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blackevermore · 3 years

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x Secrets of The Lake: The Company of Misery and Pain

{ Chapter 9 }

Summary: Vladimir Masters’ family tree has always been tainted by secrets swept under the rug. From generation to generation there have been countless reasons the Masters’ family had seemed to keep private from the public. Even to this day, Vladimir was no exception. But what was one to do when a restless spirit from the settlement years finally breaks free from restraints and demands you answer for your ancestor’s crimes? Vladimir doesn’t know. However, Clockworks does.

Notes: We just having fun, rewriting some of the canon, new adventure new characters. I will apologize now for any grammar, spelling, weird sentence structuring in advance. My brain writes faster than my fingers and even when I go back through to reread it I still miss things. Sorry about that!

Word Count: 3725

P.s: I think it's best if I tell you now the flashbacks are out of order I should have said that earlier but never late than never for a long story owob

Vlad laid across the faint couch trying to recall all that had happened, the more he put everything in order the more he felt his brain about to melt. Danny took it upon himself to watch over Tayonna who was now being held captive in the guest room that had now been converted to a giant ghost trap. Vlad would have thrown her in the basement had it not been a complete mess. Honestly, he would have done a lot more had it not been for Danny playing hero, or Dani needing to be comforted.

This day had gone to complete shit and Vlad knew as soon as he stepped back into his workspace there would be questions. And for every question would be a white lie that covered up the whole water pipe story. Grumbling a butter biscuit or a fudge muffin, Vlad rolled his head to the side and stared mindlessly into the fireplace in front of him. He could still taste the plasma in the back of his throat even though the endless teeth brushing and mouthwash. He even tried to drown it down with a drink but all that did was make it worse. That also upset his stomach even more and he made way towards the nearest bathroom to another unpleasant round.

The mist had scared him. Vlad had never seen anything like it on Earth nor in the Ghost Zone. The way it slid off his body like heavy smoke felt unbelievably weird and made Vlad shiver. It felt almost like an essence of himself was pulling from his body and forming into a very upset vision. Vlad tried his best not to walk past mirrors when he wasn’t in a good mood. Anger was a face he had grown used to but sadness and misery were faint expressions he buried deep inside. The few times he couldn’t help but look he could only focus on how dark his blue eyes got and the way his face grew longer than it was. It was haunting to see or feel complete utter sadness, and that’s exactly what the mist looked like. ‘Like the day you got their wedding invitation’.

“She’s awake!” Dani shot through the door flying above Vlad, she still looked as if she would rather be somewhere else but the hero inside her pushed her to keep helping. Vlad secretly praised her as he slowly sat up and clenched his chest again. The shocks were long gone but he could still feel a sudden zap here and there, along with the sudden tighten and release around his human heart. He strongly hoped he would never have to do that again. It was already an awkward feeling shoving his own hand through his chest. Dani flew down to take his arm to help him up but Vlad held up a hand to stop her as he made it to his feet. He took a deep breath and took a small step, the shock made his energy a bit slow to regenerate, when he found a steady pace he followed Dani out the room and towards the bedroom hallways.

Vlad could call himself paranoid the way he boobytrapped his homes. He himself was a ghost but yet every door was equipped with anti-ghost bars that were turned on by command that could cut off any exit. The statues that decorated the walkways all had blasters installed in either the eyes or the base. Once he and Danny found their common ground he made sure to update the system so Danny wouldn’t be a target anymore.

But Vlad did enjoy that first week of Danny showing up and having to dance like a monkey when the signals were tripped. When he made it to the bedroom/cell he gave the system command to dismiss the bars and walked inside. Danny sat on the floor closer to the door watching Tayonna who now sat up in the corner of the bed against the wall. Her head hung low and she tried to curl into herself. However, when Vlad walked into the room her head shot up and she stared at him with pure hatred. Dani stayed outside and a few feet away from the door. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Tayonna.

Vlad only rolled his eyes and huffed before crossing his arms behind his back and clearing his throat to Danny.

“Any progress?” Vlad asked, never breaking eye contact with Tayonna. If she wished to insert her dominance in his home, he would have to show her who was really in charge.

“I wish, she just woke up and backed into the corner. But she is messing with my head a bit. I almost had a breakdown about a cookie I didn’t eat and threw away.” Danny got to his feet and stretched, hearing all of his bones crack at once. With a sudden heavy sigh, he turned to Vlad and tapped his foot. The older halfa eyed him confused and mouthed a ‘what is it?’. Danny’s face twisted to an annoyed eye roll before he caught himself and backed away a bit.

“Whoa, yeah, see she’s doing it again, I almost punched the hell out of you for breathing the wrong way.” Danny held his head and turned back towards Tayonna. The ghost was still shooting daggers at Vlad and even breathing heavily as if she was about to attack him. “Well if she can’t get to you she sure was gonna use me. Dude, you gotta fix whatever this is.”

“I’m well aware of that, Daniel, It’s not as if I asked to be in this situation in the first place.” Vlad hissed. The constant reminder that he had to fix this was starting to run him up a wall. Vlad took a moment to straighten himself out and breathe before he walked closer to Tayonna. The girl didn’t flinch or move from her spot as Vlad now stood at the edge of the large bed. He kept his hands behind his back to keep it cool and unbothered. Vlad knew he had authoritative energy that could make anyone cowardly at his feet. Tayonna would surely give in eventually and tuck her tail between her legs.

“Now, Miss Tayonna, won't you tell us all why you felt it was utterly necessary to invite yourself into my home and cause so much trouble?” Vlad tried to not sound pissed off, but every word that left his lips he threw like acid. Tayonna’s eyes grew wide then narrowed like a snake as she stayed quiet and continued their staring contest. “Or more importantly, how did you change from your ghost form to a human form.” Vlad pointed out, which seemed to catch Tayonna’s attention before she looked back towards him then away. Vlad huffed angrily and brought his arms forward to cross them.

“You think she’s one of us?” Danny called out. “I mean it would be very rare if she was. What were your ancestors getting up to?” Danny pushed off the wall he was leaning against and came up beside Vlad, he stayed somewhat behind the man hesitantly.

“I don’t believe halfas would exist during her time, she is very much a ghost that has the ability to mimic powers it seems. I figured she must have attached herself to my core and in turn, she mimics my energy. The reason why she could control my electric power so easily.” Vlad hummed, a mimicking ghost was a rather dangerous type especially if they had to latch on to you. For a moment Vlad felt his annoyance and frustration slip away as the science side of him became interested in what more Tayonna could do. With the cuffs still on her along with the anti-ghost rope she was pretty much defenseless to any poking and probing Vlad wanted to do. Those little activities would have to wait, a certain Phantom wouldn’t be too happy to know Vlad was back on his bullshit. Nor would the older halfa wish to explain to the youngest who would definitely tell the other.

“So if she’s not going to talk to either of us, what do we do?” Danny finally asked the big question Vlad had been avoiding. He had thought of just throwing her back into the Ghost Zone and making sure that secret space she came from she couldn’t get out of. Maybe even have Skulker keep an eye on her every so often to make sure she wouldn’t start screaming again or getting out. Or maybe Vlad could keep her here but somehow figure out a way to get rid of her himself. Clockwork did tell him to handle the situation. Vlad was knocked from his thoughts by the sound of paper hitting the ground. Both Danny and Vlad heard it and looked down towards their feet. A small sheet of paper laid at Vlad’s and he reached down to pick it up. He should have known who it was from before he flipped it over.

“Pieces in a puzzle with only two corners will always be bound together” - CW

“What does that mean?” Danny hovered over Vlad's shoulder causing the man to jump away from the sudden scare. Danny cracked a smile at how easy it was to make the man jump then pointed back towards the note.

Vlad rolled the card in his fingers a bit and sighed, “Clockwork sure likes his sayings. You know that more than I, I’m just as confused.” Vlad lazily handed Danny the card and told him to keep it. Vlad was once again looking towards Tayonna to make sure she hadn’t tried anything. She still huddled up in the corner but now she looked so sad, blinking slowly and staring down as if it was a void. Vlad felt his heart slow and grow heavy as he watched her.

There it was again, that feeling of wanting to reach out and hold her, and there it went as Vlad mentally screamed at himself to get it together. She was just using her emotional powers somehow despite having the handcuffs still on. Yet Vlad couldn’t pull himself away from her and whatever she was doing. Then Vlad saw it from the corner of his eye, the mist started to rise off his skin and droop to the floor before inching closer to the bed. Danny saw it too but didn’t say anything, all he could do was watch alongside Vlad as the mist formed an outstretched hand and reached out to Tayonna. When the hand touched her she pulled away and tried to fight it off.

“Leave me alone, you’ve already done enough, stop touching me.” Tayonna had finally spoken and she sounded so broken. Vlad felt a sting in his heart and unknowingly he wished for the hand to go away. The hand tried to touch her again but before it could it faded away with the rest of the mist.

“Um…?” Danny started and Vlad finally pulled himself away from looking at the ghost and turned away towards the door.

“I don’t know,” Vlad couldn’t even fake a sense of understanding as he felt his heartache and his mind become foggy with a sudden sadness. He quickly covered his face when he felt tears peak in the corners of his ears. He quickly wiped them away before Danny could ask what was going on and he straightened himself up. “I think it’s best if I keep her here for the night. It’s late and the both of you have school tomorrow.” Vlad looked at Danny then at the door as he saw Dani slowly poking her head in. He hoped she didn’t see the way he wiped his face, that would be embarrassing. “Daniel, why won't you stay the night and in the morning I’ll have Jackson come and drive both of you to school.” Danny looked back towards Tayonna and felt a sudden rush of sadness. He shivered and threw up his hands to protest.

“Thanks but I would rather not be around someone who's gonna make me have a mental breakdown at 2 am. I can do that in my own time with my special playlist. I’ll just fly home.” Danny turned ghost and started to hover off the ground. Vlad nodded and was ready to dismiss the boy till he remembered Dani at the door.

“You wouldn’t mind hosting Danielle until this is all over would you? I rather she is safe as well.” Vlad asked, feeling the father in him swell with the need to protect.

Danny turned around and cocked ahead to the side to see Dani but she ducked behind the frame, “You wanna go back home with me, short stack?”

“Don’t call me that!” Dani stuck her head through the wall and stuck her tongue out. She then took a moment to look around and take a glance at Tayonna before pulling her head back out. “Yeah, that would be nice.” Dani’s voice was low with anxiousness. Vlad let out a heavy sigh and nodded for Danny to go help Dani and hurry home. It would be best if he was alone with this problem. That was enough people in one night to be in danger.

When the kids were gone Vlad gently waved them away before closing the door and floating back up to the room Tayonna was in. He stood outside the anti-ghost bars peering in as Tayonna now laid on the bed. ‘What exactly is it that you want, Miss Tayonna?’ he thought to himself as he backed away from the door and haunted away towards his own bedroom.

Vladan knew better than to snoop around the house like some paranoid townsmen. There was enough of that when his family travelled into the town square since they were German. It seemed like the English still had a stick up their ass when it came to others joining them. Everyone was an outsider in one way or another but yet found a way to put each other in a ranking system for security. Vladan grunted at his wandering thoughts as he walked around the cottage. Settling in a few days ago was easy but it was still beyond him why they had to be so far away. Could his father not settle closer to the others for a quicker journey? Vladan knew better than to question his father’s mind, Vladan had learned early every man has a secret that only gets revealed with due time. Luckily for him, Luther had no secrets Vladan hadn’t already heard, and vice versa.

Vladan wasn’t really a nature person as he was a man who sat by the fire and read. But something pulled him from his bed that morning and told him to go out and look around. His parents were gone and took the house servants and Luther was still sick in bed so Vladan took his chance. As he rounded the back of the house he heard someone praying. Praying? On a Tuesday? Vladan would have laughed, he wasn’t much of a religious man like everyone else, but the sheer thought of someone praying by his house nerved him. He slowed his pace and peeked around the edge of the wood and saw Tayonna. She kneeled to the ground in a patch of grass surrounded by cups and bowls. Vladan narrowed his eyes confused as to why she would be outside and what she was doing. He couldn’t help but watch her as she bowed a few times and mumbled incoherent words. This must have been a thing her people did before being brought over, that was the only thing he could think of. But as he watched her it seemed like things only got weirder.

Tayonna stopped praying and frantically looked around herself for something. She then snapped her fingers and a basket that was placed behind her snapped open and a jar hovered out and to her hands. She then swirled her finger in the air and drops from the freshly rained grass rose to the air and formed balls. She waved for the biggest ball to fall into the bowl and she began to pour other things from the cups into the bowl. When she was finished mixing everything she placed the bowl in front of her and bowed face down into the grass. He could hear her mumbling again and then the bowl began to glow. Vladan felt his body shake in fear but also pure curiosity. He knew what he was seeing, the men at his university spoke of them like fairy tales, he even spoke of them like fairy tales. Tayonna was a witch. He hadn’t noticed he had walked out from his hiding place and walked closer to the girl until he heard her scream. Tayonna fell to her butt and tried to put space between them. She begged him not to hurt her and that’s when Vladan snapped fully out of his trance.

“I’m not going to hurt you, woman!” Vladan growled, holding out his hands to calm her so she didn’t wake Luther. Tayonna finally made it to her feet and gathered her dress, she looked between Vladan and the forest that stretched on behind them. Vladan looked then shook his head. “Don’t you dare!” He lunged and quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her against his body to hold her down. Tayonna was about to let out a scream which wouldn’t do any of them any good so he quickly covered her mouth. They stood there struggling with each other until Vladan brought them both to their knees.

“I’m not going to hurt you unless you give me a reason to. I will remove my hand and you will answer every question I have. Do you understand?” Vladan couldn’t explain why he was giving this servant a chance to explain herself. But he felt he needed to. Tayonna was still shaking but she calmed down just enough to shake her head slowly. Vladan removed his hand from her mouth and spun her around to face him, he never removed his hands from her arms just in case. “You are a witch and there is no denying it. Are you cursing my family, if you are I will have you dealt with.”

“I am not cursing your family, master Vladan, I was blessing the house.” Tayonna kept her head low and chose not to fight to get her arms away from him. She didn’t want to be hit or attacked.

“Blessing?” Vladan was taken back and it showed on his face.

“Everyone has been so kind to me and I do not wish to be sold again. I wish to stay until I die and can fly back home. Please do not sell me...I won't do it again...please do not sell me.” Tayonna began to cry and Vladan pulled away from her allowing her to fall to the ground. Witches are all bad, right? All the fairy tales he was told as a child and all the legends of witches only pointed to them being evil beings that caused only trouble.

“Witches are only bad things. Witches do not pray.” Vladan said abruptly and pointed at the girl. “You are trying to deceive me with lies. Are you the reason my brother has been sick the whole time? Do not lie to me!” Vladan hadn’t meant to raise his voice but it came out so fast.

“No! I have only done things to make him better. He was sicker before I arrived and he slowly gets better the more I help.” Tayonna was telling the truth, their mother had only good things to say when it came to Luther’s health recently. Luther had even offered to go to town for their father because he ‘felt up to it’. Vladan was still skeptical but he didn’t truly sense evil coming from the girl. And since he had seen how comfortable she made his brother feel he didn’t believe she would want to kill them so quickly.

“You’ve been helping him? How?” Vladan asked, kneeling slowly to face her. Tayonna raised her head and backed away before answering him.

“His baths, I put the herbs in his bath to calm his senses and ease the pain. It’s not much but it’s enough to help him through the day.”

“Will my brother become healthy again and be able to travel back home?” Vladan had to know, he had to know if his brother will grow old as he and live a fulfilled life. That was his best friend. “Please tell me.” Vladan reached out and took hold of Tayonna’s shoulders and shook her a bit and the girl stiffened before quickly shaking her head ‘no’.

“Your brother was not meant to live this life with you. He was only supposed to be here for a while until he left. I’ve tried to convince the earth to let him stay but it seems that even he is ready.” Tayonna lowered her head again and Vladan finally let go of her and rose to his feet. A heavy silence fell over them as Vladan tried to debunk her words. Surely his brother would live long, they had promised so long ago, but the feeling Vladan got from Tayonna that she only told him the truth. “He was so happy to have you here with him, Master Vladan. He speaks so highly of you, the best brother he could ever have, a best friend.” Tayonna slowly got up wiping her face with her hand and kept space between them, there was no telling how Vladan felt towards her after this. Vladan looked up towards the small window that led to Luther’s room then back down to the ground. He clenched his fist a couple of times trying to fight back tears and sighed.

“Do my parents know you are a witch?” Vladan asked, and Tayonna quickly shook her head ‘no’.

“Does he know you are a witch?” Vladan finally asked.

Tayonna looked up at him with her bright green eyes now tinted red from crying then towards the window, “He was the one that insisted on buying me.”

#📖Ghost Stories👻#vlad masters #Danny Phantom #dp fanfic #my writing #self ship community

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vividreminisce · 4 years

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I Want - Chapter 1

Here’s the first chapter to my completed series, “I Want”. This was something that I had the inspiration to write last year and it did not let me go. I read so many stories from incredible authors in ao3 and I had the itch to had my own story into the many that were written about a special historian/scholar/leader.

I mentioned it in one of my posts that this series is currently completed on ao3 and if you liked this, don’t hesitate to hop over there to give it a read! It would mean the world to me if some people read this on Tumblr too as I feel that it gives people the privacy to put their thoughts and opinions privately, as I read in a post just very recently.

I am very new to posting anything on Tumblr, so I deeply apologize for making mistakes, either with the story or on the tags; I’m total baby with this, but I will do my best to learn!

Without further ado, below are the tags and below that is the actual story! Please enjoy! :D

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Series Summary: When was the last time that anyone thought of their wants? What happens when they realize them after it was almost too late?

A different approach to when the Warrior of Darkness and Crystal Exarch return to the Crystarium after the battle with the Ascian. Emotions run high from several days of healing and only having themselves to sort them out.

Chapter Summary: The battle has been won and now it is time to go home. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, the Warrior of Darkness, A’viloh Entialpoh, and the Crystal Exarch prepare for the trek out back to the Crystarium. However, the Warrior asks something of the Exarch before they part, both unwilling to leave yet.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Ship: G’raha Tia/Crystal Exarch x OC

Rating: Mature, SFW,

Writing Tags: Some depictions of medical procedures (not medically trained, so some facts will be medically wrong, but it’s all for the story), Slow Burn, Angst, Hurt, Healing, Comfort, Acceptance, Fluff.

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“G’raha… Hold on just a bit more, please….”

“We have made it this far… It would be… A disgrace to my people should their leader fall now…”

“...A disgrace… That is certainly one way to put it… It is not. You have… gone through much these last few days. We all have.”

Whether G’raha wanted to acknowledge those words, or simply make it seem like he did not hear from how quietly the Warrior spoke them, the brunette did not know. The little that he did at the moment was enough to keep him moving. Just like how Ardbert asked of him not too long ago.

He had defeated Hades.

The Crystal Exarch had been saved.

All of the Scions were alive.

And they were all on their way out of The Tempest.

Something curious made the Warrior almost falter: when having spoken the Exarch’s true name, he had shuddered, also losing momentum. His stance had closed, almost as if wanting to shield himself. Once he had noticed how far he was from the Warrior, he did his best to catch up, a slight limp in his step. The Warrior kept his attention elsewhere but took note of that strange happening, instead raising his head to where the surface could be seen. They only needed to climb to the water's edge and then, only then, could they be swept by the waters of Kholusia. At least, that was the theory.

“Follow my lead, Ryne. A’viloh, I expect that you will be the last to climb?”

“Yes. I will give everyone a boost. Please, keep the Exarch close to you.”

“Of course.”

“I… apologize for the burden--”

“We will have none of that, Exarch. Alisaie and I will be right behind you. You have been away from the Tower for too long. We will give you as much healing as we are able, we only ask that you keep moving forward.”

“I trust that you will keep your eyes where your hands lay, Urianger.”

“Of course, my lady.”

A’viloh couldn’t help the slight smile from appearing on his face at hearing his friends--his family--conversing normally. As if they did not just fell one akin to a god, the very same Ascian that was hellbent on making the Eighth Umbral Calamity happen in the Source. He knew that it wasn’t just for show. He could feel their nervous and grateful energy at being able to see the sky another day. It followed Alphinaud when his trembling hands grasped the strong rocks above him, lead Alisaie when she would ask the Exarch if he needed more healing magic, and stayed with Y’shtola when she kept her eyes on the calm waters looming closer. Ryne would glance down occasionally to see that everyone was clinging on with all of their might, and also to guide the Exarch’s hands to the right places. Thancred did not look their way once.

Once the Warrior saw Urianger’s hand reach the surface, he began his climb. His eyes never left the tower of rock in front of him as his mind wandered for a brief moment.

‘I musnt forget to write all of this in my journal…’

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His wounds were enough to keep him awake as he swam to the surface. He found Alphinaud’s face firmly planted on the wet sands of the beach, Alisaie shaking him vigorously.

“Alphinaud! For God's sakes…”

Brown eyes turned, next seeing Thancred patting the Exarch’s back as the latter tried to catch his breath. Ryne was instantly at the leader’s side, hand on his bloodied forearm as she quietly spoke to him. Y’shtola was at a distance, doing her best to wring out the water from her dress as it clung to her. Milky eyes locked with A’viloh’s, and judging from her expression, they found her target. She returned to her task of unsticking her dress from her skin, a faint smile on her pale lips.

A’viloh nodded to each head and frowned when he saw that they were one short. Honey and caramel eyes surveyed the land in front of him until they found their goal and slowly swam to the dead-fished Astrologian.

“A’viloh! There you are! Oh, and Urianger too! Is… Is he breathing…?”

Once A’viloh had gotten the weary Elezen to his feet did the Oracle of Light get an answer.

“T… T’would seem that… those lessons… mayhap would have…”

“He will be fine, Ryne,” A’viloh reassured. “How do you all fare…?” he asked, keeping Urianger steady. Strong hands gently patted the Elezen’s back until his breathing had gone steady. Tired amber eyes gave their thanks to the dark knight, nodding in reassurance.

“Aside from my aching back and Ryne’s dress being in tatters, I do believe that we are quite alive.”

A’viloh turned to the twins, Alisaie finally getting her brother up. Alphinaud’s hands went to his face and started to rub all the sand off his red cheeks, a tear or two coming down from how irritated his eyes were. He could read the twin’s lips, the poor Leveilleur cursing the saltiness of the sea. Alisaie sighed deeply and gave her brother’s back one last smack before affirming that they were alright as well.

Thancred turned to regard the leader of the Crystarium. Anyone with eyes could see that he wasn’t doing well and needed to get back to the Tower. Immediately. Gray hues tried to search for the Allagan ones, but the Exarch wouldn’t lift his head. It wasn’t until Thancred stepped closer that he could hear the rasped breathing from the leader.

The gunbreaker took another step, voice hushed as he bent down slightly. “Exarch, we are a bit far from the nearest Amarokeeper and it would not do for you to collapse now. I must ask that you get on my back, I have the strength to carry you.”

Despite his hushed voice, The Warrior of Darkness overhead his words and turned his head, fully expecting the leader to take the offer. Instead, his expression grew dark when he saw the opposite. The Exarch’s normally relaxed posture was more reclusive, trembling hands slowly wrangling in what A’viloh could only guess was nervousness. Faded ears were pinned, and if a tail could be present, he imagined it would either be curled up around one of his injured legs or between them. He saw the Exarch take two deep breaths and finally lift his head.

Allagan red pierced into the Scion’s stern ones, making them go wide. “It is true that my distance from the Tower has depleted my strength. However, if I am to return to my people, it will be by my own two feet. I need only take a bit more time to arrive.”

Thancred strengthened up, and if it had been any other situation, he would have commented on the Exarch’s stubbornness. But now was not the time nor was he in the mood to argue.

The Warrior kept his smile away at the remnants of his old friend appearing, however, it would only get them so far, no pun intended. He stepped to the Exarch’s left, the leader acknowledging him only by turning slightly in his direction. Placing his hand on the leader’s forearm, he gazed in the direction of the nearest civilization, his plan coming forward.

“Thancred, would it be too much trouble for you and Ryne to head to Wright and procure us some Amaros?” He turned his head head at the sound of footsteps, calculating, but kind eyes focusing on one of the twins, giving the next part of his plan. “Alphinaud, how do you fare with going to the Crystarium with Alisaie?”

The young Elezen tilted his head to the side, the salt water finally leaving his ears after giving them a few pats. He tried to follow the Warrior’s train of thought, but couldn’t figure out where it was heading. “We can make it, but… may I ask why just us two?”

A misstep in his plan; of course it wasn’t just those two that should go. With an apologetic smile, he answered. “My apologies. Please, inform Lyna that we are on our way back home. She will feel more at ease in seeing you both first. Knowing the Captain, she will start to prepare for our recuperation And… I have a feeling that she has people waiting at all entrances for our return, so you will not have to travel far to find her. Y’shtola, Urianger, with that being said, if you are able, inform Chessamile of the number of beds that needs be prepared. Our wounds are severe, but not life threatening.”

Alisaie blinked at how easily the instructions came from her friend. How long did it take for him to think this all through? She couldn’t help herself in voicing those thoughts, adding a bit of her spark as she crossed her soaked arms. “We have barely left you alone, how have you come up with this plan? Now that your soul is complete again, did it change you to start barking orders?” She meant well, giving the Warrior an easy smile. Tired as he was, she shouldn’t have been too surprised; he always was one to put people first.

“Bark is one way of putting it, yes… Mayhaps your soul should break once or twice to bring you down to size…” came Y’shtola’s sly comment, thankfully only amused by her friend’s orders. Should she have been miffed by him… A’viloh couldn’t help himself in giving his fellow miqo’te a nervous smile, thinking it better to explain himself before others start bringing in their input. He looked up to the sky, his smile more natural on his lips. The sky… it might be a different sky from being in a different land, but it looked just like the one in the Source. Red hues mixing with now natural gold, the gentle blue fading away, the clouds forming shapes that he wished he could just lay down and pay attention to.

But not now. He was thinking too much now. There was too much to do, and he was thinking too quickly.

“Change me, no… But my thoughts are much clearer. That was quite a climb we had, and it made me think of what needs to be done for now” His eyes closed at that. Six beds, bandages and gauze, plenty of alcohol, healers to close the wounds once disinfected--

He turned his head towards Alisaie’s direction, mismatched brown opening to regard her with warmth. “It is much easier to think about my family and what they need. We are almost done, we need just one last push. We do not have much time to waste, and we must act quickly and efficiently. I will join the Exarch at his pace in going back to the Crystariym. Worry not, I will see that we make it back home in one piece.” A’viloh nodded, his eyes landing on each of his friends and taking into account their wounds.

Alphinaud still had salt in his eyes and his ears were a bit red from the water. His clothes were in tatters and he could see a deep bruise appearing on his side, along with some dry blood on his hands. Alisaie had a cut on her cheek and her hair was coming undone. The Warrior didn’t want to look too far down without her knowing, but he could see quite a bit of bruises on her legs as well as how she leaned her weight to her left leg. He already knew that Y’shtola’s back was bruised, and while she tried to hide her short breathing, he had a feeling that one of her ribs was broken. Urianger did his best to appear in his five senses, but from how unfocused his eyes were at times, he must have had a concussion. His clothes weren’t faring any better, cuts and bruises trailing down. Poor Ryne’s dress was indeed in tatters, her shoulders now bare and her boots only holding up by strap or two. Her hands trembled under the sleeves and she grasped them lightly at times. The ribbon in her hair was long gone, and he could see how she tried to bring her hair back now and then. Her white dress didn’t hide the bruises and cuts on her arms, and he dare not think of how her ankles were doing from how the mixture of blood and salt stayed on them. Thancred’s armor had thankfully protected him through most of the blows, just some scratches here and there, but A’viloh knew that he had a few broken bones. Was that a broken finger…?

And the Exarch… G’raha…

It wasn’t that A’viloh didn’t want to pay attention to him. Far from it. However, he knew that the moment he did, he would focus on nothing more. G’raha… his friend… He was here… He was safe. And he was right next to A’viloh. From the little he could see from the corner of his eye, making sure that he was looking straight to the Scions, G’raha was looking up at him. Making what kind of expression, he did not know. But Y’shtola could see it full well. A’viloh tried to read her expression, but she was as unreadable as her eyes. And she made sure to keep it that way. Her milky hues shifted to A’viloh’s, keeping her voice steady.

“Urianger and I will inform the chirurgeons on what needs be prepared. As you say, we must act quickly and effectively. I will assume that no one has any objections?”

Thancred was already on the move with Ryne right behind him, the young hume having given a bit of healing to the Exarch before patting his arm and walking quickly to catch up. The gunbreaker just wanted to scrub his damn armor clean, the tainted aether reminding him too much of his time with Lahabrea. He welcomed the young girl to his side, her pure aether keeping him focused.

Alphinaud was following the gunbreaker at his own pace, speaking quietly with Alisaie as to what should be said once they arrive. Much had happened, and much more had to be kept secret, else the city would be overcome with worry. He gave his arm to his sister, who swatted it away… until she realized that she would be walking too slowly for her own comfort, and promptly wrangled him back so that he would walk at her pace. And she made damn sure to place almost all of her weight on him, her twin smiling at her antics. Y’shtola had wrapped an arm around Urianger’s as well, carefully guiding him towards the right path to Wright. The astrologian was more than willing to follow in her footsteps, although surprised by her initiative. It was not too long ago that she regarded him with scorn from how much he kept hidden from her. He knew that it would take her some time to forgive, and knew even more that she would never forget.

“...Warrior.”

A’viloh jumped at being called; he could no longer keep his gaze forward. He had given enough reason for the Scions to leave them be. They knew that there was much that the Exarch and him needed to speak about, and while now was not the time, they could still be near each other. He looked down at the leader who had not left his side. The same one that still let his hand rest on the one arm that was still made of flesh. G’raha’s gazed up at A’viloh, searching for something that A’viloh did not know of. There was still so much that he didn’t know, and more that he could if he just really put his mind to it. But now was not the time. He wanted to--

“You referred… to the Crystarium as your home. Do you truly see it that way…?”

‘Is it our home…? It is the home to many… It is… my home at the moment…’ A’viloh thought. He focused on the hand that was on the Exarch’s arm, becoming aware of how little warmth it emanated. More than that, he could see goosebumps appearing. ‘He’s freezing… ‘

“...It is my home.” A’viloh finally answered. He gazed deeply into those Allagan eyes, searching just as much as G’raha did. The leader stayed silent for a few beats, his rasped breathing along with the gentle tide of the sea being the only noise. He seemed to have found his answer--or at least was content enough with what he saw--and smiled tiredly, speaking loud enough to be heard above the waves.

“...Full glad am I to hear that. Should the people of the Crystarium know, they will be filled with joy.”

A’viloh’s tore his eyes away, trying to keep them on the faraway village. There was so much to speak about, so much that they needed to get straightened out. So much that he wanted to say.

Once they were well, talking could happen. He put his other hand on G’raha’s crystal arm, almost pulling away from how faint the aether was. It was even colder, A’viloh frowning from the temperature.

“Full glad will your people be when they see you back” Gaze flicking to the faded ears of the leader, he questioned. “How would you like to see them?” As much as he expected to know the answer, he didn’t, nor did he want to assume.

G’raha’s eyes went wide at the question, realizing the situation. It was true that no one had seen him without his cowl, this being the first time in… well, ever. However, so much had happened, and so many questions would arise. Nerves began to come up, his ears flicking back as he gazed down at the Warrior’s boots.

A’viloh found his answer then. His lips pulled up into a half smile, looking over at his hand. The leader… he was incredibly expressive. The Warrior couldn’t believe how blind he has been for so long to not see how expressive he was. He felt the slight trembles of G’raha’s cold arms and gave them a light squeeze. G’raha instinctually looked up from the movement and found himself less than a fulm away from the Warrior. He saw how clear A’viloh’s eyes were, but more than that, how different they were. One darker than the other, both watched him with warmth and understanding.

So, so much warmth, and understanding. How he relished in the feeling after the last few days they all had.

“I am not sure how you lasted so long with your ears down. Pulling the cowl up, is that all I need to do?” came the question, both hands lightly grasping the base of said item.

It wasn’t just the distance from the Tower that made his blood run cold. His cowl. The item that he hid behind for so long and needed to go back into. It was his symbol, along with his staff. That was how everyone in the Crystarium, no, all of the First, saw him with. The Crystal Exarch was a mysterious man whom no one knew where he came from or how he looked like underneath the hood. He gave, he helped, and he lead. That was his role, and that was all he could ever be.

A’viloh’s brows furrowed at G’raha’s expression. He was shaking harder, eyes wide and… resigned. They were tired. So, so very tired.

…Ah, he knew that look too. He knew it very well.

At least, he thought he did. And he hoped that he was saying something close to what his friend wanted to hear. “...You do not need to keep it up. Not with me.” His hands left the hood, placing them on his friend’s shaking shoulders and giving them another squeeze. They came down slightly, having tensed up from the question.

Keeping his hood down with the Warrior. Keeping his hood down…

What a wonderful dream that would be.

A’viloh lightly placed a hand on G’raha’s head, gauging how familiar he could be with the leader. G’raha jumped but said nothing, looking up at him from beneath his lashed. This was good enough.

“You will keep your cowl down when you are ready. Do not worry about your people, they will wait as much as they need to to see their beacon’s face.” He slowly spread his hand wide open, thumb and pinky slightly touching the base of his ears. G’raha’s breath hitched at the intimate action, his ears plastering to his head and the Warrior took that chance to carefully pull the cowl over G’raha’s head. His hand swiftly pulled away, bringing down the hood a bit more before keeping his hands to himself. The magicks in the hood worked immediately, only the leader’s bottom half of his face being seen. Despite that, A’viloh could feel the shock emanating from G’raha, and how he wanted to say something, but the Warrior was already onto the next step.

With his back to the leader, he kneeled as he spoke quickly, getting the next words out before his own nerves got the better of him. They needed to get going, just now remembering the fatal wound that the leader had on his back. How he was still standing, A’viloh had no idea.

“There is much that needs to be discussed, and I would love nothing more than to speak with you in private, just as… we would in the past.” He faltered at the end, his heart tugging at the lie.

‘It isn’t entirely a lie.’ That faint, murky voice dwelling deep in his soul reassured. Ah, there was Esteem. He had been ominously quiet during his time in Amaurot, though his presence was clearly there when fighting Hades. A’viloh was starting to worry when he could barely feel him at the end, thinking that the immense light might have done something (he wouldn’t say extinguish, but when dealing with a deadly essence that was the exact opposite of them, he could never be too careful). The dull worry in his mind lessened, acknowledging his words as relief flooded in.

No, they did not speak as much when they were at the Source, far less from all of the light that the Warrior had for so long. But now that it was gone, they should be more active...right?

Continuing, the Warrior did not spare a glance at G’raha. That word, beacon… It was one that he had not heard in a long time. Did it have the same effect on his friend as how it did for him all those years ago? “And talk we will. Once we get back to the Crystarium, and get better, we will talk. You have more days to live and now, you can decide how you would like to live them. I know that you said that you can walk on your own but… please, let me help you. Here, and back home.” When he heard no response, he willed himself to turn his head. G’raha stood there, not having moved an inch. Face still obscured, his mouth was agape and looking much paler than he was minutes ago.

Were his lungs devoid of air because of physical reasons or from the Warrior’s words? Most likely both. Talk, back home, help… They could go back home and they could talk. They could be in the same room and talk, or just, just be. Oh how he wanted that. How he yearned for that.

Taking a shaky step forward, he hadn’t raised his foot high enough, gripping at air when he began to fall but the Warrior rose quickly to catch him. He landed steadily on A’viloh’s back, his arms being brought around the Warrior’s neck. As his legs were hooked, he involuntarily melted onto the Warrior’s strong back. Turning his face to the left, his hood kept jabbing into this skin, and the Warrior’s, but they made no mention. Instead, they kept going, the wind keeping him awake enough as the tiredness started to settle in.

A’viloh thanked his lucky stars at how well that went, knowing that if they had not intervened, they would have continued to talk and G’raha would have undoubtedly collapsed, making it much harder to transport them both. Once he settled into a steady rhythm, he spoke again, volume high enough to get his friend’s attention.

“When we get back, would you like for the people at the Spagyrics to treat you or myself?”

‘What of your wounds?’ he questioned in his mind. Opening his mouth, he tried to voice them, taking several tries to get the words out. So tired… so sore…

“I will be fine. I will treat myself as well, don’t worry.”

“I… I know you… Warrior… You will… put… me above yourself…” He rasped out, his throat starting to burn. The wound on his back ached, making him curl up slightly from the movement. A’viloh took note of that and did his best to control his walk, still moving quickly but with less movement. His calves were cramping up, his back shooting up with pain along with his arms but he kept going, bending down more to bring the leader higher on his back. He apologized from how much skin he was making G’raha show and continued on, his space slightly quicker.

“I promise to take care of myself too. If I am not well, how can I take care of you?” He could see Wright in the distance, though still far away. Just a bit more…

“So please… Let me heal you. If I mend you, it will be easier to keep your physical self hidden from your people, if that is your wish. Whatever I cannot mend, I will learn how to.” He didn’t hide his desperation as he kept his brisk walk. The aether in G’raha started to wane, panic consuming some of his thought process.

He would not let himself be denied. Not again. Silver flashed in his mind, the sunset behind him reminding him of that terrible day. Not again, not again, not again--

“Who am I to deny such a request… As if… as if I could deny…” G’raha’s speech slurred, unable to keep his eyes open. His consciousness was fading, the dead trees and land melting altogether.

A’viloh felt G’raha’s hands slip, now running to the Amaro porter where Thancred and Ryne were thankfully waiting for them, the rest already for the Crystarium. As carefully as he could, he settled his unconscious friend in the front and prayed with all his might that he wasn’t too late.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #my writing #vividreminisce writes #series #I Want #Crystal Exarch #G'raha Tia #Warrior of Darkness #Warrior of Light #WoL #WoD #Shadowbringers #A'viloh Entialpoh #A'viloh #OC #story

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am-i-invisible777 · 5 years

Text

Losing You - TRR

Warning: Mentions of death, homicide, and suicide

A little look into how TRR crew would react to your death. If this does well, I might do it with other books.

Liam

Liam remembers exactly where he was and what he was doing when it happened

He was in the nursery, rearranging the bookshelf you had so badly wanted to have next to the large rocking chair

Each book carefully picked by the two of you so your child would fall asleep to stories of adventure, fantasy, and happily ever after

Happily ever after, Liam soon realized, doesn't exist.

Bastien came bursting into the room, closely followed by two new members of security you received after firing Mara

Liam's smile slowly faded as he saw the look in Bastien's eyes. Emotions of sympathy, anger, pain, and sorrow all swirled around in his grey orbs

Liam was silent. Unable to speak. Unable to think. All five senses shut down as the news of your death rolled off his bodyguard's tongue like black tar

"...jet crashed into a small field...believe foul play was at hand...from Auvernal was spotted leaving the scene..."

Bits and pieces of the story came together as bits and pieces of the King's heart broke apart

"...I'm sorry...they didn't make it..."

They didn't make it. All at once, he lost his wife and unborn child.

She was going to be a girl.

They were going to name her Kenna.

He placed a shaky hand on the bookshelf, unable to keep himself steady or upright

Denial. It was all he could cling to. All that kept him together, preventing him from breaking down

Two hours later, Drake had found him curled up on the bed he used to share with you

Your scent still lingered on the pillow, the sheets, the comforter, everything

He held your pillow close to him, afraid that it too would be taken from him

Forty minutes after that, Liam found himself sobbing on Drake's shoulder as his best friend tried everything to soothe his pain

Liam didn't know when Hana and Maxwell entered the room, but there they were

With bloodshot eyes and false smiles in a poor attempt to comfort their friend

Two days later a funeral was held for you and baby Kenna

The whole country was mourning, unable to process the tragic deaths

Talks and rumors of war were circulating around. After all, it was Auvernal who was responsible for the incident

That fact stayed in the back of Liam's head as he walked towards your open casket

Madeleine had suggested leaving it open so the world could see what Auvernal had done to you

At the cost of Liam's sanity

As he stared down into the beautiful gold casket with velvet cushions, he could not recognize the body that lay in it

The accident had badly disconfigured your form

The only thing that let Liam know that it was his wife lying there

Was the glint of an unforgettable ring on her left hand

Drake

Drake would put his life on the line for you any day, and he has

He's literally taken a bullet for you, and would do it again in a heartbeat

He'd do anything for you and would protect you with his life

He just never imagined you'd do the same

It was at another ball

What it was for or about, he didn't know nor did he care

Hana had begged you to wear something other than that pink dress to an event and you finally agreed

Drake couldn't keep his eyes off of you

Neither could the assassin seeking vengeance for Anton

The lights suddenly shut off and the high pitched scream of a lady followed

Drake rushed to find you in the chaos, yelling out your old last name

Hands desperately reaching out to find yours

You found him first, gently squeezing his cheeks with both your hands as you whispered

"I'm okay, I'm okay, hey I'm okay."

The relief he felt was short-lived as a click was heard and the lights came back on, revealing a thin man a few feet away with a small gun shakily pointing directly at your chest

Drake instantly swept you behind him, standing between you and the pale man as he glared down at him

The man bit his lip, sucking in a breath as he shakily aimed the gun slightly higher, now pointing at Drake's neck

It all happened too quickly

"FOR ANTON!"

"Drake, no!"

Three gunshots sounded off, one after another before Liam tackled the man to the ground, Bastein limping over to retrieve the gun

Drake was on the floor, a pool of blood near him getting larger by the millisecond

But this time it was different

This time he felt no pain

Was it the adrenaline? Was he only grazed? Was he already used to the feeling of being shot?

Those thoughts evaporated as Hana called out your name in a tone of voice Drake never heard her use before

He sat up slowly, looking to his left, seeing a bullet casing and blood still seeping by

His eyes followed the trail as it leads to his right and

"Oh god"

There you were, lifeless eyes staring down. Two bullet wounds visible on your face

Drake slowly moved his hand to feel around your neck, checking for a pulse, moving two fingers around, checking for any signs of life

It's gone. You're gone.

He moves his hand to your face, delicately stroking your cheek and brushing loose strands of hair away

You had an eyelash on your cheekbone, so he swept it off

With your blood on his hands, arms, and clothes, he closed his eyes and kissed the top off your head with chapped lips

He continued to ignore the noise around him as he laid his head down on your chest, allowing the tears he didn't know he was shedding to soak into your beautiful new dress

He didn't want to move

That is, until a thought occurred to him

He was sure he heard three gunshots, but you only had two bullets in you

Curiosity getting the better of him, Drake lifted his eyes up

Oh, how he wished he didn't

For just behind your dead body

Right next to Maxwell's shaking form

Was a small ball of fluff, coated in blood

Unmoving

Hana

It was her idea

To go scuba diving that is

Off the subtropical coast of a beautiful reef, where millions of different aquatic animals thrive

It was originally planned to be a group trip, until Liam had personal business come up and Maxwell got food poisoning

He was pretty upset about not getting the opportunity to take home a giant squid

Regardless, you and your wife sailed to the perfect spot in the fastest boat you've ever been on

Hana, of course, has been diving before, but it's been a while since then

You had never gone

Hana clutched the camera excitedly, waiting patiently for you to waddle over to the edge of the boat where she was

It took her twenty minutes to get all the gear on you since you wouldn't stop moving and stealing quick kisses

She held your hand as you both entered the water, bubbles floating around before you could get a good look at anything

She giggled as you sang songs from The Little Mermaid

She squealed as little fish came up to her to say hello

She took pictures of you posing by various rocks and anything you pointed at

Then

You saw something

Something way deeper than where the two of you were

It was shiny

You descended as quickly as you could to see what it was

Deeper than you ever went before

25 meters

27 meters

30 meters

Deeper and deeper you swam until you made it to the shiny

Hana slowly followed, being mindful of her breathing and depth as she tried to reach you

You made excited noises as you picked up a beautiful, small gemstone before handing it to Hana

She smiled, shaking her head before taking your hand and motioning that you both needed to get back up

You didn't even realize how much time had passed

She took your hand so you wouldn't go up too fast

You didn't even see the shark in the distance until it was too late

All of a sudden, the shark was right in front of you and Hana

It looked huge

It was huge

With large jagged teeth pointing in all directions

You put yourself in front of Hana as it got closer, an idea forming in your head

You knew there was a knife on board the ship, just in case an incident like this happened

Quickly, you motioned for Hana to slowly swim behind the shark and get out of its way

The second she started to move, you began to swim to the surface as fast as you could

You didn't think you've ever swum that fast

Breaking out of the water and onto the ship, you hastily grabbed the knife on the edge and plummeted back into the water, ready to stab a shark

You didn't expect to see Hana petting said shark as it swam around her

Turns out it was a Sand Tiger Shark

Very docile

You chuckled as Hana swam over to you, waving goodbye to the friendly shark

After waiting a few seconds, you both resurfaced, climbing up and taking your gear off

"Can you believe it?!"

"It looked so beautiful."

"Just wait until everyone hears about this"

"I took a few pictures!"

You both excitedly talked about all that you've seen while looking through the pictures, laughing and joking around

An hour later, as Hana set the boat on course to shore, you felt funny

Putting a hand to your chest, you leaned forward in an ill attempt at alleviating the dull ache that began to grow in intensity

You let out a gasp, catching Hana's attention just as you fell to your knees

She yelped out your name and slid beside you, taking you in her arms

"What's wrong? Are you alright?"

It felt like you were being stabbed over and over again

You tried to scream, tried to tell Hana something, anything

You croaked as blood started coming out of your mouth

You could hear Hana screaming your name, but couldn't answer

You were paralyzed

You couldn't breathe

Your body was convulsing uncontrollably

Hana was already calling for help

Was it a heart attack? No? Seizure? Maybe?

Then she remembered how deep you dived

And how quickly you shot up when the shark appeared

The bends

You had completely forgotten about Decompression Sickness

What a fatal mistake you made

Hana was helpless

Unable to do anything but hold your hand

As you slowly

Painfully

Died right before her eyes

Tears clouding her vision, she looked at the shiny gemstone nearby

The last gift you gave to her

...and one of the reasons you died from the bends

She picked the rock up and chucked it into the ocean before collapsing into a heap of sobs

Drowned out by the sound of the boat and waves

Maxwell

Maxwell thought he was funny

He loved the sound of your laughter

He loved the sight of your smile that reached your eyes

He loved when you'd joke and have fun with him

He loved you

More than anything

Which is why the news of your history with depression hurt him

More than once, you confessed to him, did you think about taking your own life

More than once was there an attempt

He held you close, reminding you that he's here for you and that he loves you

But it's hard

Living was too exhausting

Was it...selfish?

You were just...so tired

Drowsiness was a side effect of the medication Maxwell had wanted you to take

But this was a different tired

You waited until Maxwell had gone to take the corgis for a walk

You knew you had 23 minutes and hoped it was enough

How embarrassing it would be to wake up in the hospital with Maxwell crying by your side

You pulled your note from under the bed

It took over two hours to write, looking over every few minutes to make sure Maxwell was still asleep

But you did it

You did it.

Maxwell came back, laughing as your dogs bounced in, tails wagging

"Okay, let's go surprise mommy! You guys wanna surprise mommy?!"

Happy yips and barks followed Maxwell as he opened the door to your shared bedroom

Then he froze

For there you were

Hanging

With a rope around your neck

Maxwell got over his initial shock and rushed over to you, uniting the rope and carefully placing you on the ground

He had taken a few CPR classes in his life, but he never imagined he'd actually have to use them

Pushing on your chest, he called out to you

Crying, pleading, begging for you to wake up

Hoping that he would wake up from this nightmare

He didn't stop the compressions, he was sure he was going to end up breaking one of your ribs

Tears blurred his vision, making it a challenge to focus

He wiped his eyes, but they continued to pool over

Streaming down his cheeks, down his nose

Plopping down on your dead body

Realization was suffocating

Maxwell sat up, looking down at you, lip quivering

"...why...w-why'd...why..."

He wiped his nose

"...why did y-you leave me?"

He choked out a sob as he hugged himself, the two corgis whimpering in the background

Reaching in his pocket for his phone, he called the first person he could think of

"What is it now Maxwell? I'm in the middle of something very impor-"

"She's dead!"

"...what?"

"S-she's gone Bertrand...she's gone..."

"...I'll be there as soon as I can."

Maxwell whispered an 'okay' to his brother before bringing his phone down, not bothering to hang up

Glancing down, he noticed a sheet of paper neatly folded next to the rope

He saw the suicide note you left for him

He read the suicide note you left for him

Bertrand came ten minutes later, finding your dead body on the floor

With no sign of Maxwell anywhere

Olivia

She never wanted to admit it to you

Hell, she never wanted to admit it to herself

But ever since the kidnapping situation, or maybe even far before that

She found herself developing feelings for you

Romantic feelings

Of course, you were married

Happily married

So, friends she'd have to be

Besides, it's not like you could ever feel the same way

...right?

She shook her head, dismissing those thoughts as she made her way to Valtoria

Winter was fast approaching, and she knew you needed extra clothing and blankets for your duchy

And what better place to receive them than from Lythikos?

Olivia hated how much she hoped you'd appreciate the thoughtfulness

Sighing, she glanced out the window of the carriage, realizing she should almost be there

Lush green fields and tall trees idly passed by, along with thin wisps of smoke

Smoke?

Puzzled, she slid the window down and poked her head out, smelling the air

Definitely smelled like something was burning

Perhaps, she thought, it was just you and Maxwell creating a bonfire again

That sure scared the hell out of Liam

However, something in her gut told her otherwise

She felt a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach

She needed to get to Valtoria

Now.

Forgetting about the blankets, she opened the door of the still moving carriage and jumped out

The surprised driver pulled the horses to a stop

"Lady Olivia! Good heavens woman, what has gotten into you?" he asked, bewildered

Pulling out a dagger from seemingly nowhere, she swiftly cut one of the horses loose and lifted herself up

"You're going too slow." Was all Olivia said as she commanded the horse to run on, as fast as she could go

Hooves thundered across the trail as Olivia kept her eyes to the sky

The smoke became thicker and darker, the smell intoxicating

She pushed on, heart beating fast

Until she felt like her heart had stopped the second she rounded the final corner

Valtoria was on fire

And you were still inside

Without thinking, she jumped off the horse, calling the fire department, and ran into the burning dutchy

She called out to you, stepping over fallen beams and dashing around burnt furniture

She could feel the smoke fill up her lungs, but she didn’t care

She needed to find you

She knew you were too weak to make it out on your own

The longer she spent searching, the more she realized your fate

Soon the fire had completely engulfed her surroundings, smoke so impossibly thick, she could hardly see

Olivia hadn’t even realized she’d passed out until she woke up in a hospital bed, much to the relief of your friends

“Olivia!”

“We were so worried,”

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

One face was missing

She asked about you, asked where you were, asked if she could see you

They all shared different looks, unreadable expressions on their faces

Hana was the one who spoke

“They...there wasn’t much they could do...”

What?

“She was already dead when they found her”

“Third-degree burns were all up to her arms and legs”

It can’t be

“Olivia?”

She looked away, unable to meet anyone’s eyes

“...come on guys...let’s give her some rest...” Liam whispered

The others murmured in agreement, filing out while sending her wishes of good luck and getting well

When the hospital door closed

And Olivia found herself all alone

With nothing but the sound of her heart monitor echoing in her head

She allowed herself to quietly weep

Apologizing to you for not being there soon enough

For not telling you how she felt

Now she’ll never know

This was for @choicesseptemberchallenge Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn

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queencarolinemikaelson · 4 years

Photo

After a solid number of years: Chapter Nine of care-bear-forbes and the-lonely-hybrid. You can read chapters 1-8 HERE on ff.

Caroline woke from her fitful sleep only a few short hours after falling into bed.

She honestly couldn't believe the night she had.

Surreal.

It was the only word for it.

Caroline knew she would have to go in to work at some point, but in that moment, she decided on some self-care. She rose briefly to make some breakfast and a cup of tea, before snuggling back bed to process what she was feeling.

Firstly, there was the opening party of her very own club! It was happening! All those years of planning and dreaming, coming to spectacular fruition. The next goal to focus on was the official first official day of regular trade, which was just four nights away, and there was still plenty to do to make sure they were ready.

Secondly, she met Klaus Mikaelson. Klaus Mikaelson; of all the people to attend a party she threw. That was a thing all to itself! Add the completely insane revelation that Klaus was actually her old friend Nik made it all the wilder.

Nik.

Nik, who she had loved and hated in equal measures, who both saved and damned her. She could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that he had been standing as close as two feet from her, mere hours ago.

She never thought her life could share so many plot points with a romantic comedy, but here she was.

Also, how the hell had she not noticed the similarities between Klaus and Nik? Surely she wasn't that dull. She had been blogging him like a maniac for years? Was she just blind, or just stupid?

Though, if the feeling she was experiencing right now was anything to go by, it was just too bizarre to reconcile the two as the same person. She always kept them so specifically apart from each other in her mind, so the connection was never obvious. Add the physical changes one goes through during their 20s, and maybe she was neither blind, nor stupid.

She took a sip of her tea, and let her head fall back onto her bed's headboard.

What on earth could she do with all this new found information?

If she was deeply honest with herself, Caroline knew her instinct was to run. Run away from the big city, back to her country town life. Where she could live away from this dread,and all the emotion being trudged back into her life.

But even as she considered it, Caroline knew she would never be happy if she did – as tempting as it was. She spent too long coming to terms with Nik's disappearance to let to control her life again. She also spent far too long working toward her dream business to walk away, for that matter.

As Caroline took another sip of tea, she realised that was what she kept coming back to.

Her life, her dream; that's what was important now.

She spent too long sifting through grief, too many hours crying, too many days of numbness to just forgive and forget. No matter how long Klaus promised.

The prize of his love may have been sweet, but to be swept up in grand romance… That wasn't who she was anymore.

A deep understanding settled over her, and it was terrifying to finally know what she wanted. To relinquish something she held so tightly, for so long.

But it nestled into her heart resolutely.

xxx

Klaus woke with a splitting headache. His metabolism was good, but it wasn't that good.

He was wrapped in a blanket on a semi-comfortable couch, far from his hotel bed, and Klaus groaned as he remembered his somewhat-drunken, extremely early visit to his sister. He also remembered drinking a little bit more after Rebekah went back to bed, to try and wipe Caroline completely from his memory

Fat lot of good it did him, though. Not only was his hangover worse, but he could still remember every detail of every moment of their conversation.

"Morning!" the cheery voice of his sister sang. "You look like absolute death, Niklaus. What sweet comeuppance."

"Thank you sister," he grumbled, immediately regretting it, as a wave of nausea hit him. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Uh huh, you do that," she smirked, in uncanny resemblance to her brother. "I'll make you something greasy when you wake next time."

Klaus fell back asleep almost immediately.

Why he'd insisted on stirring in the first place, he didn't know.

A few more hours passed before Klaus regained consciousness again. While he felt a damn side better this time, he was still feeling pretty rotten.

"He lives!" Bekah said, who was sitting next to him on the couch watching some trashy show on the television. "How about bacon?"

Klaus just nodded as he sat up, but didn't say anything.

Though, again, why he bothered trying to be awake was beyond him, because now, instead of waves of nausea hitting him, it was waves of utter mortification.

He would never admit it to anyone, but Klaus had imagined a reunion with Caroline many times. But none of them had involved him being slovenly drunk at 3am. How had that happened?

And to tell her he loved her and still did? What was he thinking!

Klaus sat in his humiliation silently, hoping it would relent somehow, until Bekah placed a steaming pile of bacon and eggs in front of him, as well as a very strong black coffee and a glass of water.

"So," she started, and Klaus just knew he wasn't going to be able to dodge these questions. "You met the love of your life."

"I did," Klaus said, forfeiting all pretext. It was Rebekah after all.

"And you told her you loved her."

"Yes."

"And you that you wanted to be her last love."

"I did," he said again.

"Very smooth," Rebekah said sardonically, inspecting her nails for non-existent imperfections. "Though, given the state you were in when you got here, I guess there's more to it than instant happily ever after?"

"I suppose," Klaus said, taking a big bite of bacon to save him having to respond more substantively.

"Oh, Nik," Bekah sighed. "Who even is this woman?"

"She's someone I knew a long time ago," Klaus said carefully, thinking it would be safe to answer that, given that Klaus barely told anyone about Caroline back when he knew her.

"Do you mean that online friend of yours?" Rebekah asked.

"How did you…?"

Rebekah just shrugged, innocently.

"You told me once about her, then told me another time you had a crush on someone who could never know the real you. Plus, you spent so much time on that website when you were a teenager," she replied. "Two and two."

"That's some pretty thin reasoning, Bekah," Klaus said, a bit defensive.

"Perhaps," she replied, coolly. "But your reaction confirmed it."

"It could have been anyone. It could have been Tatia!"

"Oh pish," Rebekah said, dismissively. "Tatia was a witch, and we both know it. All the women you've ever dated are not last love material, Nik."

Klaus shrugged, she was right of course. His track record with woman was visually stellar, but none of them were an epic love.

"Do you actually love her?" Rebekah asked, blunt as ever.

Klaus' cautious silence answered her question better than he could with words. Because the truth was, of course, how could he know he loved her?

Marshalling his thoughts into something resembling coherent, Klaus knew the major takeaway was of course he'd jumped the gun on telling her he loved her. He hadn't spoken to her in a decade. That kind of lack of communication wasn't a basis for love.

But he knew he wanted to try. Needed to try. Needed to see if she was what he remembered, needed to discover if his selfishness had ruined them completely, needed to understand the part of him that really was convinced he was still in love.

"I need to find out I do," Klaus said, for once, incredibly vulnerable.

But, Klaus realised he was always vulnerable when it came to Caroline. She was perhaps the only person beyond his blood that he volunteered his vulnerability to.

Perhaps that was why he cut her out so completely, because his reinvented Klaus Mikaelson was never vulnerable. A weakness like Caroline wasn't something he wanted the luxury of back when. He wanted the luxury of power.

"I best be on my way, little sister," Klaus said, as he pulled himself up from the couch, unable to sit still any longer. "Things to do. I suppose I have to make my way to the airport at some point. Thank you for breakfast, and the place to stay."

"Any time, Nik," Rebekah said, softly. "Good luck with everything."

He pressed a quick kiss to his sister's forehead, and slipped out the door before deciding where to go.

xxx

Two weeks later

Caroline sat in her office, staring at her paperwork.

She had been staring at it for days, really, and the more time separating her from her first encounter with Nik, the less she was able to push him from her mind.

It was now two weeks after the opening party. And nearly two weeks since they begun official trade.

Opening night, much like the party, had been a wild success. They had been at capacity for a few hours, and even had a queue for a while there, on a Wednesday.

And the days since had been exceeding what she had hoped for her first couple of weeks open. While there were some obvious kinks and stumbling blocks, as there was with any new business, Caroline let herself consider the idea that maybe this wasn't the completely crazy, doomed-to-fail venture others thought it was.

They were due to open for in a few hours, and she was excited. It really was exhilarating, running her own business. But, despite the success and excitement, Caroline was really struggling to the find motivation to do the pencil pushing part of her chosen business.

Because all she could think about was him.

In the two weeks since their encounter, Caroline had felt a myriad of things.

While she started off with whole-hearted conviction in what she wanted to say to him, after a few days, and some more lonely nights, she let herself imagine, wonder on all the what-ifs of life with Klaus. The life they could explore and discover together, what being his last love would be like…

Then she got mad. Filled with fury at the gall of him, after a decade to blind sight her with wild declarations of love, and empty promises of forever.

Then she was back to swayed by the romance of it all.

The underlying link connecting all her conflicting emotions was that it took a miracle for her not be consumed by thoughts of him, with work as the only thing that seemed to take her mind away.

But, now with opening day behind her, and a couple of weeks under her belt, apparently even that wasn't enough.

And so, she was back to being frustrated and upset with him.

Who the hell goes around saying I intend to be your last love and then vanishes.

Who the hell has the audacity to show up, after ten years, confessing an unending love, then doesn't even have the decency to provide contact details.

His complete lack of contact since he showed up out of the blue, solidified in Caroline's mind, that she was right. That her resolution to be frank and honest with him was exactly what she needed to do, even as much as she wanted to fall into him and never look back.

So imagine the storm of emotions she felt as someone tapped on the shoulder – hours after giving up on pretending to do paperwork, while gazing upon the second night of her dream – and she looked straight into the eyes of a man who never seemed to be too far from her mind.

"Klaus."

This has been such a long time in the making. Review HERE if you feel inclined. I’d love the feedback O:) and I love you all. Watch this space for part ten, which is written! So will not be another three years from now. Woohoo!!

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #cheesecake's chook scratchings #what a TIME to be alive lol #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic

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bluetiefling · 5 years

Text

Sanditon Season 2 Wish List

Divided between things I think season 2 absolutely needs to reach its potential, and things I don’t 100% need but I would love. Special thanks to @beavesaintmarie and @eleonoraditoledo for all the great discussions we’ve had about this and to whom I attribute many of these ideas!

Most important:

Sidney and Charlotte having at least one torrid make out while he’s still engaged to Eliza. The kind that’s like up against a wall or a tree, and there’s tongue and their hands are just everywhere, and they almost take it too far before one of them pumps the brakes. The culmination of several episodes of unbearable tension before they can’t take it anymore.

Sidney and Charlotte having sex while he’s still engaged to Eliza. I’m realistic about how unlikely this is but I legitimately think this is an important step in their relationship arc, particularly for Charlotte, and it’s not just because I really wanna see them bone under the most dramatic circumstances possible. This would be about Charlotte’s own emotional journey she’s been on since she arrived in Sanditon and came of age - realizing for herself that she wants Sidney, come hell or high water, and she stops being guarded, stops being shy and afraid about the immensity of her feelings, or worrying about what the right and proper and unselfish thing is. It’d be about Charlotte learning how messy love really is, and diving in anyway. Ideally this would be when Charlotte confesses her love and finds the words and bravery to express everything Sidney means to her, which she of course didn’t get the opportunity to do in season 1. And like yeah, their first time on screen will be that much hotter if they don’t know if it’s going to be their only night together or not, and this ship Deserves that intensity.

A DEDICATED ARC ABOUT FIXING SIDNEY AND GEORGIANA’S RELATIONSHIP WHERE THEY GET REAL SCENES OF THEM TALKING THINGS OUT AND THEY CAN GET TO A GOOD PLACE OF TRUST AND AFFECTION AND BE A FAMILY. They have a lot in common now over their romantic woes and that’s a great starting point for them to start fresh and try to bond. And yeah just, give them complete conversations where they can clear all the misunderstandings between them.

A raw and honest confrontation between Sidney and Tom. It’s got to address everything from Tom’s screw ups to how they got to this point where even years after Tom bailed out Sidney, he still feels he’s obligated to throw his lifelong happiness under the bus for Tom’s sake, while Tom is barely perceptive of Sidney’s emotional state on a good day. This can’t be swept under the rug.

Belligerent UST again for Sidney and Charlotte! Let the pain of this separation strain them so much it bubbles over into anger and frustration, and they need to pick fights with each other because it’s become something comfortable for them, and it’s a release from being that sad and tense all the time over not being together. Sidney agonizes over Charlotte’s determination to be stoic around him so he resorts to provoking her to know she still cares. Charlotte snaps at him over something kinda innocuous because she’s so frustrated about everything else. If there’s another guy contending for Charlotte’s heart let Sidney provoke a big argument with her over it, let her be furious with him for not letting her move on while deep down she desperately wants to see this jealousy from him. Etc etc! These two do that kind of snarky tension so well and I’m so into seeing a new, season 2, version of it where feelings are out in the open.

Sidney having agency when the time comes for the dissolution of him and Eliza. I feel it’s important that when the engagement (or marriage? idk how far it’ll get but we’ll see) ends, it’s a hard choice Sidney makes while there’s still potential consequences he would bear, such as being labeled dishonorable or when Tom’s money situation is not secure yet, etc. I think it’s important for Sidney’s own journey of recovering his self-worth and deciding he’s done sacrificing himself. There shouldn’t be external forces, like someone else swooping in with the money Tom needs, that ‘allows’ Sidney to do this easily. If anyone does swoop in to save them all at some point, it shouldn’t be the deciding factor in Sidney’s choice to free himself and his choice to be with Charlotte.

Charlotte being courted by another man in a serious way which helps her realize the depth of her own love for Sidney and that she can’t be content settling for anyone else. There’s a lot you can do with another guy trying to come in and be a contender for Charlotte’s heart, a jealous Sidney being one of those things. I want to see Charlotte put on a brave face and try to find happiness elsewhere only to find she ultimately can’t, because no one compares to what she had with Sidney, and that’s more obvious to her every day she’s around this other guy. Even better is if she and this other guy get engaged or close to it and Charlotte feels more pressured to not hurt this guy’s feelings but she uh… ends up hurting him anyway because sometimes you can’t help but be selfish when it comes to love. And that it doesn’t make her a terrible person.

Things that are not 100% necessary but I would enjoy very much (under the readmore):

A love interest for Georgiana! I’d be happy with Otis returning and him earning redemption in her eyes, but I admit that I’m keener on the idea of a romance for Gigi that we get to see develop from day one. I’m less invested if the couple already fell in love entirely off screen, so I’d love to see a new guy sweep her off her feet. I have a LOT of ideas for what kind of character this guy could be and where he comes from. Currently my favorite one is that they introduce one of Charlotte’s grown up brothers to fall in love with her? It’d be a pretty easy retcon for one of Char’s brothers to be a 20something, and he’s a hunk. Maybe we haven’t seen him yet because he’s been at university or abroad, and he and Char are super close and he decides to go to Sanditon with her. Or Gigi comes to Willingden and the brother is very into her and decides to follow her and Charlotte back to Sanditon or wherever under the guise of looking after his sister but mostly he wants to be around Gigi. Lots of fun ideas to be had and really I just love the notion of Gigi falling for Char’s brother and it leading to all kinds of cute awkwardness for everyone involved (including Sidney lol). (ideal actor to play this role would be Thomas Doherty! someone save him from the CW pls)

AN EPISODE TAKING PLACE AROUND A COUNTRY HOUSE PARTY. BABINGTON’S HOUSE PERHAPS? House party shenanigans are such a fun staple of historical romance and I’d love it if this was season 2’s version of the London episode, where the action shifts to a different location temporarily and it raises the tension and stakes all around. I want Babington to see how unhappy and stressed Sidney is and he and Esther decide to invite a few friends to spend the weekend with them at their estate. Babington deliberately picks a weekend when he knows Eliza is busy. Tells Sidney to get his ass over there to just chill out for a few days. Esther invites Charlotte. Neither Sidney nor Charlotte realize the other is going to be there until IT’S TOO LATE. Cue all kinds of opportunities for them to get stuck alone with each other in and around Babington’s humongous house and expansive gardens or wherever. This could even be the place they finally just give in and sleep together (Sidney’s guest room will conveniently be just down the hall from Charlotte’s of course)

Replace Stringer with a new guy to be Charlotte’s love interest and a rival to Sidney. Like… I know they probably won’t and we’re stuck with him but Stringer just didn’t do it for me at all and I already know that if they make me sit through his bumbling courtship of Charlotte next season it’s gonna be tedious. I don’t want to hear about his class woes or his dad angst or watch him try to conjure up a whole relationship with Charlotte in his head like he did in season 1 again lol. And the jealous Sidney and alternative courtship story line I want for Charlotte next season won’t be as strong as it could be if they rely on Stringer, because I’ll never believe that Sidney is truly threatened by this guy or that Charlotte could ever see it for him. Like I said, we’re 99% for sure stuck with him but ugh… what if…….

IF THEY DID BRING A NEW GUY TO ROMANCE CHARLOTTE have him be an enemy from Sidney’s past! Of all the options for such a character this to me would be the most fun. Have him be rich and attractive as well to make him even more of a threat for Sidney to sweat over. He can be a good guy at heart who sincerely likes Charlotte or he could just be showing interest in her to mess with Sidney – or a bit of both! Maybe this guy’s actually in love with Eliza and this is all a ploy to get to her! Whatever, it’s all good to me. (CAST DAVID OAKES AS THIS DUDE)

Sidney and Eliza have an honest confrontation. Like I want to see Sidney directly challenge Eliza on this idea that they can just recapture what they used to have when it must be so obvious to her by now that it’s impossible. Eliza being forced to face that Sidney will never love her again, even with time, and questioning if what she really wants is another loveless marriage. I’m into Eliza being the bitchy villainess most of the season but it’d be great too if this story ends with her giving up Sidney graciously.

SIDNEY BEING A WRECK. Especially when season 2 opens. He’s drinking and staying out all night. He’s got a beard of sadness growing in. He’s self-destructive. It gets bad enough that his friends and Tom have to say something (maybe this leads to the big blowup with Tom?). Maybe Eliza even gets desperate enough to ask Charlotte to talk to him lol. I just wanna see Sidney Not Able To Deal and trying to drown out the pain.

Sidney and Arthur becoming closer! To me it feels like Arthur and Sidney don’t know each other that well, perhaps because Arthur was a fair bit younger and was off at school while Sidney was already grown up and running off to Antigua and whatnot. Arthur really proved his quality in season 1 and it’d be lovely for them to bond, especially for Sidney to be closer to a brother who doesn’t need or expect him to look after his interests. And for Arthur to get validation and affection from his distant older brother who he cares for a lot but who hasn’t paid much attention to him in turn for a long time.

Lady Susan whisking Charlotte off to London to cheer her up and introducing her to a bunch of eligible bachelors. I’d love it if this was how the new season began, with Charlotte going to London and not expecting to see Sidney and hoping she doesn’t, but of course she does. And this can be how Charlotte meets the new rival love interest I really want lol. Gigi should be around for this too! Have the two friends reunite at a London party before they eventually return to Sanditon together.

Sidney and Charlotte skinny dipping together! Lmao but seriously! Maybe this can be a scene that happens when the drama is all over and they’re free to be together, like either when they’re engaged or even already married. Maybe it’s the last scene of them in the show, even? It’s poetic, okay!

Edward being a more substantial villain figure and Clara showing up pregnant with his kid! Lol I feel like these two could as easily not return at all next season but if they do, I wanna see Edward level up his villainhood and for Clara to return in a big way, showing you should never count her out. I’d like to see them cause problems for Esther and Babington somehow to give those two something else to grapple with while navigating their first year of marriage together.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST – a backstory twist revealing that Sidney is the illegitimate son of Georgiana’s father, and it’s the real reason why Sidney was entrusted with looking after her! This felt like such an obviously great twist to me all of season 1 and I kept waiting for it to happen. It contextualizes EVERYTHING so perfectly. It would do a lot to explain Sidney’s strained position when it comes to where he stands with the other Parkers. Why he has so little self-worth and feels like he’s gotta do dramatic things like destroy his own happiness for their sake. He’s secretly been a Fake Parker this whole time and so there’s that much more pressure to prove himself to them. It’s a big part of why he went off on Charlotte that night at the ball, when she essentially told him he’s nothing like his two brothers, something that is an inadvertently sensitive subject for him. It explains why Sidney looks nothing like his siblings lol. It could be the reason why he went to Antigua when he was looking for an escape from his Eliza depression years ago. Like he thought maybe he should go meet his real father who he just found out about from his mother, or perhaps Mr. Lambe wrote him a letter revealing the truth, etc. Sidney’s looking for an anchor and tries to connect with him, goes into business with him via the sugar trade against his better judgment, ends up largely regretting the whole experience. Unexpectedly comes away from it with a young half-sister who he is now responsible for and to whom he can’t reveal the truth of their relationship because it’s such a complicated source of shame for him. He probably hasn’t ever told Tom the truth let alone this girl who resents him immediately. He thinks it’s better to just keep Georgiana at arm’s length even though his obligation to her as both guardian and secret older brother makes him want to do better by her, even though he doesn’t really know how yet. I was dying for this to be true because I know it could lead to some deeply poignant scenes between him and Gigi once she found out. I know it’s unlikely now and they probably didn’t put as much thought into this backstory beyond some boring life debt to her father, but I still want it to come true, and there’s no reason it can’t still come to fruition I think. It’d be an amazing revelation to use towards further developing and fixing Sidney and Georgiana’s relationship. They already act like siblings, too, and a twist that reveals they were actual siblings all along would be quite cathartic. I’d really love to see how it would affect Gigi, too, who seemingly has no family left alive and has felt so isolated. MY KIDS DESERVE THIS STORY LINE BASICALLY.

#sanditon #YOUR MOVE ANDREW DAVIES #text post tag #lol we were coming up with so many ideas I figured it was time to collect them all in one place

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theravenshade · 4 years

Text

Of Life and Death

Hi! I'm Raven! This is my first writing that I'm posting on here, and I'm really happy with it! I'd like to expand on the little universe I've created here and I really hope you like it!

Beginning of Life

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

Nobunaga walked the world with Anastasia. The highbeing of Earth gushed animatedly over her work, quite proud and eager to show it off to the highbeing of Conquest. While she showed off anything from vast oceans and steep mountains to quaint fields and mysterious forests, Nobunaga simply observed with a keen eye. She had done well, but the world had yet to replicate his vision.

"-llo? Nobunaga?" Anastasia waved her hands before his crimson gaze. They had stopped in a rather beautiful spot, a secluded clearing at the base of a mountain. It was rich in greenery, and the sound of trickling water could be heard from a small waterfall at it's very edge. There were a few flowers dusted about. It wasn't an even sprinkling in any set location, but a clump of hydrangeas did seem to favor the outskirts near the shade. Tall, sturdy trees outlined the hidden oasis with bracken sprinkled throughout. Some of the rocks near the mountain glistened with water and others were home to moss and vine, creeping around to find a comfortable home.

"You have done well, Anastasia." Nobunaga smiled, tilting his head. Anastasia gaped at him, she certainly hadn't expected him to praise her. While she was proud of her work, Nobunaga's face gave off no emotion and it had unsettled her. "Oh uh-" she sputtered. "Well, I put particular effort into this one spot." Nobunaga nodded, once more glancing about the whimsical glade. "I can tell. And this place shall be the birth of Life itself."

Anastasia blinked at Nobunaga as he strode past her and walked until the water reached his waist. What was happening? Confusion swept through her being and she took a step forward, now hyperaware of the abundance, and at the same time lack, of life around her. Of the lush grass underneath her feet, the earthy scent of soil and the swaying of leaves in the wind. What was Nobunaga doing?

Anastasia took another step, planning to get closer when a bright light flared up. She gasped and stumbled backwards, throwing a hand over her eyes in shock. She held it there for a moment in order to adjust to the sudden intrusion into her pupils before slowly lowering it. His hand seemed to glow with the force of fire and something in the water responded in kind. Thrusting his hand into the water, Conquest began to walk backwards, leading from the water the figure of a woman who seemed to glow.

She was beautiful, a small wisp of a woman with hair reminiscent of the sun. She was tan, warm, eyes the color of the sky on a cloudless day, and naked. She was completely naked. Like, super naked. Naked as the day a babe is born, in a way she was.

Anastasia quickly covered her eyes to respect the new Highbeing's privacy, and the new young woman flushed brightly once she realized her own nakedness. Nobunaga waved a hand in her direction and attractive robes materialized over her form.

He went to stand beside Anastasia, admiring the new Highbeing who grabbed fistfulls of her clothing in both curiosity and fear. "Welcome to earth, Rome. Bringer of Life."

Beginning of Death

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

Conquest, Earth, and Life were by themselves for not more than a week before the first two realized that there was a problem. Rome loved her job. Loved her job. She loved it to the point that there were far too many creatures roaming about for the time being, and Anastasia wasn't near finished with her job yet. But there wasn't quite a way to get rid of them. They only multiplied and their numbers never dwindled, Rome could not bear to senselessly part with her creations as she was prone to her emotions and had a rather large heart. Due to this, Nobunaga struggled with his next decision, as neither he nor Anastasia wished to harm the princess in any way.

One day, Nobunaga went to visit Rome and see what else she had come up with. While her frequent creations were currently causing a problem, they were rather interesting. Before he had the chance to properly look for her, she had already found him. "Oh! Nobunaga!" Rome chirped. "There you are! Look at who I made!" She grinned brightly, darting up close and holding out her hands. In them, a quartet of small fuzzy creatures remained still other than the occasional twitching of a round ear or long tail. Nobunaga studied them. Though he would never ever admit it, they were rather cute and reminded him of Rome. He tilted his head when an idea began to take shape.

"And what do you call them?" He brought a finger up to pet them and they wiggled closer. "These are mice." Her eyes glowed, pleased. "I would like to give them to you as a gift." This was no surprise and he should expect nothing less, as Rome had frequently sought Anastasia and himself out in order to gift them a new creature. Her eyes earnestly sought his and any sort of reaction. His face remained still, except for a small smile which never gave anything away much to Anastasia and Rome's distress. "I will take one, any instructions?" His deep voice rumbled as the idea continued to bloom and take shape within his mind. "Just keep it away from the foxes!" Rome smiled before kneeling, and letting them scamper from her palms and into the grass. "No matter what I do, the foxes always seem too fond of chasing them. I'm afraid they'll eat them up!" Nobunaga continued to smile, quite pleased with what he would soon do.

---

Nobunaga excused himself from Rome's company and traveled up the mountain by her birthplace. He climbed up to the water source which fed into her waterfall and walked forward. There was a cave in which a white fox had crafted his den. Nobunaga held the mouse in his hands, looking down at the little thing. She blinked, but lay very still as he closed his hands. His hands grew colder than ice, so cold that if anyone touched them they would not be able to recognize any sign of life. Despite this, the mouse remained unharmed. He kneeled and let go of the small animal, watching as she ran straight for the cave.

He waited. The sun dipped low in the sky, day turned to night, and when feeling a shift of power, Nobunaga stood ready to leave. He strode to the path that would take him back down to earth and looked back. Two pale, golden glowing eyes were peering at him from the dark cave.

When Life met Death

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

The world was dark and Rome had retreated to her clearing for the night. She strung up her hair in a ponytail with a ribbon and began to disrobe to bathe in a nearby hotspring. She knew that Nobunaga and Anastasia would be nowhere nearby, so she could avoid what happened when she was first born. Honestly, a traumatizing experience. Golden eyes followed her form from the shadows.

Rome lowered herself into the warm water and relaxed a moment, humming to herself. She enjoyed quiet moments like these, but had often wondered what it might be like to not be alone as often as she was. It didn't feel right, Anastasia got to work closely with Nobunaga and vice versa. It wasn't fair to be this lonely. This train of thought always upset her, it was as if there was a part of her that was missing. That something was wrong, and the feeling was only amplified by the chill she felt in the air. It was almost electric, and it grew steadily stronger. It made the warmth in her blood respond in kind and call out. Rome sat up and turned around. Blue eyes met Yellow.

She was only startled a moment before relaxing. Those were the eyes of a fox, one of her fondest creations. Rome turned around and leaned on the edge of the spring, holding out her hand and cooing softly to the creature. But what came forward was no animal. Her eyes widened as a tall man with hair of white stalked slowly forward, a foxlike grin on his handsome face. "Well well, what little mouse waits for me here?" She screamed.

---

Rome stalked into Azuchi castle, the stranger following behind with a smug smile seemingly permanently stuck on his face. Anastasia looked up from pouring sake for Nobunaga, quite alarmed. First at the frazzled expression Rome bore since she was not one to be seen without a smile, and second at the mysterious man following behind her. Rome had gotten to creating people? No, not yet. This man was no mortal. Anyone could feel it.

Nobunaga sipped the sake to hide a smile. "Welcome, Rome. You're usually not one for staying in the castle, what brings you to us this evening?" His eyes glimmered, more than suggesting that he knew exactly why. "This-this is a stranger!" Rome spat out, the epitome of stress. "Who is he? Where did he come from! I know I didn't make him! Not only that, but he was watching me while I bathed!" Her words came rapid fire, but Nobunaga was prepared for each and every one of them.

"Rome, Bringer of Life, meet Mitsuhide. Your jobs are quite important and you both shall be working with one another from here on out. He came from your creations, the fox and the mouse." Nobunaga finished his sake before pouring more for all of them. "Come sit, the both of you."

Mitsuhide took a seat, grabbing the cup and bringing it to his lips for a long sip. He had made himself right at home with zero signs of discomfort. Oh this was good, he'd have to get some more of this. He mused silently to himself. Rome followed, albeit more hesitantly, and sat far away from the newcomer. "How will we work together? He is far too cold for creating life." Rome frowned, genuinely confused as to what Nobunaga was thinking. "Not life, princess." Mitsuhide spoke up and the glowing, translucent form of a mouse appeared upon his shoulder. The mouse sent by Nobunaga. "You took her...?" Rome breathed out, chest aching. "No, princess. She was given as a gift." Mitsuhide watched the form of the mouse wander to Rome before vanishing in a fine mist.

The ache in Rome's heart lessened, but she was still wary about working with him and Nobunaga could tell. He hummed, deep in his chest. "I'm afraid you can not get out of working with Mitsuhide, Rome. You must always be able to find each other. I'm afraid I must put in place a preventative measure." Rome seemed to deflate. Mitsuhide was only more entertained. Anastasia was confused. Nobunaga was doing everything he could not to laugh.

---

Rome trailed after Mitsuhide, feet dragging along the ground as they left castle grounds. She stopped walking. Her eyes were stuck to the red thread tied around her finger that led to him. They were stuck together. It wouldn't break, nor would it expand more than roughly 20 feet. Preventative measure... how in the world was that a preventative measure!? A soft sigh escaped her lips. Okay, so Nobunaga must've known she would've tried to avoid him no matter what.

Mitsuhide turned to face Rome, the tugging on the string indicating that she had stopped. "Why, little mouse, whatever could be the matter?" He asked, slinking over, walking until he stood directly in front of her. "Surely working with me isn't the reason for the dismay plastered all over that pretty face?" He rumbled softly, bringing up a finger to stroke her cheek. Rome subconsciously leaned into his touch. She marvelled at how warm his skin was despite the chill that surrounded him before wrenching herself away. What was she doing? What had gotten into her? The feeling that bloomed theough her chest frightened her and she didn't recognize it. It was strong, and it scared her.

"I just.." Rome trailed off quietly. "Why would you take her?" She murmured, looking down at her bare feet. "I didn't simply take her. She was given as a gift." Mitsuhide replied, observant eyes watching her. "Not from Nobunaga, but from you, Rome. And I will cherish every gift sent from you from here on out." With those words, the ache in Rome's chest finally disappeared.

Life looked up to meet the eyes of Death and knew that everything would be okay. Death looked into the eyes of Life and knew that she was his future.

#ikemen series #cybird #otome game #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #oda nobunaga #akechi mitsuhide #mitsuhide x reader #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #cybird otome #iksen fanfic #ikesen fic #au #alternate universe #otome games #otome #theravenshade #ikesen au

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alloveroliver · 5 years

Text

Oliver x MC “On One Side Of The Multiverse”

Fluff; Oliver Knight

First Kiss

WC: 1,832

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic

His walls shattered for her like broken glass. The initial epicenter fissuring around his facade until the final blow, a kiss on the cheek, left him defenseless. She noticed his natural curiosity spike the longer they spent together. His questions were becoming less cheeky and more humbly quizzical.

When it came to him asking her out on a proper date, Alice was floored. Of course, this didn’t exactly come out of nowhere, but the actuality of the situation made her heart flutter endlessly. He stood tall next to her until she nodded wearing a massive smile on her face.

His shoulders relaxed, digging a note out of the breast pocket in his jacket. Alice took the small folded paper in her hands and watched him bid her a good night, leaving her on the steps of the black army headquarters. In her room, she would see that the little note contained the plans for their date he would arrange entirely.

To be ready by 8 pm wearing something warm, have eaten only a snack after lunch so they could partake in a full course meal together, and to be herself.

The last part made her roll her eyes with a broad smile. Oliver was never this cheesy but maybe he had some jokes up his sleeve that he’d allow her to see now that their confessions were out of the way.

The night of the date, Alice wore the warmest dress and leggings she could find. Her coat was white with flecks of silvers sewn throughout the hem. Her pulse quickened after hearing the light knock on the door. She adjusted her jacket, opening the threshold to greet Oliver in the hall.

“Hey!” She smiled up at him, grabbing her purse while he stood quietly.

“You look like a frosted snowflake.” His words held no weight of an insult.

The attire she wore was entirely too warm to be inside for much longer. She pushed herself out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Is that a compliment?”

“I love confections” His stoic face hinted at a smile.

Oliver’s jest perked up her lips in a sly grin. She stepped towards the front door, and he followed, catching up with her within a few broad steps.

“What do you have planned for tonight?” She inquired, unconsciously pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to allow the events to unfold as we go along. Like a surprise.” His words were calmly executed.

Alice wondered if his tone of voice was an indicator of how nervous he was. Oliver was typically great at wearing masks to keep people out; maybe he didn’t want to allude to how flustered he was.

The outside air cooled her warm cheeks as he opened the door for her. The wind whistled through the trees, blowing particles of snow up into the air. Oliver walked ahead of her quietly, guiding her towards an odd carriage.

“What’s all this?” She gestured to the horse attached to a small sleigh.

Oliver handed the man in the driver's box a tip then turned towards Alice. The horse was decked out in winter gear and bells hanging from its straps. The driver wore a thick black coat and prepped the reins with a few tugs.

“It’s a sleigh ride. Have you never seen one before?” He smirked, knowing full well she had.

“It looks gorgeous.” She eyed the woodwork on the backboard.

Intricate details were carved into the dark cherry wood, spirals and twists littering the railing. A few flakes of snow landed in between some of the cracks, getting stuck by the whooshing wind.

Inside was a thick red seat, large enough for two people to sit comfortably. An oversized wool blanket decorated in green plaid was folded on the far side of the bench, and a thick pillow was propped up as a backrest. Oliver’s hand gently ghosted over her lower back, guiding her towards the step.

“Hurry now, young lady, I don’t want to waste any more time.” He took her palm into his, kissing the back of her knuckles gently. His eyes held a hint of mischievousness as he squeezed her fingers.

Oliver then held out that hand for her to grab if needed as she took a step into the sleigh. A deep blush settled over her features, her skin seemingly unaware of the freezing temperatures outside. Alice’s heart set a steady beat in her ears, drowning out the whistling winds.

The wood creaked under his added weight behind her while she veered towards the far side of the cushion. Once they were both seated, he tilted his head towards the driver who then gave Oliver an affirmative nod.

The horse began to walk, jarring Alice in her state of unreadiness. “Woah,” She laughed, leaning her body against Oliver for support, or desired closeness, not bothering to think on it further.

“The snow is supposed to pick up soon.” His deep smokey eyes caught hers, reaching over her lap for the wool blanket.

He didn’t seem to allow the blush on her cheeks to let up of even a moment, brushing her arm when he plucked the blanket. Alice cursed her burning red ears but tried to will herself to relax. This was a date after all, and they both were vulnerable to one another, so it was ridiculous to try to hide her emotions now.

He unfolded the blanket and set it over their laps. Alice lifted the rough fabric to her chin, not realizing how cold she had gotten in the short time they spent outside. The horse-drawn sleigh took them down a scenic route around the Central Quarters under the sparkling night sky.

Oliver’s arm nudged her by accident, or so she thought until his hand rested on her knee below the covers. There went her body temperature again, almost rising to the point of throwing the blanket off completely.

“There,” He pointed with his other hand to the right of the horse. “It’s starting. It’s only supposed to snow lightly until morning. So we don’t have to worry about the roads being treacherous.”

His hand squeezed her knee when she leaned over his lap to look at the freshly falling flurries. ‘Damn him.’ She thought inwardly. Oliver used every advantage to get her closer to him, and every time she fell for it.

The driver took them straight into the path of the snowflakes, littering the cart with icy dots. They settled into her hair and rested on Oliver’s cheek.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled, moving her hand to rest on top of his on her knee.

Oliver noticed her movement at once and twisted his hand around to catch her palm in his. She jerked her head to look at him, but the smooth-move was impressive. He grinned looking off to the side towards the wayward flurries, as his fingers gently interlocked with hers.

The clouds moved quickly in the sky, exposing the crescent moon and its gentle light. The cold night air blew the soft snow over their heads, glittering anew in the moonlight.

“This is starting to look ethereal.” She mumbled, squeezing the back of his hand.

With the silvery moonlight shining down on the white snow under the starry sky, it was almost unreal. Alice shivered unwillingly, concerning Oliver.

“Are you too cold?” He let go of her hand, wrapping his arm behind her back landing a palm on her waist. “Here, you can steal my heat.”

His chin rested atop her head holding her close. Her head leaned against his chest with a sigh. Alice felt Oliver’s muscles move into a smile, tugging the blanket further up her chin.

“Thanks,” She tried to smile, but her teeth chattered instead. “I should be fine in a moment.” Alice shrugged, moving her arm to wrap around him in a hug.

Her face slipped down, and her ear pressed just below his collarbone. The sound of his heart racing away in his chest made her eyes go wide. He seemed so cool-headed all evening, unaffected by her. Why was his heart galloping away faster than the horse that drew their carriage?

She nuzzled his chest, and Oliver let out a grumble. “Why are you rubbing on me?” He tisked, holding her firmer so she wouldn't wiggle as much.

“‘Cuz you’re warm.” She smiled, wondering if he was blushing as hard as she imagined he was.

Oliver’s warmth began transferring to her in their embrace. A different heat sprang up like a well inside her chest, and Alice couldn’t pinpoint the feeling for a moment until it clicked.

“I feel safe with you.” She blurted out once her mind reached a conclusion.

His body went stiff. “You do?” Oliver’s voice was a mix of disbelief and hope.

Her heart ached at his tone of voice. Had no one ever told him that before? Alice lifted her head from his chest to meet his eyes, cool air cutting through the small distance between them.

“I do. I'm being honest.”

He didn’t open his mouth to argue with her, nor did his eyes waver from her gaze. His hand lifted to her cheek, encasing her skin with his warm palm. With a glint in his eye, he smiled suddenly.

“You’re blushing.” He commented, running his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Oh, Am I?” Her lips parted, revealing the feeling of his soft skin on hers.

Oliver held her face still, staring at her for a long moment in silence. He studied her features up close, all the way from her eyebrows down to the dip below her lips. His hand moved, swiping the swell of her bottom lip.

She watched a single snowflake waft between them in an airy fashion, before tossing around in a circle then gently landing in the center of her lips. Oliver’s eyes caught fire, letting out one ragged breath before ultimately pressing his mouth to hers eagerly.

The kiss wasn’t idle, his jaw worked as he kissed her passionately. Alice kept up with the movements of his lips, drinking in the moment for as long as she could. His hand calmly moved down her face to the back of her neck, holding her to him.

She couldn’t remember the last time a kiss felt this good. Never had someone made her feel so special in just a few short moments as Oliver did. He made the kiss seem like it was all for her, pouring every bit of care into each minute detail as he metaphorically swept her off her feet.

This was their first kiss to shared between them, and tonight, Oliver would make sure this wasn't the last. Stealing a kiss during dinner, and walking her back through the barracks to send her off to bed after a dizzying goodbye kiss. He left her lips with a small peck to remember him by as if it were a silent promise of more to come.

Thank you @lonelyshepherds for the request!

OLIVER KISSES ARE MY KRYPTONITE!!!!! Also, the title refers to how I cannon this is real in some corner of the multiverse. Cuz I am sad he isn’t real...

ML // KOFI // AO3

𝔸𝕊ℍ - 𝔸𝕝𝕝𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #ikemen revolution fluff #fluff #oliver knight #oliver x mc #fanfiction #ikemen revolution fanfic #first kiss

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mymusehatesme · 5 years

Text

Castle of Glass

Chapter One: War

Words: 2140

Summary: A Hell Gate has opened on Earth, so you and your siblings decide to defend humanity, inadvertently locking yourselves out of Heaven. Now you must wander the Earth doing good deeds until your penance has been served. Unfortunately, your attempt goes a little awry and you find yourself a prisoner of the man they call the Hollow King…. [Female reader, angel reader.]

Warnings: None

Inspiration was this post: https://beka-tiddalik.tumblr.com/post/160726927715/a-tradition

MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST

Your brothers were not royalty or rulers, but they were warriors. When the demons rose up from the Underground and threatened humanity, they all shaved their heads and sent it to the Demon King. You did the same and your sisters did, too.

(Now, this is not to say that all demons are bad, or that demons did not walk the Earth before the war. This is to say that when the Underground emptied, the demons turned the world into chaos, burning the land with every step they took.)

You all fought the demons for humanity, pushed the majority back to the Underground. And when the battle was won, the humans all feared you. They would not thank you, they cowered before you.

Some humans stole your blades and started killing your brothers and sisters.

So the angels learned to hide themselves amongst humanity – and you all did it well. You never used your grace unless it was life or death; and even then, you weighed the consequences.

(You might ask why the angels did not return Skyward. It was because if a single angel did anything without orders on the Earth, it upset the balance in their hearts and they would have to do penance before they were allowed back home.)

Over the years, some of your siblings married humans; some married into royalty, some wed commoners, and some of them decided to have fun while on Earth.

You traveled the world and helped those you could. You had no alliances, no ill will towards anyone – but when you came across this kingdom, the Kingdom of Embers, you had to help.

The barren land had been burned decades ago, but had never recovered because there had been no rain there. Black and gray ash covered the land and the towns you came across were practically empty. A riverbed that ran around the entirety of the kingdom was dry and cracked – no longer did it flow with deep, cool water.

So you sat down and made a spell with your Grace. You pulled the white-blue light out of your chest in the middle of a town, not caring what anyone thought, because there was no one around. Within an hour, the sky was dark and rumbling and the air was soaked with the heavy smell of rain. It started raining an hour later.

The soldiers came for you not long after that. They took you to the palace in chains that kept you bound through magical means. A flame and a ring of Holy Fire in the cells trapped you.

You looked up at the Hollow King, Sam Winchester. The circle of fire you were sitting in threw dancing shadows on the walls and the light danced in his eyes. His brown hair swept to his shoulders – signifying he had not declared war in many, many years.

You wondered what war he had declared. What the knife that he cut his hair with looked like.

There was a blade inside your boot that the soldiers had not found and its shape pressing against your skin comforted you.

His face had been like stone throughout your story and now you understood why they called him the Hollow King. You did, however, find it strangely ironic that his presence took up the room.

He nodded. “I see. So, your spell,” he motioned toward the window and the pouring rain outside, “How long is it supposed to last?”

You looked outside and tsked. "It will rain for three days," you replied, "Then it will stop for three days, and continue in that pattern. This cycle will repeat ten times."

"Sixty days," he mused, "Two months." He nodded and slowly walked around the room. "You know, in all the years that my kingdom has been in this state-" he gestured grandly out the window, "no one, ever, has offered assistance. Even when my people left in droves because of the barren land, we received nothing from our allies." He dropped his arms, but kept his tall, powerful stance. "They let us starve."

You blinked, not sure what he was trying to say. Strange that he was so cold to you when he first ordered you put in the tower and now, much later, he spoke to you as though you were a few steps away from being a guest.

“Sire,” a voice called from the stairwell. Sam turned to face the newcomer. The messenger handed him a box and a small tool to pry off the nails before leaving the room, leaving you alone with the king again.

You stared at the box and saw how he was hesitant to open it. Markings painted on the sides gave away its contents in Enochian. You fought the smile that threatened to spill over your features. “How long have I been held prisoner here, your majesty?” you asked.

He glanced at you and began to slowly walk the perimeter of your prison. “Two days,” he replied easily, prying off a nail with the tool the guard had given him.

Refusing to let the fact that you had been here two days and he was only now coming to speak to you bother you, you asked, “You’ve already received a message before this, haven’t you?”

No emotions showed on his face to betray the truth. Tink. The nail clattered to the floor and he pried up the next one.

“The messenger didn’t tell you who it was from because you already knew,” you stated.

Tink.

He had walked halfway around the circle by now. He didn’t spare you a glance; his focus was on the box.

Tink.

“You don’t even need to open it – you know what’s inside,” you goaded, practically giddy with excitement.

Tink. Plack!

The lid fell flat on the stone and the king stared at the inside of the box. It was overflowing with hair.

Long hair, short hair, brown hair, black hair, white hair, thin and straight, coarse and curly….

All for you.

There was a note at the top and he picked it up. It was a list of names and corresponding kingdoms.

Castiel, King of the Kingdom of Mines

Balthazar, Captain of the Pirate Band in the SouthEastern Seas

Michael, Commander of the Legion of Soldiers in the Mountains of Triana

Hannah, Gabriel, Gadreel, Lucifer, Raphael, Anael, Ezekiel, Samandriel, the list went on and he stopped reading.

Sam picked up a long strand of red hair that you supposed belonged to Anna. She had attached her jeweled hairpin to her strand.

You knew that meant Anna held nothing but utter contempt for whom she had cut her hair when she attached her hairpin.

“When was the last time you cut your hair?” you asked quietly.

Because you have refused to return our sister to us, we hereby declare war upon you.

“When I swore to kill a demon,” he replied distantly. “I didn’t end up killing him, but my hair had already been cut.” War had never been waged upon him nor his kingdom, but he knew the rules. You had never seen or heard of any ruler receiving so much hair before.

“What was the demon’s name and why did you swear to kill him, only to not?” There were demons who wanted nothing more than to help, but the price for a demon’s help was always the same: A soul.

Ripped apart by hellhounds and your soul dragged into the fiery afterlife that was the Underground.

Sam looked up at you, his head tilted a bit. “His name was Crowley,” he answered, noting how you stiffened ever so slightly at the Demon King’s name, “and he initially refused to bring my brother back to life.”

You blinked and a heavy feeling of dread unfurled in the pit of your stomach. Bringing someone back from the dead was not an easy or natural thing. Reapers had to be bargained with, the Underground and Skyward would have to have scoured to find the soul, and even IF the Reapers agreed, the GateKeepers had to allow the soul back out.

And that was considering if the soul had been freshly reaped and the body hadn’t decomposed too far.

That bargain would cost much more than the soul of the one who bargained. You thought about the barren land, the empty towns, and the silent soldiers.

“What did it cost you?” you asked, genuinely curious, but cautious of the answer.

“It cost my soul,” Sam stated, practically emotionless as he straightened up to his full height, “and my lands. I agreed to let the Demon King make a Hell Gate here – and when the demons poured out of the Underground, they scorched the earth and made it barren.”

You jumped to your feet as rage flowed through you. “You,” you spat, “It was you, you let them out!” The faces of your brothers and sisters that died during the battle flashed through your mind and you balled your hands into fists as you gritted your teeth.

The Hollow King tilted his chin up a bit. “You are angry,” he noted, “Why does that anger you?”

“My kin and I came down from the Sky to help your kind,” you seethed, “Because it was our duty to protect you, because the scales had been tipped, we abandoned our home and now cannot return for centuries until our penance has been completed!” Your heart pounded as you thought of all your siblings that died at the hands of humans that were too afraid to accept help and killed angels for the sheer novelty of it.

Kneeling down, you unlaced your boot and plucked the knife free. You stood up and locked eyes with the king again. Without blinking, you reached behind your head and shaved off a strand of hair at the base of your neck. You took a few hairs to tie the strand together and then threw it at his feet.

Sam looked down at your hair, a shadow of surprise on his face, and then back up at you.

Your face was grim with hate and determination. Your kin had added decades to their penance for waging war and you would not let that go unmatched.

“I, (Y/N), declare war upon you,” you defied, tilting your chin up, “for having loosed the Demon Hoard upon the Earth, for all the Humans that died at their hands, and all the Angels that died at the hands of your kind, I declare war upon you.”

He didn’t react. His face never changed to show anger or sadness or cocky assuredness. He simply watched your outburst and cold defiance.

It unnerved you. “What say you?”

“I say… that oil has a few more days until it burns out,” he said, observing the flaming ring that held you captive, “I say I do not fear the entirety of the Skyward Host’s war against me.” He looked up at you and finished, “And I say… I think I’ll send for more oil.”

You blanched. Was… was he mad? Perhaps he was suicidal?

“Do you honestly have such faith in your soldiers and abilities as King that you do not fear us?” you demanded.

Pride overtook his features as he smirked, “I do.”

“And when the Demon King comes to collect your soul?” you asked, “What will you do then? What will your abilities be to him?”

“Oh, he’s already come and gone,” Sam said easily, readjusting the box in his hands, “He’s already collected my debt, in fact, he got it right away after our deal.”

You tilted your head, trying to understand. Not only did this man singlehandedly unleash Hell upon the Earth, he defied the natural order of things by bringing a soul back from the afterlife, and he has apparently been living for years now without a soul? “You… you have no soul?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

“There is more to this than you can see,” Sam offered, picking up your hair from the floor, but not putting it in the box with the others, “and more than I am willing to tell you right now. But I’ll tell you soon enough.” He smiled at you – just a smile, not conveying any emotion or having any deeper meaning than a half-kindness – and turned to the stairs.

He made it ten paces before you cried out to him to wait.

He stopped, but did not turn.

“Was it worth it?” you asked, nearing the flames as far as you dared, “Was your brother worth the cost?”

The Hollow King silently deliberated. He turned his head over his shoulder, but not enough for him to look at you. “Yes. And I’d do it again.”

Then he faced forward again and left you with the crackling flames.

#sam x reader #dean x reader #reader insert #angel!reader #soulless!sam x reader #demon!dean x reader #spn fic #you are a sarcastic piece of sh*t #but that's why everyone loves you #fic: castle of glass #mymusehatesme

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musicality14 · 6 years

Text

Search Your Heart - A Jon Snow One-Shot

Jon Snow stormed out of Bran’s quarters, ignoring the desperate pleas of Sam echoing through the doorway. His thunderous steps drowned out any noise that could have made it through the furious thoughts rattling his mind. After all, how was he supposed to react to being told his entire life has been a lie? The honorable Ned Stark had kept the truth from him all these years, letting Catelyn abuse him as a boy and leaving him to think he was nothing but a worthless bastard. But now, Gods be damned, not only was he a trueborn son, but a Targaryen. A Targaryen. To be fair, any animosity he may have had for the house of fire and blood disappeared the moment he admitted to himself his love for Daenerys. Gods. Did that mean she was now his aunt? Had he fucked his aunt?

All of these thoughts clouded Jon’s mind as he made his out of the main castle and into the frozen courtyard. The icy air nipped at his already flushed cheeks as the light reflecting off the glacial landscape caused him to squint. Those he passed stared at him wide-eyed, the rage in him quite obvious. Jon rarely showed emotion, so when he did it often unsettled those unfamiliar with him. No one attempted to stop him as he passed through, the snow under his feet practically solidifying from the pressure he put in each step.

In what felt like no time at all, Jon found himself standing in front of the godswood. He must have blacked out from the rage and confusion, for he didn’t remember exactly how he got here. His faith in the Old Gods had fallen after his return from death; he knew there was nothing waiting for him in the great beyond. So why was he here? Did some sort of infantile instinct bring him here for comfort? He often came here after the frequent beratements of Lady Stark, crying to the Gods to explain why he had been born a bastard. Though he had long forgiven her, he couldn’t deny the damage he held. Why didn’t Ned simply tell her his parentage? Catelyn could have kept the secret, and it could have spared them all the lifetime of misery from Ned’s “infidelity.” He supposed it was too late to consider such things. There was nothing the tree could do for him now, but standing in the place Ned often stood somehow gave him solace.

After his mind began to calm, a powerful rush of winter air swept through the trees and almost unlaced Jon’s bun. His dark eyes rose to the sky, white and blinding, and he saw two shadows swirling around each other through the clouds. The faint cry of the dragons made its way to Jon’s ears. He found it funny how their cries reminded him of the feral cats that scoured the courtyard for scraps, considering their obvious size difference. He watched the distant beasts and followed their silhouettes as they descended on the hills outside of the walls of Winterfell. A peaceful force urged Jon to follow them, and he made his way out of the Godswood.

Jon found them sitting together atop a small hill. He stopped at the base of the hillside and stood, admiring them. The larger one he recognized as Drogon, Daenerys’ favorite, he assumed. Jon only ever saw her mount Drogon, and he recalled the ancient stories telling how each dragonrider only took to one dragon for life. The white background brought out the color in both of the beasts. Red undertones in Drogon’s scales contoured his mammoth frame. The other had a brunswick green tone, freckled with what looked like a bronze hue. Although not as large as his brother, this dragon seemed sleeker and refined, almost as though he had more patience. Jon chuckled to himself as he realized just how much he was personalizing these beasts.

He stepped forward, and the sound of his boots crunching the ice garnered the attention of the dragons. Surprisingly, they did not growl. Jon continued to approach them, until he was near enough that they could had killed him if they chose. The depth of their eyes fascinated Jon, just as it did when he first met Drogon down at Dragonstone. Jon turned to meet the red eyes, only for them to turn away. Drogon made his way down the opposite side of the hill. For a moment, Jon felt offended by the rejection, until he noticed a pair of emerald eyes staring him down curiously. This dragon seemed intrigued by his presence, not having met Jon before. Jon struggled to remember the name of the beast.

“Hello,” Jon sputtered nervously before stopping himself. What was he doing? Animals don’t know the common tongue.

He took off his glove, immediately regretting it as soon as the frosty air touched his skin. Nevertheless, he carefully extended his hand to the dragon’s snout and was surprised when the beast returned the invitation, nudging into Jon’s palm. Despite the weather, the scales were warm. Daenerys had once said that the dragons were fire made flesh, and Jon was beginning to understand why. Suddenly, the name behind the green eyes came to him.

Rhaegal.

The moment between the two felt all the more intimate. No, this was not his father, yet there was something about bonding with a mythical creature said to share the Targaryen blood that made it seem like his father was there. A low grumble came from Rhaegal’s long throat, like a greeting, and Jon felt tears well in his eyes. The hot breath from Rhaegal’s nostrils hit Jon’s face and quickly dried the skin, only a few degrees away from burning. Jon walked along the length of the beast, his hand still in contact with the scales, until he had reached the base of one of Rhaegal’s large wings. As if they were in complete sync, Rhaegal lowered his shoulder blade to meet the snowy ground.

There was no hesitation as Jon boarded the creature’s back. Copying the way the men had boarded Drogon beyond the wall, he climbed up Rhaegal’s flank, almost losing his footing on the slick scales. He extended himself and gripped one of the horns that ran down Rhaegal’s back and pulled himself up. Jon flung one leg so that he was straddling the spine where he then felt the muscles relax under his weight.

Jon felt like a boy again, learning how to ride a horse for the first time. Of course, this creature was much, much larger, and could also fly, so he was a little intimidated. That soon went away when Rhaegal twisted his neck to face his rider, as though he were checking on him. Rhaegal purred, the inflection making it sound like a question. Tyrion was right, these creatures were bloody smart. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were a human soul trapped inside; he’s seen crazier things.

“Um, right,” Jon murmured, “I guess you’re waiting on me then. What does your mother say? To make you fly?”

Rhaegal looked at Jon inquisitively.

“I really only know the word to make you spit fire, but I’m not exactly trying to do that,” Jon joked.

A chatter left the beast. Did he just… laugh?

“Right, well then,” Jon settled himself lower against Rhaegal’s back, gripping onto the horns like reigns, “Let’s get going.”

Rhaegal turned his head forward and Jon felt the colossal shoulders alternately shift beneath him as the dragon began walking. The pace quickened as Rhaegal prepared for take-off, and Jon tightened his hold in panic. Was he really about to fly a dragon without any restraints? He’d ridden horses bareback before, but not thousands of feet in the bloody sky. Before he had the chance to scream for the beast to stop, he felt Rhaegal’s back steepen as the dragon stood on his hind legs and pushed toward the sky with tremendous force. A simultaneously flap of the wings sent the pair flying.

As they stabilized to a constant height, gliding on the width of Rhaegal’s vast wingspan, Jon struggled to open his eyes against the wind in his face. However, when he finally did, he saw the beauty of the North. Winterfell and its soaring towers, the miles on miles of snowy landscape. Despite the war, despite the white walkers, being on the back of his father’s sigil muted all of the noise of the world. Jon smiled, then began laughing, and Rhaegal roared alongside him. He felt the deep vibrations of the noise rattle his legs.

In the distance, like a reply to the call, he heard a wolf howl. He knew he should be having a deeper existential crisis than this, but on the back of a dragon that just wasn’t possible. He didn’t want to think of his birth name, nor what it meant in terms of the iron throne. Yes, he was a Targaryen; Rhaegal proved that to be true. But he was also a Stark, something he had never admitted before. He didn’t need to pick one or the other, for he knew in his heart that he was both.

As he rode, a ray of sun shone through a small gap in the winter clouds, and Jon felt peace.

Read it here on ff.net

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 6 years

Text

Still plodding along

Sitting across from Erwin, Eren had his face buried in his hands. His first mission had been torn to shreds by the man, and Levi hadn't even offered a word of support. That may have been due to the fact Erwin was just as unimpressed with Levi's actions as he was Eren's. Levi had been right though. The other small towns of the area had all been exploiting their citizens fears, and after a week doing the rounds, they'd returned to find the first village completely empty with no signs of life. The guilt he felt... he couldn't even describe it. Even if they'd been living in fear, they'd all been together. They'd all been alive... only half listening to Erwin's words, he just couldn't concentrate at all. Even if they'd shot him in the head, they'd only done so because they were scared

"Eren"

Jumping at Erwin's stern tone, Eren raised his head slowly

"S-sir?"

"You can go now"

"Oh. Right"

Rising shakily, Eren saluted half heartedly before leaving Erwin's office. His partnership with Levi hadn't been dissolved, but maybe it should have. Levi had probably never been lectured like that before, and it was all because he hadn't used his head. They could have just talked to the village elder. They could have tried any other way...

Letting himself into his cell, Eren pulled the door firmly closed behind him, somewhat relieved when the lock clicked into place. Sure the world was continuing outside the cold metal bars, but as long as it was on the other side of them, he could breathe a little easier. Leaving his bag still packed, Eren sank down on the edge of his bed, before beginning to pull his boots off. With all his thoughts and emotions in a whirl, the last thing he needed was the feeling of his arse growing damp. It'd been hard enough to hide the embarrassing frequency of which it had happened during the past fortnight, and the fact his scent glands had been just as bad. It was humiliating. He wanted his old body back... even if that meant no longer being Levi's partner.

"Did you have to be so rough with him?"

Looking down at Erwin, Levi couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed with his friend. Eren was obviously taking the desertion of the village hard, the teen barely talking out side of absolutely necessary conversation during the return ride back to the castle. It wasn't like Levi particularly wanted Eren to talk his ear off, but something deep down was definitely troubled by seeing the pain in Eren's eyes

"What was I supposed to do? I expected better of you Levi. I expected better from both of you"

"Don't blame it on me. Blame it on human greed. We did our jobs and exposed the truth. It was the villagers choice to leave"

"You let him recklessly throw himself in head first, resulting in him being shot three times"

"Which healed"

"That's not the point and you know it"

"Look. He's learnt his lesson and I doubt he'll be making the same mistakes again"

Erwin raised an eyebrow at him as the man leant back in his chair

"Do you have any idea how the government is going to react to this once they hear the official report? He'll be lucky if he keeps his head"

"You and I both know you're not about to release the full details"

"He doesn't. You can't encourage this risky behaviour. You need to train him like he's a normal human, and normal humans don't just magically recover from being shot in the face at point blank range"

Levi let out a sigh of annoyance. Eren wasn't human, he could take the hits a normal person couldn't. What was the point of having this "condition" if the teen wasn't allowed to make full use of his "skills"

"Levi, I'm serious. I can only do so much to protect Eren"

"Fine. I'll talk to him about it"

"Good"

Considering the conversation over, Levi strode from Erwin's office. Mulling the conversation over as he headed to his private quarters, he still felt Erwin was wrong. They'd taken the time to try and ferret out Eren's wolf traits to make better use of them, so saying he had to train Eren like he was a normal human was like saying all that work was for nothing. The teen already had to suffer being branded a monster, so why not showcase the brats talents? Why not show that he really was a monster on humanities side. Letting out another sigh of annoyance, Levi scolded himself for his thoughts. Of course Erwin was right. Of course people would hate Eren less if they thought him a regular human, and it was selfish of him to think of Eren as anything like a kindred spirit. His beast was hidden, while Eren's was practically on display at all times... or at least the smell of the teens beast was.

After cleaning and unpacking, Levi gathered up his washing. His concern for Eren was starting to grate on his nerves, so he intended to use "teaching Eren how to do laundry correctly" as an excuse to ascertain the boy's state of mind. The teen had probably never washed anything properly in his whole life, and if Eren's smell had been anything to go by, the brat had a fair amount of washing hidden away. Though he'd tactfully avoided mentioning it, he knew more than once that Eren had grown "wet" or "slick" as Hanji would have called it. His own experiences with puberty had been a bitch, but at least his unquenchable thirst for blood hadn't left wet spots on his arse, nor filled an entire room with the alluring smells of honey and blood. He definitely wouldn't go through puberty all over again, no matter how much rare tea or fresh blood he was paid, but he'd take it over whatever Eren must have been feeling and experiencing. The realisation made Levi stop in his tracks. What the hell was wrong with him? Shaking his head, he told himself it was his job to watch over the kid. Just like it was his job to kill Eren if he ever turned and posed a serious risk to those around him.

Leaving his pile of washing at the top of the stairs, Levi headed down to Eren's cell despite the fact he could hear the boy sobbing and the sound of something thumping lightly. He'd expected to see Eren curled up on his bed, instead he was greeted by the sight of Eren repeatedly punching into the back wall of his cell. Completely oblivious to his presence, the teen didn't even seem to realise how fucked up his hands were. Fucking great. Levi couldn't deny lashing out and punching more than few walls in his time, but this looked and smelt more like self loathing and self punishment than pure rage. Unlocking the cell door, Levi stepped inside before clearing his throat, only for Eren to start kicking the wall instead

"Eren. Stop!"

Shaking his head, the next kick was accompanied by the sickening crack of bones breaking. Ignoring the pain of his obviously broken foot, Eren kicked out hard again. This time however, his foot failed to hit the wall. Grabbing him firmly by the arm, Levi swept Eren's legs from under him while controlling the teens fall to the floor

"You need to calm down"

Snarling loudly, Eren tried to rise, but the teens mental and physical exhaustion had finally caught up him, despite his efforts he barely rose

"If I let you go, will you stop"

Mumbling his reply, Levi tightened his hold on Eren's arm until the boy yelped

"Alright! God! Yes!"

The moment Levi released his hold, Eren sank to the floor like a sack of potatoes

"Good. Now what's this shit all about"

"I don't want to talk about it"

"Too bad. I can't have you harming yourself like this"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Why?! Why does it matter?! I'm just going to heal like nothing happened!"

"Because you're a soldier under my command. A lot of people are sticking their necks out to protect you, and here I find you having a tantrum"

"If it bothers you so much, you should just leave"

Did Eren just...

"Get up"

"What?"

"Get up!"

Taking Eren by the arm, Levi hefted the teen back onto his feet

"Shit missions like that happen. The only thing we can do out in the field is try and make the choice we'll least regret"

Looking down at his feet, Eren kept his mouth closed

"This job isn't pretty. If you want a nice comfortable life you're in the wrong job and if you aren't fully committed, then everything you've said until now has been a lie and I would be well within my rights to report this to Erwin. Is that what you want?"

"N-no"

"Good. Now you're a solider and you should know better. I'm going to find Hanji and send her down"

Eren paled at Hanji's name

"Something you'd like to say"

"Not Hanji"

"What?"

"Not Hanji... please"

"It's her duty to oversee everything relating to your medical care. Do you have a problem with her methods?"

"No sir"

"Then what is it? Would you rather her not see you like this?"

When Eren nodded, Levi bit back a sigh

"She's not your mother. She is your superior officer. Remember that"

He felt like an arse for coming down so hard on Eren, but there was no way he was letting Eren off for his behaviour. Just like Eren had learned a hard lesson in the village, he was about to learn another one and that what he was doing to himself wasn't going to make him feel better.

After a long talk with Hanji, 12 hours of blissful dream free drug induced sleep, a hot shower and a solid breakfast, Eren was feeling better. Not great, but better... It would have been great if not for the fact Hanji wanted to run all sorts of tests on him. Since the moment she'd come down to collect him Hanji had pretty much talked nonstop about the things she wanted to do, including during his shower. After the embarrassing sight he'd shown her and Levi the previous night he felt like he owed them both apologies. Hanji had been easy, all it had taken was him starting to apologise for her to immediately reassure him it was alright, well that and a promise not to lose it like that again. Levi on the other hand... He'd practiced his apology over and over mentally only to find Levi absent at breakfast. Truthfully he was kind of relieved. Though he knew delaying the inevitable would only serve to leave him even more anxious when the time finally came.

After taking skin, hair and tissue samples, Hanji then biopsied his scent glands. She was sure his scent had changed since leaving, and all Eren could attribute it to was the soap Levi had given him. It wasn't like anything had physically changed about him while he and Levi had been gone. Sure he'd been shot, but it wasn't like he'd mated with anyone, or found anyone he'd consider a potential mate, yet she insisted the shift in scent reflected that fact. Honestly when she started on about attracting mates by releasing different hormones which created more appealing smells, he'd kind of blanked out. The one person he'd been in constant contact with that whole time had been Levi, and he definitely didn't want to have sex with his captain. The mere thought left him terrified, and the fact that he was thinking about it had him scrambling to think about anything else, which naturally lead to him thinking even more about Levi. No. He didn't love his captain. He admired him and that wasn't love.

Once Hanji had taken all her samples, he was finally released. He'd thought he'd get away without having to shift into a wolf, yet she insisted on taking all the same samples all over again with him in his wolf form. Despite his healing capabilities, his glands hurt like a bitch. All four of them throbbed as if she was still cutting into them, despite having healed externally. Naturally he'd played down his discomfort, and was finally released from her clutches for lunch. Given he didn't particularly want to dine alone, he headed straight back to his cell. Being allowed to move freely was nice and all, but he had no one to enjoy his freedom with. It was still another 13 days until he'd see Mikasa and Armin again.

Having spent the morning reading over the list of recruits that would be joining the Scouting Legion upon graduation, Levi had then been tasked with organising their accomodation. With their dwindling numbers, most of the old bunk rooms had been converted into storage for Hanji's experiments. Half the junk had never worked, but shitty glasses was a serial hoarder and insisted that one day she might have a use for it... Which now meant he had to order his squad to free up one bunk room for the female recruits and three for the males.

Pausing after placing down the lamp shed been carrying, Petra looked to him. Since the woman's confession, he'd given her breathing space and was now trying to act like nothing had change between them, so knowing he probably was going to regret asking, he still did anyway

"What is it Petra?"

"I was just wondering where Eren is?"

Levi couldn't tell if she was asking out of curiosity or concern, but either way it didn't change the answer

"Hanji's borrowing him for the morning"

"Is he alright?"

"He's in Hanji's hands. He'll be lucky to get out of it in one piece"

Petra didn't seem to appreciate the slight hint of humour in his tone

"Is that alright sir? I mean, what if he shifts?"

"Petra, Eren is a monster, but he's also a monster on our side. Erwin has granted him permission to move about the castle freely when it comes to tests and such. We can't waste time and effort having someone escort him everywhere"

"What if he tries to escape?"

Now he was sure Petra was letting her jealousy show. She wouldn't be going after Eren like this if she wasn't

"If that ever happens I'll deal with him myself. But maybe you're right. We could use another set of hands"

Petra looked like she was dying to tell him no, instead all he got was a shaky "Yes sir!". Leaving Gunther in charge, Levi took his time as he walked through the castle halls. The bunk rooms were disgustingly filthy, and he was sure that no matter what Hanji put him through, Eren would at least be able to help carry the cleaning supplies back. If Petra hadn't started prying like she had, he probably would have excused Eren until the rooms were actually clean, but with her attitude it was clear they really needed some quality "team building time"

"S-sir!"

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tentoriwrites · 7 years

Text

Loyal Fate

@thedaydreamingotaku Requested Masamune angst and this is what became of it. This got very dark, darker than I felt comfortable with in the end. So I cut out some of the worse parts and changed the end. Still, this is probably one of the saddest things I’ve written. You’ve been warned.

It was an ordinary day, just like all the others they spent together before, when the missive from Kyoto arrived. Masamune regarded it gravely before folding it and placing it on his desk. “We’ve been summoned.” His declaration sent a shockwave through the room that left a deep sense of unease. “Did you want to see your family?” He asked turning to his wife with as much of a smile as he could manage.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She gave voice to the question they were all thinking. Masamune just nodded slowly.

“I want you to have the chance to see them.” He grasped her hand and looked at her with nothing but love. “There will be very few chances now that we’re married.”

“Well, if you’ll allow me to be selfish just this once, I would love to go.” She answered with a shy smile as she squeezed his hand back. Shigezane and Kojuro smiled warmly, though the unease that had settled in the room had yet to pass.

That’s how it all started, their group trip to Kyoto. The main group, with the three lords, left a bit ahead of Lady Date and her palanquin. As much as Masamune wanted to ride together on the same horse, family decorum meant that couldn’t happen. He sighed as his body swayed with the clopping steps of his horse.

“Lighten up Masa!” Shigezane’s bracing voice pulled Lord Date out of his thoughts. “You’ll get to see her again when we stop for the night.” Masamune managed a smile and nodded. That was the last pleasant thought he would get to have… The tell-tale sound of an arrow whizzed through the air, nicking the bridge of Masamune’s nose and severing the string for his eyepatch.

“Ambush!” Someone yelled as the eyepatch fluttered into his lap. Kojuro grabbed Masamune and yanked him, trying to get him off his horse. Masamune could not be moved. One thought, accompanied by overwhelming dread coursed through him. It turned his blood to ice and his heart to a hammer in his chest.

And the confusion turned to fear… And the fear turned to desperation…

“Lord Masamune!” Kojuro yelled after him as his Lord’s horse spun around. “Where are you going?!” Masamune spurred his horse down the road towards his wife. As he crested a hill he saw her being dragged away by the point of a blade. The ice in his blood turned to a rage filled fire. He spurred his horse onward. His haste made him reckless and his horse ran right into a rope stretched across the road at the last second. The beast toppled forward sending its rider into the overgrowth along the road. Through the shrubbery broke his fall preventing grave injuries, it was still enough to knock him unconscious.

Masamune felt cold and numb. His fingers flexed as he tried to come back to himself. Stone. Had he not been outside before? He was not where he once had been. His brain acknowledged he was alive. It was slowly clicking into motion, slowly starting to function. Ambush. Running. He jolted to a sitting position with such jarring force it hurt. His face was wet and he realized he was in a prison cell. A slow drip from the ceiling had made his hair damp and it clung to his face. He looked around slowly trying to better assess the situation. He heard a pained whimper from the cell next to him and he looked at the source. A flash of vivid color in the dim light and his blood ran cold again. He would recognize that kimono anywhere, he had gotten it for her a few months earlier. It wasn’t the lavish type of material one would expect of Lady Date. Nor, was it of the same style, simple yet beautiful all the same. The colors reminded him of her smile: bright and vibrant, and so full of life.

If it hadn’t been for the whimper, he would have sworn that life had gone from her. She had been cast into the cell carelessly, hair completely covering her face as she laid on her side. A single arm stretched out towards him. He thought, maybe he could reach it and pull her to him. He moved flush to the bars between them and reached. He was close, so painfully close. Yet, he couldn’t reach. He slid down and craned his arm, the tips of his fingers coming almost close enough to brush hers. Despite how he struggled, he couldn’t reach. He laid there for a few painfully moments, tears prickling at his eyes, as he watched her breath come out in tiny huffs. It caused her hair to flutter and each gentle ruffle caused his heart to steel itself. As long as she still lived, she owed this to her.

With all the strength he could muster he forced his arm out as far as it would go. Pain ripped through it and his shoulder. He didn’t care, he would endure it for her. Cold, her fingertips were so cold… but he had them and he pulled them closer. If he could get the fingers, he could get the hand. If he could get the hand, he could get her… At last! He pushed against the bars, pulling her close. He sat with his arms and legs through the bars, forehead resting against them as he cradled her. Once his haori was covering her shivering form, he finally brushed aside her hair to see her face.

He gasped. “How? How did this happen?”

“Lord… Lord Masamune?” Her voice was so weak. “Please forgive me…” Her voice cracked as tears flooded her eyes.

“Just… Tell me what happened…” His voice was just as weak, cracking under the weight of his emotions.

“It will look so good on you!” Lady Date assured as she pressed the garment to her attendant’s body.

“But… I couldn’t possibly! Lord Masamune got it just for you!” The attendant reeled away, almost afraid to touch the fabric.

“Yes, but I’d like for you to wear it to Kyoto. You’ve worked so hard for me you haven’t even had time to mend your clothes… I feel bad about it…” It was well known in Yonezawa that Lady Date worked hard herself and cherished everyone around her. The depth of her kindness is what tamed the Dragon Lord of Oshu. Though, it was not something he could hoard away. She gave it away freely to everyone.

“Please?” Her eyes pleaded and the attendant folded.

“If… if it will please Milady on this most auspicious of days…” Her acquiescence earned her a brilliant, infectious smile.

Everyone marveled how much a like they looked dressed in such plain clothes, the veil of formality tore down. Practically sisters.

The trip had been pleasant and completely uneventful. Though the attendant walked along side the palanquin, they had stopped briefly to check on the Lady Date. That moment of pause was when the raiders seized their opportunity to attack. Both women were dragged out of the palanquin, but the attackers struggled to figure out which one was Lady Date. She moved to open her mouth but was cut off.

“Don’t.” The attendant said sharply as she swept her hand before Lady Date with a smooth, elegant gesture. “I’m the Lady Date.” The real one gaped at her in silent shock. she looked around wildly not understanding why no one was protesting. She didn’t understand, she couldn’t. She was never quite plugged into this life… The attendant turned and smiled to her warmly, but with a distinct air of distance between them.

“This is not for you to do.” The raiders grabbed her, pointing a sword at the real Lady Date.

“That’s right, you ride back to Yonezawa and tell them if they want to see the Lord or Lady Date again, they’ll agree to our demands.” The point of a sword to her throat, Lady Date backed up to a horse. “You best know how to ride or you’re dead.”

“I can ride…” She steeled her resolve and mounted the horse with a bit of effort. With one last, painful look she spurred the horse back to Yonezawa. In that look she seemed to realize what her attendant was trying to do when she caught the relief in the eyes of the Date retainers. She knew they were doomed but they were glad to see her go. Tears streaming down her, face she prayed they would all return safely, though she knew that was impossible.

“I had to do it, for the Date clan. She… had to live…” The attendant whispered from Masamune’s arms. She pulled herself up and whispered something in his ear. Something that made him gasp in shock. Something that caused a ripple of both shock and relief to drift through him. The news made him so happy that his wife was not in his arms now. The feeling was short lived. The door to the dungeon rattled open and footsteps drew closer. He felt something cold slip into the folders of his clothes. The attendant smiled up at him.

“If you get the chance, take it. Get back to our Lady Date.” He realized now it was a dagger she had gifted him.

“Well isn’t this sweet…” A mocking voice jeered from outside the cells. “The Lord Date looking after his useless peasant woman even from behind bars.” A sneer appeared in the dark looking absolutely sinister. “Let’s see just how far that love gets you…” The door to her cell opened and he gripped her against the bars so strongly it hurt her. Still, she was yanked from his arms roughly, ripping the fabric of the kimono he refused to let go of.

“Hurt her and I swear you will all die…” Masamune growled getting to his feet.

“Well whether we hurt her or not depends on you…” Their captor went on as he chained her to a wall opposite Masamune.

“Don’t agree to anything.” She said in quiet resolution as she settled herself on her knees in a most dignified manner.

“HA! Give her a Lord’s last name and she thinks she’s a real aristocratic lady…” Their captor mused darkly as he cupped her chin. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“What do you want?” Masamune asked as three men entered his cell. Though he put up a valiant effort, he was overpowered and slammed against the bars. A hand gripping the hair at the back of his head forced him to look forward. To look at her.

“We want you to hand over all your lands, dissolve the Date clan, and step down.” No sooner had the words left his mouth, an incredulous laugh rang through the stone walled dungeon. It was high and amused.

“Of all the ridiculous things I have ever heard that certainly takes the mochi.” She mused with a smile. “I don’t suppose anyone told you, when I agreed to join the Date clan, it was until the death.” She smiled serenely. This time it was the captor who laughed.

“Gotcha a lady with some fire here, Date. I’ll give you that much…” He drew a blade under her chin, settling the point on the side of her neck. He left it there a few moments, eventually frowning when it jumped in a smooth, even time to her heartbeat. “You may live to regret that decision.”

“I believe that shall not be the case. No matter what happens to me, I will never regret my decision.” Masamune knew she was speaking to him, trying to reassure him.

It was true, he knew little of her, aside from how she served his wife loyally. He knew she had joined the clan long before his wife and worked very hard each day. She had a name, a family, a place she could have gone home to. But she chose to serve him and his family instead. And he couldn’t understand why. Why choose to serve him like this? Why endure all this? He wanted to fight off the three men pinning him down. He wanted to scream out her name and save her. She was not his wife, it’s true, but watching this hurt no less than if it had been. He wanted to screw his eyes shut and avoid seeing what they did to her. He didn’t, he had to watch. He owed it to her to see everything she went through for him. For his clan. For the love of his life. All the while he couldn’t fathom why.

The hours wore on until she was left a bloody, broken heap on the floor. No matter how hard they tried she bore it all in silence. Masamune, he wasn’t faring as well. With each hit he winced for her. With each cut he bit his lip until it bled for her. With each broken finger he dug his into his palms until they bled. But he bore it all in silence. He counted each whimper and every tear. He would make it out of this. He would make them pay for this.

And the confusion turned to anger… And the anger turned to rage… He seethed and trembled, a cauldron set to boil over as soon as eyes were off it. They didn’t know she wasn’t his wife, they would have done his to his wife. And the cauldron boiled and teetered. He was going to do something stupid soon…

“Damnit these two are stubborn.” Their captor cursed under his breath just as a messenger arrived out of breath and leaning on his knees. He handed the captor a note, a note that sent him running from the dungeon without a word, the others chasing after him in confusion. They didn’t even bother to chain her back to the wall again. Masamune sank to his knees and sobbed. He felt so powerless and frustrated. He had failed not just his retainer but his wife as well. If this woman hadn’t stepped in the person he loved most would be in that cell.

“You’re not the same as you were when we first met.” Her words came out on a sigh, laced with pain. Masamune’s gaze snapped up. He marveled at her being able to speak so clearly despite her wounds. Marveled at how she was able to drag her battered body across the floor to him. Marveled at how she seemed to know what he was thinking. “We’ve all seen the change. Seen the Lord you have become.” She went on with a wince when the broken fingers on her hand dug into the floor to pull herself forward. “You give us all of your time, energy and thoughts. You have become a truly great lord.” She curled up against the bars facing him, hugging herself for warmth.

“You should save your strength…” He muttered taking her bloody hand in his. “And your words. I’m not deserving of your praise. I failed you. I failed her. I failed the clan.” He couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He hadn’t cried this freely since he was a child.

“Don’t cry for me, Milord.” She furrowed her brow as her eyes sank shut. “The wounds hurt but they won’t kill me. They need me alive to use against you.”

“It’s more believable this way.” An excuse. This was the only way he could let out all his frustrations.

“Your tears… only makes this easier for me to do.” She smiled weakly as her breathing grew shallow and even. “Thank you for your concern…”

“This is my fault.”

“I knew what I was doing. I knew what was going to happen. That’s why I had to be the one to do it.”

Masamune had no idea what caused them to leave in such a haste, only that they had. It had been with such great haste they left the doors on the cells ajar. He made short work of the guard, thanks to the dagger he had been given. He took the scraps of cloth in his hands and tended to the bleeding wounds on her body before wrapping her in his haori once more. Something was happened but all he could think was how he was going to keep his promise.

“Leave me…” She whispered as she squirmed in his arms. “I’ll just slow you down.”

“No…” His voice was a harsh rasp, the cauldron was boiling again. “This castle is under siege.” Sure enough, a rumble low and dangerous rolled through the air. “Leave it to Kojuro to organize a siege on such short notice.” There was clear admiration in his voice, though it couldn’t mask the hatred. On sure steps he ferried her out of the dungeon.

It was pure chaos all around them as Masamune strode through the castle grounds. He found a relatively quiet place in the garden and set her down. He took up a sword from a soldier already felled. The cauldron tipped over and a roiling, raging beast fell free. With eyes blazing fire set on a face of pure calm, disconcerting calm he cut down every enemy soldier that came near. With each slash he counted.

One.

Two.

Three.

And she didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. She had no knowledge of the unspoken vow he made in that cell. “LORD MASAMUNE!” He heard his name and he was on the ground. He looked up in time to see her topple over with an arrow in her shoulder. Masamune growled as he got to his feet but the archer fell to his knees. He locked eyes with a Date soldier. Not just any Date soldier, Kojuro. Relief washed over his retainer as he rushed to his Lord’s side.

“Lord Masamune, how are you? Are you hurt?” Kojuro’s eye raked frantically over Masamune’s form looking for injuries. Masamune just shook his head and look down at the whimpering woman at his feet.

“It not nearly enough…” His voice came out as a seething hiss. The sword he wielded clattered in his hand, trembling with his unbridled rage. “Get her out of here… I have work to do.”

“But Milord…” Kojuro’s attempt to protest was cut down with such virulence it left him reeling.

“That’s an order!” He gritted his teeth as he started to walk toward the fighting. “It’s one thing to attack me, it’s another entirely to come after my wife!”

“But… I’m not his wife…” She muttered, a gurgle in her voice when she spoke, drawing Kojuro done to her. The broke the shaft of the arrow before sheathing his sword. As instructed, he carried her out of the castle, protected by a contingent of his own retainers.

In the haze light of dawn, the perpetrators of the attack kneeled at the castle gates. “What do you want us to do with them, Masa?” Shigezane wondered as he turned to his cousin. “Should I…”

“Bring him back to Yonezawa as a prisoner. I still owe him a few things… A promise to keep.” The ice in his voice sent a chill down Shigezane’s spine.

“And the rest?”

“Leave them, we’re down here.” That was more like the Masamune he knew.

“Say what promise are you talking about?” Shigezane wondered as he pulled the prisoner to his feet. Masamune turned around and stared them down with a glare sharper than the finest sword.

“I vowed I would make them pay for every wound they inflicted on her, every tear she cried, and every ounce of pain they wrought on her.” He explained on a growl that rumbled from his chest. The prisoner looked at Masamune horrified. “I haven’t fulfilled my promise yet.”

#slbp #slbp masamune #slbp kojuro #slbp shigezane #angst #minor violence #don't poke the dragon

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orphanedshadow · 6 years

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Revelation

Hell definitely had its surprises, but the one which confused Kara the most was that the supposed unending pain never came. Even as the heat rose to the point where the flesh of those humans she saw ignited unbidden it simply caused a comforting blossom of warmth to spread through her veins. Those ever-present pains from some of her hunts seemed so much lesser in this heat as well, soothed by the fires that surrounded her.

It all seemed far too comforting, as if she had not gone to Hell, but merely gone home.

Finding herself without any clear objective for the first time she could remember Kara easily fell back into the patterns she had in life. It was freeing not to have to worry about humanity as she hunted, moving through this literal hellscape like she belonged. It was with a strange sort of feral calm that she worked, stalking all manner of beast and occasionally bathing in the blood of one that she felt was weak enough to be hunted for food.

It could have been years or it could have been a mere hour after her arrival that a woman stepped forward from between the flames, the finger-bones hanging from the multitude of braids in her hair knocking together like wind-chimes as she moved. Even with a mostly human form there was nothing human to the other's movements, each step brimming predatory grace and potential violence.

A hauntingly familiar song reached Kara's ears as the being approached, an action which in that moment was far more terrifying than any sort of weaponry. Nothing announced it's presence in these lands not unless it wished to be made a meal.

Despite the stranger's horrendously scarred appearance and the dangers that Kara had nearly been destroyed by so many times it was clear that the other did not care, as if she could destroy any threat with a mere wave of a hand.

Everything about this situation told her to hide, nonetheless it took all Kara had not to emerge from her current hiding spot as a sort of serenity swept over her. There it was again, that feeling of being home, and even stronger than before.

It soon became clear that her hiding was for naught. The strange woman's eyes simply looked past the flaming stalks of grass Kara had done her best to conceal herself behind; before piercing through the layers of magics that had saved the girl's life many times before.

The singing trailed off, the last note hanging in the air for a moment as the woman stares at Kara, running a tongue over pointed teeth as if contemplating what to do with her. Only once something akin to silence fell did she finally speak.

Her voice brought with it fragments of something, half-forgotten images the origins of which she was unsure of. It felt like one she had heard in her dreams when she was just a little girl. “Nenni nidali hoxmarch”

The comforting statement did not have it's intended effect as the stranger's solemn expression quickly broke into a slightly sinister smile, though given how she carried herself and the deep chasms of scars that covered every inch of visible skin it was likely that any smile would seem sinister.

"Pardon?" For once Kara decided to play the fool, for though it was not as she expected this was most definitely Hell, and revealing a knowledge of even the most basic of Enochian phrases was likely the pinnacle of stupidity.

The smile dropped, an almost playful smirk taking it's place. This entire situation made Kara uneasy, especially as the being seemed to know far more than she did. “You try saying that with a straight face.” Perhaps the Enochian reply was merely a test or some sort of slip up, or perhaps the stranger knew, but either way Kara could not help but feel trapped.

“I am sorry, I do not understand you. Do you speak English?” Kara could only hope that flawless politeness would offer her some kind of advantage as she played the fool, and that the small knife in her hand that she had made from the bones of her last meal could do some damage if it came down to that.

With all the suddenness of a striking viper the stranger closed the gap between them, long strides eating up the distance until she was just barely outside of stabbing range. Eyes narrowed, as if keeping watch for even the smallest mistake. “Allegra has told me you speak in the tongues of your ancestors, do not play coy with me girl.”

“I do not know any Allegras. You must have me mistaken for someone else.” Her hand may have shifted slightly on the blade at the approach, but apart from that Kara remained practically motionless. She would stand her ground and keep to her lies, that was the only option in sight.

“I highly doubt that. You carry a blade made from the femur of a wanderer and no other true weapons. From the teeth around your neck and those claws tucked into your belt you have killed at least one harpy, and if I had to hazard a guess a decently sized wyrrm. Even if we ignore all that you also have Lore's eyes.” Without any other hint as to what she was doing the woman switched to Enochian, speech flowing as if she had never changed languages. “and Eva's flawed stance.”

It was only an almost imperceptible movement of Kara's feet to reassure herself that her stance was correct, but it was enough for the stranger. Once more a wide grin crossed those scarred features, and it became painfully apparent to Kara that she had made a mistake. “Enough games. It is time for you to come home.”

The remaining distance between them was quickly closed, this time by Kara. A foolhardy move, but her lies had been found out, and this was the closest to an advantage she would get.

Given how she had expected this attack to go she was almost surprised when her blade sunk into flesh and then struck bone. Though not in the heart as she had intended the girl did get some small satisfaction from hitting the stranger's bicep instead of having the attack completely avoided.

That satisfaction vanished soon enough, as one of the stranger's hands moved to wrap around Kara's throat, careful so as not to offer her a chance to bite.

Much like one would a misbehaving kitten the stranger lifted Kara off the ground, casually unhooking the hunter's fingers from around the knife with her free hand. There did not seem to be any trace of irritation in her attitude, even as she withdraws the knife from her own arm and wipes it off as best she could on Kara's already somewhat blood-soaked hair.

“None of that now Kara. There will be time for stabbing later.” Oddly enough the woman's voice seemed tinged with pride, as if she had just seen a young child do something impressive, not at all like she had just gotten stabbed by a girl with some serious emotional issues.

“You know my name?” Perhaps it was the tone used, or perhaps it was the shock of some random demon knowing her name, but for once struggling took a back seat. Kara wanted to know no, she needed to know, why was the woman before her so familiar, and what did she know?

Lowering the girl so that her feet just barely touched the ground the stranger chuckles, slipping on her glamour for a minute before letting go again, the pretty face she wore out in public vanishing once more under her scars. “I know a great deal more than that little one.”

The other's brief change as well as the term of endearment brought about another wave of familiarity from Kara. She blinked rapidly, her mind racing in order to attempt to put a slew of fragmented thoughts together in some kind of sensible way. Unbidden a single utterance made it's way out of her mouth. “Drilpi lvlo?”

“Obviously” Her smile widens, arm lowering even further so that Kara could stand properly, though she did not relax her grip. “Your memory needs work child.”

Hazy memories she had once considered to be nothing more than dreams fell into place at the other’s confirmation, the universe suddenly making a great deal more sense. A lifetime of denial could not stand against this sort of revelation, especially not when the evidence proving it was something she had been attempting to hide from herself for as long as she could remember. “Drilpi lvlo Phel”

Once named Phel released her grip on Kara’s throat, hand shifting to stroke her hair gently, heart breaking just a little when the girl flinches. Nothing but anger at an attack, yet fear at tenderness. The universe had most certainly not been kind...so much so that perhaps the child’s survival was based on instinct, not memory. “Yes little one, and who are you?”

“Kara, just Kara.“ Her voice almost broke, reality still crumbling around her as she falls back on what she had told herself over and over for so many years. Those English words were who she had to be, no matter how much easier Infernal came to her, and no matter how inhuman her actions were.

The switch to Infernal did not require any thought on Phel’s part, the heavy syllables seeming more real in that moment. “You have never been just anything, and you will always be more than just Kara.”

A single scarred finger moved to under the girl’s chin, a gentle guide encouraging her to look up. The moment that eye contact was made a whisper was heard, the whisper of a lost child who no longer knew where she belonged. Even the Infernal tongue could not lend her words any menace, as clearly Kara did not have any to spare. “What am I”

It was difficult for her to resist the urge to simply wrap her arms around the girl, to bring her close and do her best to erase every fragment of doubt Kara had. “Your true name is Kora, though I doubt that is the answer you seek. Nor would it satisfy you to hear that you are whatever you choose to be, or at least it would not have when you were small.”

For a moment it seemed as if there would be no further answer forthcoming, but soon enough Phel had her thoughts in order. Brushing back bloodied strands of hair with a thumb she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Centuries ago I met a woman who went by the name of Lorelei Mesaros. She was the most wondrous being I have ever laid eyes upon. Together we started the bloodline, of which you are one of the last. In some people’s eyes that would make you an abomination, but that is not what you are. You are a miracle, my little miracle.”

#a tale of lightning and knives: drabbles #continuation of the end of the vampire verse #not mainverse canon #this was far too long to leave uncut #a line drawn in blood [lineage]

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oxfordeliterp · 7 years

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❝ I am never warm i am rigid i forgot softness because it did not serve me.❞

Aria Bellefonte | twenty-one (II) | The Quarrel Club | Phoebe Tonkin | taken

Aria didn't ask for any of the things happening to her. She doesn't like depth, having to expose her feelings and being left vulnerable and she was fine with swallowing ethanol until the end of her boring existence, if it meant nothing ever had to change. She doesn't care to be special, or to succeed in life, having quite a narrow perspective on her future and living. In fact, she wasn't even supposed to be in Oxford, not being intelligent enough or having the sort of academic records to impress, but her parents, idealistic and perfectionist people who always seemed to push her from behind into doing something substantial with her life and not wasting her youth and brain, pulled some strings and got her in in no time. She was anything but thankful about it, expecting to be stuck in there with pretentious nerds, but the prejudice vanished when she met Charlotte and Charles Zerilli, who made Oxford bearable for her. Although she cannot keep up with the classes and she requires the constant help of her parents talking to the headmaster about her condition, which makes her feel inferior and frustrated despite not caring about scholar accomplishments, having good company turns everything else into background noise. At least she doesn't have to party on her own. But her group of friends was just the second best thing to happen at her — after Elizabeth. Nobody warned her that good things don't last forever, howsoever, because back at home, if she wanted caviar for every meal, she would get it, and when her newly found love died, she experienced feeling sorrow for the very first time in her life, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Whereas she never cared much that she is a member of the Quarrel Club, suddenly, being close to Gwendolyn Armstrong felt relevant. She evoked the union between all ten of them — nine until Sophia joined too — as if the group suddenly tied them and she could feel a connection where it once was utter indifference. Since she is suspecting that Marc is involved in Elizabeth's death, it isn't difficult to blend that assumption with the leader's general hatred for the other club and ally with her in order to avenge her girlfriend and take them down, although Aria's version of it is more extreme than the decadence Gwendolyn has in mind. As a generally passive person, getting involved in something and having a purpose in life is all new to her and there are times she approaches her old way of thinking, asking herself what is the point in getting revenge to begin with, and why she is not holding a bottle of liquor right now, but if one fact about Aria is accurate, that is that she cared about Elizabeth more than she could ever care to drink until her blood system turned into alcohol. Though nothing, including ruining Marc's life in return, brings her joy or pleasure anymore, now that she is deprived of the only person who made her feel, not only good, but anything at all, she doesn't feel like her world is crashing down and catching her under, having a strong personality and knowing how to shut her emotions down, behind what once was a neutral mask and now is her general state. She doesn't even have to simulate apathy when the only reason why she got rid of it the first time around is gone. In fact, it all comes naturally to her — and she cannot, under any circumstances, be seen grieving Elizabeth's death too much, because an empty child like her never had to cry in her life until this point and she is pretty sure she doesn't know how. Aria has never been a girly girl, nor did she care about fashion and prettiness and no matter how much money was in her pockets, she never changed her old sneakers or her oversized hoodie. Yet, that doesn't mean that her appearance isn't worthy of the Quarrel Club, some of the university's most fashionable figures, because the way she carries herself is graceful and her attitude is untouchable and nonchalant through a strength that leaves an impression on nearly everybody who has ever met her. Not the brightest, not the prettiest and not even remotely interested in being well-liked or smiling with her teeth to show friendliness, Aria somehow still manages to be one of the best liked people around through her lighthearted personality and dry humor and how she does it is a mystery even to herself.

Elizabeth Pemberly Aria loved Elizabeth exactly how she wanted to be loved — passionately, kindly, completely, simply — how Marc could have never loved her, and it was enough for them to be happy, even if it meant only kissing after locking the door. Elizabeth wasn’t prepared to give her boyfriend up entirely, but Aria didn’t mind the inconvenience, as conventional relationships have never been her cup of tea either, and half of the excitement when it came to her secret lover was represented by the fact that they could have gotten caught. They were completely in balance, equally best friends and girlfriends, and, as flawed and twisted as it was, it was perfect for them. Aria is the one who introduced her to her group of friends, the Zerilli twins, but what neither of the four knows is that exactly spending too much time with Charlie-boy caused Elizabeth’s final, literal downfall, as much as it was out of context. Charles Zerilli They both find it hilarious — their best inside joke, really — that Charlie fell in love with Aria, so they often laugh at it, as it is a very casual topic of discussion for the both of them. He's not affected and she's not bothered; as easy as that. They can't afford to treat it any other way, seeing as Aria and the twins are a compact group, knowing everything about each other, including their deepest secrets, hidden fears and, most of times, predicting each others' reactions, and neither wants the dynamic to change or to have Charlotte be caught in the middle of any kind of silly drama. Charlie isn't bitter about it, liking their relationship the way it is and not minding Aria's coldness, but, on the contrary, understanding it, given the circumstances. Frankly, if he had a choice, he would just stop loving her, because it tangles everything together, but the best he can do for now is dismiss his feelings and laugh them off until they become a joke. Sophia Clare Sophia took Elizabeth's place in the Quarrel Club and, deep down, Aria knows that she has to resent her for it by default, but the younger girl is her main supplier and Aria never learned how to properly hate people to begin with. It just would feel pointless, and Sophia, who could use a friend or two to lean on since she knows she can no longer revolve completely around Dexter, knows how to take advantage of the connection and try to get closer to the other girl. She doesn't want to buy her way into being liked, but she doesn't have the time or the disposition to put actual effort into it and Aria, who depends on her and the stuff she is dealing, seems like the easy option, which, to be entirely frank, she is. Amir Jain To Aria, Amir is incredibly boring the way he is now. They officially met when she was in a vulnerable place with herself, and he acted like the perfect gentleman that he is, comforted her without crossing any lines and it should have been enough for the girl to be swept off her feet, even if it was unintentional. Yet, Aria found him nothing but a younger, better looking reminder of her grandfather and she decided to put her mind into corrupting him, thinking that he could use her help to loosen up and live a little before he went old physically too. Amir doesn’t mind her perception of him and passively allows her to drag him with her in clubs from time to time, but knows that he won’t change for the worse. What neither knows is that more than a coincidence ties them together and that they have more in common than initially thought.

#school rp #university rp #college rp #uni rp #aria bellefonte #q #a #aria bellefonte bio #oq #t

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emptywithout · 7 years

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Angry!Sam :)

Hey look, it’s my 100th post! Go me! Ok, so here’s a one shot of an angry Sam. This is OOC, but it’s my take on what he might do when he finally snaps. I actually considered going a bit darker, but I’m going to save that for my multi chapter one I’m working on. (Warnings: mentions of his torture/mind rape, but doesn't go into detail.)

Story below the cut. About 1,000 words.

@malicezero @superwholocklotr95 @crossroadsangelcastiel, it’s done! :)

Sam sat back in his chair, his hands clenched. His knee bounced up and down under the table. He thought about what had just happened and his eyes narrowed. Blood rushed through his ears so loudly he almost couldn’t think.

He didn’t hear Dean the first three times he called him. He only reacted when Dean finally grabbed his shoulder.

“Sam! What’s wrong with you? I called your name like three fucking times.”

Sam grimaced at his brother’s touch and shoved Dean’s hand off of his shoulder. He curled his teeth and snarled.

“Don’t touch me, Dean.” His voice was low and gravelly.

Dean was taken aback, raising both his hands above his head, responding, “Sam, what the hell?” He was thoroughly confused. And worried. This was not like Sam.

“Back off, Dean.” Sam stood up, making sure to not look at his brother. If he did, he knew Dean would talk him out of what he was about to do. He brushed past him and into the kitchen, where his mom had just entered. Dean followed closely behind.

“Mary,” Sam began.

Mary turned to face her youngest son. Her face was emotionless. She was showing no signs of love toward Sam, nor remorse for her actions of deciding to work with the fucking British Men of Letters. Sam walked all the way up to where Mary stood, standing just a few inches away from her. She looked up at him and said nothing.

“How could you choose them over me? I’m your son. They fucking tortured me. They burned my feet with a blowtorch, Mary. A blowtorch.” Sam’s voice was not shaky. Sam’s voice was steady. He took deep, even breaths and stared directly into Mary’s eyes.

Mary sighed and rolled her shoulders back, “yes Sam, I know. But they mean well, they really – “

“They mean well? Do you think they meant well when they drenched me in ice cold water? When they cut my face? My torso? When they drugged me and mind raped me?” Sam’s voice was rising slowly. Dean could feel the anger radiating from Sam’s body. But Sam’s words shocked Dean completely, and he had to catch his breath.

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed and he grabbed Sam’s arm gently, “wait, whoa, they what?”

Sam turned on Dean, grabbing his arm and pulling it off of him. “Dean, I said get your hands off of me!” Dean reluctantly backed off and Sam turned back to his mother.

“How dare you,” Sam began, “how dare you come back into my life and do this to me. You are not the mother I thought you were. You are not the person I thought you were.”

“Sam, we’re family, we can work this out.” Mary reached her hand out toward her younger son, but he raised his hand and took a step back.

“Don’t you touch me,” Sam said, pointing his finger at her, “And family? Ha! You’re not my family. Family doesn’t mean blood, I’ve learned that. So don’t touch me. Don’t you even come near me. I just need to know - do you have any regrets at all? Do you even care about my feelings? How can any of this be ok? How can you justify this?” Sam’s eyes were wide, and all of his muscles were tense.

Dean wasn’t sure what to do or say at this point. He’d never seen Sam quite this pissed before.

Sam was breathing heavily but did not turn his eyes away from his mother. She blinked and looked down at the floor.

“Oh, what, nothing to say? Right. I figured.” Sam crinkled his nose and exhaled sharply through it.

He turned to face his brother.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was pleading.

“Sammy, what can I- “

“Shut up and listen to me. I don’t know why Amara chose you. I don’t know why you got your deepest desire, and I don’t know why that desire was mom. But here we are, and here she is. And our mom thinks torturing me is ok. She might as well have been in that room with Toni, holding that blowtorch, and injecting me over and over with that needle. What now, Dean? I can’t live in the same home as this…person.” Dean shuddered, thinking about how Sam was tortured, and how he had to live with that forever. And how his mother didn’t care.

Mary crossed her arms and just stared at Sam. Dean noticed she wasn’t upset at all. Sam’s words about her joining the torture didn’t get a response at all. She just seemed irritated. Dean was becoming upset too, but he knew that Sam needed to get this out, so he stayed strong for his brother. He turned his attention back to Sam.

“Sammy. Listen, I didn’t know, you never told me about that.” Dean’s eyes were sad. He tried to keep his voice calm, his words gentle. Mary looked on from the other side of the room, still saying nothing.

“Of course I didn’t fucking tell you! You think I wanted to share that? You think I wanted to relive what that bitch did to me?”

“Sam, calm down, let’s –“

“Calm down? Calm down? Christ, Dean, when is it my turn?” Sam started yelling, startling Dean. “When do I get comforted, when do I get to heal!” Sam was pointing to himself, his eyes filled with rage.

“I hear you, Sam, I do. We’ll figure this out, we’ll take care of all of this.” Dean tried to stay calm for his brother. He wanted to deal with his mother in the worst way, especially the way she was handling this situation. But Sam was suffering and Dean needed to help.

Sam continued, his yelling turning to screaming at the top of his lungs. “NO! I’ve had enough of this! I just can’t anymore!” Sam picked up a mug that was sitting on the counter and flung it across the room. It hit the wall, shattering into pieces. Mary jumped, and Dean tried frantically to think of what to do next. Sam was always the calm one, Sam was the one that grounded him.

Sam walked closer to his mother, his anger seething. His body was shaking with rage, and he could barely control his impulse to reach out and grab his mother’s neck. Dean cautiously took another step, ready to jump into – whatever might happen.

“How dare you.” Sam’s voice was more steady now. But years of anger and emotion that had been welling up were finally taking its toll on Sam.

He leaned in close to Mary and said through clenched teeth, “You don’t even know me. You might have given birth to me, but you were never my Mom. And now you never will be.”

Sam turned and pushed Dean out of his way, hard enough to send him tumbling to the floor. He swept his arm across the table as he walked by, sending dishes crashing to the floor.

Dean got up to go after him, but Sam merely said, “Don’t, Dean.” Sam left the kitchen, and the next sound Dean heard was the bunker door closing. Sam was gone.

#angry!sam #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #my poor sam #oops edited for grammar and punctuation

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deleriousfromcoffee · 7 years

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Requirum

Alrighty, thanks to @themanicmagician , I am shipping a rare pair known as Papby or Papyrus and Grillby. And because I hate myself so much, I’ve decided to write a fic! I will be posting on Archive as well, and yes, I will post a ling soon as I post it. So! Without further ado, here is chapter one!

Chapter One _-_-_ Reset Mayhem _-_-_

The faint sound of boots crunching over rock, pausing then continuing was all that filled the area. The group watched as the Captain of the Royal Guard, Papyrus, paced back and forth in front of them, crimson eyelights a dull, almost out of focus blur, arms folded behind his back, boots barely making a sound as his hips moved with no discernible joint, his movement fluid -- like he were made of liquid instead of hard bone and magic. His quarter plate armor, obsidian black that shone even in the faint light of the lava far below, was emblazoned with a Angel crest of King Asgore, though faint scratches and mending could be seen where he’d been attacked, there wasn’t any discernible marks on his exposed spinal column, nor his hip bones, which barely held his black leather, leather, pants up. The golden skull of his belt buckle flashed as he turned smoothly on his heel, sharp teeth snapping at an imagined slight before he finally stood still and turned his back to the group, shaking his head.

‘Now?’ A rabbit mouthed to their partner, who peered around the rock then nodded, dropping a small pebble before sending it skittering across the floor with a solid kick to the next rock, where it bounced away before landing. Papyrus didn’t even flinch. His arms came around his front as he crossed them over his chest plate and he cocked his hip, staring over the expanse of lava, seemingly completely at ease with the situation. The rabbit nodded and their partner, a blue cat monster, took a deep breath before sharing a manic grin and the pair charged forward, prompting the rest of the group to follow.

There was a flash of crimson magic before a bone club swept the bunny off their feet, sending them tumbling as the cat dodged and managed to lock her own lance with his club before Papyrus’ strength sent her sprawling as a barrage of sharpened bones struck the others, sticking them to the ground, some cutting into their flesh while others laid on their backs, the faintly glowing bone centimeters from their necks or heads, SOUL’s shining brightly just above their chests. The cat rolled to her feet and sent a wave of attacks at Papyrus, acid yellow claw marks that sliced through the air. He blocked each one and sent a bone line straight at her. She dodged almost each one but the last two, which sent her to her knees, HP almost dangerously low. Papyrus’ boots barely made a sound as he walked towards her, bone club slung over his shoulder and when her friend, the rabbit, made a move to get up, Papyrus flicked his wrist almost lazily, conjuring another line of bones that trapped him effectively.

“Yield.” He said, voice low and dangerous. His crimson eye lights blazed like fire, the low thrum of magic in the air almost oppressive as the heat of the surrounding room. He leveled the club at her throat -- when had it transformed into a lance?! She looked at him, blood dripping into her eyes and blurring the impressive image the Captain cut -- bloody red scarf gently blowing behind him from the faint air flow of rising heat, the dark, imposing lines of his sharp uniform and the angles of his bones -- before the tip tilted her head back and dug into her neck just slightly.

“I yield.” He stepped back and the pressure disappeared and he smirked, the corner of his fanged mouth curling from his scowl, his brow lines relaxing slightly in his triumph, the crack over his right eye socket seemingly less severe than before as his scowl lightened just a little bit. He nodded and the dark blur around the edges of the group vanished as the BATTLE was dispersed.

“Alright you pieces of shit, fall in.” He snapped, dispersing his attacks and allowing them to stand straight. The guard did so without complaint or hesitance; Papyrus was almost more lethal than Undyne when it came to training. If you didn’t fall in fast enough, you may get dusted. Low HP? Target practice for everyone else. If you actually managed to survive Hell Month and make it into the guard, you either became a sentry, as most of the dogs did, or you became a guardsman, tasked with patrolling various areas, protecting the palace, or reporting to Undyne or Papyrus, to list a few. He surveyed the group in front of him, taking in their various wounds, ramrod straight postures, and slight quiver of fear to their shoulders as he growled deep in the base of his chest.

“I won’t even grace you pathetic trash piles with a dusting; that was the most shameful attempt at an ambush I have ever seen.” His eyelights combed over their faces before they froze on the light blue cat monster and pointed with his sword, voice still rumbling with barely restrained anger at their incompetence,

“You. Your name.”

“Catty, Captain.” She stated, struggling to contain her emotions; if the captain himself learned your name, you were either going to be made an example of or have your rank increased. He hummed and nodded.

“Catty was the only amoung you who managed to not only get back to her feet after I sent her sprawling, but also the only monster who managed to cross blades with me. The rest of you disgusting, shittastic wastes of space were nearly dusted!” He roared, eye lights flashing and narrowing. “If I, the Great Papyrus, didn’t have the level of control over my Karmic Output, and have a need to fill up the ranks once more, you would all be dust! As it stands, I may just dust you all right this second; if you can’t get better at a simple ambush, you all will be useless to the guard.” He calmed down a moment later, however, voice returning to a low, angry growl.

“But I am nothing if not merciful, at least for those who have managed to progress so far in training. So, none of you have been dusted as of yet and while you’re essentially still useless sacks of shit, you can be trained. You will be paired off with another guardsman who will report back to myself or Lieutenant Undyne about your progress and if it’s less than satisfactory, you will be sent to the bottom once again, am I clear.” Nods. Papyrus smirked and named off the the pairs he had memorized before he pointed to Catty and said,

“I have changed my mind. You will train with Undyne. She could use some

entertainment.” Before anyone could react to that statement, Papyrus’ cell phone gave off a low buzz, prompting him to pause and pull it out of his pocket and snap,

“What do you want, mutt? This better be- He’s what?! Stop the creature immediately!” He snapped, before hanging up and stalking away, the line of recruits parting before him.

“Dismissed!” He roared over his shoulder, long strides carrying him away from the---

RESET….RESET….RESET...RESET...RESET….RESET…..

“But I am nothing if not merciful, at least for those who have managed to progress so far in training. So, none of you have been dusted as of yet and while you’re essentially still useless sacks of shit, you can be trained. You will be paired off with another guardsman who will report back to myself or Lieutenant Undyne about your progress and if it’s less than satisfactory, you will be sent to the bottom once again, am I clear.” Nods. Papyrus smirked and named off the pairs he had memorized before he pointed to Catty and said,

“I have changed my mind. You will train with Undyne. She could use some entertainment, and you seem promising.” Before anyone could react to that statement, Papyrus’ cell phone gave off a low buzz, prompting him to pause and pull it out of his pocket and snap,

“What do you want, mutt? This better be- He’s what?! Stop the creature immediately!” He snapped, before hanging up and stalking away, the line of recruits parting before him.

“Dismissed!” He roared over his shoulder, long strides carrying him away from the platform he’d been using for training and sprinting for the ferry, dread causing his SOUL to start pounding.

‘Nonononono… Don’t tell me Sans is… NO. That idiot can’t have been dusted. He can’t have been.’ The thoughts wormed through his mind like acid eating through metal, his SOUL pounding furiously in a long forgotten emotion. Terror. He was terrified that he was going to lose his older brother. The ferry ride and run through Snowdin was a blur. He ignored the curious looks and the fearful aversion of his gaze, ignored how several people dove for cover to get out of his war path, the killer intent that radiated off of him causing a low hum of magic to buzz about him.

As he saw Sans’ sentry post, he didn’t see his brother. It was still to early in the day for Sans to be thinking about slacking off at Grillby’s, and it was late enough for him to still be there, sleeping on the job. But he wasn’t there. Papyrus dashed around the back of the wooden structure and saw a pile of clothes. His SOUL ached and he nearly screamed but iron will clamped down on the reaction and he forced himself to truly look. If Sans had been dusted as he feared, most of his clothes would have dusted with him; leaving behind one or two articles of pure sentimental value. Instead, his shoes, shorts, wool sweater and his black jacket were all lying in a haphazard trail behind the station, boney footprints leading deeper into the woods, towards the Ruins.

Papyrus took a steadying breath and grabbed Sans’ jacket, sliding it over his arms and pulling it close; the heavy material was warm, comforting and smelled faintly of mustard, old books and electricity. It smelled like Sans. He grabbed the red sweater, shoes, socks, and shorts, folding the sweater, socks and shorts, and putting them in the dimensional box Alphys had upgraded for his phone. She owed him a few favors and worked two off with the upgrades. He had never been more grateful than in that moment. The task done, and taking a steadying breath, Papyrus followed the boney footprints deeper into the forest, trying to ignore the deep unrest in his Soul.

He was beginning to give up hope, roughly forty minutes later and no sign of the footprints of tracks of any kind when he heard a soft whimpering cry and saw a small, almost diminutive, skeleton, completely nude, curled up in the roots of a tree in the snow, and a goat monster who looked almost identical to Asgore, sans beard, dark hair and armor walking towards them; former Queen Toriel cut a regal figure even as she was humming a broken tune, giggling softly, as she went to pick up the baby. Papyrus rushed forward and sent a bone construct around the child. Toriel looked over him and smirked with a condescending,

“I thought you would have been happy to see the child dead, much like your brother.”

“What.” He snarled, though his Soul ached at the possibility. He was clinging to the hope his fears were wrong. He desperately wanted them to be wrong.

“Oh, don’t fret. It seems that the child is your brother. I would recognize those whimpers anywhere, though they’re not through the door as I expected.” She paused, a strange moment of lucidity seeming to take over her as she stared at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Can you even take care of a child?”

“Of course I can! I’ve been taking care of the idiot since we were children-!”

“Oh no, I don’t mean in the way that you’ve been taking care of him, which is to say almost abusive, at least from what I managed to wheedle from the poor boy. I mean actually take care of a child. Do you know what to feed them? How to clothe them, keep them entertained and healthy? Skeletal magic, as far as I can tell, is unpredictable at the best. You may have high enough LOVE to survive, and your dear brother may be able to survive as an adult, but as a child? What can he do? You’re the captain of the guard, you’re busy so often and so many people despise your dear brother. Who’s to say that he won’t be dusted before he has a chance to grow up again? Or if he will grow up?” Toriel giggled, shaking her head. “Face it, deary. You have no idea how to properly raise a child-”

“He’s my brother. I will not allow the likes of you to take him from me. Not again.” Papyrus growled. Toriel sighed and shook her head, shrugging.

“Fine. But, for some reason, maybe that idea of sentiment, I am feeling generous. Come with me.”

“Try-”

“And you’ll what? Dust the only source of information of raising a child that you have? Please. Sans would die in the first two weeks, and I’m being generous. Now, you can let me help you, or you can let your dear, baby brother die. As it is, he may freeze to death.” Toriel pointed out. Sans’ whimpers had gone silent and Papyrus dismissed the bone construct and brought the small child to his arms through levitation. Bones were hard pressed to feel any kind of temperature but- Papyrus could have dusted himself in that moment.

As a child, he’d needed to be layered in as many warm blankets as Sans could find for him, bones shaking so hard that he was sure his bones were going to fall apart. Sans’ bones were freezing. He swore softly and pulled out his cell, pulling the thick red sweater, wrapping it around Sans. Once he was sure the small child wasn’t going to be suffocated or muffled and that there still was a Soul beat, Papyrus pulled him to his chest, clawed phalanges curling over the small bundle. Toriel watched with a blank expression.

Once he was finished, she lead the way into the Ruins, though Papyrus kept Sans close to his chest and the dull thrum of magic in the air, waiting for the former Queen to do anything beside what she said she would. She led the way down the halls and upstairs to a mostly well-kept house before she open a door and slammed it in Papyrus’ face when he moved to follow. His internal panic spiked for a brief second before he tempered it with iron will and remained calm, though his hold on his literal baby brother tightened marginally. He could feel, faintly, a Soul beat still, and the soft rise and fall of ribs so that was good at very least. He made a mental note to Check Sans the minute they were home, however. His 1 HP was dangerous as an adult; stars knew how dangerous it was as child. Toriel appeared moments later, a medium sized box in her hands.

“Clothes, a few books, and a few toys. Try not to dust him, oh Great Guard Captain, Terrible and Magnificent Papyrus.” He could sense the mocking note in her voice but a sharp glare simply had her giggling once more.

“Off you go. I’m going to bake some snail pie.” And with that, she left him alone in the hallway, baby brother in his arms and a box of items at his feet. Papyrus took stock of what Toriel had given him and quickly made a decision; he stuffed Sans’ collar in the box, then slowly, almost reverently, pulled off his jacket and folded it up so it fit in the box and none of it was showing. Then, in the hood, he settled the sweater that swaddled his brother, ivory face peeking out from the crimson red wool, eye sockets closed.

Papyrus felt a surge of protectiveness he hadn’t felt for a while and picked up the box slowly, almost cradling it, before striding out of the hallway, back down the stairs and out of the damn ruins. He bypassed his puzzles with ease and all the mutts on duty snapped at attention when he walked by. Dogamy and Dogeressa seemed to get a little too curious about the new smell that came from their Captain but a sharp glare and a warning growl was all that was needed to remind them that he would dust them if they stuck their noses where they didn’t belong. Making it back to the house without any further questioning, Papyrus strode upstairs, whistling sharply for his hellhound to follow. It did without a second's hesitation. His loyal pet would need to recognize Sans and that he was to be protected while in this form or else risk Papyrus’ rage.

“This,” he gently pulled Sans out of the box after setting it on the floor by his bed and cradled him in the red wool sweater. “Is Sans. You are to protect him when I am not here, clear?” The hound moved closer, sniffing at the baby before sneezing three times. He understood. Papyrus sighed and dressed Sans in the clothes Toriel had given him; a small onsie it seemed. It was a soft material, blood red even. Papyrus couldn’t help the snort that escaped. Even as a child, Sans had kept the horrific scars over his eye socket and even his golden tooth stayed in place, somehow shrinking- Papyrus shook his head and snorted, thinking back to Toriel. The crazy bitch was almost terrifyingly lucid…

He had heard rumors that she lived in the Ruins, that the children who escaped her clutches or had even been sent to their deaths in the rest of the Underground. He knew Sans talked to someone when he came home with horrible jokes that grated Papyrus’ spine but, deep down, he wanted to laugh. He wanted to be able to take care of his brother. And for them, that meant strength. So Papyrus became strong, had to. Sans had protected him more than once. Sans had found him after four years apart, but by then his brother was so low in HP it was almost a miracle he was even alive in the world they lived in. Papyrus killed and fought, clawed his way to the top all so he could protect what he loved most. His brother was probably the only reason he was still sane…

Monsters with high LV don’t usually retain their sanity for long periods of time. Undyne was a picture of that; she was unstable at points, though she retained enough sanity to remain a fearsome Captain. At least, until Papyrus had usurped her. After the sting of bitterness faded, Undyne rejoined the ranks -- Papyrus had spared her for a reason; she was strong, she was crafty and she had an in with the Royal Scientist. That, and she was closest thing to a friend that he had in the damn hell they lived in. He supposed he could count Grillby as well, though... He tolerated Grillby because Sans was in a relationship with him, what relationship, Papyrus had no idea and no want to find out, though the fire elemental did a fairly good job of protecting Sans if his exhaustion ever took over his survival instincts and he fell asleep at his piece of shit bar. Their relationship was far deeper, almost friendship if Papyrus looked hard enough, if not something… More. Shit, he’d have to tell Grillby that his brother was, for some reason, reverted to a child. This was not going to be fun.

The elemental was, by several accounts, almost as protective as Papyrus; as a fire elemental in a snowy environment, it stood that he was protective over the resources he had to survive. But that had also extended over his bar and more than one monster had been dusted when they tried to start shit there in the early days of the establishment opening. That protective nature had transferred over to Sans and Papyrus had seen the elemental almost borderline kind with Sans on more than one occasion; the threats of cutting him off due to his debt, the tab that Sans kept racking up, among other things like fights being fought outside on more than one occasion before Papyrus managed to make it into the guard and even after, as people tried to kill his brother…. Grillby had actually come outside and dusted them before saying,

“It wouldn’t do to have my best customer dusted, now would it?” No one after that tried to mess with Sans when Grillby was even remotely within gossip distance. Dusting monsters was almost a sport; how many could you kill? Or, maybe it was an art. It was a gruesome art form, to be sure. Papyrus shuddered at the thought. He might have the mask of being heartless to the rest of the Underground, of having one of the highest LV levels in the entire Underground, but at home? When he knew he was at least moderately safe? He was genuine. He cared about Sans. He said as much more than once, and though their days were filled with argument and back biting, he hated it. He didn’t like hurting his brother. He didn’t like the idea that he could accidentally dust him with one misplaced hit if it ever came to that… Sans would always fight back but Papyrus knew when his brother was holding back. He had seen him fight full out, when an almost unquenchable rage consumed him. But Sans never went for the royal guard recruitment, aside from being a sentry. It seemed his older brother was just as afraid of hurting him as he was hurting Sans.

Papyrus sighed and rocked his now baby brother. He was going to need to get more food and hope that Sans was old enough to stomach actual food. Milk was hard to procure and monster food was basically energy, but baby bones needed a steady supply of magic or milk to grow up well. And Papyrus had magic, but he also needed magic… Fuck. He needed to talk to Grillby, it seemed, sooner rather than later. He checked the clock at the corner of the room and hummed. There should be relative few patrons at the bar, and those that were there would be drunk or headed there. He set Sans down gently on his bed, and snapped his gloved fingers. Hex jumped up onto the bed and curled around Sans without prompting, deep red eyes watching her master for another order. Papyrus smirked and pet the dog’s ears.

“Good boy,” he said in rare praise. Hex woofed and wagged her tail softly before Papyrus situated Sans a little better and made sure he wasn’t going to suffocate in dog or in his wool sweater, which he had laid him back in to keep him warm before making his way downstairs and out the door. He wasn’t going to like this… Locking the door behind him, he stalked towards Grillby’s, killer intent warding off any who happened to come near.

The elemental looked up when Papyrus opened the door civilly, though the killer intent made most of the patrons shrink away. Papyrus rarely came to Grillby’s and with the amount of danger and murder he was radiating, anyone would guess Grillby was going to bite the dust, literally. The purple elemental regarded his possible death calmly, though his sharp eyelights took in more than most others did. The minute Papyrus was this dangerous, or that is, more dangerous than normal, when he seemed to keep a facade of control, made monsters want to hide and hope the target wasn’t them. He took in the lines of worried tension, the slightly brighter red of his eyelights. The way Papyrus walked was softer too, his heeled boots not clicking so much as gliding across the floor. There was a lack of dust on his gloves, so he wasn’t riding a LV rush… And Sans wasn’t dead. Possibly.

“Papyrus,” he said evenly, “What can I get you?”

“Come with me.” Grillby noted the tight growl, the dark promise that if he didn’t, he was going to regret it. He nodded slowly and said loudly,

“Everyone get the fuck out. And if I find even a single lick of beer or a crumb of food gone, I will dust you. Clear?” They had never fled so quickly in their short lives. Grillby snorted and went to a coat rack, pulling on a long black coat with a tailored collar and pulled it on, while asking,

“What happened?”

“Later. Come with me.” Grillby gave him a look, and for a monster that had very little expression, he seemed to be rather exasperated. Or maybe even worried. Papyrus couldn’t tell which.

“Sans-”

“My lazy ass brother is fine. Come with me now, Grillby. Or I will drag you.” Grillby grabbed the keys and stalked from behind the counter, his magic humming louder as the flames that made up his body burned brighter and hotter. To anyone else, it seemed he was gearing up for a fight, but in actuality, his fear and concern was showing through. Papyrus snorted and followed, giving Grillby only seconds to lock up his restaurant and home before leading the round about way to his home. Once there, he ushered the elemental inside and locked the door four times before stripping off his coat and hanging it up, Grillby copying him, though his flames had dimmed little.

“What’s this all about, Papyrus? If Sans is dusted, there’s no reason to drag it out-”

“He’s not dusted. He’s upstairs, but you have to be quiet.” The elemental looked surprised before he nodded and followed Papyrus upstairs, not to Sans’ room like he would have expected, but to Papyrus’ room. There, a very strange sight greeted him. Papyrus’ hellhound was wrapped around something small, which looked to be Sans’ sweater… Wait…

“Sans had a child?!” he demanded, voice rising slightly. Papyrus glared at him and Grillby’s mouth shut.

“No, you fucking moron. Sans wasn’t even pregnant; I figure you would have at least enough sense to notice if it ever happened.” he ignored the confused sputter and slight tilt of Grillby’s head. “No,” he moved over to the bed and picked up the bundle.

“This is Sans.” Grillby stared at the small skeleton baby, the scar over his eye socket, teeth small and sharp, eye sockets closed as his chest rose and fell slowly.

“If this is a prank…” he started and Papyrus gave him a withering glare.

“Do you think I have my brothers tacky sense of humor, jackass? This is the kind of prank Sans would pull, maybe tell a joke. I found him this way and brought him home. Be glad I’m even telling you that he’s alive instead of saying he was dusted.”

“We would all know if he were dusted, Papyrus.” Grillby said with an eyeroll and a huff of smoke.

“You’d tear the Underground apart till you found the ones responsible. Now, why do you need my help?” Papyrus swallowed his pride and said,

“Because you had a daughter. And because you have the magical reserves needed that will keep Sans alive until he’s awake or able to eat.”

“And you can’t because…” Grillby asked, though he knew. He just wanted to hear it.

“I’m captain of the guard, you idiot. If I were to be seen with lower magic levels, someone would try and dust me. You’re a bartender. The most you have to do is separate an angry mutt fight.”

“Hmn, fair enough. Very well, I’ll help you.”

“And here I thought you actually gave a damn about my brother.” Papyrus muttered and Grillby let out a another huff of smoke, dropping his pretenses.

“You know I do. If I were any other monster, I would have dusted you and Sans long ago. I’m much older than most, Papyrus. I fought in the war, and I gained LV at a far faster rate than almost any other monster, ASgore, yourself and Undyne aside. Speaking of, have you told her yet? It wouldn’t do if Sans were to get ill and then have Undyne try and take over while you’re fretting over your baby brother.”

“Damn it…”

“You could tell her the truth, you know.” GRillby suggested lightly as he picked Sans from the other skeleton, rocking him slowly side to side, lowering his body temperature to a more agreeable level. Papyrus watched, absent minded, and nodded, making a decision.

“Fine. I’ll call her.”

“Just know that I’m protective, Papyrus. If she comes anywhere near Sans with the intend I know she will, I will not hesitate to dust your vice captain or even your entire guard regiment.” Papyrus smirked.

“I would have beaten you to it, old man.” Grillby snorted and rolled his eyes before putting a hand over top of Sans’ chest, summoning his soul as his flames died down just a little bit more, his bright white eyelights dimming, jack-o-lantern grin smoothing out. Papyrus leaned against the wall, watching the other monster critically, running his own Check on his brother.

SANS THE SKELETON

HP: 1

DF: 1

ATK: 1

YOUR BABY BROTHER, WHOM YOU MUST PROTECT AND CARE FOR

Grillby looked at Papyrus sidelong and asked, voice a little softer than it had been a few minutes ago,

“What do you have in way of food? Do you know how old he is?”

“I have food that I can cook and shit Sans likes, but as a baby bones, I’d say he’s anywhere between six months and a year.” Grillby gave him a flat look and sighed, sparks jumping off his forearms.

“That’s a six month age gap, Papyrus. Until you know exactly how old he is, we’ll have to keep him supplied with magic. Go and tell Undyne, I’ll stay here with Sans and make sure he doesn’t, oh I don’t know, choke from mutt fur. See if that Doctor can do anything useful for once. Besides creating a murdering robot that has taken more than its fair share of my clientele.” Papyrus nodded and uncrossed his arms. He may not like Grillby but the monster was, if nothing else, surprisingly intelligent. Then again, he’d have to be, being a fire elemental in a snow environment. That and the fact that he’d survived so long was almost ridiculous.

“Fine. Just don’t burn my damn house down.” He ignored the indignant squawk as he turned and left. Papyrus debated for a moment about walking versus taking the boat and instead decided to call Undyne to see where she was.

‘What do ya want, Papyrus?’ She growled into the phone and Papyrus ignored her tone in favor of snapping.

“A favor, now tell me where the fuck you are.”

‘I’m in Hotland, ya know, doing my job. Which, speaking of, why aren’t ya doing yours?’ She sounded more curious than spiteful, for once, and Papyrus rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Just meet me at Alphys’ lab. I need to talk to the both of you and I don’t want to repeat myself. Knowing Alphys she’ll probably already know what I want to talk about. Unless of course she wasn’t watching the cameras.”

‘.... Papyrus…. Never mind. I’ll meet ya at the lab. Don’t try and stab the door again.’ Papyrus huffed at the coded question, asking him if he were on an LV rush.

“I won’t.” He snapped back. “Just get your ass to the Lab, because if you’re not there when I am, I’m roasting you in lava, clear?”

‘Like a bell.’

“Good.” He snapped the phone shut and stalked towards the River Person’s usual perch. Their strange boat was waiting for him at the end of the path, their hood covering their entire face with inky black. Usually, Papyrus hated to take the ferry, seeing as you couldn’t Check the River Person, you couldn’t leave the boat until it docked and you couldn’t see their face. It unnerved him. But it seemed he was breaking his own rules twice in the same day.

“Lalala, back so soon? Where are we off today?”

“Hotlands.” he said shortly, pairing the fare as he climbed on.

“Ah, and away we go.” Silence fell aside from the occasional splash of water against the side of the boat. Suddenly, the Rver Person turned around to face him and said, voice rising and falling,

“Lalala~ You think nothing is the same, and you see what is not there. There is no child to fight, and no fire to put out. You should look behind your masks, instead of hiding behind them.” Papyrus stared at them for a full thirty seconds, his sharp jaw hanging open but before he could demand a more sane topic of conversation, the River Person turned back around and announced happily,

“Tralala~ Here we are. Off you get.” he got off immediately and watched the River person float down the stream, mind still reeling from that strange message. Part of him wanted to ignore the obvious nonsense but another part of him, some deep part of him that always listened to the River Person when they spoke, whispered that he shouldn’t disregard what may be valuable. He shook his head and took the steps two at a time before reaching the looming shadow of the Lab. There was a faint shudder down his back for some reason at seeing it, the dark, looming shadow it cast seeming to swallow him whole. There was something at the back of his mind, something that said he was safe as long as he was with Sans or --- but he didn’t know ---. --- wasn’t there… Was --? The thought flittered away like smoke and ash and Papyrus shook his head, growling to himself before opening the door and walking into the tiled room. It was significantly cooler than the outside and he relaxed just slightly; the cold temperature was like Snowdin and while it wasn’t safe, by any stretch of the imagination, it was at least where he could claim sanctuary. Home, if he was sentimental and stupid.

“Oi, bone boy! What’s all this about?” Undyne’s harsh rasp brought him out of his thoughts and back to the present moment. She stood before him, not exactly blocking his path but in the way. Her acid yellow eye burned as she stared at him, arms crossed, hip cocked to the side. She wore her black boots and top half of her armor, though not her helmet, and black pants. Her crimson red hair was held back in that severe ponytail, her fangs bared in a half snarl, half smirk.

“Where’s Alphys? I need you both.” His low, even tone made Undyne nod without complaint, her eye flashing as her snarl dropped.

“Al! Get over here!” The small lizard woman came out from a door, her white lab coat ripped at the edges and sooty at the cuffs, the swirl pattern to her glasses glinting in the lights as they flicked on to full power. Her black and red outfit hid most of the blood and other substances she worked with.

“Papyrus? What’re you doing here?”

“Something’s happened to Sans. I don’t know what but he’s been reverted to a child, a literal baby bones. I just found him like that, out in the woods. I need you to run tests to see if you can reverse the process and in the meantime, I’m taking care of him.” Undyne and Alphys stared at him, disbelieving before Undyne broke out into hysterical laughter, doubling over.

“H-h-holy shit, a-are you k-kidding me?!” She gasped, stuttering through her laughter, unable to breathe properly, falling to the ground as a fresh wave of hysterical laughter pealed from her lips. Alphys started muttering to herself, pacing, glasses glinting and hiding her dark red eyes in the glare. Papyrus growled and slammed a bone down next to Undyne’s head, slicing off a few hairs.

“I won’t hear any excuses, Undyne! Nor will I tolerate a jump at your previous title! I kept you alive for a reason, to run the guard as a vice captain while I was busy. I expect to continue our training sessions, as well as our duties while your mate figures out what the fuck happened to Sans.” Undyne sobered, slowly, still giggling occasionally, nodding.

“I gotcha, Papyrus, don’t worry bone boy.” She said, rolling her eye once more. Papyrus nodded with a huff, dispersing his bone as Alphys said,

“You’ll need to bring Sans to me, if he can be moved. If not, I’m sure I can come to Snowdin-”

“That won’t be an issue. I will bring him to you tomorrow. Oh, and Undyne, you’ll be training a recruit by the name of Catty; cat monster who actually managed to land a hit on my club today during training. I expect you to report back to me on her progress; she shows promise of actual guard material.” Undyne’s side fins perked and she smirked, nodding.

“Gladly.”

“Don’t dust her; she’s actually promising.” She nodded and waved her hand dismissively.

“We’ll make sure Sans is taken care of, Papyrus, don’tcha worry.” Papyrus nodded and turned, heading back to the entrance, feeling a little more secure. He knew Undyne would stay true to him as vice-captain, and that Alphys would be able to figure out what was going on with Sans. As he left, he let out a sigh of relief before cracking his neck and striding towards the ferry once more. He had to get back to Snowdin. No telling if that damn fire elemental burned down his house or not. Faintly, in the back of his mind, Papyrus felt a little guilt for implying that Grillby would burn down his home when he worked around volatile alcohol every day but he quickly squashed it. There was no room for that. At least, not until he was safe. Until he knew Sans was safe.

#fic #underfell papby #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #underfell grillby #underfell undyne #underfell alphys #manic magician #gift

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