against the wall across from you. A frown forms on his face taking in your somber appearance as his arms uncross in front of him where he appears to have been waiting for some time. He lifts himself from the wall, stepping to you as all the emotions inside of you fill up and feel uncontrollably tear-wrenching. Your lip quivers as you duck from his sight, unable to allow him to see you cry so foolishly for what just happened, but he’s absent of a judgemental atmosphere as his hand reaches for your trembling one.

The gentle nature of his actions cause you to look back up at Yoongi, watching the tiniest curls of his empathetic smiles. Whatever happened in his conversation with Seulgi is lost to your mind, just like how you’re unable to recall that you need to keep up appearances with Yoongi at this party.

And he doesn’t bring up those things either, watching the tears spill silently from your eyes. Yoongi doesn’t ask you what happened, already having seen you walk away with Jimin earlier, he can only assume a number of ways that a conversation with him would cause this outcome. From how torn up you’ve been about the waning relationship between Jimin and you since Yoongi’s met you properly, he had a feeling more would have to happen for change to occur. For your sake, he didn’t hope it’d be this; your eyes reddened from frustration and sadness, posture hanging low from being brought down by whatever was said. Obviously broken-hearted because this seemed worse than any other time, as you’re unable to speak to him and attempt to hide away your feelings like you usually try to.

Your mouth opens, though the choppy inhale in your throat stops words from coming out, instead shoving more tears down your cheek. Yoongi shakes his head, free hand wiping them away before he realizes. “You don’t have to try to be okay right now.”

A hurt whimper leaves your lips at the tenderness he speaks with, making you feel like all of your emotions are about to dribble out of you if he continues to be this accepting of everything you are going through. You just want to thank Yoongi for this and dealing with all of the drama you cause keeping Jimin in your thoughts and making any of his stresses related to this fake relationship probably grow more, but you’re completely unable to without feeling like you’d only get out disarrayed words and tears.

While managing to only release your hand for the second to slide off his sleeve, Yoongi quietly drapes his coat jacket over your bare shoulders to cover any sight of trembling. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, coaxing your eyes to try and look up at him as he speaks with warmth you don’t feel deserving of, “Let’s go home.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi @xionysus

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escorble-writes · 3 years

Text

Interview between "Plink" of the Hawthorn Sprites and Argos of the Bane Squad.

Argos squirmed uncomfortably on the cold rock he sat upon.

It was a pale day, and the sky shone an eerie silver behind the inky trees towering high above the clearing the rather slight man was waiting in. Too similar by far to the clearing where they-

"No. No nows not the time to think about that." He thought quietly, brushing his newly grey hair beneath his hat.

After all he was here on a job. It wasn't a good time to remember three dark figures draining life from you like blood.

There was an odd buzzing hum on the air then, and he saw the first sprite decend on the little clearing, its brethren lingering back in the shadows of the woods.

The sprite was a strange little creature, but no stranger than what the man who called himself Argo saw on a daily basis.

It had six spindly limbs, four arms and two legs; that looked as though they were grown from the stems and sticks of scraggly plant life. Five talons topped the end of each of these limbs, more like rose thorns than nails, and the creature was patterned in strange swirling patterns all over its leaf-green skin.

'Hullo life-bane!' It called out in a voice like a wasp 'have you brought us our payment?'

Argos nodded and held aloft the fist-sized bottle of tears. He didn't know where Thetis had got them and he wouldn't ask.

The swarm of sprites hummed delightedly and their emissary shot down on it's skeleton leaf wings.

It landed surprisingly heavily on the oak log next to Argos and he jumped slightly in spite of himself. A wide sharp smile was painted on its little pointed face, ink-black eyes crinkled in a smile beneath mossy hair.

'Give, give now and then we shall speak to you.'

Argos quickly handed over the bottle to the sprite, and it wrapped it's arms around the glass, giggling happily.

'Ask, ask away.' It cackled, the sound echoing eerily from the rest of it's swarm. One of the many benefits to being a hivemind- you could never quite die.

Argos made the remark quietly and was met with another peal of crackling laughter in response.

'Is true. But not what you called us here for.'

It tilted its tiny head towards the tape recorder in Argos'hand and he nodded as he started the recording.

'This is Argos of the Bane Squad, on November 3rd, speaking to the sprite hivemind involved in the case of 007.3, also known as "Stitches".'

There was a mutter through the clearing then : "Stupid Stitches" in a deep hiss.

The air changed then, and if it were possible felt even colder and darker than before.

'Er... yes.' Argos said 'we were wondering what your involvement with that fey was.ehst may I address you as?'

'Plink. ' the sprite next to him said thoughtfully. 'Is a nice sound.'

'Alright. Plink it is. Now, Plink, when did you first meet 007.3?'

The sprite hummed in contemplation.

'Four summers old. A chit of a silly little boy. Smelly. Wouldn't let us drink his tears, even though he had a lot to spare.'

A shard of something like guilt shot through the man's chest. He remembered seeing Stitches, hearing that broken howling sound pour from the boys bloody mouth...

'What about recently? In the Autumn?'

'He leaves us honey. We don't pinch. Very simple. Nothing else.'

Argos sighed. He'd had a feeling this was going to be tricky, and the stubborn set of the sprites jaw just confirmed his suspicions. They'd never rat out one of their own, even a firefae.

So, swallowing his questions about their role in keeping 007.3 from dying on day zero, he asked about the girl, 007.4 instead.

'Oh Woodachre? Our light, our love, our queen. Too good for the likings of man.'

He pressed them for more, for the clear stones around a split and smoldering log, for the blood on the field, the sightings, and the rumors but they said nothing.

Argos was angry.

'You cheated me! You went back on your deal! You're not telling me anything!'

Plink smiled at him with teeth like broken glass as the hum of its kin started, low and menacing all around them.

'We showed up. We spoke of Stitches and Woodachre. That was the deal.'

The air grew oppressive with the sound of muttering cackling sprites and Argos stood, backing away with tape recorder in hand.

Too similar. Too similar.

(The trees whistled around the three robed figures, hands raised to the sky-)

Argos fled.

#short story #stitches #the bane squad #sprites #fey #fae #faerie #writeblr #writers on tumblr #english folklore #original writing #drabble

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georgecostanzaatemysoup · 5 years

Note

You asked for prompts so perhaps how you think some of Lucius' fam might have reacted to Nightfrost? I just miss my spooky mans yknow?

This is definitely not what you asked for. I don’t know why I wrote this, and I think y’all should take Lucius away from me. Thank you for the prompt, even if I kind of stepped off the path and trampled through the woods, and feel free to send me more if you’d like.

Enjoy

***

Portals were opening everywhere.

Pyri claimed he had nothing to do with it, and perhaps he didn’t, but they’ve been Brookstoned enough to be wary. Perhaps he didn’t do it on purpose, perhaps that contraption on his wrist did this without his knowledge. Lucius didn’t know.

What he did know was there were portals opening everywhere. Chaos had erupted in the streets, pedestrians were screaming while guards called for order. Quil had been gone barely two days, Sentry hardly a week, and already it felt like the world was ending.

The sprites putting Lucius to sleep was a blessing. Finally, after the hell that his life had become over the past month he got a chance to not think. To not act. To just be.

***

A calming, peaceful feeling settled over Lucius as he opened his eyes.

He found himself standing in a field of wild flowers. He smiled at the bright colors surrounding him as he reached out and gently touched one of the petals. It felt like smooth silk against his fingertips.

He enjoyed the gentle breeze that tousled his hair, bringing with it the smell of honeysuckle. His friends weren’t far from him, lounging around and enjoying the sunlight. Aila and Nova. Vala and Arval. Sentry and Quil.

Nightfrost.

Nightfrost looked different. Not in appearance, he was still a shadow, but he seemed just as peaceful as Lucius. He swirled around the others, a soft tittering sound drifting over to him, and it took him a moment to realize that’d been Nightfrost laughing.

Lucius stepped forward to join his friends but stopped when he spotted his father watching from a short distance. He had his arms crossed, his graying, golden hair catching in the sunlight. For a split second it looked as if he had a halo, but when Lucius blinked it was gone.

His expression was hard to read but that wasn’t anything new.

Lucius walked towards him, taking a second to look back at his friends before clearing his throat. “Hello Father,” he said, standing at attention.

“Interesting friends you have,” his father said, his blue eyes settling on Nightfrost. “Interesting indeed.”

“I met them on the airship. They helped me after it crashed,” Lucius stated, crossing his own arms to try and match his father’s stance. He knew he didn’t look nearly as impressive and curled into himself instead. “Except for Nightfrost, but I suppose I met him on an airship too.

“Father, I’ve been meaning to bring your briefcase back, but we got waylaid by...” he faltered when his father sighed softly. How did he mess up already?

His father finally met his eyes and his expression softened. “You do know I am proud of you, right?”

“Father, I...” Lucius trailed off, hissing when a stinging pain connected with his cheek.

“Lucius, wake up,” a familiar voice yelled in his ear.

“Nova?” he looked back at his friend and she smiled and waved. She looked fine.

Someone slapped him again, and he heard Nova screaming his name. Confused, he looked at the sky and everything went white.

***

He awoke on the dock, muck and grime seeping into his clothes and Nova standing over him slapping his face. He sat up, fear gripping his heart when he saw the giant mushroom thing lumbering towards them.

Aila and Oriya were desperately trying to keep it at bay. He caught a flash of Pyri’s flaming hair and noticed a dead body lying not too far from him; possibly a guard. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the sprites declare he needed to be put back to sleep, and he agreed with them.

Nova tried to get him up, but he refused to stand and when those tiny arrows hit his neck again he murmured, “It’s for the best.”

He sank back into blissful darkness. At least in his dreams Quil, Sentry, and Nightfrost were alive and his father was proud of him.

[[To answer your question, I think his sister would be wary of Nightfrost. I don’t know much about his mother to really know how she would react, and I think his father would want to know why he allied himself with something that helped Starbane destroy countless lives, and perhaps after an explanation he’d be just as wary as Edea. But I don’t really know, and sadly we’ll never know]]

#lucius elenasto #lucius virion-elluin elenasto #virion elenasto #rollonsunday #my stuff #do i enjoy wounding lucius emotionally #apparently so #take him away from me

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sancti-luminis · 5 years

Text

From the air, the Temple of the Scions looked unassuming, even stark, uninviting.

It was plain stone and metal, without the grandeur of the Temples of Iacon or Tyger Pax. The buildings were naturally shaped, following the cubical or hexagonal pattern of their native metal crystals, rather than the swooping, curving style favored by most Temples. If the buildings had been true crystal, it would have looked much like a garden, ordered and repeating, pleasing to the optic. Instead, they were the dull silver, green, and red of oxidized metal, the bones of Cybertron itself.

To the senses of one of Primus’ chosen, it shone. The Temple was imbued with holy power, from the walls to the very ground. There was nothing natural about it, save the base metals themselves. Paladin, one of the oldest and greatest of Scions, dwelled here. He was a geomancer--not the charlatan variety that practiced divination, but one that could call on the very earth and metal of their world and raise it to his will. He had made this Temple, a home to all who had transcended mortality to serve Primus, out of the very bedrock of the planet. As long as he lived, the Temple would stand.

As Galeforce landed in the courtyard, a sense of peace washed over him. Here, all the mechs and femmes were like him. There were no ephemerals with their endless questions, no concerns about hiding what they were. Wisps, holy sprites, little blue-white puffballs with gently floating tendrils drifted through the gardens, congregating around an appealing formation of crystal. Others floated around mechs and femmes they liked, often the ones that raised them into being, though not always. One drifted around the tassel on his glaive, drawn by the prayers engraved on each strand. It was not the High Temple in Iacon, the one he had lived in for much of his life, but it was nearly home.

His spark felt heavy as he sought out the Wild Garden. He felt too much grief, and guilt, too. Had he led the Scions to their death by not sharing the location of Grindor’s den, and returning with an army? Had he been weak in letting Grindor live when he fled the blasphemed church in Kaon? His thoughts whirled, tainting the very air around him with their miasma of misery and guilt. Galeforce sunk to his knees in the gritty dust of the garden, staring blankly, unseeing, at a weedy formation of crystal. The allure he felt when he was near Grindor, that was wrong. It was deeply wrong. He should have brought the information to Paladin right away. He barely noticed another mech sinking down next to him, so lost in his own thoughts and inner conflict.

The other mech’s field lapped around Galeforce, gradually spreading over him. Even rapids calmed when they met a deep, still pool. Paladin said nothing, just vented slowly, in, hold, release. Slowly, Galeforce began to respond to the aura of serenity Paladin exuded, his venting slowing to match the elder Scion’s, field calming. His armor loosened, slowly relaxing from its tense state against his protoform, and he raised his optics to look at the Temple Master.

“Two Scions are dead at the hands of a Herald,” he said softly. “I do not know their names, but I have an image of a blade.” Galeforce offered it in a small databurst. They were so close, side by side, even a comm would have been like shouting.

“Sundust and Penitente,” Paladin answered, keeping his voice low. “They told me they were hunting. I did not know they were hunting a Herald.” Optics still closed, he let the grief wash through his field. He had known the pair, hotheaded and bold, though not as powerful as others. They had dwelled in his home for a time, before they chose to make their lives in another place, together. The two had not been poor Scions or bad mechs, but their rashness had led to this. He wondered if they had known there was a Herald at the end of the monster hunt, or if they were seeking glory by keeping their hunt from some of the other known Herald-killers. “May Primus grant them rest.”

Galeforce echoed the sentiment quietly, still vacantly staring at the weed. He had grown calmer, more still, but Paladin sensed that the turmoil was lurking under ice. “What troubles you?”

It was a long, long moment before Galeforce answered. Paladin wondered if the other Scion would speak at all, or if he would bottle up everything again. Damned ascetics. They allowed themselves no outlets, and often burned out in spectacularly destructive fashions. “I knew the Herald was there. I have spoken with him, met him, eaten with him.” He bowed his head, field closing in around his frame tightly. “I did not know Sundust and Penitente knew of him. I did not know they would come so close.”

That was something of a bombshell. Paladin took time to gather his thoughts, process the emotions he felt. Galeforce, spending time with a Herald? Galeforce, who had fought a Herald, and triumphed? Surely he would know better. Or… if he was doing such a thing, there was a reason. What that reason was, Paladin could not yet fathom. He kept his field calm, radiating peace. He would not impulsively leap to accusations and upset the younger mech, driving him to hide what he had been doing. “You have been meeting a Herald? Tell me about him.”

The bright curiosity in Paladin’s field was the only reason Galeforce did not get up and leave the Garden, and likely the Temple. The Master genuinely wanted to know, he sensed. “He is… he is like us,” he managed, at last. “He is not an ephemeral. He knows what it is to have the hand of a god on your shoulder. What it is to see beyond the everyday, the creatures that walk between the worlds, to have abilities beyond mortal understanding. He believes, but only because he must. There is no faith.” He gave a soft, dry laugh. “There is no need for faith when the existence of the divine is responsible for your very being.”

“Do you know how Heralds are made?” Paladin had not moved from his serene pose, sitting in the dirt of the garden. Already, little crystals were sprouting around him, responding to the aura of his power. “They are not made the way we are. The Unmaker does not reach for a corrupted soul and exalt them. He does not choose the most faithful, or even the most powerful. I suppose He could, if He so chose, but He relies on shadows and trickery, preying on the weak.” He smiled indulgently at Galeforce’s disbelieving snort. “Yes, weak. Not traditionally weak in body, of course, or even of will. But their minds are vulnerable, open to manipulation. There are whispers in their ears, hints of power to be obtained.” Paladin glanced at Galeforce. “It was my fear for many years Megatron would say the words.” Paladin settled, armor and field smoothing out. “Primus be thanked, he was too proud to utter them, if they were ever offered.”

“I never knew,” Galeforce murmured, field swirling in confusion. It made so much more sense. Grindor was not an obedient, willing servant to Unicron, as he was to Primus. The Herald was a slave, a prisoner. “It makes so much sense.”

“Some glory in it,” Paladin continued, nodding at the other Scion’s words. “Some reject it, until the Unmaker grows too loud and forceful. Those ones die, usually. The Unmaker abandons them in a moment of crisis, leaving them to their fates. It is why I do not advocate the wholesale slaughter of Heralds.”

The younger Scion started, hands tightening around the pole of his glaive. He had to think back, and carefully analyze conversations. Paladin had never sent Scions on a mission to hunt Heralds. He had always sent them after the monsters. Galeforce had thought at the time that one thing led to another--find the monsters, hunt them to the Herald that made them. Or, as had happened to him, Primus had sent a Scion to face the Herald. “You always sent us after the wraiths,” he murmured, low, astonished at the subtle misdirection Paladin had employed.

“I do not like sending you children to your deaths,” he said, shaking his head. “The Unmaker’s arts are myriad, multifarious, constantly evolving, and undying. Each time they are beaten back, they will rise up again, stronger and more dangerous than before. If one grows too deadly, Primus calls. Until then, it is better the monsters I know and understand. Our world, the intangible and the mundane, exist in a delicate balance. It is so much more complex than good and evil alone. We all exist as shades of gray, even the Heralds and Scions. If we were to amass together, form an army, and annihilate every Herald, every pit bender, every voidwraith we came across, I believe, in the depth of my spark, we would create a vacuum that the Unmaker Himself could use to deadly advantage.” The Master paused, considering, and continued. “I believe he could use it to take corporeal form in the mundane world.”

Galeforce could not help himself. He gasped, horrified and astonished. It was a thought that chilled the soul, imagining Unicron in their world. Paladin’s stance abruptly made more sense. He was one of the oldest Scions, connected to their world to a depth many could not fathom, and none could replicate. His armor rattled in a shudder, pricking up in fear, imagining such a thing. It was a horror he prayed would never visit their reality, or any other.

Slowly, Paladin rose to his feet, brushing the little crystals that had grown around him away until he was able to move without crushing them. “The loss of Sundust and Penitente is a grave one. But I will not send more Scions after your… friend, Galeforce. Not unless he hunts us first.” Paladin placed his hand on Galeforce’s bowed head, a benediction. “Who prays for the Fallen, Brother? Perhaps it should be you.”

“Now,” he continued, grasping the other mech’s arm to hoist him to his feet. “That is quite enough heaviness for one day. Come join me for a drink. Yes, yes, just tea, of course. It is still quite cold, and we have been out of doors too long.”

The pair of Scions left the Garden, companionably side by side, returning to the Temple proper. They did not notice a dark shape, lean and strong, climbing down from one of the ironwood trees, careful to not snag the bow at his back. Their conversation had been overheard. So the monster lives.

#The scion; Galeforce #the master; PALADIN #the herald; GRINDOR #mun writing

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lady-literature · 6 years

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Ease My Pain and Soothe My Worries

Made for the Sanders Sides Big Bang, @ts-storytime

Summary: Virgil is anxious, surprise surprise. Logan helps.

Pairings: Logan/Virgil

Warnings: panic attack, self doubt, swearing

Apart of the same series: In the Sky We Fall | All Hail the Consort of Darkness | Roman’s Daughters | The Gods are Dead

Read on Ao3

Virgil didn’t know why he was even worrying so much. It had been centuries since they’ve settled. Since Virgil had shared his human name with the other seasons, since they shared theirs with him.

Since they’ve been happy.

And as Patton reminded him near every day, they all loved him.

So why he was making a big deal out of nothing is beyond him. He always seems to get caught up in his own head. Lost in the mess of swirling ‘what ifs’ and jumbled ‘maybes.’

It’s frustrating that he can’t just let himself be happy. Can’t let himself have this . Because it’s too good. Everything is too amazing and wonderful and bright that it has to be fake, right?

When Logan finally arrives at the Hall, Virgil has taken to pacing and muttering under his breath. He feels twitchy and like there’s too much energy stored in him, like he needs to keep moving and hold himself still at the same time and it’s driving him nuts.

Logan moves to place his folders of paper on the desk that hadn’t been there before he got here. He looks worried and for a moment Virgil wonders why before he realizes oh, it’s me.

“Virgil?”

He still hasn’t stopped pacing and he probably looks guilty as fuck or like he’s about to have panic attack or something else equally embarrassing. He forces himself to stop moving. Of course that means he’s stopped himself a good couple feet from Logan which is awkward and strange.

Logan looks even more concerned now. Good job, Virgil.

“Is something wrong? Has something happened during autumn? Are you alright?” He approaches slowly, giving Virgil time to back away and he damn near melts at his thoughtfulness. Logan had always understood his needs even when he himself hadn’t. He knew that sometimes it's best if Virgil wasn’t touched or that he needed hard facts over heartfelt reassurances.

It was why he loved him so dearly.

Virgil opened his mouth to say he was fine. To smile and laugh his strange behaviour away. To greet Logan and shift his attention elsewhere so he wouldn’t ask again.

Instead, his voice began to rise in his throat like shadows and thunderstorms. Building on the tip of his tongue like a wave and Virgil knew instinctively that if he let it crest something bad would happen. He slammed his mouth shut so fast he skimmed his tongue with his pointed teeth, the taste of copper and gold flooding his mouth.

Suddenly Logan was in front of him, hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Virgil? Please answer me?”

“I’m fine.” Virgil’s voice is layered over itself in a way it hasn’t been in centuries. His booming voice echoes inside his head rather than the walls around him and Virgil instantly feels bad when he sees Logan’s pointed ears flatten as if to block out the noise.

Virgil snaps his mouth shut and curls into himself more, pulling his shoulders up to his ears and wrapping his arms around himself as if to keep all the bad things beneath his skin. He chokes back the words that threaten to rise up and buries them deep in his chest.

“You are most definitely not fine,” Logan says calmly, his voice steady and smooth. His eyes are more alarmed. “Come sit down.”

Logan ushers Virgil onto a loveseat covered in pillows that wasn’t there a moment ago. Immediately, Virgil grabs one of the fluffiest pillows and hugs it to his chest, burying his mouth in the soft fabric.

“Hey,” Logan lightly brushes his hand to get his attention. “Look at me okay? I’m here, feel the pillow.” Logan brushes him hand along the fabric, urging Virgil to do the same. “It’s soft, yeah? Or my hand. I’m solid. You can feel me. I’m here. I’m right here.

“You need to breathe, alright? Follow my lead yes? In, two, three, four, five. Hold, two, three. Out, two, three, four, five, six. Again. Come on.”

In, out. In, and out. In, and out.

Slowly. Slowly, Virgil began to calm. His hands continuously running over the pillow, back and forth, back and forth.

Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes. One, two, three more breaths and he opened them again to find Logan staring back at him. Patience and concern etched into every line of his body.

“I’m-” Virgil croaked, his throat closed off and hoarse. Better than the layered, darkness forever, voice from hell he supposed. He cleared his throat to try again, “I’m good. I’m good now.” Logan gave him one of his patented looks, ‘bitch face #3’. Reserved for Virgil and his bullshit. “Promise.”

Logan merely hummed in response, gathering him up in his arms. The pair sat there for what seemed like hours, Virgil curled up to Logan’s side, listening to him talk about everything and nothing. White noise words that meant little but did the job they were meant to. Eventually, the knot in his stomach loosened and the tension bled from his shoulders.

“The boy at the head of the warfront--you know, the one that’s blessed--his lover was killed in battle a few days ago you know. The carnage he’s wrecking on the opposing army in his grief is massive. I believe just yesterday he fought a river because the sprite looked at him wrong. The other gods are getting a bit worried about him.” Logan hesitated. “A bit like how I’m worried about you right now.”

Virgil looked up at him, apologetic.

“What happened, love? What made you so upset?”

“It…” Virgil looked away, “It was stupid. Nothing important.”

“Anything that matters to you is important.”

Virgil shrugs.

“Virgil, please.”

“I just- I got caught up in my own head again. I know it’s stupid but-” Logan pinches his arm. “Ow!” Virgil glares at him but corrects himself anyway. “I know it is irrational, but sometimes it’s hard to believe. All of this,” he waves a hand around him vaguely, trying to encompass too many things with a too little gesture, “just seems unreal sometimes. Like I made it up and soon everything will go back.”

Virgil turns his gaze to the far wall, as if seeing something that isn’t there. “I think I’m going to lose you,” he says it so quietly that if Logan were anyone else, he would have missed it.

But he isn’t everyone else, and instead his entire being softens in a way it only does with his fellow manifestations. “Oh, Virgil. I’m afraid you’re going to be stuck with us for a very long time.”

Virgil huffs a sound that might’ve been a laugh, were it not so weak and filled with sorrow.

“Is there… something else?”

“No! No, it’s just,” Virgil sigh in frustration, pushing away from Logan so he can stand. “I was talking to Patton. And- And he didn’t mean anything by it, because of course he didn’t--it’s Patton. But I just- He said that you do, things with him that you don’t with me. And it’s not- I shouldn’t be jealous or- or angry because those are useless, negative emotions. And it’s not like- You just- You treat him differently. Than you do me, that is.”

Logan looks at him for a few heartbreaking moments before slowly rising from the couch but he doesn’t move closer to Virgil. Not yet.

He speaks slowly, choosing his words with care. “Well… Patton is different than you. He thrives on emotions and action based displays. While you,” Logan raises a hand for Virgil to take and after a moment he does. He raises the appendage to his lips, lightly pressing a kiss to the inner wrist. “My Moon and Stars, are more inclined to words and assurances. Never mind that physical affection other than touches or chaste kisses have never really been apart of our dynamic. I’m aware you and Roman engage every so often, but I have little interest in it. I do it to make the others happy, and you had never seemed to need the extra mile.”

“You don’t need to do something you don’t want to for us, Logan.” Virgil states. Because Logan needs to know this. Needs to know that he shouldn’t and doesn’t have to do anything he’s not comfortable with.

To Virgil’s surprise, he huffs a laugh. “Of course not. It’s not like that. Physical relations are fine, but it’s an activity than can be replaced with something else, like reading, or puzzles. I don’t dislike it, but it’s not my favorite pass time either.”

“Oh… well. Thank you.”

“Of course.” After a moment of silence Logan continues, Virgil's hands still cradled in his. Logan sweeping his thumb across Virgil's knuckles. “Do you wish to bring our relationship to a more physical level?”

“Not really. I like hugs though.”

Logan nods as if expecting the declaration, and opens his arms. They stand in each other’s embrace for a long while, just breathing each other in. Taking what little reprieve they have before winter sets in and Virgil has to wait another year to see him again.

But he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he knows more now. He’s known that they love him for years, but now he thinks he might be a little closer to believing it.

Sure they’ll be time where he worries and second guesses, but when doesn’t he?

He can let himself have this. This wonderful happiness because maybe he deserves it, maybe he doesn’t. But they chose him. And he’ll be damned if he wouldn’t give them Chaos herself if they asked for her.

He could never deny them anything.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ts big bang #Analogical #logan x virgil

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zaffrenotes · 4 years

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[Blades] Inked

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow, Modern/College AU Players: Mal, MC (Rin), Nia, Tyril Rating/Warnings: G Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * OCs are my creation * 31 days of ficlets and one shots using Jasmine’s Situational Summer Prompts – Carnivals * Ugh, sorry this one is so short – left this to the last minute and got a bit of writer’s block * Word Count: +/- 850

Perma/Blades Taglist: @ao719 @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn @desireepow-1986 @gibbles82 @innerpostmentality @loveellamae @smalltalk88 @thecordoniandiaries // @choicesarehard @dailydoseofchoices @eileendannie @liyanin @mrsnazariowritesagain @omgjasminesimone @princess-geek @saivilo @scgdoeswhat @storyofmychoices @the-soot-sprite @walkerswhiskeygirl

Mal strolled down campus walk, eyes moving from one booth to another. It was a warm August afternoon, and the annual College Carnival was well underway. It was an event held every year before the official start of the semester, when student groups and local businesses filled tents along some of the main pathways until they reached The Circle, promoting local services, clubs, and everything in between. Several days had passed since Mal ran into Rin at the Beach, and while she dropped by his room a handful of times, all her visits had happened during the day, usually with Nia.

He didn’t mind Nia’s company – she seemed like a sweet girl, if not a little sheltered from living at home while she went to a school closer to home. He could tell that she had an adventurous spirit; if anyone could coax it out of her, Rin was the right person to befriend. He was about to pull away from the foot traffic to look at the tapestry booth when he heard someone call out his name.

“Mal! Mal!” Mal turned his head and noticed Nia waving at him from a booth across the way. He waved back and scanned the crowd separating them for a gap, weaving and dodging his way through other students until he’d made his way to Nia’s booth.

“Enjoying the fair?” He slid his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head, and gave Nia a friendly smile.

“It’s wonderful! Who knew there were so many different student groups?”

“There’s a little something for everyone.”

“Can you do me a favor? I’ve got to get to a meeting with my new advisor, but I don’t want to leave Rin in case she needs help.”

“Help with what?” Mal looked around the booth they were in, slowly putting pieces together before Nia could respond.

Tables were set up all around them, with members from one of the art clubs, applying temporary tattoos on students. Some were the stick on type, usually pre-printed from members of the art club; others were using paint to swirl colorful vines and tribal designs on shoulders and arms.

“She might need help with her things, or just getting around the rest of the fair. We got henna at one of the other booths,” she replied, holding up her hand to Mal to show off the starry design on the back of her hand. “It’s dry, but we’re not supposed to smear it or wash it off for a couple hours, so it stains the skin underneath.”

“Okay,” Mal hummed back. “So you need me to…?”

“Stay with Rin until they’re done, and help her back into the building, I guess?” Nia gathered up her things into a small knapsack. “She got henna all over her fingers, instead of picking one spot.” Nia’s cheeks began to flush, and she smiled bashfully at him.

Mal grinned softly at her. “I’ve got you covered,” he replied. “Don’t keep your advisor waiting.”

“You’re the best!” Nia started walking off. “I owe you one!”

Mal waved again as Nia disappeared into the throng of people, before turning to look for Rin inside the small tent. His eyes locked in on her long, dark hair as she chatted with the student working on her. “A little bird told me you might want some company,” he hummed into her ear.

Rin turned her head to the side and smiled at him. “Possibly. Depends on the company.”

“And if I were that company?”

She grinned softly at him before averting her eyes, turning back to the work being done on her wrist. “I would be amenable to such an offer.”

The student working on painting the design on her wrist scoffed lightly, and a tendril of his hair fell loose. “You two ought to just find a room,” he mumbled.

“Ty, be nice.” Rin looked at the young man with a look of warning.

“My name is Tyril, not Ty, Rind-“

“Do not use my given name, Tyril,” Rin shot back. The warning in her voice sounded serious, but there was a shy grin across her lips.

“Should I leave and let the two of you find a room instead?” Mal crossed his arms, feeling oddly protective of Rin. He wanted to get her away from Tyril, for no other reason than to have her attention to himself, rather than vying for it from the extremely tall, attractive Art major who had his hand curled around her wrist. He watched as Tyril set down his airbrush and turned her wrist, eyeing the ink, before releasing his grasp on her. “Hey, watch the—”

“Henna, I know, Mal.” Tyril rolled his eyes at Mal and picked up a small container and a brush. After opening the container, Tyril gently tapped the brush in its contents, and tapped it lightly against Rin’s skin onto the paint.

Mal grinned as Tyril applied a layer of glitter to Rin’s tattoo before peeling away the stencil, revealing a tiny creature. “Well would you look at that,” he smirked. “A kit.”

#31 days of summer #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow fanfic #Mal Volari #mal volari fanfic #Mal Volari x mc #nia ellarious #tyril starfury #choices fanfiction #play choices fanfic #modern Blades AU #Blades x Modern AU #Blades x College AU #zaffrenotes writes

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raendown · 6 years

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@letliv3 chapter 4!

Pairing: none Word count: 3035 Summary: A coup hidden in the shadows for decades, a scroll with a seal he didn't mean to activate; Naruto finds himself whisked away from Konoha to a destination unknown and meets a little girl who appears to be - his mom?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Chapter 4

Shizuko found him an hour later, still plastered to Kushina’s side. The Uzukage came to find him herself rather than sending someone to fetch him, which was rather surprising, and her face was more serious than its usual pinched expression. Naruto followed her back to her surprisingly spacious office, built in to the same rocky knoll from which she addressed the public whenever necessary. Kushina trotted at his heels with a smug smile for being included.

Once they were all tucked away in the office, however, it was obvious that she became bored rather quickly as the two adults immediately began to speak about ‘boring adult stuff’. They talked about casualties and village defenses, property damage and body disposal, funeral costs and the implications of war. All very important things but nothing that seemed cool or fun to a child who didn’t yet understand their true weight.

Until he was allowed to fall back in to it, Naruto hadn’t realized how much he missed his role as Hokage. After spending his entire life chasing the dream it had felt so good to finally achieve his goal. Then before he could blink he was here in the past and there had been too many things to adjust to for him to spare a thought for the responsibilities that came with running a village. It felt good to speak with Shizuko as one Kage to another; it felt like getting back to who he knew he was supposed to be. He couldn’t say he had slacked off in his efforts to find his way back home but Naruto had to admit that the longer he spent in Uzushio, the more reluctant he was to leave.

Just as it seemed Kushina was about to fall asleep in her chair, Shizuko finally got around to the point she had actually brought him here to talk about.

“Uzushio owes you a great debt. When you first arrived here you spoke of the destruction of our village; without your presence with us today those events would surely have come to pass yet again. However, this creates a new problem.”

“Huh?” Naruto scratched at his head. “What new problem?”

“I’m aware of how uneducated you are about the nature of fūinjutsu, let alone time travel and it’s wide ranging effects on the continuum, so I will keep this as simple as possible.”

“Good ‘cause you’re already losing me here.”

Shizuko gaze him a withering stare before continuing. “By stopping the destruction of our village you have impacted the events of your own history in a rather exceptional manner. It is imperative that we send you back to your own time as quickly as possible to avoid any further changes. We have no way of knowing whether the impact of your influence will be positive or negative. You must go, and soon.”

Her words were like sharp pins callously popping the bubble he had allowed himself to sink in to over the past month. Of course he knew that he had to go home. When he left his entire home had been in danger, the lives of everyone he loved at risk, but over the past few weeks he hadn’t allowed the panic to get to him because he figured he could traipse back through the ‘time channels’ whenever he wanted and be right back where he started. It hadn’t occurred to him that it would ever matter how long he stayed or even why. As much as he knew he had to go-

Looking to the side, Naruto met Kushina’s curious eyes. He didn’t want to go. In his own time he had a wife and children and an entire village of people to take care of. But here, in the past, he had a mother.

“So, what then?” he asked eventually, dragging his eyes away from the redhead beside him to look at the one across instead. “We step up the training or something?”

“Actually, I’ve thought of a faster way but it will take time for the woman I have contacted to arrive here. You have one week to wrap up any business you have entangled yourself in here. If everything goes as planned you shall be gone seven days from now.”

“Seven days!?” Naruto’s jaw nearly unhinged it dropped so fast. “How am I supposed to learn how to use high-level sealing techniques in seven days!? Who did you contact, some super awesome master sage?”

Shizuko sniffed and waved him towards the door, a clear dismissal. “Of course not. I called upon an old friend of mine from another clan. Don’t fret too much about it.”

“You don’t really have any good reason for not telling me do you? I’m not a child whether I’ve gone through your rite of whatever or not and you told me everything else. You’re just being stingy now, aren’t you?” Naruto narrowed his eyes as her, grinning a little as he felt Kushina giggle in to his side. Shizuko huffed and turned up her nose and that was all the answer he needed to that.

Then a new thought occurred to him which hadn’t before and Naruto leaned forward, both hands planted on the Uzukage’s desk.

“Hey! If I changed the past then that means when I go back to the future then I’ll still have my mom right? Yeah! Yeah! Because I saved Uzushio and made everything different! Right?”

“Wrong.” One sharply spoken word from her froze him in place. “I’ve already told you: you understand nothing about the time channels or what it means to use them. What you did when you changed a major event was create an entirely separate timeline and when you return to when you came from you will be returning to your original timeline. Nothing will have changed in your world, just as we shall never know what would have been different in ours.”

“Oh.”

Naruto sank back down in to his chair feeling as though his entire body had been submerged in ice cold water, dreams he’d only just conceived of already swirling down the drain before he’d even had a chance to really reach for them. White noise filled his thoughts until all he was left with was a sense of loss and longing he thought he’d put behind him many years ago.

Small fingers slipped in to his own and he looked up to find Kushina staring back at him, more understanding in those eyes than any six year old should be capable of. No one so young should be able to look up at him with such sadness. He half thought she should be throwing a tantrum, screaming and crying about how unfair it all was. Or maybe that was just what he wanted to do despite knowing he was just a little too old for such antics.

But it was all so unfair! He’d fallen through time and fixed something bad! Shouldn’t he get some kind of reward for it all?

Leaning forward to bow his head down low, Naruto clutched at a fistful of hair with his free hand and gave himself a few moments to just breathe through it all. He wished he could think of a way to put his feelings in to words but they were just so jumbled up inside his chest that it all became one big ball of confusion he had no idea how to sort through.

“Damn,” was all he came up with eventually. “I don’t know what to say. Shikamaru would though. My friend, he’s a Nara and he’s really smart. He’d say something really brainy like…’all we are is dust in the wind’. I remember him saying that once.”

“What does it mean?” Kushina tugged on his fingers and gave him that look she always gave him when she thought he’d said something stupid. It brought a smile to his face for a moment as he admitted his own folly.

“I don’t know but it sounded cool when he said it.”

“It means,” Shizuko spoke up again at last, “that no matter what we do, nothing ever really matters. That our dreams and passions are as meaningless as the dust that floats upon the wind. You may chase after them as long as you like and in the end you will have accomplished nothing.” Naruto shuddered at the chill in her words, wondering if the Uzukage had ever had her own dreams shattered to speak so coldly.

“That’s stupid!”

Both of the adults startled and looked over to find Kushina rolling her eyes, taking back her hand so she could prop both of them on her hips with all the tiny irritation a kid her age could muster.

“You didn’t do nothing! You saved the whole village! Your mom – me – I’m already gone where you come from so you don’t lose anything. Isn’t it good that this me from now gets to live? You did something! So whatever to your stupid dust thing. If dust on the wind means it’s pointless then…then…then we burn the dust!”

“Uh…burn it?” Naruto asked. Kushina flushed a little.

“I don’t know. I thought it would sound cooler.”

He stared at her for a long moment before bursting in to unrestrained laughter, truly not having expected any of that. Suddenly he had a lot more respect for Kakashi-sensei and all that poor man had to deal with when Team 7 were young little sprites feeding him exactly that same kind of nonsense. Yet he couldn’t deny that he felt oddly uplifted after her ridiculous little speech. She barely even knew what she was talking about, all she had to keep her going was a will to fight and the refusal to take a hit lying down, and Naruto wondered when he would stop being amazed at how much of himself he saw in her.

She was definitely right about one thing though. He had gotten some amazing gifts out of this experience, memories he would keep with him for the rest of his days. Even if nothing changed when he returned home nothing could ever take these moments away from him when he had laughed with his mother, cried with his mother, held her in his arms and loved her almost more than his heart knew how to.

“Alright.” Rubbing his right side as the laughter faded, Naruto threw his other arm over Kushina’s shoulders and pulled her in close. “We burn the dust,” he declared. “Whatever that means!”

Kushina laughed and leaned in to him and really that was all he could ask for.

Later, once they’d finally vacated Shizuko’s office as they’d been asked to and squirreled themselves away in one of the small coves ringing the island’s edges, she asked him a question he’d been waiting for – and dreading – since the day that he arrived here. She asked him about how she died.

Digging his toes in to the sand, Naruto tilted his head back to stare at the stars just starting to come out above them. Peeking out the corner of his eye, he could see Kushina watching him with her thumbnail caught between her teeth and her long hair pulled in all sorts of directions by the wind. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before answering. Strange, how so many pains from so long ago kept opening after he thought they had already healed over.

Over the past month he had gone back and forth between so many different plans on how he was going to answer this question when she asked him but after the meeting in Shizuko’s office he had finally come to a solid decision. Even if it changed the course of events, even if he wasn’t supposed to, there was no way he could send his mother to her death a second time without any sort of warning. And that was supposing she even went to Konoha at all now that her home hadn’t been demolished, leaving her with nowhere to go. Hopefully the truth wouldn’t keep her away. Naruto couldn’t imagine a world in which his mom and dad didn’t get married; they belonged together!

“When Uzushio was destroyed,” he began in a steady voice, “you came to live in Konoha and after a few years you became the new jinchūriki of the nine-tailed fox, the one I have inside me right now. You married my dad and eventually you guys got pregnant with me. Only, it’s dangerous for a jinchūriki to get pregnant and there was someone that wanted to hurt my dad and the village.”

“But who?”

“Are you sure you want me to go in to everything? It gets kind of complicated.”

“Everything, Naruto-kun.”

She gave him a decisive nod and Naruto nodded slowly. Then he backed up and began with a story he had first heard from a woman with bright red hair who had helped him take the first steps towards taming the beast inside his belly. It was heavy stuff to put on someone so young, heavy enough that he was sure it would have scarred a civilian child of double her age for life. Kushina, however, was descended from shinobi and already begun her training to follow in those same footsteps, had snuck away from safety to witness a battle just that afternoon. As much as he wanted her to be able to enjoy her childhood for as long as she could it was sort of impossible for the children of warriors to enjoy the same innocence that the children of civilians did.

Things in the time she lived in were different from where he was from. In the Konoha Naruto presided over there were already many changes to the shinobi system that he’d begun to challenge. As he went through the complicated events leading up to his own mother’s death, a terribly laundry list of one system failure after another, example after example of the way that shinobi were raised only to be broken, Naruto could feel a fire rekindling in his gut which hadn’t burned so brightly since the day he put on his very first shinobi headband.

At the end of his tale Kushina remained silent, hugging her knees to her chest and watching the tumultuous waves crashing against the rocks below without really appearing the see them. Instead her eyes seemed distant, almost as though if she looked hard enough she could see in to her own future and witness the events of which she’d been told.

Rather than sit there in silence and let her work through her thoughts – although he knew that would probably have been the nicer thing to do – Naruto dealt with the awkward silence the same way he always had. He talked. With no clear theme in mind he yammered on about whatever came to mind first until he found himself stuck on the topic of his father. Naruto didn’t know anywhere near as much as he would have liked to about either of his parents but he knew enough to describe what he looked like and what kind of good man he was, how willingly he sacrificed himself for the good of the village. He talked about how strong Namikaze Minato was and how much the man had loved his wife and everyone around him.

“Stop.” Naruto’s jaw snapped shut at one quiet word from Kushina. He peeked at her a second time and found her sniffling but with a very small, wistful kind of smile. “He sounds really nice, so you can stop selling him now.”

“He’s not a horse,” Naruto chuckled weakly.

“Did he really love me? You promise?”

“More than anything in the whole world.” Reaching over, he chucked Kushina under the chin. “Except me of course. I’m pretty awesome, you know?”

Her smile widened and she smothered a giggle in her knees before scrambling to her feet and making her way to the edge of their little cove. When her bare toes stood just out of reach of the tumbling waves, she balled her fists and shook one of them at the sky as she hurled her surprisingly loud voice up towards the stars.

“I’m gonna marry Namikaze Minato and he’s gonna love me, dattebane!”

Naruto almost fell over backwards, unsure if he was shocked or amused.

“What are you doing?” he called over to her. When she spun around to look at him she was wearing such a look of determination he thought for a moment he’d seen a ghost, a woman grown standing on the rocks and weary from battle. Then he blinked and she was only a little girl again.

“I’m telling the universe what’s gonna happen. And the universe is gonna listen! You’ve gotta put it out there, ‘ttebane!”

“Well if that’s what we’re supposed to be doing.” Springing to his feet, he hopped down to stand beside her and cupped both hands around his mouth, raising his voice to scream up in to the night. “I’m gonna be the best Hokage EVER!”

“Hey! We’re supposed to be telling the universe to do good things for me!” Kushina reached over to shove his hip, probably hoping to knock him over sideways although she didn’t manage to so much as budge his stance.

Naruto chuckled and ruffled her hair.

“Alright then. Only good things for you.”

Her self-satisfied grin was so smug he very nearly lost his composure but he managed to keep it together long enough for her to spin back to the water and shriek her dreams out across the ocean. Then his mirth tapered off in to a fond, gentle smile.

It might have sounded like a placating sentence to her but Naruto had meant those words more than any he had ever spoken in his entire life. They were his one true wish for her and for her future, the one dream he hoped the universe would hear from him. Because as much as he loved her simply because she was his mother, Naruto was certain that no one could spend a month at this little girl’s side and not learn to love her just for herself.

And he wanted only good things for her always.

#rae writes #naruto #kushina #fanfiction #naruto shippuden

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kindawriter-blog · 7 years

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Retrograde - Part 11

(a/n: It’s been forever and a day since I’ve posted so character pics and parts 1-10 are here: https://kindawriter.tumblr.com/Retrograde

Should I start marking whose POV it is? I’ve tried to make it obvious but I don’t want to be confusing. I didn’t expect to switch so often when I started this. If it helps, *** = setting & probably POV change; --- = setting change but not POV change; and -*- = POV but NOT setting change (a POV change within a scene). This Part starts with Tina’s POV. Feedback always wanted!)

Part 11

I watch Larry leave from my bedroom, digging my nails into the window frame. The paint chips off, lodging under my fingernail and I jerk my hand back. I quickly dig it out with another nail and look out the window again. I watch his back move down the street.

‘He’s not walking toward Marienne’s,’ I think with a sigh. I’m about to turn away when I see him stumble toward the side of the apartment building down the street, leaning against it. After a few moments he steadies himself, pulling his coat tighter and dragging his feet until they fall into step.

Turning around, I look over my room. It’s a shrine to misplaced hopes and dreams. A box of fabric overflows in the corner, my desk has stacks of filled sketchpads, and posters for Spirited Away, The Paris Opera Ballet, and poster boards covered in magazine cutouts of Couture gowns cover the entire wall around it. And fragments of Larry’s and my relationship are hidden in enough places that I’m reminded of him when I usually don’t want to be.

The little white teddy bear he silently handed me one day hiding under the pillows at the foot of my bed. The hoodie in the back of my closet that he thought he lost, but it smelled like him; like ash and honey. So sweet you’d choke on it.

Larry and I met officially at a party. I knew who he was, because rumors of the “hot pot head” got around. I’d seen him at one other party before, and I noticed his pattern. He was the candyman. He went from person to person, helping them feel good. He would tell girls he loved their smile, and boys that their hand-me-down kicks with sharpie-drawn designs were dope, he’d make sure to find the quiet people in the corners and make jokes until they laughed enough to draw a crowd. Then he’d turn and walk away as his toothy grin faded to the slightest hint at the corners of his mouth. I’d watch his eyes then; I could tell there was something bearing down on him. He looked lost.

Finally, at the next party, he noticed me. I was quietly sipping a Sprite on the couch because I agreed to help my friend Izzy get home at the end of the night. I had just set it down and taken out my sketchbook when his skinny but surprisingly heavy body dropped onto the cushion next to me.

He grabbed the back of his letterman jacket and pulled it roughly over his head, knocking off his snapback. The hat landed on my sketchbook and I grabbed it and tapped him on the arm with it. For some reason it took him a second to notice me. I was watching the way his thin arms suddenly made their muscles known as he pulled his arms free of his jacket. I considered trying to draw them but quickly snapped out of that when he took the hat from my hand.

“Thank you.” He smiled. “What are you doing over here, all alone?” he asked as he attached his hat to his belt loop and ran his hands through his twists.

“I just don’t feel like dancing tonight.”

“What do you feel like doing?” he looked like he actually wanted to know.

I shrugged. “I was thinking about drawing for a bit.”

“You draw? Can you show me?” he scooted in the seat a bit until he was turned completely toward me, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and his head on his hand.

“Um. Sure. What do you want me to draw?”

“A fox.” He grinned, tapping on the paper. “Like... a magic fox.”

“You’re going to have to help me with this.” I laughed, moving my pencil carefully along the page. I started with the ears and moved carefully down the silhouette, and ended with a wispy tail.

“You’re really good at this,” he said, “but it doesn’t look very magical yet.”

“I think that’s the part I need help with.”

“Yeah, everyone knows magical foxes need a lot of tails.” He grinned, holding his hand up with his fingers fanned out.

“Well, since you’re the expert...” I held the pencil out to him.

He had been leaning closer and closer to watch me, but when I offered the pencil he immediately pulled back and shook his head.

“I don’t draw. I can’t draw.”

“That just means you need practice.”

“I can’t, my-I tried. I’m really bad.” He stammered over his words. It was the first time I’d seen him uncomfortable talking with someone. He usually charmed his way through every conversation.

I couldn’t remember the last time a guy talked to me and I definitely couldn’t remember ever feeling like the most confident one in the conversation. I wasn’t about to let go of that feeling.

“Here, it’s not that hard, okay? You’re right handed?”

He nodded.

I placed the pencil in his hand and put mine over his, guiding us to the page.

“Now, you just think of how you want it to look and go with it. I’ll try to help it come out how you want it to. It’s ‘magic’ so it can look like anything you want.” I smiled at him and our hands began to move.

I could tell he was going for graceful designs and I tried to help them happen. I showed him how we could lay the pencil down to use the side of the lead to make broad ribbons. Eventually our picture looked like a fox sitting in a swirling night sky, with several tails curling and waving behind it.

He looked at our picture for a moment then gave me a guarded smile. Then someone across the room called for him and I didn’t see him again the rest of the night.

The next week Larry’s shadow fell on me in the courtyard at school. I was sitting against a low brick wall, sketching between bites of cafeteria chicken nuggets.

“So what are you drawing today?” he asked. I could only squint up at his silhouette, I couldn’t see if he was smiling. Then he dropped to the ground in front of me, and his bright smile almost made me search for my sunglasses.

I had pulled my knees up to hide my sketchbook out of habit, and I glanced down at it.

“Well… I’m trying to design clothing. Your fox started it. I’m trying to put fairy tales and city life together. I don’t know what to call it.” I relaxed my legs and angled the pad so he could see it. The outfit was a sort of 1950s style deep blue dress, with a crescent moon pattern on the skirt, and sunflowers drooping in the moonlight along the hem. The dress was sleeveless with a deep red faux fox around the collar, made to look like he was curled up sleeping.

“This is art,” he murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear it. “The colors and the flowers make me think of that painter? The one who went crazy and sent his ear to some girl?”

He glanced at me and I almost snapped to correct him (he was right about the story but the way he said it bothered me) but he turned back to the page too quickly. His rough finger traced cautiously over my lines. He didn’t smudge it even a little.

“Van Gogh,” I said, watching as he studied my work. He nodded without looking away from the page.

“Do you have more?” he asked as he reached to turn the page but he stopped and waited for me to answer.

“I don’t have a lot more drawings, but I have ideas.”

I told him about how I wanted to incorporate a shawl that looked like chain link fence into an outfit, and think of a way to use snails and garden snakes. I turned the page to show him a sketch of a girl in a rain coat patterned after a yellow taxi.

“You should make an umbrella for her that’s a leaf. You know Totoro?” He glanced away from the drawing to look at me. I felt my smile spring across my face.

“Yes. Yeah I totally know what you’re talking about.” I nodded enthusiastically and he laughed lightly.

“Try it,” he said, and gestured at the page. He watched silently as I drew the oversized leaf and began to add drops of rain.

The sound of rain hitting my bedroom window takes me out of my memory. I look outside; there’s no trace of him on the street. I worry about him. I can’t help it.

***

When Larry walked out the door, Laurent didn’t react how I expected. Mostly because he hasn’t reacted to anything how I’d expect. I thought he’d get quiet, and close off or go to sleep; the way he’s been this whole time. Instead his anxiety follows the form of Larry’s just moments ago.

He’s pacing, and pulling at his hair and his eyes keep darting around.

“Mari, we have to go after him. Where would he go?”

“Lau, we can’t leave, we have to wait for him. I’m not going out alone right now, and neither are you, especially if that guy who threatened you is out there. He just needs to cool off. He’ll be back,” I grab Laurent’s hands from his hair and find his brown eyes with my own, “I promise.”

-*-

Looking at Mari I’m trapped between wanting to wrench my hands from hers and letting her hug me. Instead I gently squeeze her hands and let them fall, and turn away to walk into the bathroom.

My breath comes out in a shudder and I turn on the sink to hide the noise. Steam starts to build up and I rinse my hands. The cut from the glass is healing. There’s so much I wish I could burn away from my skin. The fog shifts over my reflection and for a second I see Larry. But then I blink and I see what Larry has been seeing. I’m too skinny. My hair is wiry and dull, too lifeless to really call it an afro, despite Marienne’s best efforts. I don’t think about the rest of my body. I know what I’ll see there. I know every pattern of every bruise, flowering like poison roses crawling up my skin.

Shutting off the hot water; I use my uninjured hand to scoop some cool water to my mouth. The motion makes my ribs twinge and I gasp, holding my side and gripping the sink until my knuckles ache. No. I don’t want to think about it. I can’t, I can’t. Fuck. I drop to the floor, and he’s delivering the first of many soul stealing kicks to any exposed part of me. He stops when Warren tells him to. They always do what Warren tells them to. I jolt back to reality with Mari’s knock.

-*-

Lau finally comes out of the bathroom and he’s not okay. I was hoping giving him a little bit of space, safely inside, would help him. But it had been like ten minutes when I heard that thud and I had to check on him.

Now he still looks anxious but he also looks exhausted.

“Lau,” I start, and he reluctantly makes eye contact, “I promise. I promise he’s coming back.”

Laurent takes a deep breath and looks toward the windows. Suddenly lightning flashes across the sky and he jumps, “Shit!” he gasps and shuts his eyes tight.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. C’mere.” I pull him to the couch and rest his head on my lap, brushing my hand over his hair. “I’m sorry, it’s going to be okay.” But he gently takes my hand in his, and holds it still over his chest.

“Please; please don’t do that.”

“Oh, I didn’t even mean to do it, sorry. It’s habit, I thought it would help.”

“I-It does, it used to,” he sighs, absentmindedly touching my braided bracelet on my wrist, still trapped in his grip, “Marcus used to do that to calm me down.”

I watch him and he glances at me before quickly looking away. I push away everything telling me to interrogate him, find out who Marcus was and where he’s been. It’s not time. It’s not my place. I settle for not changing the subject, but also not digging deeper.

“Did it work? Did it help you feel better?”

“Sometimes. But I don’t… I can’t think about him right now.”

“Okay.”

Eventually Lau falls asleep and ends up on the opposite side of the couch. I don’t think he even does it on purpose. He’s so uncomfortable with touch, even in his sleep.

I wait up for Larry until eleven, but I wasn’t lying to Laurent. I completely believe Larry is fine and he’s coming home. I finally brush my teeth and climb into my bed at eleven-thirty. By twelve-thirty I hear the front door open and shut. After some shuffling through the apartment I feel the bed dip behind me. His arm wraps around me so tight it’s hard to turn to face him. When I turn over he hugs me tighter and hides his face in the pillow.

He’s in a dry t-shirt and shorts, but his twists are cold and damp. I run my hand over his hair. I smell the air between us out of habit, but I get nothing. “Did you drink?” I whisper. He shakes his head, still not looking at me. My hand moves to his cheek. “But you wanted to.” He nods barely and his shoulders start to shake. I hold him tighter and let him fall apart, cradling his head to my chest.

I’m glad my comforting instincts can help someone. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.

#les twins fanfiction #les twins fanfics #lt fanfics #retrogradefic

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ratkingdnd · 5 years

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Chapter Twenty Eight - Blinding Sprite

The heroes stare at the final rune, the one that looked like a T with a G wrapped around it. “Last one” says Buffalo, as Dolgan turns the cube to make the TG rune face the roof. The blood seeps upwards once more, filling the rune whilst a door materialises under the rune on the wall. The heroes gather themselves and walk through. They enter the new room, it’s a perfect cube. In the middle of the room stands a single skeleton, but this skeleton looked nothing like the previous ones. It was adorned with armour, jewels and a cape. It held a gigantic sword, almost larger than itself. As soon as the heroes entered it raises the sword in the sky, as it flashes with lightning, fire, light and a purple darkness similar to the shadows that swirled around the shadow axe held by Ned. He bellows “Raise your weapons, my tainted willow will make short work of you” as he slams his sword into the ground - red, yellow, white and purple beams shooting out and his eye sockets lighting with fire.

Buffalo quickly shoots two arrows directly at the skeleton knight, one hitting his rib and another his spine. The skeleton knight moves over to Scaly and slams his sword down, his shining blade cutting into Scaly’s scales. The skeleton knight raises his sword once more, this time the sword swirling with dark purple shadows. The sword sinks even deeper, creating a blood red wound into Scaly as the purple shadows almost seems to travel back up the sword and into the skeleton knight. Finally a third beam shoots up the sword, a yellow flash of lightning shocking the dragon to the core. At the same time, above the skeleton knight a lightning strike comes down from the rune on the ceiling, hitting him and knocking him back. Dolgan runs up to the knight and swings his war hammer at his chest, but not before the skeleton raises his arm, blocking the attack at the shaft of the hammer. Scaly moves quickly out of the way, but the skeleton knight manages to make one more swing at him as he leaves, cutting across his chest and creating another wound. Scaly manages to release one crossbow bolt into the Scaly before grabbing his chest in pain. Ned jumps and slams his axe into the skeleton knight, yelling “Nolite hominem!”, the skeleton grabs the axe and laughs out loud saying “Weak!” and pushing back Ned into his friends.

Buffalo raises his arm in the air as a beam of light shines down on Scaly, healing his wounds. Dolgan raises his axe and smashes into the skeleton knight once more, as he does, a beam of purple energy shoots from above, into Dolgan and flies through his axe into the knight. The knight stumbles back. Scaly, still off balance from his last hit, takes a shot with his crossbow, but falls backwards before making an accurate shot and instead shoots Ned directly in his back. Ned turns around and yells “What the hell Scaly?!” as he runs towards the knight and shoves the spiked hilt of his axe into the chest of the enemy, pushing him backwards. Buffalo readies his bow and aims at the skeleton knights hands, attempting to disarm him. The arrow hits with precision accuracy, but at the loss of power and the skeleton knight brushes off the attack with zero regard. The skeleton knight turns around charging at Buffalo whacking with his sword, the first attack missing, but following up with a devastating second attack. As the sword swings into Buffalo, a purple orb floats up, exploding at the tip of the sword and flowing back down towards the knight as his fiery eyes ignite even further. Scaly shoots a fireball out of his palm, the flame getting larger and larger as it gets closer to the knight. It strikes him in the chest and the fire billows all around him. The skeleton plunges his sword into the ground and the fire pulls back into his blade, extinguishing the flames around him. Ned turns and runs at the knight, smashing his axe into him. The knight stares up at Ned, axe in his chest, and the fire in his eye sockets slowly fades into blackness. The bones of the skeleton crumble onto the ground in a heap. He was dead.

“Pick up the axe” says Scaly to Ned, who was standing right next to the bones. Ned reaches down and picks up the tainted willow and feels the grip in his hand, observing the sword. Suddenly the sword starts to shake, violently. The purple, white, yellow and red colours of the sword start flowing up and down the blade, as it did in the hands of the skeleton knight. The tainted willow keeps shaking and Ned unable to withhold his fascination keeps staring, the swords colours move up and down violently and Ned passes out onto the ground. As he does, the bones on the ground of the skeleton knight start vibrating and shaking on the ground. They move together slowly, rebuilding the knight back up to full stature, as his eyes fill with fire and he stands tall again. “My tainted willow will never leave me fools” he says as he reaches for the sword on the ground. Buffalo runs over to Ned, shaking and slapping him awake. Buffalo then raises his hand towards the healing beam, still focused in the corner on Scaly and slowly moves his arm across redirecting the healing magic at his friend Ned. Dolgan runs at the knight and smashes him with his warhammer, Scaly whispers “Telum Python” as a lightning bolt appears above the knights head striking him with electricity. Ned, feeling the beams of light heal his open wounds, runs at the skeleton and unleashes a flurry of attacks with his shadow axe. Buffalo turns around and shoots arrow after arrow at the enemy, the last arrow piercing it’s spine and smashing it into a pile of bones once more. The tainted willow, lies on the ground, still flowing with multiple beams of light. The heroes walk towards the sword and stare at it, the lights seem to slow down, second after second. Slowly they fade until the heroes are just staring at a dull sword. Scaly reaches down, with his eyes closed and face turned away, picking up the sword. He holds it up and opens his eyes, looking at it and turns around to the group saying “Nothing! Seems fine now”.

The sigil above them slowly disappears and the walls around them dematerialise. Two large being stands in front of the heroes, towering over even Ned and Scaly. One tall and thin, dressed in magical robes with runes running down them, his head adorned with a black helmet with a piece of metal running down the middle. The other one was a little shorted, in full armour. The armour was obsidian black and gleaming, he stood with a sword tip on the ground, holding the hilt of the sword at his mid stomach. “Well done” says the large thin one. The heroes immediately recognise his voice as the one they’d been hearing the entire time. Scaly also says under his breath, that’s the one that took Kalgrin to the Shadowfell in the first place, motioning towards the large armoured being. “You have passed your trials in an orderly fashion. It is now time to meet Velsharoon, I am Vergum and this is Gladio, he motions towards the armoured being. We are here to allow you passage through to our lord”. The two beings stand aside, creating a large gap between them. The heroes see a gigantic, lavish, ornate hallway. The ceilings hundreds of feet above their head, gigantic stained glass windows adorn the sides, looking out to the twilight night of the Shadowfell. Directly between the two large beings the heroes see a set of steps leading down to a black pebbled beach, with a sea of shadows washing over the small rocks, similar to the shadow sea at the bottom of the island of Morgoth. The heroes walk towards the edge of the shadow sea and Ned’s axe starts to vibrate, slowly raising in the air without the aid of Ned. As it reaches the top of Ned’s grasp it smashes down into the pebbles, splitting the shadow sea in two, clearing a pathway of pebbles. The heroes walkthrough the split sea, taking roughly 5-7 minutes to reach the other end. They ascend another set of stairs on the other side as the beach closes behind them, replacing the pathway with the sea once more. The stairs are gigantic and long, so much that Dolgan needs to use his hands to propel himself upwards for each step. Shadows flow around the heroes as they travel upwards and come to a throne with a lady sitting in it, “Hello, I am Velsharoon”.

The heroes all draw their weapons in anticipation, but Velsharoon raises her arm and waves it to the right. The heroes immediately lower their swords and hammers placing them back in their hilts, looking confusedly at themselves and each other as to why they just did that. “We are not here to fight, I apologise for the way you have been treated, but it was the only way this could happen” says Velsharoon. “What’s going on?” asks Buffalo, looking perplexed at Velsharoon. “I have brought you here, against your own will and given you the ambition to fight me, but that is and never was the case. I have a task for you, that will require all your strength, intelligence and dexterity. You passed the trials, something no one, and no group has ever done. I created them to test warriors to eventually fight with me, against my sister Vivifica in the battle that will end the Shadowfell and potentially your home, the material plane” she says.

“You see, the Shadowfell, isn’t what you think it to be” says Velsharoon as walks towards a gigantic window to the side of her cathedral like hall. She motions the group over, waiving her hand over the window and peering outside. The sight of Morgoth and the islands around it slowly dematerialising and becoming more of the shadow sea. “This is what the Shadowfell really looks like, a desolate wasteland, filled with nothing but the shadows of former creatures. My sister and I were practicing necromancers”, “Yeeeew” yells Dolgan shaking his fist in the air. “Hundred of years ago, in a time that necromancy wasn’t a legitimate faction of wizarding. The practice of revivifying corpses and utilising the undead was not just frowned upon, but it was punishable by death. We were literally the scum of the world in the eyes of the public”, Velsharoon takes a deep breath as tears well in her eyes. “We were caught out though, a childhood friend of ours, revealing our secrets to the courts and the public. The entire village coming to our doors with pitchforks and torches. They smashed down our door and pulled my sister out, at the time her name was Sarlotta. They trampled her into the ground, crushing her body, well after death into the street, stabbing her with their pitchforks and eventually burning the remains of her on the cobblestone paths. I stared on his absolute horror, crying and screaming, but they paid no attention. After brutally murdering her, they just got up and left. I assume that the information about us didn’t incriminate me as a necromancer, so they didn’t kill me” says Velsharoon wiping a tear from her eye.

“I was wrecked with guilt. It was me that introduced my sister into the dark magic, it was me that gave her, her spellbook and for all that, she was murdered. Trampled in the streets for nothing. I went into recluse after this, abandoning my necromancy and instead practicing illusion magic, hoping to conjure an image of my sister, something to remember her by. After years of book learning and practice, I realised that I had forgotten what my sister looked like, I had a good idea, but not every minute detail. Through my years of necromancy practice I knew that the magic was drawn from the Shadowfell, a place devoid of life and an endless sea of shadows of previous creatures and beings that had died. I knew if I went to the Shadowfell, I’d be able to find her and visit her once more. So I created a portal, a bag of devourment provided exactly the right amount of mystical power to convert into a small portal”, Dolgan’s eyes widened as he places his hand on his pouch by his side. Velsharoon looks over and says “That’s the one” with a smile on her face. I travelled to the Shadowfell and it was so much worse than I thought. The shadow sea was endless, filled with lost shadows. It was a violent, angry, decrepit place that housed nothing but hostility and resentment. I found my sister, but she had changed, there was nothing left of her human personality. I was devastated. She tried to attack me, force her shadow into me so I created a prison quickly out of illusion magic. My magic was amplified in the Shadowfell for reasons I didn’t understand and it became corporeal instead of just an illusion. I made the small prison into a house, one that represented our old house in the material plane. In little to no time, she looked different, she wandered around each room, looking at different items from our childhood. Slowly I saw her face start to form in the dark shadow, legs grew, arms formed and suddenly, though not exact - she looked like my sister again. I was bewildered, amazed that my illusion magic could create such serenity, was it just the feeling of a home that changed my sister from a violent, lifeless husk into a quiet, ghoul like being?“

"So I decided to stay in the Shadowfell, my illusion magic was stronger and no one really needed it in the material plane anyway. I created more and more houses, I created a city to replicate Wolfspine, I created the woods, churches, taverns, markets and everything else that made up a regular town, and as I did, more shadows started wandering over. Occupying the houses and playing out what their daily lives once were in their time of life. Slowly the shadows turned into the creatures you regularly find here in the Shadowfell now; ghouls, ghasts, vampires, werewolves, ghosts and zombies. They weren’t exactly what they were in life, but they were something that was conscious. The shadowfell was turning into it’s own community with villages, towns and cities occupying what was once just an endless sea of desolation. Sarlotta changed her name to Vivifica and started working around the city of Morgoth, making ends meet and living a new life of undeath, but her hatred never truly left. Whilst most of the shadows moved on and re-started their lives, Vivifica could never let go of her death at the hands of the humans. Her death was incredibly violent and that was passed on to her in the afterlife. As more and more humans appeared in the Shadowfell attempting different types of lives or even for trade, Vivifica grew more resentful and eventually forming small groups with other shadows from truly violent deaths that would hunt humans to give them the brutal death that she and her group felt. The Shadowfell had grown into something that Vivifica didn’t fit anymore. She was violent, hateful and was creating disparity in the dark world. So I had no choice but to exile her. There are many corners of the Shadowfell unexplored and I sent her and her group of shadows into a space that no human would ever go and she’s been there since then, but I feel her growing in power. Every day, she gets stronger, her followers growing in numbers too. My illusion magic is cracking too, I don’t know why, but as she gets stronger I don’t seem to be able to keep up my magic as I once did. The Shadowfell never use to be islands, but one large land mass, this archipelago that we’re in right now, is a direct result of Vivifica growing stronger and myself growing weaker”.

“I have a last resort though, the light cannon in the Church of Genesis. It was created by myself in case anything ever got out of hand in the Shadowfell. A fail safe. It requires five runes to operate and each rune is on a body part of one of the members of the tribunal”. “The tribunal?” asks Ned looking confused at Velsharoon, “Yes, the one that Buggy went to with Igor whilst chasing the shadow axe” she says, following up with “I knew your every step whilst in the Shadowfell, including Buggy’s and all your friends”. The tribunal is a council that makes decisions in the Shadowfell, much like a governing body. They are made of the first ghoul, zombie, ghost, vampire and the first shadow ever to form in the Shadowfell. They have always worked with me to make the Shadowfell a better place, but I worry that perhaps some of them have found Vivifica’s idea’s more enticing".

Vivifica’s army is growing, day by day and I’m not getting any stronger. In fact, the opposite. There will be a time when Vivifica’s army will attack myself and remove me from my position, bringing down the Shadowfell and eventually heading to the material plane to continue their onslaught against the living. I need you, Con Clavi, to be my warriors, to fight for me, for the Shadowfell and for the living. The group nod their head in unison and Dolgan walks forward “but how will we know when to come?”, “I will let you know through Kalgrin” says Velsharon as Kalgrins nods his head. “For now, I will be able to hold off a while longer, but you will know when you are needed”. “Alrighty, lets go?” says Ned and the group agree, slowly moving into the portal bag. “Grab the other portal bag in the material plane and you’ll always have access directly into the Shadowfell” says Velsharoon as Buffalo jumps into the bag last after everyone else.

The heroes travel through at an incredibly fast pace, blackness passing them by with bright lights flashing all around them. Slowly they see themselves descending towards the material plane, they see the city of Wolfspine, the swamp and all the surrounding areas, but in a much more distorted way. It looked like the image of Wolfspines but incredibly stretched and elongated. Finally, crashing into the ground the group get themselves up looking around them. In front of them was a large Satyr standing in what looked like a small cottage. The satyr stands watching them as they get up and Buff says “Hello?”, “Heeeeey” says the Satyr incredibly slowly. “Where are we?” Buffalo asks, “Welllllll, we are in my house, you came out of my rubbish bin” the Satyr says, sounding much more like what you would expect a turtle to sound like. Raish looks out the window and says “Oh we’re in the Living Forest, I can get us out of here”.

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sinbinsidney · 7 years

Text

Nursey Week Prompt #5 - Muse/Tomorrow.

“Nurse, if you move again, I will stab you with a paint scraper,” Lardo snaps out, not looking up from her canvas. She scratches her thumbnail over an imperfection in the white expanse in front of her, flicking off the offending fleck.

Nursey sniffs from across the room, muttering to himself.

“What was that?” Lardo says, looking up at him sharply.

“Nothing, Lards! Nothing at all.” He’s quiet for another few seconds. “My nose itches.” Lardo drops her head down to her chest and lets out a long-suffering sigh. She tosses her pencil into the wells at the bottom of her easel and circles her easel.

“Don’t. Move.” She chides him. Carefully, she reaches out and scratches gently along the bridge of Nursey’s nose.

“Yessss, thank you,” he sighs out, wrinkling the tip of it as Lardo rolls her eyes.

“Good?”

“Chyeah, much better.”

Lardo gets back to her station, pulling a second pencil out from behind her ear as she goes. Turning back to Nursey, she sharpens her gaze and studies him.

He’s carefully posed in the windowsill, despite the casual lean of his body. His left shoulder is pressed against the glass, left knee lifted up even as his right leg stretches out long and lean in front of him. Elbow propped up on his knee, his arm bends back on itself so he can rest his fingers on his stubbled jaw, knuckles catching the early afternoon light as it streams through the windows. Nursey’s back is up against the brick of the windowsill, deep blue of his hoodie contrasting with the warm colors behind him.

His face is entirely relaxed as he gazes serenely out the window, lips parted slightly and eyes lazily half-lidded. The sun is at just the angle to turn the normal mossy green of his gaze into a fiery emerald, thick eyelashes lit up golden bright, even as the shadows on the far side of his face emphasize the cut of his cheekbones. A few stray curls peek out of his beanie where it’s tugged easily on over his head.

The combination of his unshaven jaw, slightly rumpled t-shirt, and sleepy expression makes him look irresistibly comfortable, entirely too soft and relaxed for his own good. Lardo only has herself to blame for the squishy feelings that are squirming about in her chest, really, since she was the one who posed him in prime cuddling position. She had strolled into Founders, looking for a book on Bernini, when she noticed one Derek Nurse sprawled out on one of the couches near the East Wing. Instant inspiration.

Without a word, she had marched over, pulled him up by the ear, and dragged him over to Kotter. Nursey had complained, of course, saying something or other about some reading he had to do but had shut up quickly once Lardo had given him a short explanation.

“You’re a muse, Nursey. Hush up and enjoy it, it’s not often I get struck like this! Help me out, man, come on.”

“A muse?” He had questioned, eyes wide, blinking quickly. “Oh. I…okay. Yeah, sure.”

“Atta boy! Now, hop to it, into the window with you. No, not like that. Or that. Oh my god, stop.”

Bitty is bustling about the kitchen, gathering together some stray ingredients from their various resting places around the countertops. This is not an unusual occurrence, of course, given Bitty’s…affinity for baking. However, the scene gets a little more unusual when the kitchen’s other occupant is taken into account.

Nursey is stationed at the kitchen table, smashing the hell out of some Oreo cookies. Nursey isn’t allowed to help in the kitchen, really, not after the felonious things he had done to one of Bitty’s poor oven mats. (Nursey still insists the thing would have worked just fine, but Bitty had taken one look at the gaping holes in it and had tossed it right out the window. Literally. It’s still caught in the branches of the bush right outside the kitchen.)

“Is this good, Bits?” He asks, holding up the bag for Bitty’s examination. Bitty comes over and pokes at the bag, squinting slightly.

“Hmm…maybe a little more. There’s a few stubborn ones in there,” he hums. Nursey nods and shakes the bag a little before he smacks it with the flat end of a wooden spoon, smashing up the cookies inside for the next few minutes. Bitty melts the butter he needs in the microwave and washes out the spring-form pan he has in his hands before returning to Nursey’s side.

“Alright, toss ‘em in,” he says, gesturing at the pan. Nursey dutifully pours the fine crumbs out of the bag and onto the bottom, adding in the butter a few beats later. Bitty gives it all a stir, mixing it until the whole thing looks a bit like wet sand, which, not that appealing. He presses the mix down into the shape of a crust, Nursey joining in as he realizes the end game. Once they’ve got that patted down, Bitty pops the pan into the oven for a quick bake as the two of them settle in to make the filling.

“Now, normally, I’d use fresh mint to infuse this cream, but,” Bitty wrinkles his nose. “It’s not like y’all have much in the way of good herbs here in the middle of winter. We’ll just have to make do with mint extract,” he sighs out. Nursey snorts.

“Snob,” he chirps.

“I have a refined palate, Mr. Nurse, thank you very much,” Bitty says loftily, turning his little button nose up in the air. Nursey grins at him and takes the eggs from his hands. Bitty sits down next to him and gets to work, whisking in the mint extract before he gets out the electric mixer and begins whipping up the cream.

Nursey, for his part, quietly starts working, separating the eggs with surprisingly practiced ease. Bitty shoots him a small smile, gently nudging his shoulder with his own.

“Hey, Bitty?” He asks, eyes still on the eggs. “Why’d you ask me to help you?” Bitty blinks.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You just…never have before, that’s all.”

“Well. Ain’t that an oversight on my part. Look at you crackin’ those eggs like a professional!” Bitty turns that sunshine smile on Nursey before he sobers up slightly. “I couldn’t very well make a pie without the very man who inspired it, now could I?” Nursey sits back in his chair, shoulders relaxing.

“Oh.”

“It’s a frozen pie, made with mint. You know, since you’re so ‘chill’ all the time,” Bitty says, taking the separated eggs from Nursey and standing up to head over to the stove, where a pan of water has just begun to boil. Nursey sits in silence for half a second before bursting into an ungracious guffaw, a laugh Bitty hasn’t heard from him before. Nursey’s leaning back in the chair, arm wrapped around his stomach as he grins over at Bitty, dimples etched deep into his cheeks, shadows made darker by his stubble.

“That’s hilarious,” he laughs. Bitty blushes, pink staining the tops of his cheeks. Nursey bounds out of the chair and over to Bitty, wrapping an arm around him in a side hug, pressing a light kiss to his golden hair. “I love it.”

Bitty swats a hand at Nursey’s stomach, thunking against solid muscle. He pokes Nursey in the side and keeps whisking the egg yolks and sugar as they cook to a custardy sort of liquid. He hands off the bowl to Nursey.

“Keep mixing that, would you?” he asks. “Five minutes should do it.” Nursey nods dutifully, still smiling.

About eight minutes later, they’ve got two bowls full of slightly cooked and whipped egg whites and yolks, cooled to room temperature. Nursey pulls out the chocolate cookie pie shell and the mint cream from the fridge and sets them on the counter near where Bitty is just finishing folding the egg whites into the yolks, a frown on concentration on his face as he avoids losing all the air they’ve whipped into them.

He hands Nursey the spatula with all the solemnity of a priest bestowing a baptism, eyes fixed on Nursey’s own.

“Take care of it,” he says seriously. Nursey nods and smothers a grin with a cough turned into his own shoulder. He lets a few drops of green food coloring sprinkle into the mix below he begins to fold in the whipped cream, creating a deliciously minty, wonderfully smooth pie filling.

The finished product is actually kind of a masterpiece, which surprises Nursey to no end. The soft mint green color is complemented by the pure white of whipped cream swirls and dark chocolate shavings sprinkled around the edge of the pie. It looks mouthwateringly good, and Nursey reaches out to take a taste of it with his finger.

He’s promptly whapped with a wooden spoon Bitty pulled out of nowhere, finger stinging as he recoils it.

“It’s not done yet!” Bitty chides. “It has to cool first.”

“For how long?!”

“Six hours, so we’ll just leave it overnight.”

“Overnight?!?”

“Mr. Nurse, a good pie is never rushed.” Nursey groans and whimpers as Bitty smoothly pops the pie into the freezer, shutting it away from the evening light.

“But it’s my pie…” Bitty pats him on the shoulder consolingly.

“Tomorrow, honey. Tomorrow.”

“Eyes like sparrows, flashing bright. Hair like wildflowers, dancing sprites. Skin like bellsong, sweet and clear. Derek Nurse, our poet dear.”

Nursey winces as Betsy sits back down to polite, scattered snapping from around the room. That one was…a little rough, to say the least. His professor smiles at Betsy and gestures to the next person in their little circle.

“What have you written about Derek, Ben?” She asks. Nursey ducks his head and fiddles slightly with the edge of his notebook, an abnormally nervous tick. He guiltily tunes out Ben’s introduction to the poem.

He is not a fan of this assignment. This little group had each written a poem with Derek as the muse. And as much as Nursey doesn’t mind attention, normally, all of this scrutiny on him through the whole class is a little uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat and pays attention as Ben clears his throat, standing up.

Nursey forces himself not to run out of the classroom the minute Professor Anders says they can go, calmly packing up his things instead of bolting. He pointedly meets his classmates’ eyes and offers small talk, light and uncomplicated, but internally he just wants to curl up under a blanket and hide for a while.

When he gets out of class, he sees Dex leaning against one of the half-walls at the base of the steps, eyes focused on his phone as he texts someone. Nursey feels a rush of relief and hurries down, careful not to slip on the snow that’s drifted over the edges.

“Dex,” he says as he reaches him, a quiet urgency in his voice. Dex’s head snaps up to meet his gaze and he straightens up immediately, already frowning.

“Hey, what happened? Are you okay? You look exhausted.” Dex takes a step forward, and Nursey just–

He sinks into Dex’s arms, feeling them automatically wrap around him, coat rustling as Dex pulls him close. Nursey closes his eyes and presses his face into the join of Dex’s neck and shoulder, skin slightly cold where his scarf doesn’t cover.

“Can we just head back to your dorm?” Nursey asks, turning his head slightly to lay it on Dex’s shoulder. “It’s closer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, baby,” Dex answers quietly, rubbing a hand up and down his back. He only uses the pet names in these private moments, caught and kept between the two of them. “Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

Nursey smiles tiredly into Dex’s coat and squeezes his waist.

“I know you will.”

Dex presses a kiss to his head, eyes still worried when he pulls back to lead Nursey down the snowy sidewalk. He slips a gloved hand into Nursey’s own and tucks them both inside his pocket, shoulder brushing closely as he presses into the contact. Nursey breathes out and watches as the cloud rolls away into the sky, squeezing Dex’s hand where it’s warm in his.

He’ll be alright.

#WHAT'S THAT YOU SAY?? THIS IS LATE?#haha what is time anyway #nurseyweek #this was supposed to a five and one and yet #here we have a three and zero of derek nurse being a muse #writing #derek nurse #will poindexter #eric bittle #lardo duan #nurseydex #dexnursey #nurseydex ficlet #omgcp fanfic #omgcheckplease

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deruste · 7 years

Text

Chapter 4 Nexum

My senses are nearly dead as I slowly try to open my eyes but I feel overpowered by a feeling of pain. “Get up you filthy excuse of an augur!” A familiar demeaning voice cried. After finally managing to open my eyes all I notice what was on top of the old residents.

“Aaaaaaah” I shake off the frail bones of my body and rub the parts that were nearly pierced by them. I start to look around me and saw that I was in a large room of some sort made of stacked bricks. I take a look around me to make sure the voice I heard was really there. I saw that there was a lizard-like being shackled to the walls with black scales and a triangle-like head and clawed hands that seemed to be trimmed to the numb, Raffite. Right next to him was another being that was covered in red scales, helmet-like head and sharp tusks emanating from both sides. That would be that rookie Typhon making three of us here but where is Kuren; I swore I heard his voice a second ago. I move parts of my body to see if any of them are broken. My four arms to be fine, aching but fine. My wings feel contorted but functioning and one of my antennas seems to be missing.

“Good, you woke up Nexum. Please use some sort of awakening spell on those moronic lizards.” The voice called again. I was not mistaken, that was Kuren’s voice. I would recognize that condescending tone like the smell of death in a burial ground, pungent and constant when around it. I looked all around but no matter where I look in the stone room there was nothing but bones and old rotten food.

“I’m over at this corner you rotten cockroach.” I turned to the farthest corner that was in the room and saw an old dull wrought iron sword collecting dust. There was a bright glowing crystal that was embedded into the hilt of the sword.

“Don’t tell me they bounded your soul into that worthless piece of iron.”

“Do you have to be so blunt? How was I supposed to know that the doppelganger had a sword that can trap souls? Just get those other bastards to wake up; we need to figure out a way out of here.” Is there any time that he isn’t an asshole?

“Wait you were sealed into a sword why didn’t they lock you in an armory? Why lock you with the rest of us?”

“How in the in the name of Azria should I know? I kept quiet for the whole time and one of the guards for some reason set me in the corner while you were out of it. Oh yeah, you also have been out for nearly a day and a half.” the feeling of pin and needles in my joint confirmed what he said.

“Well, how did the rest of the fight go?” I was knocked out half way into it I want to know the details. He started to tell me how he was stabbed and sucked into the sword and who were are assailants.

“Wait a wolf man and a 3ft green man took us all out, forget to get out of with our lives how we are gonna get out with our dignity intact.” A thought started to go through my head in that moment. “So Duran is with them or do they also have them in a cell?

“Oh yeah the lifeless statue, when I get out of here I’m going to turn him into a pile of lifeless rocks. The fool was talking with them allot so we can assume the worst.” I don’t doubt he would do that but there is still the problem of being stuck in a cell with no way out.

“Wait why wasn’t I shackled to the wall?

“Properly thought you were dead, that or they thought you were an animal or a pet either way one of the guards tried to pet you on the neck. That could have been an attempt to wring your neck but he was singing while he tried to do it or what I thought was singing at least. I don’t know what any of these guards are saying its all gibberish to me.” I steadied the sword and started to draw a circle and markings on the dirt floor. “May I ask what are you doing?”

“I’m going to heal the lizards so we can think of a way out of this place beside damned if I’m going to spend any more prolonged time with just you.” The circle was complete and after etching out some symbols on the outside of it I plunge the sword into the center of it.

“What are doing with me? The sword started to glow burning red again right in the center of the circle. It glowing so intensely I thought the crystal in the hilt was going to melt the metal.

“Killing two birds with one fireball. The spell will require more energy that I can muster now so if I put you in the middle while you’re in that sword. It can suck out the magic that is keeping you in there.”

“Finally something good came out of those mouth mandibles of yours.” The spell circle was glowing bright yellow and seemed to cool down the sword draining energy from it. But the circle started to stop glowing and started to smoke. “WHAT DID YOU DO NOW?

“Something is interfering with my magic. It stopped the spell from working and trust in unhappy about as you are.” I started to hover over Raffite and put my hand over his head, maybe if use a weaker spell it won’t be negated. “Medicam Manum!”

“You’re not very versed in arcane arts, are you? If anything this barrier is probably sucking up any magic that is used or other words it won’t work you, idiot.” Sadly the jerk was right my hands lit up like gold for a second till the light became nothing more than a golden dust on my hands. “O right before I forget to mention, YOUR FREKING NAKED YOU TWIT!”

“WHY DIDN’T TELL ME THAT EARLIER?”

“I was hoping for a cheap laugh before we all die. They're probably going to kill us for our espionage or even just because of the humans, either way, were just two handbags, three specimens for a museum and a cheap sword now. How can they have magic in all my spy work I never sensed anyone with magical ability’s.”

“Well if they were hiding from the humans they probably would have ways of hiding themselves in their sight.”

“But why with their potential they can wipe them out within a half season, Why defended such defenseless trite and on that matter wouldn’t revealing themselves be a better way defending them then?”

After pondering on that thought I got a good look around us to discern anyway out. There was a single steel door with two torches on both sides providing the only light in the cell while the rest was a simple stone dome like structure. Put in a little corner I spot a rough sack with patches on it.

“Hmp a proud augur degraded to wearing a burlap sack; maybe the gods are punishing you for past transgressions.”

“Well if something is blocking are magic ill probably have to ask for their help.”

“Well get on with it we don’t exactly have all day debate whether we have a choice in the matter.” As I draw the next circle for a ritual I try to think of which god to call upon.

“Kirina or Bolnor, Fornet?”

“Just call anyone, wait does we have anything for a tribute?”

“Unless a scrap of cloth counts as offerings no, let’s just hope they are generous and accept the bones of our predecessor.”

“And use the cloth to make some damn clothes for yours self.”

“Shut it, I need concentration!” I sat in the middle of the pentagram circle focusing my natural energies into my mind as I went through all the scripture I knew for the right one. The god of clarity no, the god of priests won’t worked. God of life, death, the elements maybe the god of history. As I list all the gods I knew I start to hear something.

“Kalan sota tako vatnu zona fontak nullut” It’s gibberish but … it sounds familiar. It is like a memory buried deep in the deepest corners of my mind. Then it became…. how do humans describe it, “trippy”. A cluster of light began swirling around me dissolving my surroundings into what looked like a rooftop of a ruined building.

“Uhhhhh smells likes rotten fish rocked with corpses. Wait for corpse and fish on a building?” I turned my head and saw that the building seemed recently weathered a storm, a very strong storm at that if it can cause most of the other buildings split in half.

“DRIVE THE MONGOLS BACK MEN, DON’T ALLOW THEM TO EVEN HOLD AN ICNH.”

“Wait… I know that excessive yelling anywhere.” I took steps towards the directions of the noise and to my astonishment, there was an entire army with it.

“LET THE BASTARDS DROWN OWN THEIR BLOOD, FOR THE GLORY OF SHINNU-YAH AND ALBADON!” I saw the man screaming the orders who was standing on floating stone disk with a flaming sword and shield at hand. Like Typhon, he was draconic but instead of having tusks at the sides of his face this one had horns that circled like a spiral coming outward from the sides of his head. He shared the bulky build though and sharp though teeth and used his bulk effectively while Typhon would always trip over himself. General Galron leader of the Shinnu-yah empire military and using it well from what I can see. The general forces have appeared to have had some ranks of human soldiers on the run, their defensive line has not been broken and I can see the human boom sticks projectiles only bounced off the army’s armor. “MAGES, FORWARD. LEAVE NO TRACE OF THEIR ASHES AND CAPTURE ANY CIVILIANS YOU FIND IN THE DARKEN CORNERS OF THIS CITY!” The battalion line began to have small openings with cloaked figures filling those gaps. The mages began to conjure orbs of purplish light and to chant in harmony.

“From deepest depths, we have slept, now our inborn right we recompense.” They then threw the orbs in the direction of the human army. It slowly swept through them, disintegration them one by one in blinding flashes of light.

“Ha Ha, at this rate the humans will be defeated within the season.” just as the general started boasting a figure appeared behind him in an instant of swirling shadows.

“I have returned with news on the eastern front ser Galron and I have a directive from the council.”

“One second, Kalim. RELEASE THE HYDRAS!” The battlefield was filled with the definite roar of hydras roaming the field eating any stragglers or deserters. “What’s the message Kalim, what’s crammed in the council’s collective asses?”

“Tactfully put ser Galron, The council wants to tell you that the sprites are causing mayhem in all human territory’s and magical creatures are catching on to the humans sudden helplessness and are collectively carving out their own lands. Furthermore, the scouts have taken out some unneeded explosives from the silos.”

“And the order I’ve sent to allow the use of our siege units passed through the red tape?”

“Though the council feels that it is unneeded tough given the situation they have allowed your order to quicken the war effort. But it will take a week for them to be usable they did, however, send augurs to the eastern front.” As I listened in on their conversation I took a good look at the messenger. The messenger was one of my kind, a Kaleck being plainly oblivious from his incest physique and wings coming out of the back of his clothes. His clothes on that train of thought were leather-based in lined with red metal with trench coat-like flaps and hood concealing his face.

“At least they take that advice with great speed. Tell the council the invasion is going as planned we even found some spies that were stupid enough to try and bug our camp.”

“You’re not a concern that there were spies in your camp in the first place?”

“Not if they fail so miserably like them besides our armies will wash over this region before they can cause some damage.” BOOM a vortex began swirling somewhere of the horizon with winds that tore through a town, picking up houses and throwing them into the opposite direction of the shinnu-yah army. “I’m going to take a wild guess that would be our allies, kalim?”

“Correct sir I have other business to attend to but the council does have a matter to delegate to you.” I felt something pull my body away from them against my will.

“No, I don’t want to go yet I want to know the rest of it. Listen to me there is a force that poses trouble by all the gods listen to my warnings.” But they just stood their voices getting fainter and fainter as I’m pulled towards the ground. I should probably be more worried about where I’m being pulled towards if I didn’t already know the intent. When I first became an auger we were told the gods pulled the souls of their faithful towards their realm of providence. The fact I’m being brought to the earth should mean that the god of the underworld is trying to tell me something.

“Nexum?” Kuren voice suddenly was audible.

“No, not now.” I need to know which god is pulling me under.

“Nexum get up now!”

“haw haw.”I was in the prison again, feeling intense exhaustion from the experience. “Why did you take me out of my trance…?” I saw a large furry figure hold Kuren from the handle.

“Rusemay.” A bluish eye appeared above me and my head started to ache and felt as though was pouring water into my exoskeleton. “Get up; it’s your turn to be questioned. Ki rai.” Golden shackles appeared on my arms and were linked to a chain grip in the jailor’s hand. He brought the sword to his snout and glared at it. “Who brought you out of the armory?”

“Wait don’t-“He sheathed the sword and yanked the chain grip.

“Try to attack anyone and I cut your head off.” I happily obliged and followed him the newly made opening in the prison. The light nearly burned my retinas and as I adjusted I saw that I was in a long hall with many doors. I looked at me and saw that the opening was gone now the large crevice now filled with dark tiles. “Go in here.” He opened a door and pushed me inside as I heard the sounds of many locks being closed.

“Guess their treating you well enough. How have you been?” A familiar tune fills my lone antennae, Him.

“Guess the snake makes himself know. How have you been Duran?”

“Pretty well enough, it’s comforting sided with my conscience than blind patriotism.” He was seated on a chair on the other end of a translucent table. The room was extremely bright and completely white spare one window tinted gray. He has the gall to interrogate me and on the crime of serving my country.

“You betrayed your nation for filthy monkeys!” He hasn’t seemed to change physically at least, he had the same symmetrical head with vacant eyes with two circles around them staring down at me.

“You fail to see what you call monkeys as actual people and now that train of thought causing the deaths of many people, who have about as much to offer us as we to them.”

“I saw how they were in Europe; a dying society waiting to bend over and take its final breath. I saw anarchy on the streets. The people rioting in all out gang war fair. They are not capable of staining themselves or living peacefully but they might under our rule. ” I turned a wandering eye to the dark window; if I focused hard enough I heard voices from the other side of it. A younger feminine and an older male one but neither sounded familiar except…

“And you think we can bring order to it? We probably end up destroying them before getting the chance to or we will just end up enslaving them.” Oh great, he’s going to talk down to me as if I was a child missing the obvious. I pulled my attention from the window and refocused on Duran

“Do you truly know their history Duran; we are being no crueler than they were treating each other.”

“Does that excuse what is being done?” I admit I didn’t know much about Duran before we were deployed as spies, Raffite was the only reason I knew his name. A friend of a friend so to speak but I do remember him saying he can be a pompous fool but he said the same thing about Typhon. So why it was that Duran made the switch?

“Why this then, why they send you to interrogate. If they had any intelligence they would have known it wouldn’t work with you. You haven’t cut your ties enough so you have to say it to our faces.” His started to fidget a bit as his emotionless face faced his clasped hands.

“They can give amnesty if you formally surrender to the legion and ….” He said with unnerving speed as if he lingered on any syllable he would be killed. The tone of his voice sounded like even he only half believe it.

“And?” He kept his gaze towards his clasped hands as the question hung in the air, putrefying it more and more the longer it was left unanswered.

“If you indenture yourself to your victims.”

“WHAT, I indenture to those pathetic creatures.”

“For a period of ten years, it’s either that or the headsmen’s ax.” I don’t respond at first and he just stopped there looking at his palms, so this is the justice the monkey’s allies give. “I’m told it’s an old way for traitors to work out their crimes. I’ve given you a way out so you can see the humans as I have seen them.” A spark starts to permeate my mind.

“If it’s my only option outside of my head being lopped off in a basket, I begrudgingly accept the offer.” He raised his head in response to this.

“Good now I only need to convince Typhon and Raffite.” He appeared to have forgotten Kuren, not so unexpected if he wasn’t so powerful he probably the one pushed into a fight as a glowing training dummy. I’m not looking forward to doing the bidding of a bunch of pubescent apes but it’s preferable to death. Though there is the opportunity in time. All I have to do is waiting till there’s a chance of escape available to me. Maybe I’ll bring ahead of whatever human I’m stuck with as a souvenir. “Sad to say you have to stay in your jail cell for the night. Get some rest while you can, one of the humans has been compiling a list of chores for you specifically.”

“Well then, it will be quite a disappointing sight for that human. I’m sub par at menial labor.” I heard the door behind me open and saw that the wolf again showing a look of revolt towards us, trouble in paradise I see. “Oh, Duran. Don’t expect to regain some respect with them just because you got them away from a woven basket heads. You just simply gave them a choice to become a slave to a monkey, but you would know all about that would you now. What did they bribe you with? Power? Secrets? Influence?”

“They asked. They asked after I gave my vow to offer information about Shinnu-yah after I FOUND OUT THAT OUR ARMY IS HAVING THE MAGES LEARN NULL MAGIC!”

“WHAT!” Null magic, it can’t be.

“That is why I left, that is why I’m helping the monkeys you mock. How is that for a mental image of the empire that was going to spread its marvelous influence? I found it out trough another scout and I killed that scout before he could tell anyone about my betrayal. I’ll tell you more in the morning; you won’t be able to sleep if you learn every dirty secret that scout spilled before I rung his neck.” He simulated his actions with his hands squeezing at the air in front of him in a shaking motion.

“Back to your cell you gnat.” The wolf conjured the chain and yanked me from the neck again.

“Isn’t this a little unnecessary?”

“You haven’t seen the refugees, jumping at buzzing of every insect.” Guess they survived a battalion of Kalecks.

“They have a right to be scared. My gods smiled on me and showed me a vision of the humans of being annihilated at their western front.”

“Shut up or I’ll say screw the politics and kill you right here and now.” He raised his hand against a wall and it began to glow bluish. The wall shifted into a round entry. He pushed me and the opening changed into a regular wall. “And take your useless friend with you.” The sound of clanking metal fills the room and is going to be accompanied by Kuren’s voice, oh joy.

“Well, that went well.”

“The sarcasm is getting worse and worse, you know that right.”

“You deserve it more than ever now. You gave yourself to slavery.”

“I’m no good to the empire if I’m dead, besides don’t you think I can out Witt a human whelp.”

“Shut your traps you two!” Oh, the joy they woke up. I saw Raffite and Typhon Unshackled, sitting on the floor dress in some spare rags inspecting the spell circle I drew.

“The Abyss happened Nexum where are we?” Glad to know Typhon retails glibness no matter how many times he gets battered on the head.

“It’s nice to see that you’re awake too Typhon and Raffite … we have been captured and the only way out of not getting our heads chop off is indentured service. Ser.”

“At least you keep things interesting Nexum. Let me guess, Duran betrayed us and sold us.”

“That’s the gist of it. He either going to have us killed by way of executioner or servitude to those …Humans.”

“Damn it, we have no other option then. We will just have to outsmart them then maybe mislead them into security then bam we are free and find a safe spot to hide till things cool over on the front.”

“Why not just go to the military, why hide at all.” How and why Typhon got involved into to espionage is beyond me. His kind is a people that always manage as being the bulk of infantry, so why any of them having an interest in obtaining information through subtle maneuvering is an anomaly on its own. Not to even mentioning his incompetence.

“Because we would be executed for incompetence and probably have our corpses hung over on a crucifix for just being captured. We might even just be killed on sight just for appearing on suspicious terms.” Raffite gave a disapproving look.

“Bottom line, we survive and if get the chance we triumph against our captures and travel towards the rest of the troops.” I prompt up Kuren so he can better join the discussion.

“And resign ourselves to servitude? What got into you?”

“I’m thinking for all your sakes. We are of more use alive than dead beside do you know how to get out of that blade?” Kuren went silent, I hate to admit it but he is right. If just stay alive we can probably just outlived the humans, there bound to slip up at some point. “So Nexum this circle you drew, did it yield results or have your prayer fell on death ears,” I told him about my vision putting as much detail I could about the battle. “Good General Galron should be able to push the humans to the edge. These creatures appear to have vested interest in the humans, as soon as the humans reach a breaking point they will have to divide their forces to help them. The humans get scared and that’s how we get out.”

“Oh, I got to listen to your diabolical side. That sounds adorable.” I see Kuren has his priorities straight.

“We appeal to their troubled heart strings and maybe try to get them near the front somehow, maybe some false hope about their families. We then help them for the time being. Then their head becomes divorced from their necks with us heading toward the Infantry with whatever info we can gather while we’re stuck here.”

“Sounds like good enough plans we just have to put in a good performance then.”

“Nexum what did Duran say to you other Than the deal. You seemed troubled.” Can’t seem to hide anything from him. I told him about Duran accusation about the null magic.

“HE CLAIMED WHAT.”

“He can’t expect us to believe this without prove.”

“You didn’t know? The council contacted me that several mages were receiving training into null magic. Even tried to get me enlisted into the new ranks” All our eyes were on Kuren but not for pity for his current state this time.

“I will melt you down and sell you as a back scratcher.” Wow, he actually got Typhon to sound threatening, weird day.

“I’m inclined to agree with that statement but no Typhon. If we don’t have our unity we at the same level as humans, no matter how I want to use Kuren as tooth-pick.” Null magic, it is as sadistic as magic can be. Makes the victim lose all traces of what makes them sentient gone. And that is if they aren’t used as living bombs or carriers for the vicious disease. “Get some rest all of you. We have long days ahead of us and if they call on you for Duran’s talk. Just comply even if you want to crush the bastard.” We all turn away from each other into the corners of the prison. I try to get myself comfortable in my even though it smells like piss but compared to some bars I passed out in, it’s doable.

“This makes you no better than Duran, you know that right.”

“Difference being that I didn’t betray council and country for lesser beings. Now get to sleep.” When I get free from the humans I will turn Duran into ash.

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