#it’s the little me inside of myself that was making me weep I believe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kisskida · 2 months

Text

Bleeding

-Megumi x reader/oc

tw: extreme angst, rape and non-con mentions, assault and murder

-Blood doesn't have to be weeping red liquids. We are all bleeding on each other in one way or another as we roam the earth, spending our entire lives searching for a purpose. We cry to know we are alive, and we bleed to know we are living. The tears we shed are our souls bleeding as we destroy ourselves and the blood we shed is our bodies telling us we have fought for our destruction

The darkness cannot possibly consume us all, or perhaps I used to think that way; I used to believe that. My eyes stung as lumps of dirt clung to my face, my skin rubbing raw against the isolated path. "Please, please let me just..." my muscles screamed at me as I scrambled to my knees, pleading to the heavy work boot in front of me, a leering snarl above it, belonging to an icy, sharp face twisted in rage, with a mop of dusty brown hair and cruel, narrow eyes. "Please, please no, no" I dragged my body backwards, skin shrieking as I groped around for something, anything to protect myself. Spots danced in my vision as a boot slammed into my sternum, shattering any cohesion I had left as my voice echoed hoarse screams, mocking shouts echoing back at me.

"And this happened when?" The officer in front of me looked entirely unimpressed as I sat bloodied and bruised, face filthy with dirt, tear marks leaving clean lines down my face, I cradled my wrist with the other hand, sitting on the edge of the offered chair, every part of my body cried out at the slightest touch.

The heaving in my chest made the thumping of my heart painfully aware to my aching skull and weeping joints "today, just earlier! in the back alleys! Please, please you have to believe me! please-" I reached to grab his hand, desperation evident in my tone and panic crossing my face as his thick pencil moustache twitched, beady eyes looking everywhere but me as he yanked his meaty hand back. Paperwork rustling as I clutched thin air. "Why...why would I make this up...please" I begged him, begging and begging, self-worth torn to shreds and thrown to the dogs.

"I think you need some supervision...these marks are clearly self-inflicted. That bruise around your throat has upward pressure, everyone knows strangling leaves downward pressure" Wasps buzzed in my head, droning noises drowning the rest of my thoughts as I frantically tried to explain it.

"He pinned me to the floor and was pushing up to-"

"Enough miss, officers call a nurse and-"

"He was lifting me by my throat!"

"Silence miss, officers have the nurse alert the psych ward we have-"

"Officer! Believe me! Please! I would never-"

""Shut up little girl! Sit back down and be a good girl, the hospital will come and take you to a place you can't pull any more of these stunts" He shouted at me, spittle flying everywhere as blood rushed to his face, likening him to a tomato, a bastardly one at that. The situation sunk in and the blood rushed from my face, I must have resembled a ghost as my bloodshot eyes began to weep again and my skin coloured the same as porcelain. The world was silent as the droning consumed all, blurring scenes flashing before me as hands grabbed me, pulling me up stairs, down stairs, between streets. My body swayed and my heart was thumping in my chest; one pump, two pump, three pump, four. One step, two step, three step, four.

It was cold outside. It was grey outside. It was silent outside. The sun was gone, hidden away from me and in hiding it had taken all comfort from my heart. The ache in my bones for the warmth and peace of basking in the sunshine was a ball and chain holding me to the ground, rooting me in place as the hands yanked on me again; I was not moving until the sun came out.

Inside the van was…odd. There were little scrapes where nails had scrabbled, scrambling to escape. Ropes on the sides, attached to hefty rings that you couldn’t pull down. It wasn’t as dark as I expected it to be either, for a van, it was despicably bright and hauntingly empty of anything but the driver's seat and a lone cushion. White walls and a white floor, bars between the driver and myself, I tried to rationalise the situation, to understand this from another perspective. If I was a nurse and this body the patient, how would I make her tell the story?

Okay, I started by asking her what had happened, how she had come to have such injuries. The story was harsh, the story was brutal and I fought to remain impartial as tears flooded her cheeks and she began to shake. Did she call for help, I asked her what she tried to do once she was cornered, did she even try, did she perhaps not do enough. But she did, screaming and crying her story to me until I could no longer stay outside it and I collapsed into myself. Curling in a fetal position as my lungs contracted, squeezing all the air out; I was wheezing and my nails scraped lines into my skin as I tore at the fabric on my chest, air was escaping me and my throat constricted, unwilling to cooperate, unwilling to save this fruitless life of mine.

I now found out the purpose of those ropes as my arms were strung across the van, holding my body upright and forcing them away from me. No crown of thorns lay on my head as the sins of my brutalizer became the suffering of my own. “Please” I croaked, the words scraping out hoarse, forced and shaky “Please let me die” No energy left to thrash and no energy left to scream, so clearly no energy left to persuade, to barter for the right to my own life, and the loss of it.

The sun was still away, gloomy and reclusive as I was walked into the building. Eerily empty again, stark white coating every surface and all furniture bolted to the floor, no shade darker than silver and no noise louder than a whisper. The glass was almost as thick as my arm, no chance to break it and no chance to escape it.

“Why are you dragging her like that? Can she not walk?” The voice was gentle, cold but refreshingly so in this silence.

“She's been…difficult”

“Uncooperative”

“We were told she has a difficult nature and needs strict watch”

A frown appeared on this stranger's face, his delicate face contorted with confusion “She’s so injured and you’re still rough handling her? I see no resistance from her even as you’re standing still”

“Look, son. We follow instructions from the police captain and he’s told us to be strict with her.” The guarding officer stepped in my line of sight.

“Please” I whispered, life returning to my limbs as I tried to pull myself free, to stand on my own “Let me go, I didn’t do this, please” I pulled one arm free from a nurse and tried to shake the other loose as I strained to have the stranger in my vision again. He was a beautiful contrast to the white void, dark hair, dark clothes and abyssal, dark eyes.

“Let her go, I’ll take her to an empty room. I was visiting Geto to check on him since the incident but he’s lost it and kicked me out.” Before anyone else could react he was between my quivering form and the guard.

His hands were indescribably soft as he led me through dark halls, no windows, only flickering greenish lights lending the halls an even eerier glow than the lonely hall. The bed in my room was somewhat soft, comfortably so but the stark white contrast from the glimpse of the real world outside the window to the little box room was depressing.

“You know…I didn’t do anything to end up here.”

“You don’t look like you would”

“They didn’t believe me because he was smart”

“Smart men get away with more than they ever should”

The micro-conversation was soothing as I sat and stared at the clouds, bubbly shapes rumbling around behind the loose wispy scraps drifting emptily through space. Shards of sunlight peeked out from the lumpy mountain like clouds but the sun itself never showed. Not even as the clouds darkened, the baby blue deepening through cerulean and turquoise before it tainted red and purple, the clouds mimicking their golden sun before they were shrouded in the darkness that was night. Engulfed in the loneliness as the cold moon cast her gaze down to me.

“I hate the moon”

“Why?”

“Because it gets dark and cold and-”

“Don’t look down or away, finish your sentence”

His voice was unreasonably calming and gentle as he lifted my chin to look at him “That’s when those smart men get away with it all” I knew I was right, because that’s what always happened. In the dark of night, in side-alleys or sometimes even in main streets their boots would strike me. Their hands would grab at me and I just prayed the sun would rise again.

“I hate the sun”

It was my turn to look at him in surprise, what reason could you possibly have to hate the sun? It was full of warmth and provided life to everything around it, smart men didn’t dare act up when the sun was out.

“Why?”

“People just pretend, they put on a fake self to present to society”

“And when the moon rises they’re real?”

“Exactly”

It was a foreign concept to me and I couldn’t understand a thing he was saying about the moon. It was a cold and lifeless piece of rock, the sun burnt bright and beautiful to provide for us. I sat there, staring at the moon through the thick glass, trying to see how he did, to walk in his shoes and understand his perspective. It was a cold rock with a little halo because it couldn’t shine on its own, it relied on the sun to give it light. The sun burnt so bright that even in the depths of night it still reached us through the moon, though it burned so aggressively it was burning itself out, still it continued to provide.

“I’m leaving now”

I flinched away as he reached out to me, shying away from contact “Sorry” I moved back to where I had been, letting him gently pet the top of my head

“You apologise too much, I’ll come back tomorrow. Go to sleep”

It felt lonely without him, the moon had almost been inviting, almost comfortable but as the door clicked shut, a tremor ran down my spine and goosebumps prickled on my skin. No amount of tossing and turning lent me warmth, the threadbare blankets I had piled on barely had any weight. I felt naked and disturbed under the watchful gaze of the moon, a chilling eye unrelenting and unforgiving no matter how I tossed or turned I could not escape.

The whine of the rusty hinges startled me upright, bracing myself in a defensive tuck, clutching blankets around me. The moon was gone now and the sun beginning to warm me but it was too early for visitors, I knew that much. “Who…who’s there” I couldn’t look, I couldn’t do that to myself as I called out to the figure, dark and hulking; not my boy from last night.

Since when was he my boy? When did I use possessive nouns? I didn’t know his name either.

“Stay quiet missy and it’ll be fine”

“No!” I screamed, but the walls were sound proof; so silent I became. Just enduring, I didn’t open my eyes, not once as tears as silent as I was, fell down my cheeks. It was silent in the room but in a very loud way as every creak of the bed and every rustle of the sheets tried to drag me out of my mind, pull me from my isolation. As his skin ran over mine, everywhere we touched I was burning up, a fearsome heat that made my tears flood faster. The sunlight burned my skin as it reached out, whether it wanted to help me or hurt me, I couldn’t tell but it was too bright and it burned. The same droning wasps were invading my skull and the noise would not go away, the noise was my comfort as he touched me in places untouched and ways I wanted to scream at. I longed for the cold and cruel darkness who didn’t pretend to hug me and didn’t soothe my nightmares.

He found me sitting behind the bed, out of reach from the sun, with blankets wrapped around my body and covering every inch of exposed skin.

“The sun is out”

I was silent.

“Did you sleep?”

Silence.

“Alright”

I recoiled as I felt him tug my blankets away from my face, sitting next to me. “I can wait as long as you need” the hushed tick, tick, ticking of the clock gave comfort in routine as I drummed my fingers against the floor with every ticking second; every minute spent silent was a minute more I had held myself together. I was proud of my resilience but the walls I built were becoming the prison that held me as comfort sat not even a metre away but I was unable to reach out, throat tightening every time I so much as aimed a glance at him.

“Your name”

“You don’t know it?”

“You never told me”

I hadn’t, it was true but I assumed like everyone else he would simply call me girl, miss or whatever name the police had put on my report.

“What should my name be then?”

I faced him for the first time today, ignoring the shooting pain up my spine and the turmoil thrashing about in my stomach that made me want to heave and retch until my body was empty of anything and everything.

“Luna, you should be Luna”

I hadn’t expected a response.

“Your name?”

“Fushiguro, Megumi”

“Megumi”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say it”

His hand gently caressed mine as we sat, side by side, silent as the other but not silent in a loud way and not silent in a scary way. Silent in the way the forest is silent even as the day changes, silent in the way the ocean is silent even when the tides change, silent in the way that everything would be alright. The threadbare fabric of the blankets piled upon me felt hot, far hotter than they had last night against the cold moon and far more intrusive than they had last night as I cried. Sickened with disgust I flung the blankets off me and wrapped my arms across the scrapes on my body, trenches dug with my own nails as I silenced my screams.

“Who did this to you?” His face flashed dark, the calm and cold personality that had comforted me was now frigid and filled with venom “I’ll kill them”. His hands were still so gentle holding mine, even as he gently caressed my face.

“I didn’t look. I couldn’t make myself look”

“When”

“I’m sorry” my voice scratched at my throat, a lump forming as I tried to tell him more “the sun was up. I was wrong, I’m sorry” I threw myself into his arms, his cool skin soothing the flush that rose to my skin and made me feel like I had walked into the flames of hell. My sobs wracked my body as I was held, trembling, shaking and crying in his arms. The only other noise was the soft rustle as he combed his hand through my hair and rubbed my back, just between my shoulders. His hands never fell below my shoulders, like he was aware of the damage done and how fragile I was.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum. I rested my head on his chest, letting the rhythmic beating overwhelm the droning in my head, the wasps had woken up and begun to move but like a lullaby it soothed them, back to their slumber

“You did nothing wrong, okay? You are a victim” his voice was soft, so soft I wouldn’t have caught his words if the wasps hadn’t been silenced only moments before. “I never want anyone else to go through this. My dads have been in such a situation and now I’m down to one, permanently locked in his room. Not again, not on my watch” So he could relate my experience to someone else close to him, all anxieties soothed as I understood his motive, the reasons he held me so close and the reason he held so tight.

“I’m hungry”

“You haven’t been given food?” He let go of me, standing and scanning the room for something. “Lets go, I’ll take you to the kitchen and have them make whatever you’re craving”

I accepted his outstretched hand and trailed him like a duckling would its mother, all the way down to the main hall and then some more until we reached a place illuminated only by electric lights. No windows here. Keeping my body sheltered behind his he strode forward to the head chef, recognisable by the toque standing tall on his head as his peers moved around with just hair nets.

“She hasn’t been given food in almost two days, what are you doing if not your job?” Though his tone wasn’t abrasive, it was clear megumi was angry and his anger was clearly directed. “Luna, what do you want to eat?” he gently cupped my face, his tone doing a 180° as not to scare me.

“Rice…sushi and rice” I nuzzled into his hand, meekly asking for my favourite foods.

“You heard her”

“Indeed we did, get to work boys! Get this girl the best sushi of her life or I’ll have you reassigned to clean the toilets!” The chef was boisterous, nothing like his stern expression had suggested earlier, he was rather friendly, chattering with Megumi as the other chefs worked. Megumi squeezed my hand as he moved out of my direct line of sight, letting me see the bustle in the kitchen.

“Was it any of these men?” he whispered softly to me, leaning down slightly so as not to arouse suspicion among the co-workers who placed their trust in each other on a daily basis.

I shook my head, no the man had smelled. The kitchen was not a place for a foul smelling, sweaty hulking man to work. “No…the smell is distinctive”

“The smell? So you can identify by smell?” He ruffled my hair affectionately, accepting the large bowl of sashimi, rice and little sushi rolls from a chef and leading me away. “That’s good, we have a lead, a clue. Good girl” the praise would have made me uncomfortable if another man had said it, instead little butterflies rustled in my stomach and a smile twitched on my lips.

The rest of the day was spent roaming the building. For a psychiatric hospital it was extremely quiet and empty, the air conditioning ran full blast in the hallways, making it resemble the Antarctic, an icy desolate desert. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging myself to try and preserve at least a little bit of warmth, the scrappy gown they had dressed me in was okay to sleep in as it was light and it was okay in the sun because it was warm but roaming these halls I could feel every hair on my body standing on end as goosebumps raised on my shivering skin.

“Don’t suffer in silence” A warm hoodie was dragged down over my head, smelling heavily like the boy next to me “If you’re cold, just say something” His grey hoodie hung loosely on my frame, squaring my shoulders so it fit better against me.

“Other than being long, it fits pretty well on you. You’ve got more muscle than me at least” he smiled down at me, petting my hair affectionately and adjusting the hoodie on my body so it sat snug rather than scrunched and awkward. I nuzzled into the hood, taking comfort in the warmth and smell.

“Won’t you be cold now” I looked up at him, fiddling with the sleeves.

“I have a long sleeve shirt on, and my clothes are better quality than those dodgy gowns” He took my hand and tugged me along further down the hall.

“Megumi”

“Yes Luna?”

“I just wanted to say it”

He laughed, for the first time since meeting, and it was a beautiful sound. A beautiful sound that captivated me and drew me closer to him. “You do this adorable thing when you’re talking to me. You tilt your head like a puppy might when it smells a treat.” once again he ruffled my hair “I can’t help just wanting to touch you, to hold you and pet you like I might a dog or cat”

“I can’t help it” a small pout formed on my lips as he tugged me around the corner and into a stairwell leading upwards.

“I’ll show you my secret but you have to promise not to come here without me” His face was stern now, and I nodded

“Pinky promise, sworn to secrecy” I held out my pinky finger, letting him interlock his with mine.

“Alright then” he popped the lock on the heavy wooden doors, forcing them open with his full body weight.

The evening was beautiful. The sun had begun to set and the sky was a kaleidoscope of colours and the clouds an array of shapes. The pale blue of midday was weeping into several hues of violet, indigo and lavender whilst the clouds had taken it upon themselves to defy the colour spectrum with vermillion shades threading between crimson and gold, speckling stars resembled diamonds upon a watercolour canvas with sprays of blood littering the delicate painting.

“Its beautiful”

“Wait until it gets dark”

And so we sat there as the reds, purples and gold sunk beyond the horizon and the omnipresent gaze of the moon became unmissable and the diamonds multiplied by the thousands, the millions of billions even. They shattered the darkness and gave the world a gentle glow, not even the moon and her shimmering halo could compare to the billions of stars spread as far as the eye could see, and even farther.

“Oh”

“Oh indeed” his arm snaked around my shoulders, just holding me gently against him. I nestled against his warmth and hummed a contented approval as he combed his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp with nimble and cool fingers.

“Not even two days and I already just…feel like I can trust you” I snuggled into him, craving the feel of his skin and the sound of his heartbeat

“It’s like we’re bleeding on each other, the trauma we’ve been through and we’re trying our best to stitch each other up” He pulled me tight to his chest, murmuring against the top of my head “I feel like I’ve known you for a thousand lifetimes and it’s been us in every one”

“Do you think we’re this tragic in every lifetime?” a thousand stars shimmered in his eyes, forming galaxies of their own and I wished I could burn this memory into my brain, sear it onto the back of my eyes.

“I think we might be” His eyes never left mine, even as the reddish, rusted light flicked on and cast us into a crimson light. Glazing my eyes the same vermillion as the sky hours earlier. “It almost looks like there are roses in your eyes, the stars and light have combined in such a way”

“Your eyes have formed galaxies of ebony and indigo” I reached up for his face, cupping his cheek “You’re warm” I held onto him in that moment like a sailor might hold onto driftwood in a shipwreck, like a small child clinging to the hopes and dreams that their heroes inspire.

“The moon bids us to sleep Luna” He kissed the top of my head and guided me back to my room. “The moon will watch over you for me, until tomorrow” and just like that he had melted into the darkness and beyond my reach.

The night wore long as I clutched my blankets to me, hyper-aware and on high alert as the memories of yesterday morning burned fresh in my mind. I couldn’t sleep with that constant fear breathing down my spine; the pungent smell of his body on mine and his gravelly, domineering voice as he rough handled me. My tongue darted out, catching the little salty teardrops from my weeping eyes, my chest heaving as air got harder to suck in, my breaths shorter and sharper.

The sun was an unwelcome sight as it heated my flushed skin and invaded the darkness I had come to love. The blinding rays forced me out of bed to try and hang a blanket over the window, which failed. I almost felt feverish as I stumbled back to my bed, headache pounding in my skull and a dry thirst aching in my throat with every breath I took. The maternal comfort I found in the daytime had vanished with yesterday, left was an eternal yearning for darkness, the love under the moonlit sky. I heaped all the blankets I could find onto the floor, alongside my pillows to create a little nest where the sunlight didn't directly reach

The whine of the rusty hinges startled me upright, recoiling back from my comfortable nest on the floor until my back hit the wall. I grabbed the closest blanket to me and hugged it to my body as my muscles seized, tension from the fear overriding my logical thoughts.

“Whoa, easy Luna…its me”

I knew that voice, my lower lip trembled as I tossed the blanket aside and scrambled towards him, throwing myself into his arms. Breathing in his scent, revelling in the cool comfort only he could provide.

“Megumi…” my voice was muffled as I buried my head in the hood of his jacket, up around his neck. The blessed darkness it provided soothed me from the sun burning against my back, the hot and cold flashes felt insignificant when I was in his arms as all my worries melted away.

“Luna! You’re sick, what are you doing up!” He scooped his arms under my legs, hoisting me into his arms and carrying me bridal style out to the hallway “I’m taking you to a room where there are curtains, you need a cool dark environment to get a good rest”

It felt good to be looked after and I couldn’t help relaxing in his arms, my subconscious trusted him far more than I must have believed as I wrapped my arms around his neck and nuzzled him affectionately. “I hate the sun, it's too bright…and hot, it's so hot” I murmured as he gently laid me on another, empty, bed.

“Hush, you need rest.” He caressed my face, gently brushing my hair from my face and placing a soft kiss on my forehead. As he went to stand up I grabbed his hand

“No…stay”

“Alright, alright then. Tell me, you suddenly hate the sun when you loved it just two days ago?”

“I thought the sun could protect me from the dark side of humanity but it doesn't do much” I let out a content sigh as his hand gently stroked my hair. “The sun is cruel, it burns up everything with no remorse. The moon is gentle and kind” I reached a hand for his face.

“The sun is gentle, it gives us light and warmth. All we need to grow and survive is provided by the sun” he grabbed my hand, holding it to his cheek and humming with contentment just as I had done . “The moon is gentle but it doesn’t give us much”

“We swapped. You like the sun over the moon now and I like the moon over the sun” I laughed, rolling onto my side and sitting up, witnessing his gentle smile from the best angle, right in front of him.

The day flew by with laughter and smiles as we talked about all the insignificant things in the world, sharing stories that you might believe crazy if we didn’t have the scars to prove them. I was still weak and feverish even as he tended to me, gentle as a gardener with his brand new flower bed, however weak I was he still looked at me the way a wolf looks at the moon, a tender affection ever present in his navy eyes.

“Did I ever tell you how much your eyes look like an abyss?” I voiced my musings out loud as I lay in admiration of him.

“You might have once or twice” my admiration was returned in his kind expression.

“Good. They’re like an eternal abyss but still so much deeper, like the universe itself, filled with galaxies and stars but ultimately an intangible cosmos of mystery and excitement”

“You can have them if you really like them so much” he poked my cheek “I really can’t stand how dark and dull they are. Unlike your eyes, glowing gold like the rising sun”

“Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer” I threw a pillow at his face and yanked him down while his vision was obscured.

“If you wanted cuddles, you just needed to say” he snuggled up to me, swinging his legs up and tangling them with mine, resting my head on his chest and holding me tight. The steady rhythm of his breathing was a lullaby to the discord in my head and I settled into a state of serenity, a tranquillity I haven't felt since before the attack. My heartbeat settled into a duet with his, each beat syncing together as the waves synchronised themselves to the quiet after the storm.

“Maybe we aren’t as tragic in this life. Maybe all our lives could be this gentle”

“If all our lives were this serene, I would ask for nothing else”

The rhythmic motions of him finger combing my hair combined with his steady heartbeat and gentle, deep breaths resonated his soul with mine. Every living being resonates on a unique harmony but for now, we shared a note; soundwaves connected on the same frequency.

“Then let's pray to whatever gods exist, that we get our happy ending” I snuggled as close to him as I could, I wanted to exist as one entity with him, one being, one body and one soul.

I felt his smile against the top of my head “then please gods, let us have each other”

“I hate that word”

“Who said the word please that made you hate it so much?”

“I did”

The silence ensuing wasn’t one of discomfort though nor was it comfortable. I felt a small tear fall onto my face. “You deserve the world Luna, a world without any of this violence. Through the stars has your kindness bled through to me and through the moon, I hope mine can reach you”

“We don’t always get what we deserve Megumi” I kissed his jaw and rolled away from him, knowing if I saw him cry, I would start crying too. His hands softly kneaded my shoulders, massaging the tension.

“I have to go early today Luna. I came in early to make sure your morning didn’t repeat yesterday but I can’t stay till nightfall with you” he placed a soft kiss on the back of my neck “I’ll inform staff that I’ve moved you. My dad is two rooms down from you now as well, if you wanted to make a friend. Though he’s not in any state to socialise.”

“What’s his name?” I rolled back over to face him.

“Geto, Suguru Geto.” He placed another gentle kiss, this one on my cheek, before standing up. “I’ll get you some food before I go”

He came back after a few minutes with a large sandwich, accompanied by some vegetables, a fork and knife for cutlery. “Thanks Megumi” I placed the tray on the nightstand and sat up to hug him.

“Be a good girl until I see you again tomorrow, I’ll leave this here in your care” he slid his hoodie off and tossed it into my lap.

And then he was gone, the darkness of the room was still comforting but it just felt colder and lonelier without Megumi, the reason I loved the darkness so much. My eyelids were heavy as I lay staring at the ceiling, hot and cold flashes taking me through paranoid delusions and trippy dreams where everything was twisted and sickly. I clung to the hoodie like a drowning sailor to a piece of driftwood, it was a liferaft in the stormy seas that tossed me around and brutalised my mind.

I heard movements in the hallway and struggled to pull myself to a sitting position, a curious face with dark, narrow eyes and silky black hair, let loose down his back, watched me from my doorway. “Geto?” My throat rasped as I spoke, dehydration clearly getting the better of me.

“You’re Megumi’s girlfriend right?” He began to step through the doorway when a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. Another man appeared beside him, a mop of unruly white hair and unnaturally bright blue eyes decorated his features.

“Sorry for disturbing you, just came to check on my husband” He pulled Geto away and I was left all alone with my thoughts again. That would be his other dad, they looked alike at least, though polar opposites in personality and colour palette. They had been a nice break from the darkness. As much as I enjoyed the dark, I couldn't help missing the warmth and light the sun brought; it was a struggle to get up and open the curtains and I almost quit twice but the moment the light hit my face, it was worth it.

I cuddled close to the hoodie, cutting a piece of the sandwich from earlier to quench my hunger and stabilise myself as my body swayed with fatigue. Megumi’s smell filled my senses, it reminded me of a forest in a storm, the fresh and energetic scent while the atmosphere weighed heavily with the weight of the electrifying rage it was bringing from the heavens to earth. At the same time it brought memories of the heartwarming moments shared between those I had been close with, laughter and smiles in an untouchable moment of kinship.

I didn’t bother to glance up as the hinges on the door squealed again, assuming it was just Geto being curious. “What’s up?” I had my back to the door as I basked in the sunlight, watching a butterfly flit past, bright and blue. I furrowed my brow as silence met my question, a low chuckle sounded and my body stilled. A pungent smell invaded my nose and I spun, grabbing the wall to steady myself, my head spun and memories violently tore through my mind, reeling from the horror associated.

“You seem much better” his voice was rough, aggressive and almost mocking.

“Get away…get away!” I flung a half drunk glass of water at him as he approached me, steady and smooth stride, confident in himself. “Stop! Please…don’t…please no, get away” I fell to the floor sobbing, collapsed in on myself as I struggled to suck in breath, the oxygen escaping me.

“Be quiet little missy or we’ll get-” a boot slammed into my shoulder, tossing me across the room “-caught” I let out a terrified scream, slamming my fists against him as he grabbed me and threw me onto the bed. His sweaty palm covered my mouth and I thrashed desperately, my limbs were heavy and I could barely land a solid blow; even when I did, he was unfazed.

Tears rolled down my face and into my hair as I squirmed, energy draining at a rapid speed. Sobs wracked my body and my muffled wails filled the air as he straddled me, his other hand undressing me with practised ease. I tried to get a closer look at his face, for Megumi, if I could help Megumi identify the man, I could get away, but tears kept flooding my eyes and everything was blurred. I dug my nails helplessly into the man’s arms and wrists, scraping and scratching, begging and pleading for him to stop. His leering grin watched over my vulnerable body as I frantically tried to save myself. “I’ll wait little miss. It's more fun when you’re still and if you misbehave, I’ll ruin your pretty little face so bad nobody will ever recognise you again”.

My voice grew hoarse and I could no longer wail and scream for help, I still whimpered and whined but my efforts were pitiful as the fever took its toll on my body and I lay unmoving, shaking in my skin perhaps but no more could I struggle “please…stop” my voice was brittle and shaky as I let out one more desperate plead for mercy, I put my hands to my face, biting down onto my arm to stop myself from crying out. His hands burned against my skin as they ran rampant all across my body. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming and thrashing as he slid between my legs, malicious intentions clearly communicated by his iron grip on my hips.

I flung my arm out, barely noticing as my knuckles slammed into the side table, fumbling for something, anything to end my misery. I felt the wooden handle of the knife on my plate, gripping it tightly “Let go of me!” I was screaming again and thrashing, though I could barely make out my own hysterical words. The sun had vanished from the sky and I saw the moon, regal and comforting in her beauty, offering her hand to take me away. His heavy hand grabbed at my wrist but my energy was renewed as I tucked my arm back close to me, slashing the blade across his face. I laughed maniacally as he reeled backwards, clutching his face but my relief was short lived as those sweaty, heavy hands redirected their iron grip to my arms. He caught my wrist mid slash and aimed the blade for my chest.

“I’ll fucking get you for that bitch” he spat globules of blood at me as he struggled to form words properly with his sliced up face. I couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling in my chest as he pushed the blade closer and closer to my heart. It was like ice on my skin as the tip pressed into me, blood welling up as my hand shook with the force he was applying. “Now die” my arm gave out and the blade sheathed itself in me, all the way down to the handle.

My laughter had turned to screams again and I cried for help “Please no!” I could feel my heart tearing itself to ribbons on the jagged piece of metal “Megumi! Megumi! Help me! Someone please!” blood bubbled up in my throat as my frantic heart only shredded itself. The crimson liquid seeping down my bare skin and staining the fresh sheets beneath me. My vision faded to black and my last thoughts were of Megumi’s sweet face. I hoped he wouldn’t cry at my death but I knew better, in our next life perhaps we could be destined for a gentler fate and a sweeter love.

A sharp pain twisted Megumi’s chest as he lay reading on the couch at home. His dad had come home not long ago, saying he saw Luna and Geto wanted to meet her. “Gojo-” he called out for his dad, worried he might be having a heart attack.

“You look pale Megumi, is everything alright” his voice sounded from the next room over

“My chest hurts can we-” the phone rang, interrupting him

“Megumi, it’s about Luna” Gojo’s face was solemn as he handed him the phone.

The silence was heavy as he took it, dreading what might be said next. “What’s wrong with Luna” he demanded into the phone, courtesy be damned, they wouldn’t ring him if nothing was wrong.

“Megumi, there's been an incident. It seems she attacked a staff member and then took her own life with the blade you gave her. We’d like you to come to the hospital to give us your statement on this.”

“Bullshit! Luna would never!” he hurled the phone against the floor, shattering it on the ground and watching the screen go blank. His mind was thrown into turmoil as he felt his cheeks dampen, tears flooding them. His body trembled and his chest heaved as he grabbed the nearest thing and flung it against the wall, watching it shatter like the phone had. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck” he kicked the coffee table onto its side, breaking several mugs. Shards of glass covered the living room as he sank to his knees, desperately wiping his eyes as he struggled to breathe. He didn’t even register the sharp pain in his knees as the debris sliced into his skin. “no…”

“Megumi! What happened!”

“I’m going to the hospital” He shook off his dad’s worried look, slapping the concerned hand away as he ran between rooms, grabbing his keys and racing off. The laws didn’t matter to him as his wheels screeched on the road, foot pressing the accelerator to the floor. His speed climbed 50, 100, 150, 200, until he reached the hospital. Time nor space seemed to exist as he sprinted through the building, crashing into several walls in his haste around corners.

“Let me in” he screamed at the staff as they tried to bar him from her room. He took a deep breath, stilling his frantic body “Let me in while I’m asking nicely” his tone was murderous as he glared at them, abyssal eyes promising their demise if they refused him.

The murderous calm fled his body as he saw a knife buried in her chest, her clothes discarded beneath her, bare body on display for the world. There were shards of glass and ceramic from the plate and cup shattered on the floor and the side table had been knocked out of place. Her expression was gentle in death, she looked more peaceful than he’d ever seen her while alive. “This was clearly a murder. Look at the struggle, the way her body is and the downward angle on the blade” he tried to keep a tremor out of his voice as he observed the way her body was. “Where is the man who did this”

“He’s a victim in protective custody sir, you can’t-”

“My father is the police commissioner, I damn well can!” He almost felt bad for the poor girl he shouted at but he would bar nothing in his drive for justice. If he could not get her justice while living, he sure as hell would get her justice after death.

“Well if it isn’t the little police boy” the man smirked at him, a slimy grin accompanied by stitches across his face from a jagged knife wound. Blood matted his dusty brown hair and his narrow, cruel eyes leered menacingly at Megumi.

“You bastard. Handcuff this man” He turned to face the investigating officers, stony resolute now set in, the hysteria gone and in its place, a bloodthirsty need for revenge. He was obeyed instantly for fear of his father now that he’d made it clear who he was, the whole hospital staff snapped into action alongside the officers.

“Megumi?” The gentle voice of Geto broke him from his murderous glare and he barely had time to turn before he was wrapped in a tight hug “Don’t speak, cry” cool hands hugged his head tight to the mans chest and rubbed soothing circles on his back as the reality set in and sobs began to wrack his body. “Easy son, I’m here for you” he collapsed into his fathers arms, clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly in his fists, struggling to ground himself in reality as the world around him blurred, time flew by as he stood sobbing into Geto’s arms. People came and went, their words sounding foreign to his grief obstructed senses. Many hands patted his back, some ruffled his hair but he was only aware of the thumping of his own heartbeat and the gentle breathing of Geto, still holding him close.

“She…she-” his voice broke as his chest heaved and he struggled to even find words, his head thumped with a migraine and everything felt slightly surreal as Geto stepped back to let Gojo comfort his son.

“He’ll never leave prison, you got justice for her megumi, its okay.” he rested his hand in the mop of dark hair, bright blue eyes gentle with reassurance. Megumi trained his eyes to the floor as they left the building, Geto gave him a soft hug goodbye but he barely registered it as the flashing lights obscured the serenity of the moon, red and blue filling his vision. The drive home was silent, the normally pearly moon hung crimson between the stars, clearly mourning as he did. “A blood moon, happens once in a lifetime”

“Like roses blooming on her surface” he clutched his heart as the dull ache throbbed, a hole where her soul had fit, right alongside his. Two puzzle pieces meant to join now forever alone, on opposite shores of the river styx.

#megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #angst #rape/non con elements #murder #assault #tw sex assault #jjk fluff #megumi comfort #stars x moon #psych ward #im not paying for therapy #Spotify #through the stars did your kindness bleed #its me kida what did you expect

10 notes · View notes

marshmallowprotection · 2 years

Text

Mystic Messenger 6th Anniversary

I woke up a little late today so you can imagine my surprise when the photo was already out and people were posting it out in the open. However, I had to take a few minutes to collect myself and cry after I saw the photo because it struck me so quickly and hard that my heart couldn’t help but weep. Happy Six Years, RFA. I’m happy to be here with you. Let’s get into it and have our breakdown together for the day.

Now, if you pay close attention to the background of the photo, you’ll notice that there’s CGs from every route. Every character has a portrait on the wall that is a reflection of their relationship with MC. The only photo that isn’t actually clear to me on the wall is the photo from Yoosung’s Route. I can see the outline of that frame but I don’t have enough detail to guess what photo they wanted to use for him. I’ve been hunting the clearest photo I can find of this title screen but this is the only one that’s clear to me enough to reveal details.

I’m doing my best over here since it just came out! Hopefully, we’ll get clearer photos as the day progresses. You don’t know how badly I need to change my icon to this photo. You don’t even know. Anyway, I’ll show you photos that are used in the background if you’re not able to see them! There’s a mixture of the birthday photos and route photos.

So, yes, there’s photos for each member of the RFA on the wall. It’s reflective of the time we’ve spent with them over the past six years. I think this is going to be one of my favorite CGs ever because it contains everyone and it’s a homage to every moment we’ve had with them. Some of the are impactful and others are a piece of love that cannot be contained in mere words.

The love Jumin feelings for you on his birthday because you’re the greatest gift he’s ever received and he will never be ungrateful for your love. The adoration in Jaehee’s eyes as she’s able to realize she’s finally got someone by her side who will never stop trying to support her dreams. The relief on Zen’s face when he’s certain that you love him for who he is on the inside and he will never fear being misunderstood ever again.

The love in Saeran’s eyes and arms as he holds you tightly, knowing that his love for you is eternal as a rose, and he’ll never be sad after knowing your love. The peace in Saeyoung’s expression as he looks to you like you’re his north star and the way for him to find home. The peaceful look on Jihyun’s face as he’s so caught up in the reality that he’s no longer chained by his demons, instead, he’s with you where his heart feels fonder.

Yoosung’s isn’t visible, but I’m certain that they’ve used this photo from his Route where his bravery and determination to be there for you like you’ve been there for him is reflected by a sincere kiss only he can give. I don’t know if that’s what it would be but I feel like this is a good reflection of Yoosung and it’s what I would choose.

The only painting left on the wall is Rika. I was curious how they were going to include Rika in this photo since they usually want to avoid the connection, but this is definitely one way to get her into the photo and not have it be obvious to players what’s actually going on. The implicated of her in this painting does do enough to make me believe this is meant to be a mesh of Mint Eye and RFA to the letter. Cheritz said so themselves.

That’s how I know this photo includes Ray instead of GE Saeran. It’s meant to imply the Routes that you can play in this game. This is the first time in forever that I’ve had a photo of Ray and I’m getting really emotional about seeing him again. I love all the Ray’s and Saeran’s, but everyone knows that my love for Ray is the strongest.

I can say that I truly love the way that this artist draws Rika because her hair is one of her most defining character traits. The add volume, texture, and highlights in such a way that it makes Rika look ethereal. That’s the way she’s meant to be whenever you look at her before you know what’s going on. I can see this as one of the paintings in Mint Eye’s hallways as homage to the Savior that people love and adore as their martyr.

That necklace she’s wearing? Chef’s kiss. It looks like the sun.

I knew the Casual Routes would be together in this photo. I got it mixed up since Jaehee and Zen are on the opposite side but that’s got a lot to do with the way it is drawn. The lighting is normally how I can gauge what’s going on in the photo! I can’t tell in some of these photos because they dim the lighting just enough so it becomes a heroic feat to gauge where Zen and Saeran are. Their hair can be so hard to find. Zen reminds me of his outfit where he played Zoro!

I think it’s that mask that’s doing it. Yeah, it’s definitely the mask that’s doing it for me. Yoosung is really adorable in this photo. I love that they went for something charmingly boyish. His eyes are just... God, he’s looking at you like a love struck puppy. Sorry, Yoosung. I think you’re great but sometimes you’ve just got those puppy vibes that don’t go away. You love that MC, don’t you?

Jaehee’s got it all today, though. Her butterfly mask? The implication that she went through what we know as a metamorphosis to become her dazzling self? You don’t even know. She’s smiling here because she knows you’re his closest friend and partner. I also have to note that Jaehee’s mask looks a lot like the one we see on Rika.

It’s been forever and a day since I’ve seen Jihyun and Jumin standing side by side. I’ve missed that. I miss seeing them together in any capacity, not going to lie about that one. That silly hat that V’s got on? Yeah, that’s very fitting for him even though it’s got The Cask of Amontillado written all over it. I hope nobody’s going to lock him in a dungeon or anything. Haha. But, yeah, I love the way he looks here. It reminds me of the Sherlock outfit he had. Jumin, on the hand, is really doing it today, huh?

That stance? That pose? That aura? Yeah, we appreciate Jumin Han in this house. I love his natural smile. His hair here looks amazing. I have to give him credit for that. I actually love the tailored coat on him since those embellishments really make it pop against his color scheme. I honest to God can’t tell what the masks on Jumin or V are representative of but I think I need a clearer photo to figure it out.

Let me tell you I died when I saw my baby Ray. I died. I am deceased. He is so ominous and attractive. I know that’s Ray because that has to be Ray. I love him so much that I can’t even put it into words. He’s holding that blue rose... but he’s also hopeful. He’s looking at the player, at MC, and he’s hoping that you’ll come to find him tonight and let him whisk you away into a garden meant for you and he both. I will follow him to Hell, I will jump off a bridge, I will do anything he will ask me to do, My God.

I am.

GOD.

I LOVE HIM, YOUR HONOR.

It’s too blurry to know if that’s a flower or a gem. Give me time on that one, you guys.

I love his side-swept bangs so much. I love whenever they draw him like this, I will scream. If you heard screaming outside of your house it was probably the sound I made when I saw him earlier. That’s what we’re doing today, I guess. I will lose my mind again and again.

Although, when I look at the twins like this... I start to notice more and more why Saejoong said that Saeran favored his mother’s looks and Saeyoung leaned a bit more towards Saejoong. I think it’s the way artists decide to draw their eyes that makes me feel that way. There’s something subtle in that. I don’t know what it is exactly. Since, apart from their eyes, there’s not much you could see that will make you see them differently. They’re identical twins, after all.

Saeyoung... honey. You really rock that gothic Victorian aesthetic and I’m going to demand we see that more. I love everything about his outfit and the way he’s standing. He looks so happy to see you and he’s waving with a smile on his face as if to say, “Hey, MC! You’ve finally made it!” You know what stands out to me about Saeyoung? His mask has an hourglass.

Hell, Ray’s mask has the checkerboard pattern from the app that you’ve probably seen before. So, you know there’s a lot of little things in this that I’ve yet to see anyone to talk about since there’s so much information in this photo that you can hardly find everything to talk about! I’m sure I’ve missed plenty of things but I’m scanning this thing like it’s a map to my heart.

It’s been six years in this world since the RFA came into my life. I’m sure it’s the same for many of you no matter how long you’ve been here with us. I know y’all are thinking about how much it means to see every member in this photo and it has to make you reflect on your experiences with the RFA. I’m grateful for every moment that I’ve had with them because every day spent with them has made me feel like I’m learning how to be a better person and I’m slowly realizing how to achieve my goals just like they do in their routes.

I know we help them and save them... but... I can’t help but admit that they’ve saved me, too. I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for the RFA. I don’t like to think about that because the RFA has helped me to be where I am today and I don’t know if I would be as peaceful and content as I am if it wasn’t for them. I’m happy they’re in my life... and I’m never going to lose the connection I have to all of these characters no matter how far I go in life.

They mean everything to me.

I never want to forget that feeling.

There’s so many things that I could say after six years of being with these characters and the things they’ve done for me. But, I think that might just become overwhelmingly emotional for me. I can say this much about the members of the RFA. 2016 was the hardest year of my life by far. I lost so much around me at once without warning, and I was suffering in ways that I still struggle to put onto paper to this day. But, in the midst of that suffering, I discovered Mystic Messenger that August.

I played Zen’s Route first and I remember how he made me feel me feel seen after a lifetime of struggling to look in a mirror. I remember playing Yoosung’s Route after that... and I lost a family member that year, and I felt like Yoosung understood my pain and anger about a lot of that stuff. He helped me find some peace. I remember Jaehee’s Route and how she pushed herself into doing the things that were expected of her instead of following her dreams... and how I’d been trying to do that to myself. We both needed to wake up, huh?

I remember Jumin’s Route... feeling like the world misunderstood the way I saw things and how people never knew the real me. Jumin was kind but people didn’t ever seem to see the true him underneath the public image. He helped me feel a lot better about finding a small circle that mattered the most instead of thinking about what the world thought. I remember Saeyoung’s Route, too. I remember what it felt like to give up everything to save someone you love, and I knew his pain like it was mine, and helping him was a reminder to think about what you want just as much as what you want for others.

I remember Jihyun’s Route... how it feels to refuse help from everyone even if you know it’s wrong to do that. Sometimes, he and I have that in common, and it’s hard to remember that it’s okay to ask for help from people. I learned that through him and he learned that through me. We both needed that, I know that much.

I even learned a lot from Rika along the way about how you should always be willing to accept change and the future... if you don’t, you might lose yourself to the very feelings that you’re afraid of. Sometimes, I feel for her in ways that I’m sure most people don’t, but if anything, she’s a reminder to look out for yourself and find truth in yourself instead of the demons that haunt you.

And... Saeran.

Unknown. SE Saeran. Ray. Suit Saeran. GE Saeran.

They’ve been my interest from the start. Ever since I met Unknown the first time I got the Bad Ending in the Prologue, I knew there was something about him I’d never be able to get out of my head. I played Mystic Messenger hunting for him and searching for clues to tell me about him. I learned more and more the more time I spent with the RFA. I came to love him and identify with him the longer I’d played, and I still do.

I can’t put into words just how much Saeran Choi means to me as a person. I’m just another one of his fans. We all see something special in him and the others in this game. But, whenever I see him, it always feels like he’s speaking to me. I guess that’s silly. I know he’s not. But... his words deeply impacted my heart and my soul. He makes me feel safe and understood. I’m grateful for his words and his love.

His journey has kept me going all this time and it’ll keep me going for the rest of my life.

And, so, my dear followers and readers, I finish this post with the most touching part of the photo that most of you might not have noticed. We’re in the photo with the RFA. The fact that it’s Zen’s hand is what’s had me choked up all this time because he was my first route and it’s like he’s leading me to join the others all over again, and I can with certainty, say that I’d do it all again from the start without a moment of hesitation.

212 notes · View notes

theredofoctober · 8 months

Text

Ouroboros— Dead Ringers Fic, PART ONE

Cross posted from AO3

Pairing: Beverly/Elliot, FF, twincest

Synopsis: Genevieve goes away to pursue a failing picture; in her absence, Elliot appears on Beverly's doorstep, and they become more intimate than they have ever been

TW/CW: incest, toxic relationships, cheating

Rear after the cut ✂️

Chapter One: Beverly

"Baby sister. Baby sister."

Elliot was at the front door, scratching like an awful, beautiful, persistent little dog, begging to come in. She knew Genevieve was away for work, though I didn't tell her; she might have read about the new film, somewhere, or merely sensed it, the way Elliot sometimes knows things I know without me ever needing to speak a word aloud, just as I know things she never says aloud, although she almost always does, with a vicious, savage, flesh-eating, all-consuming love.

We destroy each other, in proximity; we are like cursed Gods when we are apart, wretched, and hollow, and searing all we love down to ash and blackened bone for want of one another, for need of nothing else.

I am soft and yielding and brow-beaten in all things but my sister. I am soft, and I always yield to her. We eat each other like the snake that devours its own tail.

Like all perfect things, there is no end to us but to die.

"I can't let you in, Elliot," I said, although I had my face pressed to the wood of the door in craving for her touch on my cheek, and her smell in my lungs, and the silk of her dark, beautiful hair against me. "You have to understand. It's what's best for us."

"It's what's best for the actress!" snarled Elliot, from the other side of the door, and although the fury in her voice shook me I knew to my soul that she was right. "We need each other, Beverly. You might be put together, and subdued, and have all the proper fucking words, and know all the proper fucking faces to make, but as far as the world's concerned you're not good enough, and you're crumbling to pieces on the inside. I know you are. You're miserable, and I'm the only one that will ever make it better."

She was spiteful, and childish, and every word she spoke was undeniable.

"You're ill, Elliot," I mumbled, weakly. "We make each other worse. So very much worse."

From scratching my sister went immediately to knocking, so loud I began at once to fret what the neighbours would think.

"That's a lie!" Elliot called to me. "We're our best selves when we're together! Wild, and mad, and bright, and perfect. Everything we touch, and weep, and fucking shit turns to gold, and you know it. So let me in. I love you. Love you. Love you."

By then I was crying; I couldn't help it. I wanted to climb in bed with her between warm sheets and hold her so close that our bodies melted into one. But still I didn't let her in, knowing that if I did I'd fold beneath her like a sinner kneeling before God, and she's the one that sits in church as though she believes in it.

Does she believe it in? Wholeheartedly, sometimes, I think; at others, it's all a charade, a game, a balm for her guilt. Besides, it's difficult to truly believe in a deity when the only ones you trust are real are your sister, and yourself.

Yet I am no saint, lying to a room full of the bereaved when I am so sure that it is only myself that's really dying.

"You can't come in," I whispered, but my fingers were working at the catch on the door, poised for an excuse to be weak, to break, to drink full and descend, as I've always done, as I promised I never would again.

"You can't come in," I whispered.

Elliot shoved at the door, sensing, sharply, that I'd dispensed with the locks, that I no longer wanted to hold her at bay, that I could not bear another moment with this partition between us.

"I'm coming in," she said, "because you want me to come in."

She stood in the doorframe, a nightmare battled down into beauty.

Is it vain to think that my twin is beautiful, given that she has my face?

I remember the ignition of pleasure between my legs as Elliot clung to me, desperate, and pathetic, and beloved, her mouth hot and sudden on my neck as Genevieve sat awkward and hateful as a stone in the car, waiting for me.

The craving I had for Elliot then—her sweet, sweating, moaning, writhing body on mine, violent, and tender, and ferocious—was so strong that I could have inhaled my sister as she would some vile powder.

I could have eaten her as a starved man might a preacher's daughter, hungry to corrupt, as I was corrupted by the very thought of Elliot, the dream of her as Aphrodite before me.

We'd joked about fucking. Mocked strangers with it as though, within our sibling love, there had never been an opiate curiosity to taste skin and tongue and cunt of the other with the knowing, from fingertips in panting dark, that it was how we, ourselves, tasted.

Our love is a tangled, strangling, black-thorned forest of a thing in which we are all to each other.

We are one, one, one being, and any separate from us is an interloper, trespassing upon that which is only ours.

I had denied it so many times that I force myself to believe that I can ever love anyone as dearly as my sister, but I know—

I knew as I looked at her, this crazed genius, as jagged-edged and deliciously insane as Lucifer in the cunning skin of a woman, I knew that I could never love anyone as I did Elliot.

To love her was to love myself, and apart we simply did not truly exist.

"Baby sister," said Elliot, and stepped into the house—

Oh, Genevieve...

—and the door closed, a jarring bang caused by the poltergeist that was my sister, wonderful, and wicked, and mine.

"Elliot," I breathed, and my arms were around her, and hers were upon my face, soft, so soft, her lips on my brow, the corner of my eye, my mouth, and like so many petals I disintegrated into the hell and the heavenly ecstasy that was my twin.

#beverly mantle #beverly mantle x elliot mantle #elliot mantle #dead ringers fic #dead ringers #rachel weisz #ao3 writer #tw inc*st

17 notes · View notes

safely-in-vhagars-belly · 8 months

Text

Pillars of salt, pillars of sand (Aemond x oc, Aegon x oc) Chapter 4: A demented idea

CONCEPT: You were once a princess, now you are Aemond's prisoner. You are taken to King's Landing to bend the knee to Aegon.

WARNINGS FOR READING: This fanfiction is dark. It will contain themes as: Non-con, dub-con, dom/sub themes, murder, torture, blood, graphic descriptions of sex, graphic descriptions of murder and graphic description of torture. As well as animal abuse, war crimes, genocide, massmurder, sadism, power-abuse and incestious relationships, as well as intended murder, breeding kinks, mentions of non-con and sexual marital abuse. Warnings will be updated as the fic goes on.

(Told from Aemond's POV!)

Aemond’s pov.

I lock the door after she is safely inside and keep my eye on my grandsire. He wanted to have a talk, he said. He insulted me before, in front of the girl. He is likely furious that I fed Luc to Vhagar. He has always been more of a diplomat, sending letters instead of poison. Mending bridges instead of breaking necks.

He sits on his horse and gives me a long, calculated glare when his eyes take me in. I keep unmoved and unfazed. I do not let myself be intimidated by him. I am no longer a child. ‘’You have killed Lucerys.’’ He speaks through his teeth.

I give a nod, remembering Luc's delicious screams as he was chewed up. I also remember his sister crying and weeping. That, too, was satisfying. ‘’I fed him to Vhagar.’’ In a way, I killed him, and in a way, I did not. He killed himself by not bending the knee. All the bastards did.

Ser Otto Hightower, the hand of the king, is very displeased with me. ‘’How can you be so stupid, so blind? You’ve only lost one eye!" I sigh. Otto orders the carriage to start riding, and I hear someone slam on the carriage door from inside out. I smirk softly. Tire yourself out, little princess. Make this easy for us.

Of course, my grandsire is worried about the princess injuring herself. ‘’Was that the princess? Is there anything in the carriage that may cause her harm?’’ He asks me, as if I am supposed to keep track of what goes in and out of that carriage. What do I look like, an underfed peasant who reeks of fleas?

Yet these are my soldiers, and I must ask them their questions. I do my duties no matter how unpleasant. ‘’I do not know. Ser Stone.’’ One of the Kings guards rides up to us and greets me with a respectful nod. ‘’Is there anything in the carriage that may serve as a weapon for the princess?’’ I ask him sharply.

He shakes his head. ‘’No. We do not keep weapons in the royal private carriage. The princess is safe and secure.’’

I feel my lips curl into a smirk. She won't be getting away this time. ‘’Good. That is exactly what I wanted to hear. You may go.’’ I tell him. He takes off, guarding the left side of the carriage where Maella is likely throwing a tantrum in.

My grandsire rides closer to me, hissing in my ear. ‘’You will doom us all. You are a Kinslayer now. Have you forgotten what happens to those who kill their relatives?’’ My grandsire is a sane man. He does not believe those tales either. But others do. Others who might be useful to us.

I become annoyed, however. A pitiful side effect of whenever I am challenged or tested by annoying creatures that are unworthy of being alive. I care for my grandsire and my family. That is true.

He is just annoying me right now. ‘’What were you going to do with Rhaenyra? Isn't she also a relative to me and Aegon and my mother? He would be a kinslayer too, would he have killed Rhaenyra.’’ I point that out with a smirk.

We ride closer and closer to the castle, and finally, the princess stops fighting, and the banging stops, followed by quiet little sniffs that bring me unspeakably much joy. ‘’It is no matter, grandsire. The brat is gone, and we have the princess. Rhaenyra’s only girl. She will offer us much to see Maella returned unharmed.’’ Rhaenyra is a mother. She will want her baby girl back. Especially since we killed her son. The Black Queen will be mourning and furious. She will demand her daughter back. And we will demand that she bend the knee.

My grandsire is not convinced. ‘’So you hope.’’ His body moves with a big sigh as our horses enter the good neighborhoods of King's Landing. Merchants and rich travelers scurry aside for the carriage.

There is no point in scowling. ‘’So I know.’’ I assure him. Now that we have the little princess, we must discuss as to what to do with the brat. There are options.

We can sell her to a foreign market as a slave or we can kill her, we can also consider publicly executing her...

I am curious what kind of humiliating, painful end my grandsire is planning for that brat. ‘’What are your plans with her, grandsire? Aegon will do as you advise him.’’ As he commands him, is more likely, but I hold my tongue for now.

He sighs briefly, forgetting how I failed him and the realm today for just a brief moment. ‘’The princess is very popular and well-loved within the kingdom.’’ I feel my brows rise in surprise. That brat, loved? Popular, even? I scowl. She is a princess, of course she is well loved. Unlike any of my siblings, the smallfolk hates me and Aegon. They only like Helaena because she is not a threat to anyone or anything.

I don’t mind it that I don’t have their love. Love is fickle. Fear? Fear is the only reliable source to make sure those peasants obey.

Otto continues. ‘’Your brother’s popularity has greatly decreased. Our spies from Dorne to the North tell us of rebellions and uprising. Aegon must win back the love of the people before that happens.’’ and how will he do that?

Yet I reply coyly as if It makes sense to me.’I see.’’

His master plan is finally rolling off his tongue. ‘’The girl is unmarried. Aegon will take her as his wife.’’ I stop my horse so I can see if the old man is jesting or perhaps if he had too much sun today.

I scoff, laughing at his ridiculous proposal. ‘’Aegon? Another wife?’’ He will never take another wife. He hates being a husband, he hates being a father, and he hates being a king. He will never take a girl as rebellious and challenging as Maella into his bed. He will not wed her.

My grandsire is convinced that Aegon will obey now that he has made him king.‘’Yes. He will do his duties and marry the princess.’’ He has utmost faith in my brother. If only he showed me the same courtesy.

He does not know Aegon very well. Not the way that I do, at least.

He becomes annoyed with my smirk. ‘’Get that smirk of your lips, Aemond. He will do as I command him.’’ I do as he asks but with great effort. He really thinks that Aegon, whore-fucking acholist Aegon, the shittiest dad in the Seven Kingdoms, will take another wife? He is becoming senile. There is no other explanation. This does not make any sense.

It feels unfair, also. That whore is mine. I captured her, I set the trap, I had to wait for her useless little bum to show up and I had to drag her through King’s Landing. She is mine. If she is to be anyone’s wife, she should damn well be mine.

They once entertained the thought of making me her husband. Daemon objected, as did my own mother and my father. Mother did not want to lose any of her children to Rhaenyra’s spawns, and my father did not think me good enough to marry his precious granddaughter, his special little spoiled princess.

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. ‘’Grandsire, make her my wife instead.’’

I picture her big scared eyes when I tell her that she will become mine for the remainder of her pathetic life. Maella is not as hideous as her siblings. I am not in love with her, but if she were my wife, it would be my duty to put a child inside her. It would be an activity I would certainly enjoy more than she would. With any luck, she won’t be knocked up the first few times, and I can have my fun with the brat, breeding her as is my duty as her husband until she gives me a child, and to breed her once more after that.

Otto is not a stupid man. He needs convincing as to why I should get Maella. ‘’Tell me why should I? You should not be rewarded with Maella."

Well, for starters... A girl as Maella will obey me blindly. She is terrified since I killed her little brother. When I tell her to kneel she falls for my knees and begs for my mercy. I just know she will. ‘’She is terrified of me, grandsire. She fears me. All good women fear their husbands, and Maella will obey me blindly and behave.’’ I tell him smugly. ‘’That little brat will be broken into the moment she is my wife, rest assured, I won't rest until I've consummated and done my duty to my kingdom and my house.’’ Which mean fucking that whore.

He sighs before eying the sky and looks back at me. We are nearing the castle. ‘’Or she will stab us in the back the first chance she gets.’’ unlikely. Maella will be broken.

I hiss. ‘’We won’t let her.’’ Simple as that. ‘’Aegon already has a wife. I don’t.’’ I keep my voice from whining. There is another reason why Aegon does not need a second wife.

My poor sister will wither away when Maella becomes her equal and her sister-wife. I will not allow that. My grandsire might be ruthless, but he cares for Helaena. ‘’What will Helaena think of this? This is the most demented idea you entertained yet-’ A sharp pain in my jaw shuts me up. I glare at Grandsire when he lowers his hand. The hand he just slapped me with. A pathetic little slap, but I am still insulted, nonetheless. ’

I glare at him. ‘’The only woman you’ll take to wife is Floris Baratheon. You are a mere spare, Aemond. You’ll never be entrusted with the care of the princess, never mind that you will be her equal. You will do your duty and marry Floris. You will give up your useless plans and ambitions. The princess will be your brother’s.’’ As everything always has. Everything has always been his.

I warn him before leaning in. ‘’The smallfolk won’t like this.’’

Otto is blind to the threats right in front of him. Of the peasants and the small folk. ‘’They will. Aegon the conqueror had two wives. So will his namesake.’’ I grumble, clutching the reins of the horse tightly at his words.

It is not enough that Aegon has my gorgeous sister. He will have my niece, too. He will fuck, kiss, perhaps let them fuck one another and what do I get as a thank you for delivering her to him, for killing one of our enemies? I get scolded and slapped and insulted.

Otto notices my anger and smiles when calmly patting my back. ‘’Still, I am impressed you captured her. You were also smart enough to kill the boy's dragon. It would have been too dangerous.’’ No it wouldn't have been. Arrax was toothless and stupid. A unbefitting dragon for an unbefitting bastard. I only killed Arrax to make Luc suffer even more in his final moments.

On the back of the dragon, I told him what I would do once we would land. He knew he was going to be a snack. And I told him, if he told his little sister, that she would take his place. He kept silent and protected her. I am not sure my siblings would have shown me the same courtesy. I think not, truth be told.

We love each other out of need. But we do not love each other out of love. We cling to one another to survive. It is what makes this all so tragic.

We arrive at the castle. I get off my horse once the carriage halts in the familiar courtyard and drag the princess out of the carriage by her long dark locks. She cries in pain as I bring her inside.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #dark aemond targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #dark aemond targaryen x oc #Aemond targaryen #Aemond one eye fanfiction #Pillarsofsaltandsand #Aegon II Targaryen X OC #dark!#head the warnings #dubcon #possible triggering content #She/her reader #AFAB Reader #DarkFantasy #Possible noncon #Possible gore #Old work

15 notes · View notes

broadway-dirk · 10 months

Text

Classic lullabies are overdone, I need a beat.

Rewrite done by myself.

Lyrics below:

I live inside my own world of make-believe Worlds screaming in their cradles, profanities I see the truth through eyes covered in ink and bleach Cross out the ones who heard my cries and watched me weep

I don’t care no more Fire's spreading all around the world It burns so bright It's hard to breathe but that's alright

Hush

Shh

Turn AR off just to force reality Why can't you just let me split my heart in glee I live inside my own world of make-believe Friends screaming in their cradles, profanities Some days I feel emptier than all the other days Sometimes I can't tell if my body belongs to me

I don’t care no more Fire's spreading all around the world It burns so bright It's hard to breathe but that's alright

Hush

Shh

I wanna taste your contempt Hold your breath and feel the tension Devils hide behind redemption Honesty is a one-way gate to hell I wanna taste consumption Breathe faster to waste oxygen Hear the cherubs sing aloud It's music 'til the game plays out

Hush

Just wanna be care free lately, yeah Just kicking up daisies Got one too many quarters in my pockets Count 'em like the four-leaf clovers in my locket Untied laces, yeah Just tripping on daydreams Got dirty little lullabies playing on repeat Might as well just fly around the universe and herd sheep

#broadwaystuck #broadway homestuck #broadway dirk strider #broadway dirk #titulartirade #homestuck #dirk strider #audio files

10 notes · View notes

diary-of-a-madgod-in-training · 5 months

Text

Court of Mania

After the events at Xedilian, Lord Sheogorath has instructed me to study and understand his two courts. I’ve decided to start with the Court of Mania and Duke Thadon. The Duke revealed to me that he suffers from an addiction to Felldew. He sent me to retrieve a chalice that will cleanse him of the bad effects of the drug.

To enter the Burrow, I had to take Felldew myself, which made me understand Thadon’s urgency. The high is amazing, but the withdraws are violently painful. Making my way through the Burrow, I had to periodically take the drug in order to not crumble under the weight of the withdraw. Feeling it flow through my veins, I cursed myself for getting myself in this situation.

Entering the Sanctum, I found a group of people also addicted to Felldew, using the chalice to never fall from their high. I tried to reason with them, but in their drug fueled frenzy, they wouldn’t listen to me. I didn’t want to fight them, their suffering was enough. I felt the same screams as I did when entering the isles, but this time inside me. The blue glow from my hands swirled around me before erupting out and enveloping the addicts. They let out earth shattering screams, shaking me to my core at the raw fear in their voices.

Shaking it off, I took the chalice, drinking from it to wipe away my addiction. When I got back to Thadon, he placed all of his Felldew inside it and drank from it. I personally believe that defeats the purpose, but to each madman their own. My next task is to learn from the Duchess of Dementia, but i am exhausted and still recovering from the after effects of Felldew.

I’m currently in my room in the House of Dementia, the stone walls providing a comfort I haven’t had since Martins death. My heart still weeps for him and just thinking of him brings tears to my eyes.

[three circles dot this passage, most likely from tears]

If I had only been faster. If I brought Martin to the Temple instead of to Ocato. If I had fought Dagon myself. If I stopped Camoran sooner. So many things I could have done. So many ways his death is my fault.

That’s enough for tonight. I am going to walk through Crucible, maybe give Cutter a few of the Madness Shards I’ve found. I don’t know why, but the damp alleys and dirty roads calm me. I believe it’s because they remind me of the Asylum, how little I do remember.

- Velentius Cosades

#elder scrolls #elder scrolls oblivion #oblivion #oc: vel #oc: velentius cosades #daedra of kvatch au #Diary of a Madgod #diary of a Madgod in training #diary passage #sheogorath #new Sheoth #crucible #Duke Thadon #Thadon #shivering isles #the shivering isles dlc #the shivering isles

3 notes · View notes

nirikeehan · 10 months

Text

The Black Company Writing Prompts

All taken from lines of The Black Company by Glen Cook. (Feel free to switch up genders and fill in [X]s when prompting.)

This version is rebloggable! Feel free to use for your own prompt lists.

[X] is misery curdled, but also ancient and intriguing. Its history is a bottomless well filled with murky water. I amuse myself plumbing its shadowy depths, trying to isolate fact from fiction, legend, and myth.

His manner was not that of a street beggar, yet he looked like a lot of bad road.

“Care to illuminate what just happened?” “No.”

Those men whose stories I have uprooted are running from the law, not a tragic love affair.

I wish I could look inside them and unmask the darks and brights that move them. Then I take a quick look into the jungle of my own soul and thank heaven that I cannot. Any man who barely sustains an armistice with himself has no business poking around in an alien soul.

The cursing and weeping resolved into a scene fit to disgust anyone tainted with humanity.

War is a cruel business prosecuted by cruel men. The gods know [X] are no cherubim. But there are limits.

Whatever the upheaval in his life, it had left him living entirely in the present. He was compelled by the past and oblivious to the future.

“It’s a persuasive sort of nonsense. It hangs together in a certain elegant illusion of hope.”

These people said they were the good guys, fighting for the right, liberty, and the dignity of the human spirit, but in method they were no better than [X].

He exuded something that made me feel the way an arachnophobe might if you dropped a big hairy spider into his lap.

You know them better than kin. You had fought side by side for years. Not all of them were friends, but they were family. The only family you had.

He says he does not believe in history.

A dead soul now, maybe. He can make a man shudder with a glance. He exudes a stench of the grave.

Lately his mission in life has been to disapprove.

The planted rumor. The small frame. The touch of bribery or blackmail. Those are the best weapons. We opt for battle only when we have our opponents mousetrapped. At least ideally.

When you have the smaller battalions you learn guile.

He is fighting for everything men claim to honor: freedom, independence, truth, the right.… All the subjective illusions, all the eternal trigger-words.

We are minions of the villain of the piece. We confess the illusion and deny the substance.

There are no self-proclaimed villains, only regiments of self-proclaimed saints. Victorious historians rule where good or evil lies.

“When is [X] going to show?” “When he gets here.”

Two blind armies, able to see nothing but one another.

Someday that great stone face is going to break. I hope I am there to see it.

I gathered we were going to unleash the dark side of human nature.

Something unusual was in the wind. Those in the know found it delicious. Though I could not guess what it was, I knew it would be slick and nasty.

The world needs places where men of all stripes and stations can step outside the usual strictures.

That went on for hours at a time, the movement of whetstone across steel sending chills down my spine. It was an omen.

I do not like alleys. I especially do not like them in cities like [X], where they harbor every evil known to man, and probably a few still undiscovered.

“Only a conqueror bothers to honor a fallen foe.”

I have hung armor plate over my moral soft spots.

They are complete barbarians, living out their cruelest fantasies, their behavior tempered only by the presence of a few decent men.

When you slice through the fog, you find that these two are friends.

The difference between him and the rest of us is that he is a little more of everything, a little bigger than life.

His moral agonies have become our moral agonies. His silent refusal to howl and beat his breast in adversity is ours as well. We prefer to speak with the metallic voice of our arms.

[X] has that knack, that energy, that impact of personality, to make men, more dangerous than he, shudder in his cold dark wind.

“Make it stop looking at me. Make it stop. I’ve been good. Make it go away.”

Sometimes my interest scares me. It gets close to becoming an obsession.

I had tipped the lid off a little box, just to see what was inside, and had found it filled with nastiness. The things I had read could not be unlearned.

Had I been less exhausted I might have jumped ten feet, screaming.

The softer, the more gentle he became, the more I felt I had to fear.

“Thanks. For a while I felt human again.”

A man cannot survive on hatred alone. Would he bother trying to survive what was coming?

I was scared. A man thinking that way could get a little flashy, a little dangerous to those around him.

“Don’t be so optimistic,” he said sarcastically. I shivered uncontrollably.

How many details will be lost in the oral histories I will have to collect after the fact? How many men will fall without their deaths being observed at all?

I am haunted by the clear knowledge that, in the end, evil always triumphs.

“The unwritten law of all armies. The lower ranks have the privilege of questioning the sanity and competence of their commanders. It’s the mortar holding an army together.”

The stars came out. They stared down with mockery in their twinkles, saying all our sweat and blood really had no meaning in the long eye of time. Nothing we did would be recalled a thousand years from now.

Her thoughts are delightfully straightforward, a refreshing contrast in a world filled with devious, prevaricating, unpredictable, scheming people.

No one will sing songs in our memory. … We are our only mourners.

I was almost neurotically anxious that some men had been lost and would be forgotten.

He could become the shadow in the darkness that all men fear, taking them one at a time, leaving only mangled remains to fill the living with terror. I envied him even while I loathed him.

“I’m not much on prophecies. They sound too much like superstition. But this makes me nervous.”

“Dream us a victory,” he suggested.

Part of winning is a downdeep certainty that, no matter how bad things look, a road to victory will open.

Sometimes you lie to yourself just to keep going.

My giggles became crazy laughter.

Soldiers defeated always overestimate the strength of their foe. That soothes egos suspecting their own inferiority.

The great comet is in the sky, that evil harbinger of all great shifts of fortune.

We are retreating still, toward our final appointment with Destiny.

My war was over and lost. All I wanted to do was run.

“Evil is relative. You can’t hang a sign on it. You can’t touch it or taste it or cut it with a sword. Evil depends on where you are standing, pointing your indicting finger.”

There are the physically dead and the morally dead. My comrades were among the latter.

I am not religious. I cannot conceive of gods who would give a damn about humanity’s frothy carryings-on. I mean, logically, beings of that order just wouldn’t.

But maybe there is a force for greater good, created by our unconscious minds conjoined, that becomes an independent power greater than the sum of its parts. Maybe, being a mindthing, it is not time-bound. Maybe it can see everywhere and everywhen and move pawns so that what seems to be today’s victory becomes the cornerstone of tomorrow’s defeat.

Characters like me don’t become prophets. Especially not from the wrong side.

#writing prompts

6 notes · View notes

imagininghim · 11 months

Note

hi! could i request a Tommy Lee doc based on the song Runaway Train by Soul Asylum in which the reader is 19 and is the runaway?

Runaway

Trigger warning - Domestic abuse, depression, self harm, and drug use.

Please read at your own risk.

Like, comment, reblog!

"Call you up in the middle of the night Like a firefly without a light You were there like a slow torch burning I was a key that could use a little turning

So tired that I couldn't even sleep So many secrets I couldn't keep Promised myself I wouldn't weep One more promise I couldn't keep"

With shaky hands I held onto the payphone, contemplating on calling him, he had told me before to call anytime I needed him and at a quarter to one in the morning it felt just as good of a time as any.

I let out a sigh as I picked up the receiver and dialled out his number. The phone began to ring as panic fluctuated throughout my body.

"Hello?" A tired and slightly annoyed voice answered.

"Tommy? Is that you?" I heard shuffling before he responded.

"(Y/N)? What's up? It's almost one in the morning, are you okay?" Tommy said as panic laced his voice.

"Uh-y-yeah" I began, stuttering a little. "I was wondering if you could come pick me up?" I could hear the shuffling of his bed sheets before he spoke again.

"I can, what's going on?" Tommy question, looking for his keys. I fought back the urge to cry as I spoke up.

"Please, just come get me." A tear slipped down my cheek.

"Alright, I'm on the way. Where are you?" Tommy said opening his car door before taking off down the road.

“I’m on the corner of sunset and boulevard, please just hurry.” More tears slipped as I tightened the strap of my backpack on my shoulder.

“I’m coming, I promise; I’ll be there in five minutes.” Hanging up the phone, I let out a shaky breath. I moved to the edge of the sidewalk and took a seat, the clouds above began to rumble and open up above me.

It seems no one can help me now I'm in too deep There's no way out This time I have really lead myself astray Runaway train never going back Wrong way on a one-way track Seems like I should be getting somewhere Somehow I'm neither here nor there

I waited in the pouring rain for Tommy's headlights to appear. Eventually, he drove up to me.

"(Y/N), holy fuck! Get in, you're soaking wet." He said leaning across to open the door. I slid into the passenger seat and closed the door behind me. "What are you doing out here? What's wrong? What Happened?" He immediately started bombarding you with questions.

"Please, can we just go. I'll answer all your questions but please just drive." I begged, holding back tears. Tommy gave me one more worried look before turning and shifting the car into gear and taking off down the road.

As we drove, I could feel Tommy's eyes on me, I shivered under the weight of his eyes and the cold from the rain. We stayed quiet the whole ride, with only the sound of the radio on low volume filling the empty space. We eventually we pulled up outside his house and he got out and ran to my side to open the door before shuffling me in side.

I wrapped my arms around myself as we made our way to the door and inside. Making my way inside, I looked up to see how big and beautiful his house was, a glass chandelier hung from the ceiling while two staircases wrapped around to meet in the middle of a balcony.

"Let's go upstairs and get you something dry to wear." Tommy said, making his way up the stairs as I continued to stand in front of the door. "(Y/N), you coming?" I nodded, sliding off my shoes and making my up the stairs and into his room.

Can you help me remember how to smile? Make it somehow all seem worthwhile How on earth did I get so jaded? Life's mysteries seem so faded

I can go where no one else can go I know what no one else knows Here I am, just drowning in the rain With a ticket for a runaway train

And everything seems cut and dry Day and night Earth and sky Somehow I just don't believe it

I stood in the doorway of his room, looking around while Tommy went rummaging through his closet for something I could wear.

"I think this could work," He said returning with an oversized hoodie and a pair of shorts. "I know it may be a little big on you but you can wear it while I put your clothes in the dryer." I nodded, taking the clothes and thanking him. Tommy gave me a small smile before taking a seat on the bed. "So, you gonna tell me what's on the go?" I let a sigh, dropping my bag off my shoulder and onto the floor before laying the dry clothes next to it.

"I don't know where to start." I began.

"At the beginning." I sighed before continuing.

"It all started after you left and went on tour, I was lonely at first but I met this really great guy, his name was Johnny and we met at a bar that I was working at. At first, he seemed super great, we went on a few dates and everything was going perfect." I could feel Tommy's stare burning into me but I couldn't look him in the eye as I continued. "That was until about a year ago when we moved in together, he had lost his job so I moved in to help him pay for things until he got back onto his feet but that was the thing, he never did. Sometimes he would get upset because he wasn't able to find work and he'd get mad and push me or slap me but then he would feel so bad and apologize. I always forgave him because I knew he was struggling."

"Hold up, wait a second. He was hitting you?! Why didn't you call me?!" Tommy exclaimed standing up in anger.

"You were on tour! I didn't want to bother you, plus he didn't do it all the time. It only happened when I didn't do the laundry or if I burned his supper." I could see the anger flash across Tommy's face as I continued. "Well, that was until the drugs. At first it was just weed, but then the stuff got harder which meant he got more mad and would hit me more often. It got to the point, where I would wear long sleeves to cover the bruises or sunglasses to cover the new shiner he gave me the night before." At first, I didn't notice the tears streaming down my face until Tommy reached over and brushed them away.

"(Y/N)..." Tommy began but I continued.

"Tonight was the worst of it, he came home smelling like brewery and cheap perfume, he had hickeys on his neck and I couldn't believe he was cheating on me. I tried to stand up for myself and tell him that this was the last straw but then started hitting me and kicking me, I was barely able to get away until I locked myself into the bathroom and snuck out the window. I ran and ran, until I found the nearest payphone and called you. I jus-" A sob began forming in my throat as I struggled to hold it back. "I just didn't know who else to call." And with that, I broke down. Tommy immediately wrapped me into his arms and held me as sobs wracked through my body.

"It's okay, you're safe now. I got you." Tommy kept whispering into my ear as he held on tight.

"I'm sorry I never reached out after you left, I didn't want to make him mad. I never forgot about you." I said in between breaths. Tommy continued holding me as he spoke.

"I know, I never forgot you either. Now, get changed, you're not going back there, you're staying with me." I wiped the tears away and gave him a small smile before turning my back to him and begin removing the wet clothes. It wasn't until I heard him gasp that I stopped but before I could pull the shirt back down, I felt Tommy's hands on me. "Did he do this?!" He questioned angrily.

I knew exactly what he was talking about, the black and purple bruises that laced my sides from when he kicked me. With a small whisper, I responded.

"Yes..." Before I had a chance to react, Tommy was out the door and down the stairs. "Wait! Where are you going?" I yelled over the balcony.

"To find that son of a bitch and put him in an early grave." But before I could respond, Tommy was out the door and speeding off down the driveway.

Runaway train never going back Wrong way on a one-way track Seems like I should be getting somewhere Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Bought a ticket for a runaway train Like a madman laughing at the rain A little out of touch, a little insane It's just easier than dealing with the pain

It was little later into the night when Tommy returned. I stood up from his couch and made my way to the front door, to see a bruised and bloody Tommy.

"Oh my god, are you okay?!" I questioned rushing over to him.

"Yeah I'll be fine, the bloods not mine." I looked down in concern at his bloody t-shirt but before I could react, Tommy's hands came to cup my cheeks. I stared into his hazel eyes. "You will never have to worry about him laying another hand on you again."

"Okay." Was all I could muster up to say. The next thing I knew, Tommy had his lips pressed against mine in a gentle but firm kiss. I was taken back but returned the kiss back, as we pulled away he spoke.

"I love you (Y/N), I always have. I will never let anyone hurt you again. You will never have to run again because I'm not going anywhere." Tears began welling in my eyes.

"I love you too Tommy." And with that, I pulled him in for another kiss.

Runaway train never going back Wrong way on a one-way track Seems like I should be getting somewhere Somehow I'm neither here nor there

Runaway train never coming back Runaway train tearing up the track Runaway train burning in my veins I run away but it always seems the same

#tommy lee #love #imagine #request #angst #fluff #masterlist #imagine motley crue #motley crue #the dirt #Nikki sixx #mick mars #follow #reblog #like #gifs #imagine vince neil #imagine tommy lee

15 notes · View notes

catboyaesthetic · 5 months

Text

Ironsworn

The following story has been created with the use of the Solo RPG "Ironsworn." I'm still learning the system and it's equal parts unwieldy and intuitive. It's nonetheless a very rewarding system and a great way of digging into my own creativity. I would highly recommend it if you have the time to get to grips with it.

I've tinkered with it a little bit to fit a character from my own personal worldbuilding project into it, and as such, it's not as representative of the game as it might have been had I generated a character specifically inside the world. The reason for this was the fact that I thought it was cool to integrate my world with this one.

The Journey Begins

All has been set in motion. A week ago I was informed of my new post in a place called “the Ironlands” by the Volcaptain. The talk was short as they often are, but this felt almost cold and distant, where usually the curtness feels professional. To convey in as few words as possible is considered a virtue, but this involves Lena, and to hear the mission that involves her be spoken of so curtly rubs me wrong. It is how we always do things, but to know it’s about her feels different. The main post is to aid the Ironlands, of course. There’s been reports of something called “black iron” being mined there, and the higher-ups believed it’s a synonym for the Elder Mineral. I am to investigate these reports and otherwise present as good of an image of Sunspire as I can. I still find the position odd. To be diplomatic emissary, expeditionary force, assassin, courtier, foreign army and sword-for-hire all in the same person makes me feel as if I am to be a superhuman extension of the Merchant-Kings. But I’m just a man. I bleed. I laugh. I weep. I think tonight I’ll go on that trip down the Halls of Joy I’ve always promised myself. It might be the last time I can distract myself the fullest.

Aboard the Fortune’s Call

As I sail aboard the Fortune’s Call, the air is crisp and full of shouting. Wherever I turn, there is command. Authority, it seems, is infectious, especially aboard a ship this size. It feels like a floating fortress with how many cannons rest on either side, which seem unnecessarily high. The place called the aftcastle is true to its name with how vast the structure is. Decorated with vivid colour and intricate carvings in the shape of lionheads, suns and other ornate ornamentation, it seems every bit a wooden manor. We’re only short a green field to truly complete the picture. While I’m hardly considered to be an authority on taste, I find the whole picture rather gaudy. The man who captains this vessel is equally as colourful in his attire, his manner and his general demeanor. For all his flaws in taste, I do enjoy the man. If there is one benefit to being a Spiresworn, it’s the ability to outrank most everyone in the city. Subsequently, I am considered to be on not just equal, but higher ranked company to the captain. Though I do surrender to his authority on this vessel. Despite my experience, I haven’t the foggiest idea of how to run a ship, let alone run it well. Captain Perrenen has that well in hand, and I believe we have an understanding that I do not muddy his command by inserting myself and he subsequently does not ask questions he ought not to. Thus we spend our time together pleasantly and dedicated to conversation. He is an exceptional rhetorician and his mind is sharp as the saber he carries. On more than one occasion he has managed to stump me, wielding his arguments as deftly as I hope he wields that sword.

It didn’t take long for us to reach our first waypoint of the journey, a port called Heragon, I couldn’t make out a word of the language, but the people were pleasant and helpful. I got to try several delicacies which I believe Captain Perrenen later paid for – being more accustomed with the way things worked. I should have known, of course, that that was a swindle rather than a kindness, but the good captain had the decency to only laugh at me in private. I believe he is the only person whom I have ever enjoyed calling me a fool.

(Undertake a journey 4+3 vs. 9 and 3 – Weak Hit.)

We set sail again before long. In what I understand to be a stroke of good luck, the winds have favoured us thus far. I spend my nights with Captain Perrenen, discussing this and that, and somehow never quite running out of things to talk about. Despite myself, I find myself drawn to him, and whether it’s been weeks or months, the attraction only grows stronger. He doesn’t flatter me the way that I’m used to, no shallow compliments, no deference to rank. He talks to me like a person. He asks me about my ways of thinking, my interests. He treats me like a human being, not the arm of the Merchant-Kings.

I find I look forward to the evening discussions we have. To have him to myself for a while where I do not see Captain Perrenen, but only Hann. I say ‘only’ but he is only a captain. As a man, he is so much more. He loves the sound of the ship as it hits the waves, urian tea drawn from barab roots for exactly 5 minutes, something which makes the drink exceedingly bitter and which provides something of a comic contrast to his otherwise sweet disposition. He loves the sunrise, singing, and the sea. All sailors do, in their own way. Lately I find my arguments do not have their old sharpness as I focus on the wrinkles around his eyes from what is still a very short life spent laughing often and loudly. The sound of his voice as he calls my name and tries to draw me out of my musings. The way he looks at me with might be a knowing smile. I don’t know. The weeks soar by, the winds favour us, and we spend our evenings together. For a time, the world is small and peaceful.

(Undertake a journey: 5+3 vs 5 and 2 – Strong Hit.)

The seas are good to us. We make such good progress that somewhere, I feel a pang of regret that it will be over soon. The routine over the past few months has become so ingrained that I would almost feel like I’d be throwing part of me away when I have to step off this ship. It’s something I remind myself of often, especially as Hann and I sit and talk. We’ve gone far beyond battling wits the last few weeks. Perhaps it’s just me, but there is a weight to the conversations we have now, a tension. The way he laughs is different, but no less attractive and I’ve noticed that he looks at me differently. It’s only then that I realize I don’t know what goes on in that head of his, and I would desperately like to know. Sometimes he hides his mouth behind his hand as he listens to me, and I find myself hoping he’s smiling. I find myself feeling as if I were a prey in the eyes of the hawk. I feel he sees me in a way that I find thrilling. I also find myself skirting around certain topics or words because I am afraid they would not sit well with him, despite him never giving any indication of displeasure. In fact, he seems to be somewhat diminished every time I draw away from what might be something risqué. I think he’s hoping for the same thing I am. But what is it exactly that I’m hoping for? Outside of this room we are the same as always. He is Captain Perennen and I am Fyodor, a high-paying nobody for all intents and purposes, which allows me all the privileges wealth can afford aboard his ship – so long as it does not interfere with its functioning. But despite how small this ship is, I feel worlds apart from him. My mind churns and a need that will not be reasoned with rises with every evening he sits and looks at me like he wants the same thing. Or am I just seeing what I want to see? Am I so caught up in my own experience I forget the rest of the world? It wouldn’t be the first time. Lena often said I was prone to egotism, and despite my best efforts to rectify this, I can still get caught up in the whirlwind. There are so many things to dislike about him. As I try to remind myself of them to still the hunger, I find they’ve all disappeared. It would be cruel, I think to myself, to simply consume such a beautiful a man. To use him for my selfish purposes and discard him once we arrive. Soon we will be oceans apart again. Time will be kind to the memory but not the feeling. I would miss him. Worse yet, I fear that I would miss him more than he would miss me. I could write, but would I? I know myself, or at least I try to, and I have historically always been a evasive lover. Quick to action, slow to attach. It comes with the work, I think. I try not to think on it further.

(Undertake a journey 5+3 vs 5 and 1 – Strong Hit.)

My heart sinks as the news reaches us that our destination lies on the horizon. I didn’t think I still had it in me to dread. I glance to Hann as he stands on the balcony of his aftcastle, in every way the picture of the noble captain as he gazes towards the horizon. For the fifth time today, I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder if he feels the same grief I do. I’m not sure why. Perhaps the adage that misery loves company is truer than I ever thought it to be. I remind myself that all I feel, I feel alone. I do not know what goes on in his head, and for all intents and purposes, his acceptance of my presence has been a calculated indulgence. But even as I remind myself, I find I do not want to believe it. I would rather believe the delusion – if indeed it is – and pine for a man in so many ways my better. You do not get many comforts in this line of work. Spiresworn are meant to be the bastions of the Merchant-Kings around the Known World. But even if each of us are built up to be castles of our own accord, we all rule alone. How thicker the walls and how vast the defenses, the lonelier it is.

Hann catches me staring. I do not have the decency to look away. Rather I take the opportunity to carve him into my memory. If it is not to be, I would like to remember him. To put this finely-honed mind to work remembering a man who was kind to a stranger, a father to his crew and the envy of the sun with the warmth and light he brought to the lives of those around him. I am pulled from my reverie by the sound of his voice, carrying a tone he’s never used with me before.

“Mister Koningszoon, if you’d care to join me in my quarters, I have something I’d like to discuss.” He dismisses his inner circle of officers, then turns and enters his quarters. He speaks to me as if I were a crewmen, with courteous authority – and the implicit expectation he is to be heeded. Something in me bristles at it, yet the largest part is awash with crackling anticipation. I keep my composure, my strides measured, and knock courteously on Hann’s door – The Captain’s door, I remind myself – to announce my arrival. I enter by his command, and the moment the door shuts behind me, Hann’s lips are on mine and his hands are grasping my face and the world melts away in the wake of his affection and the flush of warmth that rushes through me. I taste how hungry he really is, how desperate. How badly he wants to grasp me but even in this desperate heat of the moment, he remains soft and kind and considerate and I want to let him take all he wants as reward for his kindness. Whether he means to pull my hair or strip me or debase me in ways that tumble over each other in my head is irrelevant. For a moment I am his and he is mine and we are only Hann and Fyodor in a floating wooden fortress and barely hours until we are cruelly separated once again. As we continue to kiss and grab at each other, almost as if to confirm that the other is truly real and this is really happening, I let him lead me wherever he wants. We don’t need to speak. We know what we want. We’ve known for weeks – months – what it is we’ve wanted and only now have we found the courage to act.

The brief bout of pleasure and the eternity of joy we spend together after is too short. The beginning of the end comes by way of a simple crewman, relaying a message of our arrival. I try not to weep. Hann holds me, kisses my head and assures me that this won’t be the last time we’ll see each other. He promises to write me. I thank him, knowing I won’t. Knowing he truly is too good of a man for the likes of me.

Damula

As I travel in a vessel vastly underwhelming after months on the Fortune’s Call, I am informed by my ferrywoman the place we’re heading toward is called Damula. A strange name, that even seems to sound wrong out of my ferrywoman’s mouth. Still, the sound of it seems to somehow fit the accent she has. The word itself is thick with history. I find it hard to concentrate as I look back towards the dot on the horizon that has been all the world for the past few months, captained by what had been my home until today. I ask the Ferrywoman what Damula means.

(6+3 Wits vs. 8 and 9 = Weak Hit.)

The ferrywoman thinks on it for a moment, seeming unsure herself. She then tells me it was a word from “those who came before.” Who or what they were or where they come from remains a mystery, and I think I have already overstayed my ferrywoman’s patience with my questions. My own patience is running thin also, and so I overlook the landscape that is steadily drawing closer.

Despite the withered landscape, it has a beautiful quality to it. It seems as if time has passed this place by. The trees that might have once grown here have been cut down and usurped into the buildings of Damula, and it seems they have neglected to plant new ones. Yet somehow, it has enhanced the landscape, not made it worse. I dread to think on the ecosystem, however. What do they burn to keep warm? Do they keep warm? This wind chills me to the soul and the gray skies that always threaten rain make the season difficult to distinguish.

I’ve already paid the ferrywoman whom I have neglected to ask her name. She didn’t seem the talkative type to begin with, but now that we’ve begun I feel compelled to do so. She tells me her name is Makari. When I ask for her last name, she looks at me like I’ve asked her what colour the water is. It seems these are in short supply. In hopes of not drawing attention to myself – something I have already radically failed at – I tell her my name is Fyodor. She finds the name strange, yet tells me it has a certain melodic quality to it. An observation I find ill-fitting of a ferrywoman, yet nonetheless flattering and indicative of an interest and mind I did not think to find within this ferrywoman. Which itself is a sentiment I find myself somewhat embarrassed of. In hopes of distracting myself from it, I put on my best smile and ask her if she enjoys music. She nods as she adjusts the sails and seems to think on it for a moment. Weighing some unknown thought, she shakes her head and simply looks out across the water once more, the conversation and her interest slipping through my fingers. Despite myself, I find myself all the more eager to pursue her attention. I weigh the likelihood of my chances of her interest and find myself humbled by her stoic interest in the journey. I find myself somewhat forlorn, the rejection like a knife between my ribs. But we are strangers, ultimately. And she is a competent sailor. I find myself thinking on what it would be like to be the sole focus of that magnificent attention. For a moment, I am warm.

I part from Makari with a curt goodbye. Vainly I wonder if she will miss me. I will certain miss her. The sight of her arms bending the ship to her will, the way she gazed across the waves and seemed to be able to take stock of a person with but a glance. There is a hardness and an honesty to her. I look back at her, and to my surprise I find her looking back at me as well. I can’t quite tell, but it almost seems like she smiles for a moment. Then she’s gone again, likely never to be seen and I am, as always, alone.

Naturally, I look for the closest thing resembling a tavern.

(3+3 Wits vs. 6 and 10 = Weak Hit.)

When I approach a stranger in hopes of information, I am met with one of the coldest glares I’ve seen to date. I greet the woman and she leers at me as if to let me out of her sight means I’d rob her blind. “Good day to you and yours, friend,” I begin, and despite her obvious suspicion, she seems to relax a little. “To you as well,” she replies, looking me over with a gaze I’d much prefer held more interest than the current weighing it did. Her arms are broad, her brown hair is short and her eyes are a dark green one could get lost in, as I find myself doing before I catch myself and continue. “Would you happen to know if there is a watering hole nearby?” She looks at me like Makari did, as if I’d just ask what the colour of water is. “No,” she replies curtly. I can feel her judge me to be a fool and in the process of be forgotten. While I would usually prefer it that way, I find myself compelled to correct the notion. “Ah, perhaps I was too broad in my description. I meant to ask for a place where one might find a drink.”

The woman looks up and the realization as to my earlier meaning seems to dawn on her. “Ahh, you mean like Kendi’s Rest? Sure there is.” Her brief moment of helpfulness is swiftly interrupted by her earlier measurement of me. “Typically only locals visit Kendi’s Rest. We don’t get many visitors here.” There is suspicion in her gaze and in her voice.

(Secure an advantage, 2+3 vs 8 and 7 = Miss.)

Something compels to engage with the adage that honesty is the best policy. “Well, it’s true enough that I am a stranger to these parts, and it’s not without reason I’ve come to this place.” I barely catch myself from insulting this place, the words “shithole” and “pit” presenting themselves long before “place” ever does. “I’ve come looking for someone, and while I’m relatively certain there’s no trail of her here, I figured I have to start asking questions somewhere.”

The stranger regards me with even more suspicion, and gradually rises up from her work. She seems to loosen herself up somewhat, and I can take a guess as to what. However, the need for it seems unwarranted, and I am more than a little confused as towards the display of naked preparation for hostilities. I raise my hands defensively, more than able to read the room. “Listen, I mean no harm to you or anyone here, nor do I want to imply that you’re the ones responsible. I simply want to know where my friend is.”

“Something tells me I don’t like you. A stranger come from who knows where asking questions about who knows who. I don’t know who your friend is, and I don’t know why you’ve come looking for her, but I think you oughta leave to somewhere better for your health.” The woman growls, having drawn herself up to her full height. She is lean from hard work, broad with muscle. I don’t think she takes well to being threatened. But I don’t have time for this, harangued by the second person I run into in this shithole of a village, searching for a drink, heartbroken and months away from civilization. The mask of the aloof fool drops and I take a step forward to loom over her. Something twitches to life in my chest and my eyes sear with the knowledge of countless battles. The sight of lives I have taken made adds weight to my gaze. I level it upon her and let the vast shadow of my sins cast over her. I am the monster once again. “I think this place suits me just fine.” I speak with a tone as sharp as a knife’s edge. “I also think we should go about our respective business,” I continue, adding with as much venom as I can muster “for your health.”

(Compel, 2+4 Iron vs 3 and 4. – Strong Hit)

She withers underneath my gaze, shrinking away from me. I see the shame in her face from buckling. She tries to catch herself but she knows the game is up. For a moment, she seems a girl in pants far too large for her. “Maybe that’s for the best,” she replies in a voice that has lost all of its confidence. I let the monster slip off of me and once more, I am the pleasant, forgettable everyman. As she turns around to return to her work, I feel a sting of regret. Perhaps I should have tried to talk to her differently. But how? I don’t know what these people are like. I barely got here and already I’ve almost gotten myself into a fight.

I head towards the gathering place of this town, Kendi’s Rest. As I step inside, the heads of six patrons turn to look at me. They seem to collectively realise that I am not a resident of the town, and as such, they stare. It seems I have my work cut out for me not to stand out. Despite the earlier failure, I put on my best smile and greet the scowling faces which refuse to stop staring at me. “Greetings, all!” I begin, my voice thunderous from experience commanding troops, in hopes of easing their hostility. From my earlier encounter I think to myself that they might appreciate bluntness. “I suppose I’ll not dally or taint your day further with endless pleasantry and get straight to the point. Has anyone here happened to have heard of a woman called “Lena?””

( Compel 5+3 Heart vs 7 and 3. – Strong Hit! )

There is some grumbling and murmuring, but finally one person speaks up. “Aye!” He says with a voice that would make the rocks envious with how rough it is, “I’ve heard of a Lena!” I look at him, realizing he’s the first man I’ve seen on this island and quickly make my way over, smiling still but reading his face to see if he’s lying.

( Gather information, 2+3 Wits vs. 9 and 2. – Weak Hit. )

For all I can see, the man is perfectly sincere. I sit down beside him and try to keep my smile as natural and relaxed as I am. Within, my heart is pounding away at my chest. Surely it can’t be this easy? The third person I talk to, and I’ve got a lead?

“A fine woman she was! I remember the way she used to scold me for slacking on my duties.” The man lets out a chuckle, a sound like rocks scraping against one another, and I realise the man is quite up there in years already. The fire from the torches occasionally darken the grooves within the man’s face, worn by time. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “It’s a shame she passed away. But that’s the way of things.”

My heart sinks and in my shock, I forget to wear the mask of emotion. “She’s dead?” I ask the man. He looks at me like the other two have before him, like I asked what the colour of water is. “Well, yeah, man! Do you expect us to live forever? She was quite up there in years already.”

Again, my shock overtakes me, this time with a frown. “Wait, what do you mean she was up there in years already?” Now it’s the man’s turn to scowl. “Like I said, man! Are you slow? She was old! Quite old, in fact. Ancient by anyone’s reckoning! We used to joke she might outlive us all! Bahaha!’

Despite the sound of his laughter akin to an avalanche filling the drinking hovel, I feel a warm sense of relief fill my stomach. A feeling quickly replaced by frustration. While I’m happy to hear she’s not dead, I’m back to nothing after thinking I found myself a lead. I put on the smile once more and thank the man, saying that I don’t think we’re looking for the same person.

“Oh? Well, good luck to you, then. Oh, and uh… spare a kindness for an old man?” He asks with a mischievous grin, holding up his empty tankard. I ponder for a moment, before I pull out my pockets and show that I don’t even have a cog to my name. “Hah! Maybe I should offer you a kindness, eh?” The man laughs, and where I briefly expect him to offer some kind of alms, he merely gives me more laughter. Then he realizes I’m still there and gestures with his tankard for me to leave. “Go on, off you fuck.” He says, without losing any of his pleasant demeanor, and with a mixture of shock and admiration, I do just that.

I head towards what passes for a bar and hail the person behind it – a woman, who seem to be more ubiquitous than men so far. She heads over and gives me a curt nod. Before she can ask me for my order, I tell her I don’t have anything to pay with. She sets her hands on the bar, leans forward, curls up her upper lip in contempt and asks: “Then what are you doing here, stranger?” I tell her I’m looking for information on a woman named Lena. “Never heard of her,” she replies, and makes to leave.

“Then what news is there? Surely there must be something keeping you busy around these parts?” I quickly ask before she turns around fully. She seems to be anything but eager to talk to me.

( Compel, 3+3 Heart vs 1 and 7 – Weak Hit. )

I put on my best smile and decide to engage in a bit of flattery. “Surely this place is where all the important people gather. And a woman like you seems like she knows the value of information.” I tell her. It seems to evoke little other than the raise of an eyebrow, but at the very least, she seems curious. “I do,” she replies curtly, “well enough to know that I don’t simply give it out for free. Especially not to every passing stranger that enters my tavern.”

I put two and two together. “You must be Kendi then,” I ask, to which she performs a mock curtsy with nonetheless perfect form. She must have practiced that quite a bit. “The very same. Now, you know who I am and seem to be the observant sort. But I’m not in the business of wondering, I’m in the business of knowing.” She throws her drying cloth over her shoulder and sets her hands on her hips before jerking her head up expectantly and looking me over. “What’s your name?” She asks, expecting to be answered. I oblige. “Fyodor,” I swallow the urge to say my last name, I’ve stood out enough already and the custom of last names seems to be unfortunately absent. “Well, Fyodor,” Kendi begins, “I could tell you what occupies this beautiful town of ours, but I’d like to ask you a few things first.”

At her mercy, I throw up my hands before opening them before her. “Whatever you’d like to know,” I tell her. She narrows her eyes for a moment and she wastes no time. “Where are you from, Fyodor?” “Sunspire,” I answer truthfully. Kendi shrugs, “Never heard of it. Though that does makes you an outlander.” She notes. I raise an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?” “No,” she answers, continuing on. “What are you doing in Damula?” Now it’s my turn to shrug. “Like I said, I’m looking for a woman called Lena.” Kendi’s interest is visibly piqued. “What is she to you?” A flood of images and feelings wash over me, but no words come until heartbeats later. “Someone I could not stand to lose.” I answer, surprised by my own obfuscation. Kendi shakes her head, looking me in the eye while I briefly drown in remembering. “No no, you don’t get off that easy. What is she to you? Family? Friend? A loved one?” “All that and more,” I reply without missing a beat. The mask of pleasantness is gone. I look at her with all the desperation that I hold within and it seems to strike a chord with her. Kendi’s expression softens somewhat, and the questions cease. For a heartbeat I think I spy a glimmer of respect in her gaze before she carries on cleaning. After a while, she begins to speak unprompted. She seems a little tense as she does so, and much to my surprise after her earlier demeanor, she drops her volume.

“News around here is always slow. But lately people around here can’t seem to stop worrying about the dead.” “The dead?” I ask incredulously before I can help myself, and Kendi gives me a scathing look that tells me I spoke too loudly. “Yes, Fyodor. The dead.” Her eyes grow distant as she tries to focus on cleaning this one particular tankard rather intensely. “Everybody wants to be the one that solves the problem, as that would ensure you spend the rest of your life living luxuriously wherever you go.” I tap a finger on the sad excuse for a bar as I think. “Why?” I wonder aloud, and Kendi looks at me like everyone before her has; like I asked what the colour of water is. It seems to be becoming something of a tradition. “Because,” Kendi begins with a tone that makes it clear it is the most obvious thing in the world, “the Dead have been restless for years now and no one knows why. They’ve been assaulting this town every night for weeks.” She looks at me for a long while in silence before realizing. “You don’t know, do you? They don’t just walk again, they are organized. They are coming, Fyodor. Every night, they come.”

Despite my proximity to the hearth which crackles comfortingly beside me, a chill goes through me. Yet another peril to add to the list amidst hostile but strangely helpful Ironlanders, now the Innumerable seem to have reached even here. I nod my head upwards towards Kendi, “Have you heard of the Innumerable?” I ask. Kendi raises an eyebrow, but shakes her head. “Why, who are they?” I ponder for a moment whether to tell her, but decide for it seeing how free she has been with her information. “The Innumerable,” I begin after leaning in conspiratorially, “are known as the Heirs of the Ashes and are effectively the nation of the dead.” Kendi lets out a skeptical puff of air and I beckon her back over. “No, no, I’m serious. Wherever there are bodies in the ground, they claim dominion.” “So they’d consider this place theirs as well?” Kendi asks. I throw up my hands as if to indicate it’s out of my hands, and nod. Kendi lets out a sharp laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. What, so the dead have a nation, with a king and everything? And cities?” She seems genuinely curious before a grin slowly spread across her lips that suits her particularly well. “Come off it, you’re pulling my leg.” I scowl and shake my head. Kendi’s grin drops. “I told you, I’m serious. I don’t know how they’re organized exactly, I do know that—” I catch myself before I reach into information which is privy only to a handful of people even within Sunspire. Kendi looks at me expectantly, raising her eyebrows as if to indicate “go on.” Then, after realizing I was not going to continue, lets out a ‘tch’ and shakes her head. “Anyway, that’s what’s occupying people at the moment. Staying alive.”

I continue to tap my finger on the bar as I mull over the information. Technically all the dead are part of the Innumerable. But it may very well be that this… outbreak? That it might have nothing to do with them. The unfortunate part of having to deal with a nation of the dead is that not everything can be seen as a formal action by a nation as living agents would undertake them. The application of magicae to purposes of reanimation does not necessarily make that corpse part of the Innumerable. Yet by virtue of being dead, it is. I hope we have rhetoricians or diplomats better suited to distinguishing between formal actions of the Innumerable and deciding what is the actions of a brainless bag of bones.

Still, the problem remains. The dead are assaulting the Damula every night. Are they driven by instinct or do they have some kind of leadership guiding them? These questions are redundant. What matters is that I promised to help this place where I could to the Merchant-Kings. And these people need help.

“Alright,” I say aloud, nodding. “

( Swear an Iron Vow, 4+3 Heart vs 8 and 10. )

I look at Kendri, who looks back at me with a certain suspicion. My voice is clear and grave as I speak “I promise to help safeguard Damula from the onslaught of the Dead in the name of the Merchant-Kings. This I vow.”

“With what?” Kendri asks drily, made all the more chafing in the wake of my grave declaration. She looks me over once again and grins. “Last I saw, you didn’t have any weapons or armour. You don’t have a scrap to your name, and for all I know, you’re a bumpkin blowhard. What are you gonna do? Talk the dead to death? Oh wait.”

Some of the patrons chuckle at her joke, and I find myself somewhat embarrassed. But she’s right. As capable as I am, I’d do much more damage with a weapon than without. Before I can properly fulfill my vow, I should fix that. I thank Kendri for the information and the company, and she replies she feels the same with a surprising amount of warmth. Before I can do anything of note I should find the tools with which to deal with this harsh lands. Whether axe or sword or mace, I need something more to defend myself than just wit and wiles. I step out of the warmth of the tavern and back into the cold gray of Damula.

#Ironsworn #Solo RPG #Solo TTRPG #Writing #Fiction #Fantasy #OC

2 notes · View notes

crymeariveronceagain · 2 years

Text

Sophie Foster in Nightfall Aesthetic because we are the ones who will not go unspoken

Put me to the test I'll prove that I'm strong Won't let myself believe That what we feel is wrong I finally see what You knew was inside me All along That behind this soft exterior Lies a warrior

“I simply want to live; to cause no evil to anyone but myself.”

In this life there's no surrender. There's nothing left for us to do-- Find the strength to see this through.

Reason will not lead to solution I will end up lost in confusion I don't care if you really care As long as you don't go

War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.

“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.”

Farewell, I've gone to take my throne above But don't weep for me 'Cause this will be the labor of my love

“Dear Sir: Regarding your article 'What's Wrong with the World?' I am. Yours truly,”

We are the ones who will never be broken With our final breath We'll fight to the death We are soldiers, we are soldiers

“Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly's done, when the battle's lost and won.”

Hung pictures of patron saints up on my wall To remind me that I am a fool Tell me where I came from, what I will always be: Just a spoiled little kid who went to Catholic school

When I am dead, I won't join their ranks Because they are both holy and free And I'm in Ohio, satanic and chained up And until the end, that's how it'll be

I said make me love myself, so that I might love you Don't make me a liar, because I swear to God When I said it, I thought it was true

Saint Bernard sits at the top of the driveway You always said how you loved dogs I don't know if I count, but I'm trying my best When I'm howling and barking these songs

Warrior, by Beth Crowley // War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy // Soldiers, by Otherwise // Lovefool, by The Cardigans // Two Towers, by J. R. R. Tolkien // G. K. Chesterton // Warriors, by Imagine Dragons // Macbeth, by William Shakespeare // Saint Bernard, by Lincoln //

#kotlc aesthetics #kotlc #kotlc aesthetic #kotlc sophie #sophie foster #kotlc sophie aesthetic #aesthetics #war aesthetic #quotes #kotlc thoughts #aesthetic #sophie foster aesthetic

29 notes · View notes

blckfyres · 1 year

Text

blckfyres' song prompts !

requests are currently open !

welcome to my first song prompt list! below the cut you'll find some of my favourite lyrics - send me a number for an aemond drabble or ficlet!

first, some housekeeping:

Rules - I currently write for Aemond only, so please only request prompts for him. - Aemond/Reader only, please! - You're welcome to send over any ideas you have in your prompt request, but I can't promise I'll stick to it. - Requests can also be NSFW. - Feel free to use and reblog these prompts but do tag me for credit and shoot me a follow if you do!

a special thanks to @1800-fight-me for the push to post <3

without further ado, find the song prompts below the cut, and send a raven to request!

You really got me this time. And the hardest part is knowing I’ll survive – Boulder to Birmingham, Emmylou Harris

Take me into your palms, what is left when unhungry? - 666, Bon Iver

I am drowning, there is no sign of land. You are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand – No Children, The Mountain Goats

I have only two emotions, careful fear and dead devotion – Don’t Swallow the Cap, The National

Only love is all maroon. Gluey feathers on a flume. Sky is womb and she’s the moon - Flume, Bon Iver

Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction. Now, where am I? My fading supply - Fourth of July, Sufjan Stevens

He said it’s all in your head and I said so’s everything, but he didn’t get it. I thought he was a man but he was just a little boy - Paper Bag, Fiona Apple

Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Tell me we both matter, don’t we? – Running Up That Hill, Kate Bush

I am a fountain of blood in the shape of a girl – Bachelorette, Bjork

Why don’t you weep when I hurt you? Why don’t you weep when I cut you? - Brazen, Skunk Anansie

Let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone, let me see you moving like they do in Babylon – Dance Me To the End of Love, Leonard Cohen

Hey baby, where were you back then? When I needed your hand - Nobody Else Will Be There, The National

Oh Reverend please, can I chew your ear? I’ve become what I most fear. And I know there’s no such thing as ghosts, but I have seen the demon host - Demon Host, Timber Timbre

I wanna hold the hand inside you, I wanna take the breath that’s true - Fade Into You, Mazzy Star

You're all I need, and maybe some faith would do me good, maybe some faith would do me good – On the Bound, Fiona Apple

Mother I lost it all, the fear of the Lord I was given - Upward Over the Mountain, Iron and Wine

And at once I knew, I was not magnificent - Holocene, Bon Iver

Idealism sits in prison; chivalry fell on his sword. Innocence died screaming, honey ask me, I should know. I slithered here from Eden, just to sit outside your door – From Eden, Hozier

Words are futile devices – Futile Devices, Sufjan Stevens

You are the sun, and moon and stars are you, and I could never run away from you. You try at working out chaotic things, and why should I believe myself, not you? It's like the world is gonna end so soon. And why should I believe myself? - You, Radiohead

Heavens when you looked at me, your eyes were like machinery, your hands were making artefacts in the corner of my mind - Mary, Big Thief

She is benediction - Dancing Barefoot, Patti Smith

Hunger hurts but starving works when it costs too much to love – Paper Bag, Fiona Apple

Everything I love is on the table, everything I love is out to sea – Don’t Swallow the Cap, the National

On the top of your head there is a poem, the thought in my head oh God only knows, as everything else will disappoint you - City of Roses, Sufjan Stevens

On the surface, simplicity, but the darkest pit in me, is pagan poetry - Pagan Poetry, Bjork

Broken hymen of Your Highness, I'm left black. Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back - Heart-Shaped Box, Nirvana

It had a nice ring to it, when the old opry house rang, so, with a solemn auld lang syne, sealed, delivered, I sang. - Good Intentions Paving Co., Joanna Newsom

We do our best vampire routines as we suck the dying hours dry. The night is lovely as a rose. If i see sunlight hit you I am sure that we’ll both decompose - Alpha Rats Nest, The Mountain Goats

And the cellar door is an open throat - The House That Dripped Blood, The Mountain Goats

I thrive best hermit style, with a beard and a pipe and a parrot on each side, but now I can’t do this without you - Unison, Bjork

She holds a smile like someone would hold a crying child - Cath, Death Cab For Cutie

On the sheet I see your horizon, all of me pressed onto you. But in this light, you look like Poseidon, I'm just a ghost you walk right through - All of Me Wants All of You - Sufjan Stevens

You couldn’t have stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody who loved you more. So I will wait for the next time you want me, like a dog with a bird at your door - Moon Song, Phoebe Bridgers

There was something I was trying to say but I choked on it and now it’s getting kind of late – Mene, Brand New

Just cause you feel it, doesn’t mean it’s there – There, There, Radiohead

I need my golden crown of sorrow, my bloody sword to swing, my empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology – King, Florence & the Machine

One day, I am going to grow wings, a chemical reaction, hysterical and useless. - Let Down, Radiohead

You don’t have to speak. I feel emotional landscapes, they puzzle me, the riddle gets solved, and you push me up to a state of emergency, how beautiful to be. State of emergency, is where I want to be – Joga, Bjork

Written on the wall, letters plain and tall, this is my own fault – Mene, Brand New

Love will save you from misery, then tie you to the bloody post – Love Will Save You, Swans

Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon - Cowboy Like Me. Taylor Swift

Glory to the night that shows me what I am. I’m not happy or sad, just up or down, and always bad…somebody please tell me no – Thursday Girl, Mitski

I don’t know how but I’m taller, it must be something in the water. Everything’s growing in our garden, you don’t have to know that it’s haunted – Garden Song, Phoebe Bridgers

You had questions only a masochist would ask, written all over your big brown eyes – Million, The Mountain Goats

Silhouette of the cedar, what is that song you sing for the dead? ... I forgive you mother, I can hear you, and I long to be near you, but every road leads to an end– Death with Dignity, Sufjan Stevens

So, I try to say goodbye, my friend, I’d like to leave you with something warm. But I never have been a calm blue sea, I have always been a storm – Storms, Fleetwood Mac

I can’t touch you, I wouldn’t if I could. I can’t love you like you want me to – Bite the Hand, Boygenius

I would beg to disagree, but begging disagrees with me – Under the Table, Fiona Apple

No thing I do don't do no thing but bring me more to do. It's true, I do imbue my blue unto myself, I make it bitter – On The Bound, Fiona Apple

And soon everybody will ask what became of you, cause your heart was dying fast and you didn’t know what to do - Cath, Death Cab For Cutie

And I know none of this'll matter in the long run, but I know a sound is still a sound around no-one - I Want You to Love Me, Fiona Apple

I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted, oh but I’m singing like a bird ‘bout it now. - Shrike, Hozier

#song prompts #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fics #fics #fic request #aemond fics

18 notes · View notes

jplupine · 9 months

Text

In the Wolf's Den: Chapter 6

Pairing: The Weeping Monk x Devin [Nonbinary Fey OC] Word Count: ~3.7k WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Exophilia, Feral Behavior, Angst, Religious Trauma, Little Spot of Fluff, Brief Nudity

Summary: A trip to the Wolf Folk village before a hawk brings a letter.

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 6:

After Squirrel had returned with his new stick, Lancelot went straight to brushing down Goliath. He didn't look at anyone but at least acknowledged the boy and told him they would resume training once Goliath had been seen to. Squirrel didn't seem to pick up on the shift of Lancelot's behavior at all.

When the man had finally stopped crying, he seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in and couldn't look me in the eye anymore. If I could guess at anything, I would assume Lancelot was embarrassed by his actions.

Squirrel, on the other hand, was excited to hear I would be taking him to the Wolf village tomorrow. He would have to bathe and put on a clean set of clothes first, of course. If anyone caught my scent on him, it would give me away no matter how I disguised myself.

Once I'd told him some more about the village, he'd run off back outside since Lancelot had finished brushing Goliath. I listened from inside the cave as the man instructed the boy while my mind wandered.

All he had ended up confessing to me wasn't something I could easily brush off. He had laid bare his truth and his confliction. I didn't even know how to feel about being told I, in many ways, showed more of his God's grace than his own Father Carden.

Of course, I wasn't showing his God's grace- I did not believe nor ascribe to that religion. However, Lancelot still did, and that was what he felt to be true. And there was some humor to be found in it all as well. I'd been concerned I was too harsh on him, that my crueler choice words would drive him right back to the church, only to learn the opposite to be true.

That I was leading him out of the darkness.

I also now understood his reactions to the story of the first Wolf Folk. The she-wolf of that story had her prayers answered and found a new home while Lancelot's prayers were met with silence and his own fear of damnation.

Rising from the water, I took a breath while pushing my hair out of my face. Birds flew by overhead as there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Hearing the woods and the running water of the river was rather calming.

Standing there in the river that came up to my hips, I lazily ran my fingers through the cool water. The sun felt wonderful on my skin since it wasn't too hot out. The chill of winter would be coming around the corner, so it was best to relish in this weather while it still lasted.

My ears flicked back, catching the sound of foliage rustling. The movement was quiet, so I doubted it was a human with how loud they could be in the woods. Looking over my shoulder to check, I stretched out my claws just in case.

"I brought the change of clothes you asked for. I cannot fathom how you plan to make them fit...." Lancelot trailed off as he stopped in his tracks. He carried a pile of folded clothes with him that he was now gripping so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

I rose a brow since he'd gone silent, and Lancelot quickly turned his face toward the sky as his face bloomed bright red.

"I didn't know you were already in the river, I swear." He said rather quickly before spinning on his heel to turn his back on me.

"You have seen me naked before, Lancelot. There is no need to be bashful now." I chuckled while seeing how red his ears were getting.

"As I have told you many times, I was not myself then. I-It is sinful to-"

"Not a woman, remember?"

"It doesn't matter. One is not supposed to look upon the nude form of another."

"Unless they are married."

"Yes. Wait, how do you know that?" His head slightly turned, but he kept facing the woods.

"Wisdom of the Ravens, remember?"

"I remember."

"So you seriously cannot look at me?" I crossed my arms while tilting my head. "Even though you have been balls deep inside of me many times before?"

"Y-Yes." Lancelot dropped his gaze to the ground as he shifted his weight on his feet. "That is also....very sinful." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Even more sinful, actually." He added, speaking barely over a whisper.

With his head tilted down, I could see how the back of his neck flushed. The man's face had to be as red as a ripe tomato by now. This was so different from before, and I couldn't help but find it amusing.

"Then how do you expect to give me those clothes if you cannot even look at me?"

"Turn around."

"Turn around?"

"With your back to me. I will set them down near yours."

"All right, then." I said but didn't move an inch. I wanted to see how he was going to do this without looking at me since my clothes were piled on the edge of the river right in front of me.

"Have you turned?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just set the clothes down." Lancelot hesitated even after I gave him the go-ahead. When he turned, his eyes landed right on me- my chest specifically.

"Jesus Christ-!" He hissed as he jerked his head back in the direction of the woods. I burst into laughter, finding his reaction utterly ridiculous. I understood my heat made him throw away chastity and modesty, but I didn't have anything he hadn't already seen. "This is not funny."

"Oh, but it is. You have seen my body both in bed and in your head, but now you avert your gaze like a blushing maiden?"

"I was raised devout Christian. Nudity is not....commonplace. I also see you lack modesty whether in heat or not."

"Oh, you see, huh?" I laughed, watching his shoulders rise.

"You know what I mean, Devin." My ears twitched as my smile fell. Even after calling him Lancelot for this long, he had never said my name in turn.

Until now.

A tingle went up my spine as I found myself quite liking how his voice said my name. Swallowing, I briefly glanced away before regaining my composure.

"Fine. I won't do it again." I said before lowering myself into the water up to my chin. "Okay, I promise you can turn around now without seeing me naked." Lancelot was even more reluctant to turn now, but he eventually did, and my mouth went under the water.

He really was as red as a tomato. He was also quick to set the clothes down before rushing off back into the woods. Standing back up once he was no longer in view, I grabbed the soap among my belongings.

Once I was done bathing in the river, I wrung out as much water as possible from my hair and fur. Picking up Lancelot's shirt first, I sniffed at it to make sure my own scent wasn't on it. However, his strongly was. How was it he could smell like this?

Bringing the garment closer to my face, I deeply inhaled through my nose. I was picking up so many things on the shirt, most of which were just him. It was such a nice scent, though, and my tail began to wag.

I didn't care this time- It wasn't as if anyone could see it.

My ears twitched again before swiveling, hearing incoherent whispers in the woods around me. Lowering the shirt, I quickly looked around as I was on high alert. However, when I saw nothing, I realized the whispers came from the Hidden.

It wasn't often that I heard them. But when I did, it seemed to be at the most random of times. Now included.

Sighing through my nose, I pulled the shirt over my head before grabbing the trousers. Lancelot had thankfully brought a belt as well that I used to keep the pants on my hips. The clothes were indeed too big for me, but simply rolling up the pant legs fixed the length issue.

Draping the cloak over my shoulders, I made sure to tie it on tight. I didn't want it to fall off at the worst possible moment. I left my hair down to air dry as I carefully gathered up my things and carried them at arm's length back to the cave.

Lancelot wasn't there when I returned, and I didn't pay it much mind given what happened earlier. After dropping my clothes on my bed, Squirrel and I left to have time to get to the village and back before nightfall.

"Do we really have to leave after we get the sword?" Squirrel asked as we were riding together on Goliath.

"I do plan to get some supplies and food. There's a vendor here that sells the best roasted elk I have ever had." I replied while seeing the village up ahead.

"How do you even have money if you don't work?"

"I work." My brows furrowed as I looked at Squirrel. "I've been working this entire time."

"How? You go nowhere, and no one comes to your cave."

"Well, my pelts sell mainly in the fall and winter. I provide my own food most of the year to save money, and in the summer and spring, I sell herbs from the woods. Those bundles you saw me prepping to dry- did you think I was keeping all of them?"

"You have a lot of bottles with dried plants in them. How was I supposed to know?" Squirrel's response made me chuckle. Dismounting from Goliath, I then held up my hand to help the boy down.

He took my hand before hopping off of the large horse to the ground. Grabbing Goliath's reins, we then walked into the village together. My hood was low to cover my face, and being covered in Lancelot's scent seemed to be working so far.

The village was alive with chatter and laughter. Children ran around, chasing each other or their toys. Squirrel was lit up with interest as his eyes took in everything around him.

The last time he had been anywhere full of people like this was Gramaire. However, Gramaire was very different from a Wolf Folk village.

"Stay out of trouble, and you can explore." I turned Squirrel around to make him face me as I leaned down. Pulling a few coins from my pocket, I held them out for him to take. "No mischief, you hear?"

"I hear." He grinned while taking the coins.

"Either wait here when you are done, or I will find you when I am."

"Okay." Squirrel nodded, and I ruffled his hair before he ran off. I didn't have to worry about his safety- he was a Sky Folk boy, and this was a village of wolves. He stuck out in the crowd, and children here were raised with the aid of the community, meaning no matter where he went in the village, someone would have an eye or ear out for him.

Not to mention if he got into trouble, he was scrappy and loud. It would be impossible for no one to notice.

Leading Goliath further into the village, I noticed there were a handful of other Fey present as well. From where I stood, I could see a few Snake Clan and a couple of Tusks. Had some refugees found their way here?

Walking on, I soon found myself standing outside a familiar home. Taking in a deep breath, I pondered a little longer on whether or not I should turn back now. I already came this far, though.

Tying Goliath's reins to a post, I pat the horse's neck.

"Wish me luck, would ya?" I whispered. As if understanding, he nickered. "Thanks." I chuckled before nervously straightening out the oversized shirt as I walked toward the front door.

Knocking, I waited for the door to open. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I hadn't seen my family in a few years and wasn't sure how much had changed or if anything had at all.

"Hello?" My mother's face was the first one I saw. She glanced at the horse from over my shoulder before looking at me with confusion. "Can I help you?"

"Can I come in first?" I asked in a soft tone while raising my hood to where only she could see my face. She took in a sharp breath before grabbing me by the shirt and yanking me inside. The door slammed shut, and I had to catch my balance to keep from falling on my face. "Wanna yank a little harder next time, Ma?"

"What in the world are you doing here, Devin? You know you-"

"Relax. Not even you recognized me."

"Because you smell like a-" This time she cut herself off as her burnt orange eyes narrowed at me. She stepped closer, sniffing at me while I pushed the hood off of my head. "You smell like a man and definitely not even a wolf." Her tone sharpened. "Who is it this time, huh?"

"You make it sound like I'm promiscuous. And it is not what you think. This is just a disguise."

"From?"

"A friend." I replied while glancing around. There were some new things like a replaced table and blooming herbs hanging from the ceiling. "Oh, you managed to find some of these this late in the season? And this big?" Delicately touching the pale blue flowers surrounded by greenery, I could feel my mother's gaze cutting through me. "What?"

"Devin, I have missed you so, but you know it is not safe for you to come here."

"My family is worth the risk. Where's Pa?"

"He should be back any minute."

"Okay, I get your concern, but why am I getting such attitude?" I gestured at my mother while looking at her expression and body language.

"Because you never wrote."

"I wasn't sure any of you would want me to." I admitted. "After everything happened, I had no clue where I stood."

"Oh, Devin." Ma heavily sighed before she pulled me into a warm hug. "You are still a part of this family."

"Even after the shame I brought? I remember how Pa nearly burst a vein."

"Yes, even after." Ma pulled away and held me at arm's length. "Your sister is pregnant, by the way."

"Cara? Pregnant? Shit, since when?" I asked as my eyebrows rose high on my forehead.

"We found out last month. She'll be due next summer." Ma chuckled.

"Is she joined too?"

"Two years ago."

"Two years?" I had to sit down as I rubbed my forehead. "Fuck. What about Darragh? Ciaran?"

"Darragh is to be joined this winter, and Ciaran is....Ciaran." Ma softly laughed while taking a seat next to me at the table. "That boy may never settle down."

"It has only been a few years." I mumbled.

"A lot can happen in that time, Devin. What of you? Joined? Expecting? Planning?"

"Nothing of the sort." I waved my hand as my brows furrowed.

"Still courting, then?" Ma quirked up a brow at me as she glanced down at my clothes again.

"I told you, these are just from a friend for a disguise. I swear I am not with anyone."

"At least half my children are growing to be fine adults. I would have preferred better odds."

"Oh, come off it. I fare well for myself."

"You smell like a man you swear is not your partner, who is clearly Fey, but I cannot even tell what kind, and you even have the scent of a Sky Folk on you."

"The two are temporarily in my care. The Sky Folk is a boy with the foulest mouth I have encountered a child having."

"Fouler than you?" Ma joked, and we both laughed. "So what is it you do now? Are you a healer?"

"Not really. I have had to use your teachings, though. I still deal in pelts and sell herbs."

"Then why are the two you insist on being vague about in your care?"

"I agreed to provide them shelter until they can regroup with their people."

"The paladins?" Ma gave a knowing look, and I nodded. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Horrid, those men are. We have been lucky thus far."

"Do you not worry how long that will last?"

"It is ever-present in our minds. Nearly everyone in the village has made plans for a quick escape shall the need ever arise." Ma reached across the table to take my hand in hers. "I know you want to ask."

"....What of Odhran and Liam?"

"Odhran is still alone." Ma's tone was somber. "His broken heart has taken some time in healing."

"I did not intend to hurt him so."

"I know." Ma nodded while rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. "Liam.... Well," She sighed. "he is joined and has a litter." I ran a hand through my hair while sighing.

"I really was a fool."

"You cannot blame yourself, child. You do not choose who you love."

"Yeah, but clearly Odhran would have been the wiser choice. At least he loved me so deeply to still be heartbroken after all this time. And I would still be with my family."

"The past has happened. You were young and following your heart."

"Of which I will never do again."

"Try not to speak too soon." Ma gently squeezed my hand. "The heart can lead to wonderful things."

"Aileen? Whose horse is that?" Pa's voice called out as the front door opened. He was still looking at Goliath as he stepped inside. When he turned, I saw the confused look on his face before it quickly turned to shock at seeing me.

"Hi, Pa." And the door slammed shut.

Storing the bought supplies into Goliath's saddlebags, I made sure nothing was going to fall out. I was glad to have gotten time with my parents even if I missed seeing my siblings. However, Ma and Pa had told me stories well enough about them to help me catch up on what I had missed.

And now that I had finished getting what I needed, I had to go find Squirrel. Calmly walking with the horse, I didn't want to draw attention to myself nor come off as suspicious. Acting as if I were simply passing through as some others were was enough to keep my identity hidden.

Lancelot's scent threw other people off so much that they would never guess it was me under the hood. I had known these vendors, grown up with them and around them, but no one could tell who I was. I wasn't too surprised by that since not even my own mother had been able to recognize me.

I eventually found Squirrel sword fighting with another boy around his age. He looked as if he was having fun and winning while the Wolf Boy was asking where he learned to fight as he did.

"Squirrel!" I called out to get his attention. "It's time to go." He nodded to me before turning back to the kids he was with to say his goodbyes. They were all waving and bidding him farewell as he ran my way. "Have fun?"

"Yeah." He had such a bright smile. Storing his wooden sword away in his belt, Squirrel then looked up at me with his hands on his hips. "Now, where is this roasted elk you mentioned before?"

"Work up an appetite training?" I softly laughed while leading the way to where I remember the vendor being.

"Wolf kids are a lot faster than I thought they would be."

"Make any friends?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe is not a no."

"We are getting some for Lancelot, too, right?"

"Of course. Don't want him to get moody as he does for being left out." I joked.

"....Either you are really good at hiding how you feel, or you really don't want to stab him anymore." Squirrel's words made me look at him with a twisted expression.

"What?"

"Lancelot. You haven't glared at him in a while now. Also, you care about how he feels."

"I do not-"

"'Don't want him to get moody as he does'." Squirrel mocked me while waving his hand. Rolling my eyes, I looked ahead of us as I could smell cooking meat.

"Why do you want me to like him so much?"

"So that I'm not the only one who does. He could use more people that like him." He answered. "Nimue said that even if you are lost, so long as you have people that care about you, you will find your way home."

"Those are some wise words."

"Mm-hm." Squirrel hummed. Reaching the roasted elk vendor, I bought three portions before leaving the village and heading back home.

Riding in quiet, I contemplated what Squirrel had said. He'd clearly grown more attached to Lancelot. However, I could understand why. Beneath the Weeping Monk was a man worth redeeming. It was a source of my own confliction how Lancelot could be so kind and concerned and yet have the blood of only gods know how many Fey on his hands.

My ears twitched when I heard the call of a hawk. Looking toward the sky, I had to quickly raise my arm when a bird flew down right at us. The hawk landed on my arm as Squirrel twisted in his seat to look.

"There's something tied to its leg." He stated before reaching up to untie what was no doubt a letter from the bird's leg. As soon as he had it in his hands, the bird flew off. "It's from Arthur."

"And?" I rose a brow to encourage him to say more about what he was reading.

"And I hope you have money for a horse."

"....What?"

#In the Wolf's Den #cursed #cursed 2020 #the weeping monk #cursed weeping monk #lancelot #cursed lancelot #oc x canon #orange #minors dni #Wolf does fanfic

3 notes · View notes