#lord what have the aces gone and done now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilatorywriting · 1 year

Text

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

[TAG LIST]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Mermay #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 1

1K notes · View notes

pink-amethyst-tarot · 4 months

Text

💌A Message From The Universe💌

P I L E 1 ~ P I L E 2 ~ P I L E 3

How to pick: Take a deep breath and choose between the three images above. It corelates with the message that is meant for you. Trust your intuiton; only you know what is truly best for you.

P I L E 1 ♡ ~ A New Perspective

Ten of Wands, The High Priestess, The Emperor, The Moon, Eight of Swords (Reversed)

You feel burdened. You feel disconnected from yourself and your intuition. I feel that the man problem, is that you don't trust yourself or your inner voice. Let that voice guide you. Listen to yourself because you know what is best for you. You don't have to listen to everyone who thinks they know what is best for you. With it being the holiday season and Christmas is days away, you may be around family that isn't all that supportive of you and what you want with your life. They have put you down since you were a kid but know that you are not that kid anymore. You are capable of standing on your own two feet and it's time to stop making excuses for their bad behavior. You don't have to keep that kind of negative energy in your life, even if they are your relatives. Just because they are blood related, doesn't mean you have to call them family. For a lot of you, this person is a father figure in your life, but they haven't treated you the way that a father should. You were a kid and you deserved better then, and you deserve better now. Your anxiety around this is very loud but you know what you want to do more than anything. You know what path you want to take, and you know what people you want to cut off. Let yourself be happy. Go into this new year prioritizing your wants, needs, desires, hopes and dreams. It's time someone chose you and who better than yourself. Open up your heart and your mind to new possibilities; a world where you can have what you want. It's time for a new perspective.

Channeled Song: I'm Tired by Labrinth ft. Zendaya

now the tide is rollin' in // I don't wanna win // let it take me, let it take me // I'll be on my way // how long can I stay // in a place that can't contain me // hey Lord, you know, I'm tired // hey, Lord, you know I'm tired //

if you feel called to tip, you can on c@sh@pp at $oddlycozycottage and on p@yp@l at @oddlycozycottage

If you want a more personal reading, you can see how to book a reading here

P I L E 2 ♡

King of Pentacles, Seven of Cups (Reversed), Four of Wands (Reversed), Nine of Wands, Ace of Pentacles

You have been doing some spring cleaning around your life. You have been making changes that you saw needed to be made and it has really brought you back to reality; almost like you are sobering up. You could also be on a sobriety journey and if you are, know that I am very proud of you and I'm rooting for you. If no one else is in your corner, know that I am. You have been doing a lot of hard work and you should be celebrating yourself but, for some reason, you aren't. You may have this mindset of believing that you can't celebrate because there is so much more work to do. That may be true; we are all works in progress. That doesn't mean you shouldn't celebrate and be proud of how far you have come! I'm so very proud of how far you have come. You're looking at all that you still have to do, but you aren't paying attention to what you have done. You can rest, relax and bask in your victories. Take a break because you have earned it. You are meant to be prosperous, and you have new opportunities coming in and you should be confident in taking them because you worked hard to get them. Again, I am so proud of you and all that you have done. Keep going and do not give up.

Channled Song: A Brand New Day by The Wiz Cast

everybody, be glad // because our fear and dread is gone // freedom, you see, has got our hearts singing so joyfully // just look about // you out it to yourself to check it out // can you feel a brand new day? // can you feel a brand new day? //

if you feel called to tip, you can on c@sh@pp at $oddlycozycottage and on p@yp@l at @oddlycozycottage

If you want a more personal reading, you can see how to book a reading here

P I L E 3 ♡

The Star (Reversed), Two of Pentacles, Four of Swords, The High Priestess, Ace of Pentacles

Your head is not in the right place, right now. You are too focused on the negative and it seems that you have lost hope. You're working to balance things on your own and that is only making things harder for you. You may feel like you're at sea and the boat going up and down with the harsh waves. Let go of the things that you don't need and ask for help with the things that you cannot. I'm getting that you are very overwhelmed at this time. I'm seeing juggling and everyone keeps adding more and more balls, making it so hard to keep up. You don't have to take it. You are allowed to rest and to have some peace and quiet. You may be feeling like you can't take a break right now because, if you don't do it who will? I'll counter that with, why was it set up for you to be the only one who is able to handle things? Why is it you or nobody? Why can't people do it themselves? Sometimes, you just have to say, "if I have to do it, it's not going to get done," and that's that on that. You know that these people are capable and able. They just know they can rely on you to always do it. Stop being reliable. They need to learn to do things on their own and without you because you are not going to always be there.

I don't have a specific channeled song, but I am seeing vacations, beaches and just relaxing, which you deserve, so if you can get that, I suggest that you do.

if you feel called to tip, you can on c@sh@pp at $oddlycozycottage and on p@yp@l at @oddlycozycottage

If you want a more personal reading, you can see how to book a reading here

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

121 notes · View notes

polarisbibliotheque · 2 months

Text

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual - Dante's Path

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Dante's Path

Pairing: Dante x Reader Summary: It’s finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn’t stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or… At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all. Author's Notes: Fucking. Finally. It took forever, but here I have around 20 pages of a demon wanting to marry the reader and Dante going feral over it. Took me ALL THIS TIME to write and I do apologize, but SO MUCH has happened since October, I'm finally managing to get my life back on track. So heeeeeey, here we have Dante's part of the Halloween Special for 2023! Be sure to read the Prologue first to understand the road so far yes Supernatural fan right here and have fun!! But I do have to thank @furyeclipse - the idea came from an ask sent a thousand years ago and I've been reading her works on ao3 and that motivated™ me to write again! Be sure to check Fury's work over there!

Oh. And I highly recommend an AC/DC playlist while reading this. Just sayin'. We all know Dante is an AC/DC guy

Devil May Halloween 2023 – Dante’s Path

“You know, of all the things that could have happened to me as a hunter, getting into a forced marriage with a demon lord was the very last one I would’ve imagined.”

And you were definitely the only person in the world that could have made Kyrie laugh in a moment like that – at least, that was what she thought as she smiled for the first time since you both had stepped in that place.

It was desecrated ground, that was the reason why the demons chose such a place. An old cathedral, now turned into an abandoned set of ruins with a cemetery of forgotten souls in the back. Some stone walls still stood tall, but the roof was gone, along with some windows and part of its gothic architecture. The shroud of the darkest tones of night slowly crept over, having rows and sets of candles of all sizes as the only source of light beside the moon.

You and Kyrie were being kept in a secured room – the only with still four walls to hold you in, and a heavy set of crumbling wooden doors. You were handed wedding attires – white, as to demonstrate the purity of your human souls compared to demons – and shoved in there, forced to change before the ritual.

You tried to resist, but as soon as they threatened Kyrie, you had to abide. There was nothing you could do: you had promised Nero nothing would happen to her, and she was your weak spot that night.

“We will figure something out…” Kyrie murmured with a ghost of a smile on her soft lips, even if she didn’t carry too much hope in her heart. She knew that if you were alone, you would probably be fist-fighting demons with all your might to drag yourself out of that place, but with her by your side… She had never seen you so compliant.

“Hmmm. Yeah. I’m still trying to think of something.” You huffed, sitting by her side on a stone loveseat, having your elbows on your knees and your face cradled by your hands. “I feel naked without my stuff. So uncomfortable.”

Once again, Kyrie giggled. Indeed, it was probably the first time she ever saw you without your everyday clothes and specially without your weapons: be it your guns, your sword or even a pocketknife you carried around for emergency self-defense. She could only imagine how stripped you felt at that moment.

“Well, if it serves as consolation, this is definitely not my style.” She whispered in response, making you laugh immediately. Indeed, poor Kyrie looked like a princess covered in Chantilly. Too over-the-top for her, and you could say the same about your forced attire.

“Oh, what a mess we got ourselves into this time, huh…?” You still had that laugh in your lips, making Kyrie respond with a sad smile. “Though I bet Nero is going to die seeing you dressed as a bride.”

“He will never admit it.” Kyrie had to giggle with that mental image. She could almost see Nero standing in front of her, red as a tomato, stuttering while trying to maintain that nonchalant punk attitude he always tried to – even if Kyrie could easily see through all of that. “He does get all flustered whenever I’m wearing anything slightly bridal looking.”

“There you go. The hideous Chantilly wedding dress will have at least one good effect after all.” You sighed with a laugh, following Kyrie on her giggles as she blushed herself, happy to imagine that.

The moment wouldn’t last long, though, as you felt something shifting in the air. You immediately got up on your feet, keeping Kyrie safe and sound behind you. Her curious, scared eyes tried to pick up what was going on, but neither of you could see – you could just feel it.

With some fiery sparkles, one of the demons responsible for that mess materialized right in front of you.

“Well, well. It is good to see you are already prepared.” Horns and sharp features, but in the suit of a ruthless man – that was the best way you could describe the demon lords. They had the leathery wings, skin as rough as that of a lizard, eyes bright like flames in the dark – but something still carried the resemblance of a human being. They were tall – even taller than most doors – with sharp nails to be used as claws, fangs ready to tear throats apart. But they were built in the image of humans: something quite rare when it came to demons.

“Not out of our own free will – you shouldn’t be that pleased your minions managed to coerce us into these horrid things.” You pointed at your own attire, making Kyrie look up at you with tense eyes.

It was something she admired, to say the least. You could all look in the face of the most threatening of creatures and still manage to say something to taunt or belittle them. She wished she had that kind of courage.

“You do have a point, human.” The demon had a quick giggle in his voice, making you furrow your eyebrows slightly. It wasn’t every day one of those things would agree with your big mouth. “Come. I would very much like to speak with you.”

Oh. Demons and their teleportation shenanigans – to be quite honest, you hated it. Whenever you used any of their magic or even Vergil’s void thing from the Yamato, you always felt a little dizzy afterwards. It took you some quick seconds to make sense you were in what seemed to be the abandoned church’s library – in a room made of stones and rotten books, lit by decrepit candles and having just one usable table in a corner. The demon lords had clearly made that their own room for the day.

“It’s rare a demon wishes to talk.” You finally managed to say while the demon lord slowly walked towards his desk, having you in the middle of the room. Now Kyrie was alone and you had no idea what was going on with her – you had to play your cards well to see her alive again. “According to my experience, your kind prefers a bloodier approach.”

“I take it you haven’t met many demon lords then.” He had a nonchalant tone, waving his hand in disregard as he approached his desk and leaned into it, staring at you. “Nevertheless, that is more Orcus’ style.”

“Your little friend.”

“Al Pacino did play the devil once, didn’t he…?” The demon laughed in response and you did your best to cover up the shock that he understood your Scarface reference.

Movies and pop culture references with Dante were a given – the same way Vergil was an encyclopedia of forgotten and obscure texts, Dante was the go-to man when it came to movies, especially the classic ones. Making references and laughing with each other was something both of you cherished wholeheartedly – and you never thought a demon would get it.

Vergil never did – and he had to have spent some time with those guys in the last decades.

“Well, I don’t think you brought me down here just to talk about movies.” You crossed your arms, trying as much as you could to look tough in that attire. Which wasn’t going very well for you. “And it certainly wasn’t to properly ask for my hand in marriage.”

“Oh, no, no…” He answered with a laugh that crackled like fire – and you could easily see the amusement in his eyes. “I wanted to see what the son of Sparda saw in you… To bind himself to one of the weakest creatures known. Just like his father before him.”

“It’s not like Dante has married me, you know? We’re not like Eva and Sparda.” You raised one of your eyebrows. Something about that conversation was very… Weird. To put it mildly. “We’re not bonded like you want to do today. And on that note, I have to point out: marriages are quite religious. Aren’t you guys going to combust spontaneously trying to do something holy?”

“Oh, but you are bonded. He may not have chosen his father’s path, but his heart does not lie.” The demon had something quite mischievous in his eyes, and you were starting to notice the difference between him and Orcus: the second one was more of a brute, a lord of war so to speak – the one you were talking to, Erlach, was very cunning; but there was a glint of bloodthirstiness in the back of his eyes. That made him even more dangerous than you gave him credit for at first. “I shall never understand why Sparda did not wish to follow the ritual with his human. That would have made him so powerful, not even the most dangerous creatures in Hell would have dared to slaughter his family. A shame really.” He tossed aside a charred painting of Sparda and Eva: old, barely holding itself together, but still clearly depicting the couple holding hands and smiling to whoever decided to look upon them. “We do have our own rituals – and demons are no strangers to marriages. It has another name in Hell, though, it is a binding ritual: where souls connect and one can be made more from the other’s power.”

“Oh. So the other just accepts it’s going to be a puny little thing beside their partner? Sounds more like slavery to me.” You wouldn’t give the demon the benefit of the doubt nor make it all sound so wonderful. Anything related to devils always had a catch – and that had to be the catch to their own twisted version of a ‘marriage’.

And in all honesty, you weren’t looking forward to be made a slave to a demon lord.

“Some creatures enjoy that.” And the smile that covered Erlach’s lips could be only considered devilish. You did your best not to look like you were agreeing – even if you knew, deep down, that yes, some people did enjoy that. “Every con has its pro. With the binding and forfeit of power, comes protection and status. Few would want to desecrate the partner of a powerful demon – it could easily be the last thing they would do.”

“if I am bonded to Dante, then, I wonder why would someone like you decide to mess with the chosen partner of the son of Sparda.” Now you had a small smile hidden in the corner of your lips, slightly raising your head in hubris. You wouldn’t lie: the status you got from him among demons was always very welcome. “Not that I really need him to help me. If I had my weapons, you would all be laying on the floor in a pool of your own blood – and I’d be home celebrating Halloween with him.”

Erlach stared into your eyes for a good four seconds before opening a threatening smile with his sharp fangs. His own eyes burned like fire, but you never let his gaze go – it wasn’t in you to be scared by the likes of him. You had seen worse, you had fought worse… And only you knew how threatening Dante’s eyes could look when he was half asleep in a nightmare of his young years with you trying to wake him up so he could have some peace. That was worse than any demon you could ever face.

“Indeed, that is why I needed some leverage against you.” He waved his hand nonchalantly towards the door and you immediately understood he was talking about Kyrie. “It was never my intention to allow Orcus to bond to some creature as powerful as mine… But I did not knew the extent of your powers, so I needed something to keep you in line. Luckily, Sparda’s grandson is not as attuned to powerful partners as Sparda’s children.”

You furrowed your brows. Whenever you talked between the members of the crew, there was a tacit agreement Kyrie was indeed the most powerful of all – for her ability to love openly, to cry, to be vulnerable and to care with such an open heart.

But those abilities were inherently human – and appreciated in humans rather than demons. In the human point of view, Kyrie was stronger than all of you together, and no one could argue against that. But in the demonic point of view… You and Lady were top of the list when it came to being able to take demons in a fair fight.

But you… You had Dante’s heart.

“It was part of our bargain. But I would never allow Orcus to bind to the most powerful of partners, would I?” Again, that smile painted his lips. You remained in the middle of the room, holding his gaze, not even flinching as he approached you. “I must admit, though, I never thought you would have this… Fire.”

As Erlach stopped with a few inches from your own face, you didn’t recoil. You remained with your arms crossed, standing as tall as you could in front of that huge demon lord as his fiery eyes just stared deeply into yours – and you stared back.

But you sensed something… Different. In his words, in his gaze. You wanted to furrow your brows as you were slowly coming to realize something, but you did your best to remain as proud and emotionless as you could – and Erlach took note of that. A pleasurable note.

“I can see what the son of Sparda saw in you.” That devilish smile colored his lips once more as the demon took another step towards you. It took you a great amount of willpower not to step back. You would never step back. “When demons bind with demons, it is one sort of marriage. When demons bind with humans, on Samhein, with the correct ritual… Well, it is a very different thing. A kind of binding never seen before – and never attempted, not even by Sparda.” Erlach approached with another step, making you raise your head even higher. Every fiber of your being wanted to scream Dante’s name and watch your red devil storm inside that room and suplex Erlach face first on the floor – as he deserved. The demon lord, though, offered one hand to you, palm facing up. “At first, I targeted you for Dante would not take a weakling as a partner, but now… I am more than inclined to take you as mine. With me, you would have the protection and status of royalty in Hell. We can take over entire worlds. And they would all be mine and yours to rule.” You just kept staring at him as Erlach’s fiery eyes stared even more deeply into yours. “You just have to say yes.”

To say your head was spinning was an understatement. What a wild ride that night was becoming – and something inside you stirred, telling you it would become even wilder. Were you reading his words right…? His gestures…? Not that Erlach was being subtle about it, he was being as blunt as his kind could be, but… Were you going crazy? You were, probably. That was a more plausible explanation than what you had to admit yourself – than what you were living right at that moment.

“If you think I’d give up Dante for power, then you can see nothing he saw in me.” You spat back, still holding your head high. “You are just as clueless as the rest of your kind.”

Erlach laughed back – not a laugh of an evil demon as you were used to, but one of delight. He… Enjoyed your answer…?

“The more you speak, the more I see.” He finally chuckled, stepping back after one last stare. “And I will see you later.”

With a snap of his fingers, you were back to the cold, abandoned crypt you and Kyrie were being held hostages. As your dizziness faded and you came back to reality, you saw her holding one of your hands, checking if you were ok with one of her palms on your forehead. Even if you didn’t feel lightheaded anymore, your mind was still troubled – and you had to sit down on the stone loveseat you shared with Kyrie earlier.

“Are you ok, y/n? What happened?” She sat by your side, big hazelnut eyes staring at you with warmth and humanity – so much different from the fiery pit of Erlach’s eyes. So much more welcoming and cozier. So much more like home. You would’ve hugged her if you weren’t so disoriented. “Y/n. What did he do to you? What happened?!”

“I think…” You finally managed to put into words what just happened – even if you didn’t want to say what you thought out loud. It seemed that by saying it, a sort of magic would make it become true. “I think… A demon lord just fell in love with me.”

You and Kyrie just stared at each other in horror, not even knowing what to say.

“What the hell…?!”

And Kyrie finally managed to put into words what you had been thinking the whole time.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

Nico just stared at Lady as Dante growled while mounting on his bike.

To be fair, Nico wasn’t the safest person to be behind a wheel, even more in a dire situation like that with Nero by her side looking like he was about to bite ankles and throw punches – but something about Dante looking like he was about to burst into flames while viciously riding the Cavaliere and growling in a half-distorted demon voice was enough to get the gunsmith ever so slightly… Concerned.

“Everything ok there, Dante, or do we need to take you in the van?” Lady screamed out her window, while Nico hoped the bright red glint in Dante’s eyes was only her imagination. “You look like you wanna beat me in a race! We hunt demons to save humans, not run them over, you know?”

“Eh, demon spidey-sense is tinglin’, Lady! That’s no good!” Dante screamed back, doing his best to keep the demonic part of his voice repressed inside his chest. He would have more than enough opportunities to let that explode. “Y/n is unsafe. I can feel it. And I…” With that, Dante drove to the back of the van because of a narrowing road, only to come back a few seconds later. “Don’t…” Another interruption for Dante not to run over a citizen cluelessly crossing the street and almost being run over by Nico. “Like it!”

His last phrase couldn’t keep the distortion in anymore and it sounded like a deep roar that came out of his chest like fire. Trish could already see the fangs in his bared teeth: those demons were in for the fight of a lifetime, for everyone knew making Dante’s lover feel unsafe was one of the worst sins in the Sparda dictionary.

Nico opened her mouth to talk to Nero – because, maybe, he could beat some sense into his uncle’s head, given they had the very same heritage – but for the first time she just put the cigarette between her lips and decided to shut up.

She was still getting used to Nero’s new trigger, so the halfway-into-turning state was something Nico didn’t really know how to deal with. By this point, Nero’s nails were definitely claws and his fangs were very much similar to Dante’s. He was fidgeting everywhere, messing with Blue Rose, as if something was really wrong with the gun and he had to fix it – a thousand fucking times. Nico could also swear his eyes were starting to glow with an inhumane gold tinge and that was very alien to her.

“Hey, kid! What about your spidey-sense tingling? Anything new?” Luckily for Nico, she had Trish around – and that woman was a pure devil, so there were very few things she feared. They all knew Nero was getting used to his own new powers, so Trish always decided to stay around and lend a hand whenever Nero had to go through something emotionally heavy – she knew it herself that demon instinct always came crashing like a wild wave whenever emotions were running high.

“Eh, she’s not good too, Trish. Worried as heck, I can feel it.” Nero mumbled under his breath, fixing the barrels of the Blue Rose for the tenth time, probably – not even needing to mention he was talking about Kyrie. With a click, the gun cocked back to its original state and Nero turned his now slightly golden aquamarine eyes to the devil leaning on his seat. “And I don’t like it either. Not at fucking all.”

Nico had to say, it always sent shivers down her spine when Nero spoke with his demonic voice like that. She was used to him being her goofy sort of brother, bickering with her down the road and tossing over-the-top, smart mouthed taunts to demons. Hearing him like that was… Something else. And Nico didn’t like it that much as well.

The last time you felt unsafe seemed like a whole lifetime ago.

You tried to control your hands as they wanted to start shaking – but you kept telling yourself you needed to keep Kyrie safe. After all, you were the devil hunter, not her. Kyrie could kill every single one in the crew with kindness, but not those devils… Those had to be killed with blades and gunpowder.

Being with Dante had given you something you never really had before, and just now you noticed it was tied to your red devil: safety. Even if he wasn’t around physically, you could always count on the fact that Dante, son of Sparda, Crimson Slayer, would bend Hell itself around his will to keep you from any kind of harm. It had never downed on you because, up until that point, that was a given.

Today, Halloween of all days, was a little more complicated. Dante wasn’t around, the whole ritual was bound to have some heavy magic to keep him at bay, you were completely unarmed and the demons you were up against were another kind – not the stupid, belligerent type you handled almost on a daily basis; no, those were smart, cunning and dangerous.

To top all of that, you had Kyrie on your side. If you were alone, you’d probably already be trying some unhinged escape attempts, but they were so smart on deciding to kidnap her as well. She was your weak spot on that situation and the fact that you felt unsafe and couldn’t do your best to protect her, only highlighted the fear you started to feel creeping up at the base of your stomach.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, the only thing that could at least try to calm your nerves was to imagine being back in Dante’s arms, at the Devil May Cry, the smell of warm pizza around and him humming some old tunes you both loved. That was home. That was your haven. Dante was your refuge, keeping you secure from every evil thing that could attack you in this world, and he wasn’t there.

For a split second, you wondered if he could feel how much your heart was aching – screaming with all its might in the hopes he would hear its call.

Suddenly, two demons entered the room you and Kyrie were being held. They didn’t have to say much: with swords pointed at both of you and the heavy doors wide open, you knew it was time. Knowing you had to calm your nerves so at least she could have a chance to escape, you got up and calmly walked in front of Kyrie – head high and staring those demons right back in their eyes.

“Everything will be ok.” You murmured back over your shoulder, knowing Kyrie would listen. “If you find a safe chance to run, do it and don’t look back. I can handle them better alone.”

You felt Kyrie’s soft hands brushing on one of yours, her voice nothing but a whisper. “Don’t put yourself in danger, y/n. I don’t wanna run without you.”

You closed your eyes, chuckling a little in silence. She was indeed an angel among so many demons – including all of you in the crew. “Oh, Kyrie. You have to learn… The whole crew would die for you, don’t you know that already…?” And even if your words weren’t the kindest, you had the sweetest tone in your voice – saying nothing but the truth. “You run. It’ll take more than a few demons to bring me down.”

Kyrie knew you were lying only to make her feel safer – there was a tinge of bitterness in your sweetness, a slight glint of sadness in your eyes. Those were more than a few demons, and both of you knew it.

She could only sigh in response and confirm with her head. You and Dante were bittersweetly so alike: always lying and pretending nothing was too serious, putting yourselves on the line for those you loved, trying to make them stop worrying while you were both ready to walk right into certain death. She had seen how angry you got every time he tried to pull something like that on you – and Kyrie had to smile even if a little bit upon realizing how similar you and your lover were, even if you hated when he did that.

Both of your thoughts had to be violently changed and brought back to the present moment when the time came to enter what one day was a beautiful, untarnished cathedral. The imposing gothic architecture was in shambles, the stars shining clearly in the deep night sky above your heads – the high peaks of the cathedral long gone. A long tapestry on the ground, torn apart and eaten by parasites, lead the way in a dirty blood red to the middle of the aisle, where a grandiose bonfire stood and lit none other than your groom.

That was definitely not the devil you had intended to marry if you ever walked down the aisle. Also, you always thought if you ever married Dante, the ceremony would be in the Devil May Cry: you would enter the shop, dressed in your best hunting clothes – maybe something leather, carefully picked by Trish to make you even more mesmerizing – watching Dante smiling at you, leaning on his desk, arms crossed and love pouring from his eyes.

That was the perfect marriage for you alright. And leaving for a quick honeymoon with your red devil, riding on the Cavaliere, a few cans tied to it with a “just married” sign on the back, waving at the crew at the door of the shop while Dante made the motorcycle burn the road with its demonic power? More than perfect.

“You shall enter first. The other human stays until your ritual is performed.” One of the demons held Kyrie hostage, pointing your way down the derelict aisle. Her eyes were filled with fear, and you couldn’t do anything but comply.

Holding your head high, you walked down the damned aisle. Not like a perfect fiancé, but like a wronged force of nature, just waiting for the right time to unleash your fury against all those demons. You were wearing those ridiculous clothes, on that ridiculous place, while demons started chanting and playing a song for the demonic ritual that had just started, stripped of your guns, blades and clothes.

To say you wanted to sucker punch Erlach on his face until his sharp teeth fell out was an understatement.

And yet, he had nothing but admiration and fire in his eyes for you. The more you approached, the more he smiled, offering you his hand as you were getting closer and closer – you refused to take it, standing in front of him just like you did when he first talked to you.

“You know, the kidnapping and taking my gear away, I could forgive. But these clothes…?” You pointed down at that hideous thing that was forced to you. “You could’ve done better. A lot better.”

“I judged you by all the mortals I’ve ever met – and now I realize I shouldn’t have done so. Do apologize, exquisite creature.” And Erlach answered your insult with a delighted distorted laugh. You just remained there, looking like you had just stuck a flip flop into a toaster, not knowing what to do. It seemed that the more you tried to repel him, the more Erlach liked you. “But rituals shouldn’t be taken lightly. One should wear the proper attire.”

“To think a demon would’ve dressed his counterpart a lot better and risqué than this…” You sighed, pushing all those ruffles away from your face as he, once more, tried to take your hand and guide you to approach the bonfire. “I thought this was going to be a dual wedding. Where’s your friend?”

“Orcus can try to pull off his ritual after I’m done with mine.” Erlach had a devilish smile pulling his lips up in a distorted line. It was a little… Unsettling. “We… Agreed such a powerful ritual should be done one at a time.”

“Huh. That’ll be before or after you kill him?” You had one eyebrow lifted and Erlach laughed with joy in his voice, now finally forcing you to walk with him towards the bonfire. “You got quite the silver tongue to convince him you’re gonna let him go through with his ritual with his head still on his shoulders.”

“Oh, my dear, you have no idea.” Erlach forced you to spin around and look deep into his eyes, holding you by both of your arms in an iron clasp you couldn’t break away easily without your weapons. “You are very welcome to discover soon enough. I am mesmerized with your cunning and wit – so much better than all those pitiful uninspired creatures I have to live with every day. We will be quite a pair, sweet temptation.”

That admiration was there, that fire burning in his eyes, and… Lust…?! You had to contain a shiver of pure terror thinking a creature like that lusted for you. It wasn’t necessarily his appearance – you did find Dante one hell of a piece of temptation in whatever form he was, be it human, Devil Trigger or even his Sin Devil Trigger – but his soul. Erlach lacked the very thing that made you fall madly and hopelessly for Dante: his golden heart, his gentle soul, his kind eyes and his unapologetic humanity.

That was why it didn’t matter how Dante looked like: you would always fall in love with him. Even if he was just a piece of rock with googly eyes laying on his desk, you would love that rock with all your heart.

“What if I refuse to be your pair?” You had one of your eyebrows raised, trying to hide the fear creeping at the base of your stomach. “As far as I know, all marriages require a resounding yes from both parts. What are you gonna do? Torture me?”

“As tempting as that sounds…” And even if you didn’t show it, your blood certainly froze in your veins for a second. “I fear you would take a very long time to break under such circumstances. The Son of Sparda chose you for your brave heart and hardened soul, I can see that now. Luckily for demonic rituals, the sacrifices don’t need to consent.”

“Oh. I thought I was more than just a disposable piece of meat. I’m hurt.” Masking your fear with jokes and taunts, you had learned that with the very best. Dante had all the blame for that.

“Don’t be, my creature.” Erlach’s words were laced with a laugh while he took a ceremonial dagger from an altar nearby. “That is how humans are usually named in our rituals. You will remain alive, or else, it doesn’t work. I do need your blood… A reasonable amount, but nothing lethal.”

His hand clasped your wrist with a tight grip you couldn’t break from. Your heart started beating faster and faster, as you looked around trying to find Kyrie – crossing her terrified eyes as she watched from the distance, close to the entrance where once was a door, fearing for your life. You wanted to mutter some soothing words for her, but not even you could lie that much: your survival instincts kicked in and your adrenaline spiked. It was now or never, but you had to escape.

Erlach held your arm above a bowl made of pure gold, now darkened with time and stained with all the sacrifices it contained. He spoke some words in demonic language, while the chanting got even more intense – some things you could understand, but the others were lost as your mind became hazy with trying to think what to do.

It was a surprise to all – you closed your free hand in a fist and did exactly what you wanted to do since you saw that hideous thing you were wearing: sucker punch that conceited demon right on his face.

Erlach was taken aback for a moment, looking back at you with confused eyes. Seizing his distraction, you disarmed him and took the ceremonial dagger to yourself, cutting his hand that held your wrist and demanding him to let you go. Erlach stumbled back in awe, while you took a fighting stance with the dagger in your hand, ready to kill – but not ready to get married.

And he smiled.

“Such fire…!” To say Erlach was ecstatic was an underestimation. “My creature… What are you going to do with that?” And he took a predator stance, as both of you studied your options in that fight.

If you could look back at Kyrie, you would see her smiling and supporting you as much as she could. To say she admired you, was to say you only liked Dante.

“I am going to kill every single demon in this cathedral… Including you.” Pointing the dagger at Erlach, it was your turn to allow a devilish smile to cover your lips. “Then, I’m taking my friend back home. Back into the arms of the only devil I will ever love. Back to Dante.”

As you spoke, you didn’t even hear a ragged guitar faintly playing in the background – and approaching ominously. The only thing you had in mind was a tunnel focus on Erlach, ready to tear him apart as soon as he got close to you.

“Oh, I will enjoy that, my creature. And I might even need to get rid of Dante myself.” As soon as he finished his sentence, though, you scoffed in a laughter of pure mockery.

“Now that, you would try. Dante is so much more than you will ever be – he will reduce you to ashes with a single stare. That’s how pitiful you are compared to him, Erlach.” As your words poured, you couldn’t stop laughing at how he looked slightly insulted. Fucking finally. “And I gotta say, that’s not the only thing Dante is really good at. He does burn like fire.”

“I will enjoy subduing you.” Erlach growled, baring his teeth. Now you managed to piss him off.

“I will enjoy watching you try.” You wouldn’t allow him too much time to think: spinning the blade in your hand for a better grip, you finally tried to stab him with a swift attack – but he easily dodged as you got even angrier at that ridiculous clothing you were wearing. Those frills and terrible fabric made your movement a lot debilitated.

You tried a few other attacks as Erlach dodged and started smiling again, enjoying every bit of it – starting to even try a few attacks, while you blocked with the dagger. It was all too fast… At the same pace of the guitar that now echoed loudly, with a very familiar song approaching the chorus.

“Now, my creature.” Erlach held your hand with the dagger when you tried another stab. Even if you were resisting, it was more entertaining than anything else: you needed your gear. He pulled you closer to him, even if you tried to stay away as much as you could. “It’s time to stop the fun. We can do this after the ritual.”

Before any of you could do anything else, the guitar finally arrived – with the screeching of what seemed a thousand tires, the smell of gasoline and the sound of a shot from a gun you knew so well.

Said shot hit the dagger, making it shatter into a thousand little pieces in your hand, causing Erlach to let go of you in a reflex – while AC/DC’s vocalist screamed he would shoot to thrill, play to kill.

“Well, I think we’re all ready for the afterparty, aren’t we, hot stuff?”

Dante had entered down the aisle with Cavaliere screeching, leaving a trail of fire behind him, stopping right in the middle to shoot that ceremonial dagger into oblivion. The smoke was still fresh on the barrel of his gun, while he had one foot on the ground, still mounted on his motorcycle, smirking at you with that gorgeous smile that, today, you wanted to kiss out of his mouth with so much passion the crew would probably have to throw a whole bucket of water on both of you to put out the fire.

And, right behind him, Nico crashed what was left of the cathedral’s door while blasting AC/DC’s Shoot to Thrill because she would be damned if she didn’t put a good soundtrack for that moment. You could see her smiling behind the wheel, supporting every single bit of Dante’s antics.

The smile that painted your lips – a broad one, mixed with thrill and relief – was everything Dante wanted to see. That was all the confirmation he needed to know that pull in his chest was actually your heart desperately calling for him to help.

“Ya know, I could forgive the kidnapping, you got one hell of a devil hunter in your hands to deal with…” Dante now let go of Cavaliere, leaving it in the middle of the cathedral, walking down the aisle with the sassy walk you always loved to see – moving his hips and opening his arms, taunting with a pretended carefree attitude. The distortion in his voice, sharp teeth and claws betrayed his words, though – and you couldn’t be happier. “But what’s the deal with those clothes?!”

“Exactly.” You smiled back, sighing as if someone there finally understood you. Erlach just looked at you and back at Dante trying to contain his surprise – it wasn’t possible you were synchronized in even that. “I can barely move, how am I supposed to kick his ass?”

“I can help ya with that, pretty eyes.” Dante’s voice now became darker, leaning even further into his Devil Trigger. For a split second, you could swear you saw his demonic form taking over before Dante appeared again. His eyes were almost entirely taken by red, his hand already gripping the hilt of Rebellion. “But I gotta deal with a few of these clowns first.”

“I’m not going anywhere, hot stuff.” You had the proudest of smiles on your lips as the demons started to approach, ready to fight your red devil. “Show them what a real party looks like.”

“Ya don’t have to ask twice!”

“What are you all waiting for?!” As soon as Erlach screamed, the demons ran towards Dante as a pack of rabid creatures, ready to take his blood. Erlach smiled with pride as they surrounded the Crimson Slayer, already pouncing to take a bite – there was no way a hybrid could take so many demons at once in a fight.

Looking at the crew’s van, you managed to see Lady leaning by the vehicle, watching it all with excitement but refusing to get into the fight. You almost laughed upon seeing Trish holding Nero’s jacket while he tried to let himself go from her iron tight grip, probably saying he should be in the fight too – but his eyes weren’t locked on Dante or the swarming demons: Nero was looking for Kyrie.

And you would’ve done the same, finally questioning yourself where they were keeping her after all that confusion took over the ritual. Nero could very well let himself go of Trish, but everyone knew he had his own priority – a priority you couldn’t find, and that fact started worrying you.

You would have given that a better thought if a sudden fiery explosion hadn’t sent demons flying around the cathedral like fireworks. Dante’s Devil Trigger was on, but not his normal one… It was his Sin Devil Trigger in all his demonic glory, with leathery wings hovering him from the floor and Devil Sword Dante burning like fire in his hands.

To say that would be a slaughter… Again, would be putting it lightly. With the masterfully chosen soundtrack by Nico blasting on the background, Dante single handedly slayed all the demons that decided to cross between you and him. You risked a side look to Erlach, only to find the demon astonished by Dante’s form and power – and you couldn’t resist. You leaned on the altar next to you, with a matter-of-fact look in your eyes.

“He usually has this effect on people… And demons.” You had to say it. You just couldn’t refrain from taunting and annoying that silly devil who forced you to wear those terrible wedding clothes.

With the Devil Sword Dante dripping blood, the son of Sparda approached as he slayed all the demons that tried to fight. Dante was a frightening powerhouse – usually terrifying, but today even more… After all, the human he loved most in all dimensions was kidnapped by a conceited demon who thought he would have the chance to bind his beloved in a marriage ritual without their consent. Dante was beyond angry.

“It will only be an obstacle, then.” Erlach turned his eyes back to you. “Don’t think for a second I gave up, my creature. If I have to kill the son of Sparda, I will do so – with the power you will grant me with your blood.”

Once again, the demon held your arm – but this time, digging the nails into your skin, making you scream with the sudden pain. That made Dante immediately turn to you, being hit as well and inundating the cathedral with the smell of the blood of Sparda. His fighting became sloppy as he tried to approach you even faster – but it also became even more vicious.

Erlach dragged you back to the sacrificial bowl, as you tried to get away. Even with your fighting, your limited movements weren’t helping too much. As he extended your arm above the bowl, you managed to see – behind him, in the distance, covered in shadows – Orcus holding Kyrie hostage, searching everywhere for a breech so he could finish his ritual before Erlach.

“Nero! Kyrie is over there! Go kick his ass, kid!” You screamed while fighting so Erlach couldn’t drip your blood into the bowl. Yes, he needed more than a few drops from the gashes from his claws – but he could make them bigger once you were in a decent position. And you didn’t want to give him that.

“Kyrie! I’m coming for you!” And finally, after his aquamarine eyes found Kyrie’s plea for help, Nero did let go of Trish with ease – and the she-devil didn’t even try to hold him back. With just a smile on her face, the woman looked back at Lady and they knew it was time to intervene now that both of you were located and they wouldn’t risk any of your lives.

Amidst all that, with Dante literally burning his way towards you while being held back by three demons, a few invisible cuts made them fall apart and gush blood all over the floor. Vergil entered the cathedral, while carrying an old book you saw at Erlach’s office earlier that night – the book with all the ancient, and most forbidden, devilish incantations.

“Go on, Dante. I’ll take it from here.” Vergil barely looked at the demons he was fighting with: holding the book with one hand and being assisted by summoned swords, he only needed a few well placed judgement cuts to get rid of all those nuisances.

Dante didn’t even think twice after hearing his brother’s words. Marching down the aisle, he approached you and Erlach like a death omen – his demonic form in his ultimate Devil Trigger was enough to inspire respect even in the upper echelon of Hell.

And you had to say, you were proud of that.

“Let y/n go, Erlach.” As Dante commanded, you couldn’t fail to notice his voice was slightly… Different. The more he approached, the more his voice sounded less distorted and more human. “Ya know, for a demon with such a pretentious plan, you’d think you’d put up more of a difficult fight.” And when Dante stopped right in front of the altar between you both, he was completely human – looking at you with the sky blue eyes you loved so much. “I’m barely breakin’ a sweat.”

If Erlach’s claws weren’t deep into your skin, you would’ve locked your arms around his neck already, taking in his scent and calming down your heart. Yes, Dante would be smelling of gunpowder, blood and sweat, but that was still his scent. It was enough to make you feel secure again.

“Indeed. I underestimated you.” Erlach’s claws dug out of your skin, making you retreat quickly. You managed to see a little commotion where Kyrie and Nero were before, but with everything that was happening, you couldn’t quite make the moment where Orcus was nowhere to be seen – all you could be sure was that Kyrie was safe, back into Nero’s arms. And that was enough. “It seems like the blood of Sparda still thrives to this day.”

“Yeah, yeah, daddy’s blood and all that…” Dante rolled his eyes, shooting near Erlach’s feet. The demon jumped back, farther away from you – and that made you smile. “Spit it out, spook. How did you find out ‘bout the ritual? Where did ya get that book?”

“Apparently you never heard of a library. On that aspect, I win, my creature.” Erlach still had that weird admiration in his eyes for you, making you wince. You never gave him a single reason to like you. Demons had to be masochist creatures.

“Oh, I heard about those alright. It just so happens my brother here has spent a very long vacation time in Hell and lemme tell ya…” With those words, Dante finally took Erlach by his neck, leaning the demon over the sacrificial bowl and touching the blade of Rebellion on his neck. Dante usually didn’t get that feral… But Erlach had tried him a little bit too much that night. “He doesn’t have very nice words about you and your little friends. Those rituals aren’t well known in detail. Something gave you that book. Who?”

It wasn’t a side of Dante you liked to see, but, when dealing with those kinds of demons, it was a necessary one. Erlach, as far as you could tell, wasn’t just your dumb daily demon – he was in the upper echelon. And said echelon only became worse the higher the rank.

“You would love to know, wouldn’t you?” Erlach laughed even if the sword already started to nick some blood out of his thick demonic skin. “You will have to let me go to get your answer. If you don’t, no deal.”

You closed your eyes, sighing. Erlach was the deal kind of demon. And it was always a slippery slope with those silver tongue devils.

Dante knew that as well. His heart screamed at him to kill Erlach and let his blood run over the floor of the cathedral – to take you home safely and let you know that threat would never loom over you again.

But they needed answers. Only very high rank demons would have access to that kind of book – to those kinds of rituals. Demons like Sparda… Like Mundus. And that was something none of them wanted as a threat. The single thought of the possibility of Mundus being alive made him shiver and his blood boil. His house burned in his childhood, his family slaughtered like animals, his past stained in blood and sulfur. He didn’t want that to happen again. He wouldn’t let that happen again. Not to anyone in the crew, not to his nephew, not to his brother… Not to you.

Dante let Erlach go. The demon cracked his neck, gaining his posture once again. You stood by Dante’s side, ready to suplex Erlach into oblivion if he tried anything funny.

“The two of you already have what you need to know the answer.” Erlach pointed at the book in Vergil’s hands, moving his gaze back to you soon after. “I will have you as mine, y/n. You have my word, sweet creature.”

Before you could do anything in response, Erlach set himself ablaze in flames that kept burning for a few seconds while he disappeared back to where he came from – probably Hell, if you had to guess.

“Eh. We should’ve known he would leave without giving us a decent answer.” You sighed, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time that night, knowing all demons were dead and you were around safe people again.

“And even shamelessly flirtin’ with ya, what’s up with that…?”

“No idea, red devil. I did my best for him to hate me; apparently it backfired tremendously.”

You finally turned to look at each other. Both of you looked tired, completely out of energy – you, from your human body; Dante from the toll all that fiery explosion of anger and demonic heritage could take on him. His eyes, though… Those sky blue eyes, looked at you with the human kindness you always longed for – with the admiration and fire of a lover, but the gentleness of a soul who was not only your mate, but your home.

You felt safe again. All that insecurity, that fear, that horror of being alone and having to fight on your own – to survive on your own – it washed away in that infinite blue sky. He was your home, and you were safe. Nothing bad would ever happen to you, for Dante was there to catch you and hold you in his arms until you felt you could walk with certainty again.

“I heard you, pretty eyes…” Dante murmured, taking a strand of hair out of your dirty face, watching with amusement as you furrowed your brows. He took one of his hands over his heart, eyes looking into yours. “I heard you here.”

A gradual smile lit up your face as you understood what he had said. That pull, that thing you did, of closing your eyes and praying he would find you… It worked. Of course it worked. And you couldn’t be happier, with all that pouring like a golden fountain from your heart, making your eyes laminate with a few tears and threaten to overflow.

“I’m glad you did, cowboy.” You approached him, cradling his face with your hands and leaning him down so his forehead could touch yours. “I’m glad you did. I prayed so loud for you.”

With that, you took his hand to touch your heart, in the hopes he would once again listen – but this time hear the golden tunes it sang along the overflow. The frills of the ridiculous attire didn’t allow him to find your beat, though.

“Well, I told ya I’d get rid of that, right?” Dante sighed, staring down at that horrid attire – although he would argue you could never look bad. Even with that thing on. “Ei! All of ya, look away! I’m puttin’ y/n out of their misery!”

“What…?”

Before you could finish asking, though, Dante masterfully moved Rebellion around you – while everyone turned away or closed their eyes. Lady and Trish, though, just kept staring at that goof of a man you called your lover. Within a few seconds, those terrifying wedding clothes tore apart, pooling around your feet on the floor while you just stared back at your red devil – the chilly air of the night all around your bare skin.

“That was hot.” You had to say it while Dante quickly checked you out like the masterpiece he always thought you were.

“Not as hot as you, babe.” With a wink, Dante took off his red coat, wrapping it around you and making you warm again.

You loved wearing Dante’s coat. It was definitely too big for you, but it was always warm – that night, you could almost say it seemed like it was enveloped in flames. But it had his scent all over it and it fit like a huge cape you could almost drag on the ground. You couldn’t have asked for a better attire for that evening.

“Hey.” As you called for his attention, those blue eyes rested on you again, little by little settling all that restlessness that whole ordeal had set in your soul. And, since words weren’t enough, you once again cradled his face with your hands, this time placing a well-deserved kiss on your lover’s lips.

Dante giggled between your lips, wrapping his strong arms around your waist to lift you off the floor – making it easier for you to kiss him unapologetically. You never saw yourself as a damsel in distress, and you would have killed every demon in that room with a dagger and your teeth if it was necessary, but it wasn’t. And that was so new: you could always count on Dante to be there for you, to protect you and to be a place for you to fall whenever you lost your balance.

Your heart stopped screaming and Dante’s soul found peace again.

“Ah, I see Nero stole Dante’s idea.”

As you saw Kyrie leaving the van’s bathroom wearing nothing but Nero’s coat, she smiled happily back at you while showing it off as soon as you pointed that out. You were sitting in the van, still in the red coat – Dante would know only later that decision would cost him his sanity while trying to get his coat back from you. A few chases and him gripping you tight to get his coat back was in store for the rest of that night.

“It was a very good idea.” Kyrie had a mischievous smile on her lips, blushing a little bit while grabbing the collar of Nero’s coat and taking in the scent. “It smells like him. It feels like he’s always around.”

“I know what you mean.” You smiled proudly as an answer, barely noticing Nico staring at both of you while Lady and Trish giggled.

“Ya know what she means…? That coat is nasty!” Nico pointed at the blue coat enveloping the crew’s little angel, making you laugh a little bit more. “And yours?! If Nero’s coat is bad, Dante’s even worse! Looks like he just blasted from the insides of a frog demon or somethin’! And you say it has his scent?!” The gunsmith couldn’t be more revolted at yours and Kyrie’s antics.

“That’s Dante’s scent for ya...” You sighed, leaning back on the van’s seat – something quite red devilish like. “Gunpowder, demon’s blood and sweat. When he’s clean, though, it’s more of a woody and musky with a hint of pizza kind of scent. Sometimes strawberries.”

“Apparently, love doesn’t make us only blind, it makes our sense of smell completely absent.” Trish strutted her way towards the seat she always took in the van, across from you, having a complacent smile on her devil lips.

“It makes us more tolerant.” Kyrie sat by your side, completely happy to be wearing Nero’s clothes and safe and sound with the crew again. “That is a thing most people need to learn more about.”

“As always, angel Kyrie is right.” Lady sighed, taking her spot inside the van – after lightly elbowing Nico just to tease the gunsmith. “Just like we tolerate the smell of your cigarettes.”

“Hey, at least I’m not turning into a fuming creature blasting demon viscera everywhere!” Nico pointed at Lady with her cigarette between her fingers, making all of you laugh. “Must take days to get those things off your hair!”

“Sometimes, it takes even weeks!” Dante’s voice added from outside of the van, entering soon after to take his seat right by your side. To say Dante would be hovering around you for months, overly protecting you over anything and everything, was a very mild way to describe his behavior after that evening.

“Ya know, once I found a piece of liver hidden right behind my ear…?” Nero approached Nico as she just glared at him with pure disgust. “Took me days to find it.”

“You’re nasty, demon boy.” Nico lightly shoved Nero out of the way, dismissing all that conversation to go back to the stirring wheel. Nero laughed back, making his way to Kyrie and sitting by her side, cradling her with one of his arms while she rested her head on his chest.

“We couldn’t find more on the origin of their knowledge…” Vergil was the last one to board, closing the van’s door behind him. As soon as he did, Nico started driving back home – and he showed you a few things he had in his hands. “But we did find your gear. I will keep it in a safe place until we get back to the shop.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Verge!” You had genuine relief in your voice, watching as he carefully placed your sword next to him. “I thought I’d never see those things again. Thanks for finding them.”

As always, Vergil didn’t answer, just bowed his head as the perfect gentleman he was. Soon, Dante’s arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

“Huh, so much thankfulness for Vergil, while I was the one who saved your ass from that demon lord. I’m feeling a little ignored.” Of course, you knew Dante was only joking – never in all your time together you picked up any sign of jealousy he could have of you and Vergil. Dante was very secure about your relationship, knowing quite well where your heart rested – he would be insecure, sometimes, when it came to other humans.

“Oh, c’mon. How can I not be thankful when it’s my gear we’re talking about?” You raised one eyebrow, teasing him back – which only made Dante smile. “Now being a little more serious, it was rough being stripped of everything. Even with that hideous frilly attire, I felt completely naked. There’s no way for me to defend myself without all my stuff; I don’t have demonic blood running through my veins to go into a rampage and kill every single living thing in front of me.”

“Well, lucky for you, I got that goin’ for me.” Dante brought you even closer, tightening his half hug around you.

“Hmmm…” You took some time to take in his scent, this time directly from his neck, right in front of you. Yes, all those things you mentioned before, but you could always find the woody and musky Dante scent underneath all of that. And maybe it was that which made you feel so comfortable and secure. “I was scared. I was running out of options when you showed up.”

“Shhh, don’cha think ‘bout that, pretty eyes.” Whenever you voiced how uncomfortable you were with something, Dante immediately started caressing you just to at least make you feel physically comfortable again. And you had to say, it always worked.

“I know, I know… It’s just… I know I can always count on you to appear at the direst of moments, no matter where I am.” With those words, you placed one of your hands above his heart, making those sky blue eyes look back into yours. “I know you can hear me call, no matter what.”

“It’s part of the demon thing, babe.” Even though he was happy with that, Dante had a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe… But demons don’t show up to save desperate souls who are praying for them when all other options have failed.” You brushed aside some strands of dirty hair that insisted on covering those beautiful eyes – now looking at you with curiosity and admiration. “Do you know who do?”

“Hmmm…?”

“Angels do.” Your answer was but a murmur, even quieter than the engines of the van. “You are my very own guardian angel, Dante.”

Lady once said that, somewhere out there, even a devil may cry when he loses a loved one – but you would dare to add that devils did cry when they were loved back.

Your red devil was living proof of that on that Halloween night.

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #dante x reader #dante imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc dante #dante sparda #devil may halloween #the ripping the dress apart scene #I'm SUCH a fan of Zorro #and Antonio Banderas does that with Catherine Zeta Jones in the 1st movie #BOOM one of my fave things right there when I saw it for the first time #Dante was raised on Zorro and I'll die on this hill #alsoooo couldn't resist making Erlach a character that may or may not appear again #something about having a demon lord fall in love with Dante/Vergil's s/o sounds so funny to me #I have to make that a recurrent theme #and the 'I'd love you even if you were a rock with googly eyes' is indeed a reference to Everything Everywhere All At Once #just recently watched with my mom and was devastated and happy at the same time #some people we would love even in the rock dimension #I hope you guys like it!! even if it took forever to post!! T-T

83 notes · View notes

ofoceansandtombsanew · 1 year

Text

How the Archon’s Love (As Told by Tarot) pt 1

tags: gn!reader, tarot, headcanons (bonus: platonic!nahida because she is my precious daughter)

a/n: it has been a long minute since i made one of these tarot style headcanons for genshin so i might as well do it for everyone’s favorite archons. as more archons get released, i’ll make more of these even if it’ll be slow going considering we get one nation released each year. this year it’s the focalors wanters time to be fed, any of y’all planning to pull for the hydro archon or are there other fontaine characters that you want? i’ll probably skip for venti and get her on a rerun tbh...

deck: true black tarot

venti

five of swords, death, five of pentacles, nine of pentacles

venti’s love is selfish. cheerful he may seem, the god of freedom has lost many friends as the years have gone by. he has put mondstadt first plenty of times and he always will when a moment calls that he knows is his people cannot handle on their own. but for now, venti is doing things differently. he’s being indulgent. he wants to savor what the two of you have and not take you for granted. mortal lifespans pass in the blink of an eye for gods and despite his cheerful demeanor, barbatos is very aware that your light is will shine only briefly compared to his own. as such he is going to fully enjoy your company as mondstadt’s most talented and spirit-loving bard as long as you’ll have him.

zhongli

seven of swords, the lovers, ten of wands, four of wands

as rex lapis, he has done many a service to benefit liyue. has struck down gods, cultivated mountains and provided the world its currency. but as zhongli the man he is no longer tightly tied to those obligations as he once was. now he is free to love you for as long as time allows. his true identity as the lord of geo is still a secret he keeps from you, he plans to tell you soon enough but as it stands zhongli wishes to enjoy your relationship as it is without that knowledge hovering over your head for a while longer. should you accept him and his love fully, knowledge of his identity included, your contract is as follows: you will remain by each other’s side as each other’s sole partner’s until death do you part. it’s life-binding and as good as marriage although zhongli isn’t opposed to a wedding. if you leave it to him, you’ll have the most extravagant wedding ever seen in the history of liyue- no in the whole of teyvat. just try not to let his fanciful tastes put you in bankruptcy.

six of pentacles, five of swords, the moon, six of cups

in some ways ei is just as selfish as venti when it comes to you. ei knows loss, she knows it too well in fact. losing makoto was enough to nearly destroy her and cause her to hide away in a realm unseen by the mortal eye. she doesn’t want to entertain the thought of the pain losing you would cause her but it is never too far from her mind. still, ei loves you as much dedication as she places in leading inazuma, perhaps even more so. you have a prolonged honeymoon phase in this relationship. there’s something innocent about it, you’re likely her first love and she revels in the new memories she makes with you while opening up about the fond memories she shared with friends long since passed. it’s hard opening up to her people. she’s spent so long in the realm of euthymia and the reverance inazumans hold for her make it hard to connect, but you are one of the few people she can simply be “ei” with and that is good enough for her.

rukkhadevata

the hierophant, destiny, king of cups, ace of cups

rukkhadevata’s love flows as easily as the soothing rain nurturing saplings to grow. you’d think it would be hard to forget that she is a god and yet somehow you do when you’re with her with how easy it was for you to connect with her. fate is a fickle thing but perhaps you were meant to love the dendro archon and she was meant to love you, your lives are intertwined as a tangle of vines. your relationship is one that wasn’t merely by chance, at least that is what the god of the wood believes. (and who are you to doubt the god of wisdom?) rukkhadevata didn’t shy away from her feelings when she realized how deeply they ran for you and she doesn’t shy from them now even when she has an entire nation to lead. it’s easy to love rukkhadevata and for her, it is more than easy to love you.

bonus:

nahida

four of wands, king of swords, the hanged man, temperance

the smallest archon with the most amount of love to share with everyone. she’ll put aside her needs for sumeru even if it means putting her own life at risk. nahida knows she is a long way from the archon the people of sumeru need her to be, but these things take time. rushing the progress of trial and error benefits no one, least of all an entire nation depending on her, but nahida knows you are one of her closest friends she can rely on for help. nahida is wise but still naïve in the way of human interaction. she’s 500 years old but still a child by the standards of the divine. so nahida likes that she can still be that child with you and learn the ways of mortal interaction so she can be the best archon for her people. just don’t be surprised when she stumps you with her analogies or with questions to deep even for you to understand. it’s all fun and games in the eyes of the young dendro archon and she’s an adorable companion to have.

#look she's writing #tarot #headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #venti x reader #zhongli x reader #ei x reader #raiden shogun x reader #rukkhadevata x reader #lesser lord kusanali #nahida #but she is here platonically because she's baby

205 notes · View notes

thelifeofplums · 2 years

Text

Own Worst Enemy Part 3

Trigger Warning - Verbal abuse, feeling lonely, negative thoughts, feeling unworthy, replaced MC, unfair treatment towards MC

How long had it been? Ever since that newly cloned version of you had appeared, you, the original Y/N, had become forgotten. You saw the way the brothers clung to your doppelganger, having begun doing things with them that they would’ve done with you.

Like playing video games with Leviathan. Or going to a cat cafe in the human world with Satan.

The many little things that you once enjoyed with the demon brothers were now being done with your replacement.

It made you wonder if you were living a different life or if you were dreaming up an illusion. You wouldn’t be surprised if this was really all just in your head, after all you knew the demon brothers. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you like this.

And so why did the dream never end? Why did this nightmare continue with no end in sight?

“Y/N dear.” Asmo wasn’t talking to you.

“Hey Y/N, you wanna hear of my latest money scheme?” Mammon wasn’t asking you.

“Y/N, Lord Diavolo would like you to have tea at the castle tomorrow.” And that definitely wasn’t for you.

It was as if you were no longer Y/N, you’re identity having been stolen by your identical and perfect self. And that could only mean that the brothers had started to refer to you differently.

They’d say “that one” when talking about you.

Or they’d just say “human”, as if that hadn’t been your nickname since the time you had arrived in the Devildom. Only now it was official.

Even at school, nobody spoke to you anymore. Everyone was always too preoccupied with the all too perfect Y/N who could do anything without a complaint. You had become nonexistent, your school friends no longer hung out with you and you always sat alone.

You were the faulty one. The Y/N who couldn’t do anything right and who only ever disappointed. Of course they’d replace you with a better version. Why wouldn’t they want to hang out with a better version of you who never took no for an answer.

Ugh, what were you thinking? How could you let that cheap copy of you run around thinking they were better than the real version?

Everybody knew that a sequel could never best the original and it was about time people realized that.

You had to start showing that you couldn’t be replaced. Even if your clone could do so much more than you....like getting straight A’s consecutively or acing magic without a hitch....you were so much better, right?

Either way, you needed to do something about this.

“Hey Mammon and Asmodeus!” You had managed to gather the courage to come up to the two demons, having taken all of first period to talk to them.

It had been difficult to get ahold of them as the two of the most popular RAD students were always surrounded by friends and peers. Normally, you would’ve been in the center with them but of course this was no time to linger on those memories.

So it had to have been during class, after the lecture and a few minutes before the bell rang for third period. Lucky for you, both Asmodeus and Mammon had third period with you and the two brothers sat together. It would’ve been a lot harder to talk to them separately, at least that’s what you had previously thought.

“Ugh, I hear this fly buzzing around me, Mammon, it’s so annoying,” Asmodeus said, swiping through Devilgram without a care.

Grinning as if you heard nothing, you continued, “So, I was thinking it’d be nice to go out to the Fall tonight. We haven’t gone together for a while now like we used to, we should get back into it.”

Mammon folded his arms across his chest and looked up at you with exasperation, “Ya got some nerve to ask the Great Mammon to go clubbing with you.”

You took a deep breath to settle the anger rising within you, “It didn’t usually take much asking to get you to come with me, Mammon. What changed?”

Asmodeus scoffed at that, “I’m sure you know the answer to that, unless you really are dumb and need me to spell it out for you.”

It was two against one. And these two were possibly the worst pair, now that you thought about it.

Two of the most popular students, rulers of hell, and of course the center of all the gossip and rumors. And you were no longer the beloved Y/N. No, that was the clone.

You were just...you. And no one wanted to bother with the now average and unpopular human. So of course it made it so much worse when standing in front of Mammon and Asmodeus knowing that fact.

“I’m still Y/N, it’s not like-”

“Y/N!” Asmodeus interrupted you. You would’ve said he had lost interest in you but he never really had any from the start of the conversation. The demon practically skipped over to your clone, “You wanna go to the Fall tonight?”

You heard him giggling and chatting with the other Y/N from across the room. It made you want to cry and scream at him, though you knew it would do you know good. If anything, it would only make your situation worse.

I was the one who asked, Asmo!

Doing your best to remain strong, you straightened your shoulders out but you didn’t dare look at Mammon. You knew where your limits stood.

“It’d be nice to spend some time with my first demon, we haven’t been able to hang out anymore,” you mentioned softly, remembering the good times you had had with Mammon.

You missed it. Missed him.

You heard the chair scratch against the floor, making you aware of the fact that Mammon was now standing. Was he looking at you? Did he care to even spare you a glance?

You took a little peak at him.

A look of adoration decorated his visage, one that you knew all too well. That look of your first man telling you how much he loved you and how you were perfect and beautiful and everything he could possibly want. Even when it wasn’t for you, your heart fluttered the same way it always did you saw that expression.

He was looking at them.

And that was all you needed to know that you didn’t stand a chance. It didn’t take Mammon’s walking around to get to the other Y/N. And it didn’t take Mammon’s blushing face to tell you it was over for you.

No. It was the way he spoke. The joy in his voice, the warmth and silliness that came with being an idiotic lover. So in love with the other person that it changed his whole tone.

You had lost the battle before you even knew it. But you knew when you were defeated and when to give up.

You wouldn’t grovel at his feet for his attention. You wouldn’t beg for him to forget about the other Y/N. You were better than that so you would simply just walk away and hope your heart wouldn’t tear to pieces.

And that was exactly what you did. Only now a hole the size of two demons remained in your once full heart.

*****

“Hey, Levi!”

As if the pain from Asmo and Mammon’s silent rejection wasn’t enough, it felt like you were now looking for more. Which was definitely not the case. It was just that you couldn’t have been so easily replaced by all seven of the demon brothers. You couldn’t allow that clone to have your demons.

It was nearly impossible, you knew. Even Mammon had deserted you so how could you keep going. Only pain waited for you at the end of the road, you could almost sense it. And still you were willing to hope for the chance that not all the brothers could give up on you just like that. If you could even get one brother on your side, maybe you could somehow convince the others that the clone they played around with would never match compared to you.

Which was now what led to you chasing after the third eldest brother. Having returned from school, you needed your best friend on your side. And you had a plan...well not really a plan but it was certainly something.

“Levi!” You called out.

The demon hardly paused as he headed for his room and you hurried to catch up to him as he was surprisingly fast for a shut-in otaku.

“Levi, stop!” You ordered, hoping to see him freeze as usually a command from you would get him to obey.

But it didn’t work. You couldn’t even feel your pact activate as it normally would.

That’s odd.

Maybe if you had more time, you would’ve thought more about why your pact wasn’t working. But you needed to catch up to Levi.

“I want to play a game with you!” You finally said, practically jogging to keep up with him. That made the demon pause.

He turned around to look at you with a bit of a sneer on his face, “Are you trying to get me to let you into my room, normie? I’ve already got Y/N to play games with so don’t bother.”

You grimaced at the sound of your name.

“Well...I don’t see Y/N anywhere so you’ve got no choice but to play with me.” You felt sick with the words you spoke. If it had been anyone else who had the same name as you, you wouldn’t care. But you were talking about your own replacement, a person who was exactly like you in physicality. Probably not mentally as the clone had proved to be smarter than you were, something that you were more than irked about.

“I heard you were looking for someone to play a new multiplayer game with you,” you explained.

Levi groaned in annoyance, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you. It’s a strategy game and I don’t think you’d be a good team member for this one. So I’d rather wait for Y/N to finish whatever the hell their doing so that they can play than lose ten battles in a span of a minute with you.”

A flash of anger sparked inside you. For him to say that to your face....the fucking audacity.

“Oh, so you really don’t think I can play, huh? Then how about we play 1v1 first and then we’ll see who’s so bad at your new game.”

“No.”

You folded your arms and smugly grinned before saying, “Are you scared, Levi?”

His orange eyes lit with that competitive fury you knew all too well.

“Hah? Scared?” Levi scoffed, “so you’re not just stupid but also delusional.”

“Hmph, say all you want but it doesn’t hide the fact that you’re running away from me like a chicken.”

The demon looked at you in silence before sighing.

“Fine, we’ll play one round. But don’t be so sure about yourself, normie.”

*****

You could think of the many times you had made a bad call. One time having involved a locked up demon with a grudge against humans. And now, you had made a bad call about playing against Levi.

Levi had gotten his hands on a Devildom version of Era of Kingdoms, a real-time strategy game and one you had never played. Sure you figured the new game wasn’t something you’d be able to play amazing at instantly, but you thought that the mechanics wouldn’t be too hard to get a grasp at. Oh how wrong you were.

So to say you were beat was an understatement, Levi had fucking demolished you in the span of three minutes.

“I knew it,” Leviathan sighed beside you, “You’ve got nothing to prove, human. You’re just like every stupid normie who thinks they can just randomly play with me.”

You were still staring at the screen. At Levi’s victory and your defeat, feeling as if it were mocking you. Telling you that you could never match against the demon brothers and that you were nowhere near good enough to be with them.

“This is why I only play with Y/N, my best friend. We’d actually have a decent battle and I wouldn’t have wasted my time with them,” the demon went on, “You know, I could be catching up on all my episodes of Stress makes Saduharu bald ,but it’s stressful to avoid stress, so he ends up stressed out anyway, so in the end there’s nothing he can do.”

Your grip on the controller tightened, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

“This is why Y/N is so much better than you. You really are useless.”

That’s it!

You threw the controller aside and stood up, looking down at Levi who was sitting on one of the bean bags in his room. He didn’t spare you a glance.

“Fine,” you said, “Fine, if you want to replace me with that better and so much smarter version of me, than go ahead. I’m sure you two will have an absolute amazing time and you’ll just completely forget about me. But know I was the first person who actually bothered to care about your stupid games and anime.”

With that, you spun on your heel and marched right out of his room. On the way out, you passed by the other Y/N and you glared at them.

Of course they didn’t pay any attention to you, acting as if you didn’t exist.

It pissed you off so much more than you thought it would. But what could you do? Nobody would listen to how you feel because nobody cared.

You walked down the hallway, the surroundings blurring as you felt your eyes water with angry tears.

Stupid clone. Stupid demon brothers. Stupid everything!

In the heat of your emotions, you had lost all sense of where you were going. Which was what led you to collide directly into a wall, causing you to fall back on your butt.

“Ow!” You exclaimed, shocked at the sudden impact.

A familiar grumble sounded in reply and you gasped.

“You should be paying attention to where you’re going.”

Beel!

You looked up and that was on wall you had run into. You nearly flinched at the large demon standing over you, his size only seeming to double now that you were sitting on the floor.

“Are you on your way to the kitchen?” You wondered, noticing that hungry look in his eyes.

Beel nodded, “Y/N was going to make me something from the new cookbook I got just yesterday.”

“You bought a cookbook?”

“Yeah,” Beel replied, “And I was hoping that Y/N would be free to cook but now they’re hanging out with Levi. So I have to try and make it myself...”

You frowned at that. You could already predict that Beel would eat the ingredients before he even opened the cookbook. It would be bad if he didn’t have anything to eat and seeing that the clone was occupied with Levi...

“I can help, Beel. I used to always cook for you, you know.” You got back up onto your feet, ignoring the pain in your heart at the fact that Beel wasn’t asking you.

The demon shrugged, “Not sure about that, it’s more complicated than the meals you used to make me.”

You highly doubted that. You had made meals that had tried to eat you before so how difficult could this one be?

And maybe Beel would finally see you and not the clone. That would be a good start for you.

All you needed to do was convince Beelzebub to let you cook for him.

“Well, I just passed by Y/N and they just got to Levi’s room so I can say for certain they’re not gonna be able to help you out anytime soon,” you told Beel, “But I’m sure you can hold out until then, right? It’s not like Levi has played games with them until the next morning...”

You stepped closer to the large demon, “You must be starving Beel. And you were probably looking forward to that dish for a while now, right? Well, I’m free so I could make it for you and you wouldn’t have to wait. How about it?”

Beel’s stomach grumbled and you could practically feel the walls of the house tremor. He looked down at his tummy with a sullen look before finally nodding.

“Alright.”

*****

Why...Why did it taste like Solomon’s food.

You would’ve never known from smelling the dish as it smelled delicious. But one little taste test had proved you so wrong.

Could it be you had mistaken an ingredient for something else? That couldn’t be possible, you were certain you had read each ingredient and had done every measurement right. It didn’t make sense.

“Is it done yet? It smells so good...I can’t wait to eat it.”

Oh no. Oh no no no. If Beel ate this you were certain people would think you’d committed an assassination on one of the Seven Rulers of Hell.

“Um...Beel. It needs a bit more time so...uh...but it’s almost done, kay?” You said over your shoulder before you stared down at the substance in the pan.

It looked fine! It looked cooked! And it smelled like food!

Why didn’t it taste like food?!

You looked at the cooking book again, reading over the instructions which you had followed to a tee. It was as if fate just wanted to screw you over. As if the entire world was against you and just wanted you to suffer.

“What’s that smell?”

A familiar voice, not Beel’s, brought an unspeakable amount of relief. Who better to ask about this dish than the all knowledgeable Satan!

You turned to him to ask for help only to immediately remember your relationship was no longer what it used to be. And Satan made it perfectly clear at what your relationship was, what with the look of clear annoyance on his face.

“Beel, you won’t want to eat what the human just made,” Satan said, looking over your shoulder at the food you knew tasted awful.

Beel tilted his head in confusion, “But it smells delicious.”

The fourth born shook his head, “Trust me, you won’t like it. I don’t know how but the human just took a page out of Solomon’s cooking book and made a perfect Solomon specialty.”

You winced, your shoulders curling in with shame.

You looked to Beel, “I-I don’t know how it happened, B-Beel. I mean I did exactly what the recipe told me to do a-and it just turned out like this.”

Apparently Beel just didn’t believe you or Satan, either that or he was just too hungry to actually listen. Either way he took a fork full of food and shoved it into his mouth.

“No-!” Both Satan and you cried out.

But it was too late. Beel’s fork was frozen in his mouth and you could swear he wasn’t breathing anymore.

“Beel, I’m so sorry,” you managed to say, though it came out as a small whisper.

“Beel, can you spit it out?” Satan asked, speaking in the same volume as you as if talking any louder would disturb Beel.

The kitchen was silent as if to pay respect to the death of Beel’s taste buds.

Damn that cookbook! You knew you had done everything perfectly. So why was it so bad?

“Hey guys!”

You knew that voice.

Both Satan and you turned to see the clone standing at the entrance to the kitchen. And in their hands was a plate of cookies.

Where the hell did they get that?

Hadn’t they been with Leviathan? How did they manage to arrive at the perfect time with the perfect solution so perfectly?

“Y/N! Perfect timing, Beel just ate something bad, can you give him those cookies?” Satan said, jumping into action to save his younger brother.

The other Y/N gasped, “Alright!”

In a matter of seconds and a few dozen cookies, Beel no longer looked as if he were about to be sick.

“What did you eat, Beel? I don’t remember you getting this sick since the time Solomon cooked those devil spring rolls for us,” the other Y/N asked, putting a hand on Beel’s arm.

The casual gesture made you stiffen with annoyance.

Beel pointed his finger at you.

Oh.

Why? You had only been trying to help. Why did things have to turn out like this? Would anyone believe you if you said you had made the dish perfectly? And that you had done exactly what the recipe told you to?

How could it have gone so wrong? Bitterly, you thought maybe the other Y/N would’ve made the dish and it’d actually taste good. After all, it seemed the world was making the way for the clone and a recipe like this would have turned out amazing.

It might just be you. Just your bad luck and whatever was happening to your life now.

A sigh came from Satan, “That’s it, human. I’m taking you out of the kitchen, clearly you’re not fit for this.”

The demon grabbed your arm and dragged you out like a rag doll.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, just leave us alone and you can go back to your regular life,” Satan said as he pulled you down the hallways.

“You mean to a life without you.”

Satan eyed you before pausing suddenly. You didn’t know why he had stopped and you certainly didn’t expect him to pull you closer to him.

It was like the world had stopped. And...for a second you forgot what your situation was like. Forgot that for the past week, you had been cast aside like a broken toy...abandoned and left to collect dust.

His eyes that you knew to be so gentle and warm stared at you with a cold sharpness. It was easy to ignore that detail when Satan was so close to you, so close you could smell that scent of books and ink and that soothing hint of vanilla.

You wanted to kiss him. To hold him close and forget about the pain you had been dealing with. The hurt and loneliness which made you wonder how you used to feel loved. You wanted him. Wanted him to fill that growing hole in your heart that once was filled by the demon brothers. Ironically, it was the demon brothers who had caused that hole.

I just want you back.

The time spent away from the demon brothers was cold and it only made you think of how lonely you were.

Just come back to me.

“Satan,” you whispered, your voice cracking from the sob you had buried deep within to hide your vulnerability.

“What made you think you'd ever have a life with us?”

And there it was. The finger to the trigger, the final crack in the dam, the last piece of hope you had held for him.

It took everything in you to step back.

But you did so and you turned away from him.

A humorless laugh slipped past your lips and you shook your head, “You know, I just want to know one thing.”

You imagined the other Y/N, doing what you used to do with the demon brothers, and you felt something dark inside of you bloom. Was it hatred that you felt?

“Is this all just a horrible nightmare?” You asked, your aching heart wishing that it were, “It just doesn’t make sense that this is all happening...like it’s all orchestrated by somebody else.”

Silence.

You glanced at Satan.

But then he scoffed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is real.”

And you believed him.

To be continued~

Part 4

666 notes · View notes

ackerfics · 10 months

Text

FAMILY LINE — a house of the dragon fanfiction | aegon ii targaryen x oc

act one, chapter three: little boy gone (wc: 8.4k) | masterlist

113 AC

The royal wedding between his half-sister, Princess Rhaenyra, and one Lord Laenor is the first marriage Aegon will witness as a lad of six name days. (However, that won’t be the case since the children are not given the signal to attend any single one of the one-week celebrations except for the wedding itself, being too young for an affair that invited almost all of the Houses in King’s Landing.) It also means having to stand on a platform and have fabrics fitted to you and have pins poking through, which is something he doesn’t want. One silver lining, however, is seeing his Aesira being fitted for her gowns. He overhears Mother saying that since Aesira and her brothers are now staying under her and Father’s careful watch, they would receive pieces of clothing that will suit their liking.

“Aegon, what are you still doing here?” Mother asks him after he makes himself comfortable on one of the chairs in her solar, a poorly-concealed look of confusion begins pulling on the muscles under her skin. Aether has already long gone to tend to Daemian (in extension, Daeron, Aegon’s newest sibling), seeing as the girls are having their turns choosing their favourite colours from the variety of fabrics. She bites her cheek before continuing, “Shouldn’t you be with Aether heading back to the nursery? I assume you two are going to prepare for the day’s schedule because I do not recall receiving requests of permission for the Maesters to take a day off.”

Of course, how can Aegon forget his daily lessons on history and sums? Purely boring rubbish, honestly. Maester Orwyle talks a lot (though Aegon is thankful that he’s not as forceful as some of the Maesters loitering around the Keep) and is definitely not pretty to look at. Aegon tilts his head and outwardly stares at Aesira pouting at all the fabrics laid out on the cleared-out low table. He watches as she slowly reaches out for a fabric with flower embroideries before retracting her hand and placing it under her chin for further contemplation. She then turns to Helaena, who is on the side examining a dragonfly perching on the other side of the window, to ask for her opinion. The two girls converse in hushed tones and Aegon wants to hear what they are talking about, unconsciously leaning forward as if that will aid him in having to hear a conversation a couple of feet away from him. He wants to know what causes Aesira to giggle like that.

“Aegon.”

“Huh?” He blinks away from avidly admiring his Aesira and finds himself under Mother’s scrutiny. “W-What is it, Mother?”

Mother sighs, never forgetting to roll her eyes. Aegon bites the inside of his cheek. She proceeds to tell him, “Why are you not in your tutoring?”

“Oh,” Aegon breathes, looking down at his lap and giving Aesira one glance. His entire face burns with the heat of the sun and reaches to the tips of his ears when Mother furrows her brows and follows where his eyes are being called upon. He tightly closes his eyes the moment Mother looks at him again. He is expecting another scolding so all he can hear is his breathing. Mother is awfully quiet for no reason but she lets out a light laugh, a sound that is almost like a breath but Aegon is sure it is a laugh. He’s heard Ser Criston do it countless times before when he finds something outrageously funny yet he cannot do anything to fully express his emotions. Aegon opens one eye. Mother is shaking her head. “Mother?”

“I suppose you can have this short amount of time to relax in my solar, Aegon,” Mother says with the same straight posture she always does as if that laugh never happened. “Only during the extent of the girls’ fitting. Do go back to learning once this is done. Understood?”

Aegon nods, still not used to Mother letting him go after an opportunity of scolding.

“Princess Helaena, Lady Aesira, we have dresses in the trunk that you can try on,” the seamstress chirps. “All of the fabrics you like will be reflected on the dresses after some mending. Go on, you can choose whatever you like, Your Highness, my Lady.”

Helaena looks at Mother for permission. Just a tilt of her head is all it takes for Helaena to pick up her skirts and pick out a dress that she may like. Aegon rolls his eyes when his sister asks for some bugs to be embroidered on her final dresses. The seamstress seems taken aback, glancing at Mother, who exasperatedly sighs before waving her hand regally in the air. He hears the seamstress trying to convince his weird sister about putting butterflies on the textiles instead of spiders but being the odd one that she is, Helaena bargains to have one dress with beetles instead since they don’t look scary. Aegon snickers when the seamstress defeatedly purses her lips and resigns to making the dress that will be the Princess’s favourite for the season. If Helaena has her creepy bugs, what will Aesira have on her dresses?

The boy of six once again gazes at the object of his affection. He may be young but he knows that he and Aesira bear connections with each other — not as strong as hers and Aether’s, but it is there. Aegon can’t seem to look away whenever she’s around; hair so perfectly styled with braids and ribbons (sometimes bows), chubby cheeks he wants to pinch between his fingers (maybe kiss but he doesn’t have any opportunity yet), tiny hands that are begging for him to take in his, dresses complimenting her in every way possible, and a presence that seems to call for his full attention. Looking at her is akin to looking at his favourite food; his eyes would gain that sheen of appreciation and his lips would curl in an unconscious smile. He once asked Maester Orwyle if what he feels around Aesira is considered normal and not an impending disease. The learned man simply laughed and said to wait it out until he becomes a man grown, and if the symptoms persist, Aegon can come back to him and inquire about them again. It is only at that time Maester Orwyle will truly answer his question. That sounds like a lot of time to wait out, so Aegon grumbled the rest of the lesson while the Maester chuckled in front of him. But one thing’s for sure, Aesira is his princess; his one and only maiden.

And when it’s Aesira’s turn to pick a dress to measure, she twirls in a peach (the seamstress said something about it being the colour coral orange) dress that has Helaena clapping in glee, Aegon stares and stares — all thoughts inside his flying in the air except for her.

“A soft princess whose world is the colour of pearls will have it dripped with the sunrise,” Helaena remarks, a smile even visible in her voice even though Aegon is not looking at her. “You look so pretty, Sira! Just like in my dreams.” She bounces from Mother’s side to where Aesira is standing on the platform. Helaena moves to help Aesira down from the low stool to spin with her, admiring the shimmering details on the skirts and bodice. The two girls turn to pick other dresses for each other and Mother looks down with a sad smile.

Six name days is too young to decide who you’re going to marry but Aegon can only name a single person that he wants to see wear white and stand with him in the Grand Sept. And it just so happens his Aesira is trying on an ivory dress that has puffy sleeves on the upper arms and fitted ones covering her forearms and wrists. He doesn’t care that Aesira will never wear this dress for his half-sister’s wedding nor the pleased hums coming from Mother at the sight of it. Seeing her in it is enough to solidify what’s running through the constant thought in his mind for the past couple of days. Aegon is practically vibrating in his seat, his little legs kicking in the air. He can’t wait to ask this one thing from Mother and maybe, Father, if he’s being lucky. The old man Aegon sees nowadays is a large contrast to the man walking around the court; he can’t blame Father, when he sees Aesira, he smiles as well.

So, at the supper before the wedding festivities, he manages to make everyone stop as he shouts with stars for eyes, “I want my wedding with Aesira to be as grand as this!”

Father laughs openly in front of his family, purple eyes alight with nostalgia. Mother looks bewildered that she drops her spoon onto the plate of chicken and peas she has been trying to take tiny bites from. His half-sister raises her eyebrows in mild amusement, making Aegon the first person she ever looks in the eye the entire supper. Helaena is being weird again, muttering things with a smile on her face. Aemond’s eyebrows meet, giving the little twat the villainous look that he can muster at three name days. Aether nearly spits out the juice he’s been drinking like he swallowed down the wrong pipe before gawking at him — scandalised.

But all that matters is Aesira, whose flustered face should be painted for the castle’s atelier, and he is the one responsible for it. Pride settles in his bones as Aegon goes back to eating, giggling the butterflies away as if he didn’t spark the idea of a new royal wedding after Rhaenyra.

Daemon can vividly envision his first wedding each time he closes his eyes.

It was a sad event; not at all revered like the impending royal wedding that will take place at the end of the week. His act of taking Aellara Arryn to wife was nothing more than a stepping stone to further establish his claim as the previous Heir to his brother, which soured because his birthright was stolen right under his nose. Now, it was more like a pathetic call to make his older brother look his way. See, I finally married the most sought-out woman in the realm, surely you are going to acknowledge me as your equal, brother. Viserys never did. And so, he simply married the Siren because it was truly long overdue that he didn't take someone as his wife, preferring the company of whores to the shackles brought by marriage.

Though beautiful in her own right, Aellara, his beloved lady wife, never possessed the correct shade of their Valyrian root in her hair nor she held the violet hues in her eyes — instead of the lavender pair he dreamed of and was plagued with every night without fail, her eyes were a reminder that she wasn’t the true Valyrian bride he wished to bed and plant heirs in. It all added to his well-concealed disappointment.

However, he never expected the warmth this marriage carried.

Aellara wasn’t just the Siren he lusted for at first sight, she was a companion — a friend Daemon poured his heart out to when the subtle scent of the night called for memories to be at their height. He found himself craving for the small, dainty palm she would cup his cheek with or the forehead she would gently place on his in a promise that he was the most heartfelt man she ever came across. Daemon searched the windows of Dragonstone every chance he got, hoping to catch the sight of his wife—he couldn’t believe it, Aellara was his wife—overlooking his training with that fucking smile of hers. She had him questioning the tickling sensation happening in every inch of his body. He could map out every single constellation etched on her skin; he could perfectly say the exact shade of her eyes without even looking; he could listen to her childhood tales …

Daemon Targaryen knew this meeting was fated when he found meaning in each of the words they exchanged, in every moment they shared. Aellara took every bit of his being and made them hers to care for.

At some point, the line was blurred — duty became love and meshed into one messy masterpiece without them knowing.

And ignorance of this continued to be bliss for Daemon.

His precious niece’s wedding will be as sad as his once was.

He had a plan, always has. There was a reason why their sigil was a three-headed dragon. Aegon the Conqueror chose to take two wives during his reign. Who was to refuse him, the Targaryen rumoured to have surpassed The Conqueror in terms of bloodlust and fire, to take a second wife? You would dare disgrace your wife and children, Daemon’s cowardly brother spat in his face after begging him to give his innocent, delightful niece for him to wed after coming back to give the crown of the Stepstones in the name of the King. He never begged. Taking Rhaenyra as his second wife would have been the pinnacle of the Targaryen dynasty they worked so hard to maintain; a Valyrian match so pure no one would dare oppose it (if tongues wagged, they’d be cut). It was the one thing he truly wanted. Daemon already had heirs to his bloodline (two gorgeous babes who never stopped crying for their mother; he had enough of hearing their wails from daybreak to the hour of the bat). He would give the Iron Throne trueborn sons as well.

“Think of the glory, wife,” he told Aellara a year after being exiled because of his foolish decision of suggesting a polygamous relationship to Viserys. He never had a stopper when it came to telling his wife his plans, so the words flowed freely from his mouth without even thinking of the consequences. “You would be Queen when Rhaenyra takes the throne — a beautiful ruler who will wear Rhaenys’ crown on her pretty head.”

“Is this your way of confessing your disloyalty to our marriage, Daemon?”

Daemon — she called him Daemon. It was always ‘husband’.

He never imagined his pliant wife would possess that Targaryen fire. Maybe he didn’t delve deeper into how she was as a person, always seeing her through a shallow lens that many men wore while looking at her from afar. It took him by surprise that Aellara could look menacing enough to breathe blue fire. Her eyes were wide, nearly dead with no thoughts flashing behind the pupils, and her jaw tight from the clenching. Daemon, for the love of him, smiled despite the impending doom he would get from his very pregnant wife.

The Rogue Prince chuckled. “You really are a Targaryen—”

“Daemon. Answer me truthfully. Did you or did you not take Rhaenyra to the Streets of Silk the year prior? Was it you who people saw planting his lips on his—our—very own niece or they were just delusional to have seen such a sight?” She took a breath. “Tell me the truth, Daemon.”

He has never seen his wife this broken. And angry.

(If he paid closer attention and played the part of the besotted husband every person saw him as, he would have seen it.

Aellara was described as the embodiment of youth by Aemma and was a much beloved younger sibling to all her older brothers and sisters. Nothing of it remained when she was taken from the Eyrie at the mere age of nine and ten to be wed to Daemon Targaryen, a man that would leer at her the same way fat Lords would fix their eyes at her figure and the man who would wrong her in so many ways that she was starting to see it as a normal occurrence. The youthful Aellara the Vale had the honour of seeing, drowned in the depths of the seas with the man she married being the large waves pushing her underneath the waters. If Daemon has any shred of chivalry in him, maybe then he could be the one to relit that Targaryen flame Aellara inherited from her mother.)

Daemon was a man of murky actions, more of a man borne from hubris and less of a man of honour. Why would he answer to this pesky questioning when he provided this lowly woman (the youngest daughter, not even in line to inherit the Eyrie seat) everything he could possibly give? At the start of this horrendous pregnancy, she was always pecking at his entrails, pulling them apart as if she was finding the smallest of faults in the process. He stayed with her, right? Why would she bring up a thing of the past that was supposed to be tightly closed in a chest somewhere in the depths of the Narrow Seas? Was this her way of torturing his poor mind to submit to a life he didn’t want? Daemon was a seeker of glory and fuck him to the Seven Hells and back if he was going to throw it away right when he was so close to taking his precious niece as his wife. Not even the fucking Siren of the Vale could stop him from having the honour that should have been his since Rhaenyra breathed her first cry.

She had the gall to look at him in such a way that she was the god and he was the grovelling idiot. He earned the title of the King of the Narrow Seas, how dare his wife appear to be above him than anyone else. Not even Viserys looked at him like this. Those who did stare at him with such contempt was primarily a fucking cunt who paraded as the Hand of the King, a person who longed nothing but his banishment from King’s Landing. And now, this woman, a fucking woman, held her chin up high as if she was granted the position to do so. Aellara would be nothing without him.

At that moment, he was overtaken by rage, a rage so deep that it grated his long bones and travelled in a shivering cloud toward his mind.

“What do you want me to say?!” Daemon roared, with Caraxes feeling his bonded’s plight in the Dragonmont — the beast breathing dragonfire into the brewing storm around Dragonstone. “That I nearly took my niece’s virtue in a pleasure house? That I nearly planted an heir in her in the throes of my long-awaited need to have her?” He took thundering steps toward their marital bed, her shoulders flinching with each resounding stomp he made on the hard floor. Daemon wore wrath well; he might have been the walking deity for it. “I truly hope this will help you sleep at night the way the Milk of the Poppy tranquilises patients. Yes, it was I who took Rhaenyra to that fucking brothel but I never finished the act.” He laughed—cackled—an ugly sound in their chambers. “How I regretted that. Still, you doubted me and pointed fingers that I took her virtue when I flew us back here and fucked another child for you to pamper right away.

“If this is how you see me even when I didn’t stick my dick into her, I might as well supplant her heirs right then and there!”

A crack rang and Daemon’s head flew to the side.

And she had to squirm to appear strong, too. Fucking pathetic.

They spent a few moments in the eye of the storm until Daemon returned the gesture with a backhanded slap that pierced through her skin and threw her off her chair.

“You bitch!” Daemon spat at the wide-eyed, cowering form of his wife, her hand shaking over her protruding belly. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “If someone should be accused as a whore who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, it should be you, you fucking wench! Do you think of me blind with the way you walk through these halls relishing in the eyes of the men lingering just to get a glimpse of you? I’ve heard about you entertaining my fucking Gold Cloaks while I was giving you my back.”

Frantic cornflower blue irises rose to finally look at him. He thanked the Gods that the lilac shade he was lusting over since their birth wasn’t under this much strain. His pliant wife was a fucking sight. What would the men who lusted for her say now?

“When,” her voice was hoarse, “have I ever done that, Daemon?” He kept quiet, still staring at her with those dead eyes, only one emotion swirling in them. “Tell me when did I entertain men—your men—while you were training?” He forgot he wore his rings until a single trail of her blood ran down her cheek. Not the perfect shade. Never a god in her right. She was not worthy of him. “I was giving them the courtesy of being the Lady of Dragonstone. What would you want me to do? Sit still and look pretty like everyone expects me?”

“Truth?” Daemon’s tone gained belittlement. “Yes.”

Her face wasn’t beautiful anymore. A pity.

He kneeled in front of her, his forefinger and thumb pinching her chin. She yelped at the pressure. “Because that’s all you are, wife. A fucking pretty face with a cunt in between her legs, asking for every man to fuck her with a bat of her eyelashes.” He flicked her head to the side before standing up.

“And you—do you think I wanted to be born this way?” She now hugged her pregnant belly, eyes not seeing anything yet focused on a single speck on the rug that gave her knees burns. There was a guttural tilt to her next words, resentment present in each syllable, “Do you think I wanted to be presented as the seducer who took away husbands from wives?! That I am tossed away by my father just to be a fucking broodmare to birth out sons?! Do you think I don’t feel repulsed by how men see me?! I want to skin myself! I never asked to be like this! If I could have taken my life just to experience serenity and never the married life I have right now, I would have with a single heartbe—”

“I never wanted this either!” Daemon yelled. “This union was the last thing on my mind. If I had known you were this fucking difficult, I would have let you be assaulted by the Lords you enjoy the attention of!”

She shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”

Daemon scoffed. “I do. Wedding you was never an option because my heart, body, and soul already belonged to another. But you looked so desperate to be betrothed to me that I gave you my hand when I could have given it to—”

“My niece,” she breathed out.

“She is the one the Gods gave me to have. Every morrow I wake up to is spent longing for her. It has been that way since I held her in my arms and when she first opened her eyes to see me. You will never hold a candle to the love I feel for Rhaenyra. You don’t even begin to compare to her.”

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish in need of water, not finding the words to say. She was a master of crafting masks and she did it so perfectly that Daemon truly felt the magnitude of disgust displayed on her face. He wanted to slap her to erase such a degrading expression presented to him, a person who was born with both of his parents’ divinity in his veins. She made it seem like he needed his cock cut off. “You are a vile being, husband.”

“Say that again.”

That was all it took for her to prove that she, in fact, had the dragons’ blood in her veins. “You disgust me!”

He had never felt the intense need to handle a woman this way. Daemon saw opaque red; he didn’t even see the shred of fear on his wife’s face when he raised his hand to hit her again; this time, maybe she would be quiet now, giving him the silver lining of finally taking Rhaenyra as his wife and be done with it. What he never expected was the tiny body getting in between his palm and the subject of his ire, the smack of skin against skin echoing in the chambers like the chilly ringing of the Sept’s bells. A softer thud belonging to a body lighter than a pregnant woman came soon after.

“Aether!”

Abysmal waters enveloped every fibre of his being. It was then that he realised the position he was in. On his hands was the blood of his wife and firstborn. They were mere splatters on his pristine, calloused palms but it was enough to make his son see him for who he truly was. Daemon remained standing in front of the hearth, the tangerine reflection of the flames licking on one side of his profile. It wasn’t enough to unfreeze himself.

In a fit of childish rage, the boy of five stood from the ground and pounded his tiny fists against the garments of Daemon’s night trousers. He couldn’t feel anything; he kept staring at the spot in between his wife’s body and his son’s. The boy had angry tears streaming down his face, snarls taking root in his throat. “You hurt Mother! You’re bad! I hate you!”

“Boy—”

“You’re not my father anymore!”

Again, that deep-rooted fury in his soul erupted. “You fucking brat—!”

“Aether!” She was successful in clutching the boy close to her, halting his attempts in bruising the man who rode his dragon to war. “Don’t you dare lay your hands on my son!”

They were looking at him like he was not a husband or a father. They were looking at him like he was a monster void of reason.

Now, he knew which side his coin landed on when the Gods watched it flip.

He fails at taking Rhaenyra as his wife after witnessing the bloodbath that has taken place at the first wedding feast of the celebrations. Instead, he has seen a new prospective bride in the untouched, tumultuous daughter of the Sea Snake. Laena Velaryon. Just her very name sparks his blood, very much like when he first saw his first wife peering through that window in the Eyrie. That look on Lady Laena’s face is a mirror to how Aellara saw him for the first time — curious and demanding attention. Though he may not be the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror for taking two wives during his reign as a Prince, he follows through by marrying both of his wives due to desire — never duty, however. Both of them are pretty, alluring little things, with one bearing the name of the Siren until her days come to an end while the other is gaining the reputation for her eligibility.

And now, Daemon lurks in the secret tunnels of the Keep with one purpose in mind. Upon arriving at a fork, he takes no hesitation whatsoever to turn to the right. He walks and walks until he comes face to face with a loose section of the brick wall, shaped to fit into the intricate stone arcs on the other side. Right beyond this wall is the very last thing he is going to collect. For someone with a bravado that can fit the entire realm, Daemon hesitates, hand flexing and fingers itching to fiddle with the handle of the hidden dagger inside the lapels of his tunic. His eyelashes flutter with an unnecessary need to turn back.

He takes the time to draw a huge breath, exhaling it into the night air. Then, he opens the door.

The nursery is a drab thing to be inside. The paintings aren’t hilarious like they are around the Keep; rather, they portray woodland creatures prancing with their wooden instruments while women with otherworldly features on their skin and hair dance to their tune. None of the dragons fucking each other and dragons fucking humans around here. The dragons presented in the painting of the nursery are a fucking joke; dragons aren’t this adorable. He pushes the paintings to the back of his mind and carefully stalks on the rugged floors of the chambers. Thank the Gods that people installed such a feature — it is making his job easier. He creeps into the dark, lilac eyes appearing like the sharpest gems while assessing the children asleep on the mattresses.

He passes by that Hightower bitch’s children, all with the Targaryen colouring. What a fucking waste. If Viserys married any other woman, Daemon would have been proud of his brother’s wife for bringing another generation of Targaryens to keep the bloodline secure. But, alas, such a pity that that woman is the once innocent daughter of the Hightower cunt. Anything miserable revolving around that fucking House is a pure delight to him — it’s just the right amount of entertainment. Then, he notices an odd thing.

The eldest of the Hightower brats is hugging someone close to his rising and falling chest.

Daemon has to dig his fingernails in his palms to physically prevent himself from tearing the pompous brat (Aegon is his name, blegh) away from his precious daughter — the light of his life, the object of his true affection, one of the only good things that came out of him. He peers over Aegon's small body and the sight nearly buckles his knees, eyes stinging with an unknown emotion.

She is still so perfect. Aether truly inherited his fire, that rowdy little boy, but it was Aesira that he rarely stopped carrying every minute spent in Dragonstone. His Gold Cloaks even remarked that the babe could have been a part of his armour, a jest that always elicited a bellied laugh from deep in his stomach, with his beloved baby giggling along with him. Aesira is the best of him. Even he was baffled that he helped create such a lovely, beautiful thing from a marriage not borne from love. Daemon can’t help himself; he kneels right beside the mattress and simply gazes at Aesira sleeping peacefully in the arms of another boy that is not her brother. His hands are itching to caress her chubby cheeks, playfully biting them until she kisses his nose with unconditional care. Aesira is still the prettiest baby he has ever seen. He’s captured a glimpse of that Hightower bitch’s daughter a few minutes ago and she is as plain-looking as her mother. She doesn’t hold a spark to the babe who managed to make him love something so acutely at first sight.

The shade of her hair remains the same. Daemon wishes that she would at least open her eyes. Her tiny fists still grip the nearest thing she has on her side while she sleeps. During their time in Dragonstone, the twins would sleep in between their parents and Aesira would never let go of Daemon’s nightshirt through the dead of the night. Now, raw anger pulls at his stomach because he has been replaced by a babe unworthy of the Targaryen name. It melts away after one look at his slumbering daughter. The Rogue Prince has to hold back a chuckle at the little nose scrunch Aesira does when she dreams of something — an adorable little thing.

He certainly has a favourite out of all his children as much as his first wife had hers. Shame his favourite doesn’t have a cock swinging between her legs.

Daemon forces himself to peel away from the reverie his daughter created and shifts his attention to the true reason why he sneaked into the nursery. On the mattress beside his daughter’s is his reflection. Limbs askew and covers tossed around, Aether Targaryen is Daemon’s miniature copy. His little shadow. The boy made it his personal mission to trail after him like a little dragon following the warmth of its parents. He was always entranced by Dark Sister’s glare under the height of the sun, with him declaring that he would be the third Targaryen to wield it. The boy could dream as high as the stars. If Aesira was the doll he would boast to the court, Aether was the son he would flaunt to the Lords — the son they all wanted. When Aether would become a man grown, he would be the perfect weapon to utilise upon the calls of war and the perfect bachelor Houses would want their daughters to be married to and taste the ferocity of House Targaryen. Daemon was the luminary for Aether and just like any satellite, the latter basks under his glow, borrowing his light to shine in his own right.

But after that night, Daemon guesses that he is the most hated person on this boy’s list.

Then again, he doesn’t care about other people’s feelings other than himself and those who he wants to impress.

Daemon swiftly stands up from his haunches and scoops the boy to hang over his shoulder. With one look over his little girl and the babe in the crib who killed his wife, he slinks through the nursery and into the tunnels, darkness his companion once again.

He dreams of flying.

There are no land masses in sight, only azure waters spanning the entire realm. He can feel jolts while soaring in between cloud formations but he never stops flying. Time stands still in this dream. Maybe he has been flying for hours or mere seconds, he may never know. All that matters is that he is big enough to dive closer to the surface of the ocean and taste the puffs of clouds in his skin. He is swaying, though — head lolling to the side yet he can never explain why. All this time his vision is showing nothing while letting his draconic beast guide him through his first flight. He tries opening his eyes to further feel the experience but it isn’t the glorious sky he is so in awe of.

Aether wakes up to a moving floor.

He is not flying but he is in the air due to someone carrying him over their shoulder. There is no dragon and vast skies; there is just this one person and the walls caving in around him. Aether blinks his eyes to erase the bleariness before turning his head to see who is taking him. Suddenly, fear wraps up his throat again and he is transported to the front of the crackling fireplace with a split-up lip and a bruised cheek.

“Father?”

“Shit.”

Questions start pouring into Aether’s mind like a never-ending water pump the maidservants use while hustling for the day’s meals. Where is Father taking him? How did he get inside the nursery? Aether remembers there being a Kingsguard stationed by the doors of the chambers, having known that they were sworn to protect anybody of Uncle’s blood. Can Father even go past them? He’s seen the Kingsguard train by the main courtyard of the Keep and they are capable of defeating men twice their size. They are adults and they tower over little Aether like he is one of the insects Helaena enjoys watching as they crawl on the ground or the ridges of her palm. All this thinking is making him squirm but Father keeps a firm hand over his body.

What about Aesira and Daemian then?

Oh, no.

Aesira and Daemian are all alone in the Keep if Father finishes taking him away from them. Who’s going to protect them more closely without him? Aegon has already announced that he was going to marry Aesira last night during supper with the royal family, so Aether wants to be there to prevent him from tainting his sister any further (his hugs and kisses on the cheeks and forehead are dirty enough to soil Aesira; Aether doesn’t want more of that from happening, not on his watch). Then, little Daemian. He’s just a babe; still in his swaddle and is clueless yet so pure as to what the world truly is to children like them — abandoned. Aesira won’t have the help to take care of him if Aether’s not there. Yes, there are going to be wetnurses and maidservants but they are not what the babe craves from time to time. Their baby brother at least needs more family members than Uncle’s side of the family. He should have both his big sister and big brother to guide him while living his childhood.

Aether grunts, fully kicking his feet in the air. “L-Let me go!”

Father answers with pained groans of his own. It looks like Aether kicked him in the cheek and the side of his neck. “Can you keep still?” He struggles with saying the words with all the commotion Aether is making.

“Not until you tell me where we are going!” Aether screams while continuing his assault on Father. The more he fights back, the angrier Father gets; but he’ll take his chances at the moment. Anything to escape this man who hit Mother and made her cry on the floor. Aether is only calling him Father because he doesn’t know what else to call him. Maybe he’ll learn the more colourful terms from Ser Criston during his training. He doesn’t get to hear them often because he’s surrounded by Lords who take the time to bet on the winner of the sword fight; the words get muddled and mould into one that it becomes hard to fully register what they mean. He never stops squirming until all he can hear from Father are words in High Valyrian, a language Aether is going to learn with the Maesters. “Put me down! Bring me to Aesira and Daemian now! I hate you, Father, I hate you!”

“Seven Hells!” Father yells when Aether finally gets his eye.

“I will kick more if you don’t return me to Sira and Damy! So, let me go!” He screams every word, the sound echoing in the tunnels. He’s not scared if there’s a monster waiting to pounce in the shadows, he has to get away from Father and hug Aesira and Daemian in the nursery, wordlessly vowing to himself to never sleep tonight for fear of Father returning and separating them for good. Besides, Father is scarier than any monster depicted in the tales crafted to spook children into behaving themselves. The Rogue Prince has defeated the man who took away the Stepstones according to Mother’s stories and he rides the most dangerous beast known to mankind. At first, Aether is all starry-eyed but after seeing Father that cruel, he doesn’t want to be anywhere near him.

Father still goes unsuccessful in keeping him in place. “Fucking brat!”

“I hate you, I hate you! I want Sira and Damy! Return me to the nursery!”

Father clamps both of his large hands around Aether’s arm, holding them so tightly that they will most likely bloom purples and reds the next morning. The ground touches his bare feet, the dirt digging into his skin and clinging to the seams of his soles. The screams morph into cries of pain for Father only worsens his hold around him. Air becomes non-existent in this suffocating tunnel, the world caving in around him like gnarly arms piercing through his brain. Aether raises his hands to wretchedly claw his way out because it hurts — everything hurts. He just wants to bury himself in that mattress Queen Alicent gave him out of the goodness of her heart, let the scent of freshly-washed sheets cover his senses, and introduce him to another series of dreams that he doesn’t want to wake up from. He just wants to take in that innate baby smell coming from Daemian while Aesira chatters in his ear about the latest book she manages to borrow from one of the desolate libraries of the Keep. He just wants to get away. Aether never realises that the wetness on his cheeks starts making drop tracks on the floor, glinting a brilliant silver against this darkness that Father takes a deep breath, loosening that monstrous grip he has over his arms.

The tunnels are eerily silent. There’s no breeze making the curtains flutter in the high moonlight. There are no signs of Aegon letting out low snores on his mattress or Helaena’s mutterings, not even the two babes fussing in their cribs. Gooseflesh erupts on every visible part of Aether’s skin when he hears the slight scuttle of small feet on the edges of the floor, the squeaking only adding to the haunting whispers of the walls. The tear tracks in between him and Father appear like blood under the mellow lighting brought by the lantern that is discarded at the side, the glass preventing a fire from happening. The silence rings in his ears the moment Father’s pair of lilacs clashes with his wide eyes. His chest rises and falls rapidly and he hopes this is a nightmare because Father has never been this mad.

Aether seems to forget another one of his wishes — he just wants to cry.

“I won’t be returning you to the nursery nor letting you see this castle once again,” Father starts with a steady voice. But that doesn’t help in calming Aether down. Father might as well resort to taming a dragon than face a rattling child like him. “You are coming with me, boy.”

“I-I don’t understand, Father.”

Father narrows his eyes and Aether expects the hand with rings around the fingers to make him tumble to the ground. The man in front of the boy doesn’t make a move in wiping the tears on the latter’s cheek like any other parent, like what Mother did when Aether was terrified of the boom of thunder or what Uncle Viserys did to Aesira when she cried one time during their meetings in his solar. Father never cared; he simply said that he should brave his fears because he would be a man, the example for his siblings. “I’m going to Essos to make a new life there. I choose you to be a part of it.”

Aether still doesn’t understand what Father is talking about. “Why me? What about Aesira and Daemian? Don’t you have a life here, Father? Why are you choosing Essos instead?”

The man clicks his tongue as if everything irritates him. “Carrying three children is something I don’t see myself doing in the middle of the night. Daemian is still a babe; it makes it even harder to do if I want to come out of this castle unscathed. Then, there’s you. You will help me in creating this new life across the Narrow Seas.” Something is brewing inside Father’s eyes and Aether doesn’t like it one bit. His lips are quivering to smile but he maintains the stoicness that will have Aether following his every word. And listen, Aether does best. “There, you can be whoever you want to be. No excessive grandeur that the court expects you to do just because you are my firstborn son. You can even fly your dragon there without direct supervision of the dragonkeepers, blasted old farts. I can teach you the ways of our history, our Mother Tongue, and how to wield Dark Sister. Now, stop your moping and get your shit together.” He stands up but Aether keeps on staring at a random circle of his tears on the dirt floor. Again, Father scoffs. “Boy, don’t make me repeat myself.”

“I—” Aether sniffles. He roughly wipes off the remnants of a sob from his face and stares up at Father. “I won’t leave Aesira and Daemian here.”

Father rolls his eyes. “We will come back for them, I promise.”

“You have to swear it on a pinky.”

A bark of laughter erupts from Father. Aether slowly retreats into his shell. Father seems to be doing a lot of that lately — sucking every piece of bravery from the eldest of the family. He should be the protector of his little siblings but in the presence of Father, he wilts like a blossom that stands too close to the sun. “I forgot how stupid being a child is,” Father murmurs under his breath. He thinks Aether doesn’t hear. The silence in the secret tunnels opposes it to be a secret. The boy tearfully stares at his pinky. All the promises that Aesira kept were forged with their intertwined pinkies. For their little tradition to be called stupid makes him rethink doing it anymore. It was Mother who taught them to honour their oaths and promises with their pinkies, even kissing them when she was the one doing the pinky promises. Aether’s tears resurface. Father keeps talking while the boy spirals, “Who taught you that?”

Aether inhales a sharp breath. “Mother.”

“Fuck,” Father curses. “Of course, she did.” The boy stares at him with a glare. “Remember what I said about having a new family in Essos? It includes a new mother and new siblings.”

The fire spreading through his limbs is redolent of the flames in the fireplace of Mother and Father’s room in Dragonstone. The dirt floor tickling his toes transforms into the rug scraping his skin. The eeriness of the tunnels brings back Mother’s cries and screams of his name. Don’t you dare lay your hands on my son! They say that fathers are supposed to be the protectors of their Houses but it was Mother who hugged Aether close to her pacing heartbeat, protecting him from Father’s wrath. It was Mother who vowed to always shield them from any harm and that once their baby sibling comes into the world, they would be flying away from Dragonstone and back to the Vale. It was Mother who secured a love for them, telling them that they were already so loved by her even before they were born. Father wasn’t in the picture at all. He was out training but he was almost like a ghost. Aether only sought him out and followed him because he was taught to be like Father when he grows up — strong and daring, fierce and loyal; a perfect mix of darkness and light in one person.

How can he force Aether to forget Mother? Mother who was the best hugger in the world, Mother who had the arms that held him and his sister, Mother who had the most beautiful smile around the realm, Mother who was the kindest and most courageous of all.

How dare he?

Aether explodes. “I HATE YOU!” He hit Father just like the man hit Mother all those nights ago. He may not have the rings but he makes up for how fast he punches. Aether knows he’s doing a great job when he hears the pained grunts coming from Father’s mouth. “I don’t want to go with you! I won’t ever leave Aesira and Daemian here alone with no one to protect them! I will never replace Mother with a stranger because I love her the most! I hate you and I hate the girl you’re going to marry! I hate the family you’re making in Essos! I hate you for hurting our family!”

He tastes the dirt from the floor, his pupils shaking from all the adrenaline. His cheek is numb at first but then, it erupts in blooming pain that has him crying more tracks on the ground. A glacial chill runs down from his face to his spine, making his heart spike up and his breathing to hasten. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Everything hurts. The slap Father gave him makes his head ring, blaring warning signs that he is about to sink into this abysmal pool of loathing all his life. A trickle of something thicker than water runs down from a jagged line making itself known to the ghosts howling their frustrations in the night. Aether looks up and sees a monster — a beast wearing Father’s face. From outside, he can faintly hear a dragon’s roar, probably Caraxes. His Achilles is not that big enough to terrorise King’s Landing with its shrieking.

“I gave you the easy way out, boy,” Father says in a hauntingly calm voice. “You can have everything you want if you would just be the obedient dog that you were to your mother. It would seem I have left you with the fucking Hightowers for too long.” Aether scrambles back when Father sits on his haunches to meet his eyes. “If you wish to live here and be manipulated by that Hightower bitch, then by my guest. I expected more from you — it seems like I should have expected nothing at all.” He stands up and takes the lantern from the ground.

“F-Father?” Aether voices out, watching him start to walk away. “W-Where are you going?”

Father looks over his shoulder. “I don’t see the point in staying.”

Panic grips his throat, never letting the air pass through but is on its way to welcome the incoming rise of bile. Father’s figure becomes smaller, the darkness swallowing him from all planes of his body. Aether can hear the squeaking of the rats and the grates of the invisible hands on the bricks. “Father!” He croaks but Father doesn’t hear (or he is pretending). A cold breeze wraps around his back, sparking all hair on his skin to stand on end. An invisible mouth is whispering sweet nothings to him, telling him to take the dagger on Father’s thigh and drive it into the skin until the sinews of the muscles scream, with the edges of an imaginary lip curling in a devilish smile. He ignores the voices and screams, “Father, don’t leave me here!” Father is still walking away, the small pinprick of light in the lantern swaying from all the movement. Fear is still shackling Aether to the floor but if he doesn’t move, he will go ballistic with the thought of being alone in this tunnel. So, he stands on shaky legs and braves himself to take the first step. “FATHER!”

“Farewell, Aether.”

The world caves in and the ghosts consume him whole, piece by piece, with only a scar from Father left behind.

It takes three whole days for the Kingsguard to find the young Lord, staring at nothing and dirty from head to toe right at the base of the castle. The King orders everyone to search for the one responsible for endangering his blood and while the Queen attempts to hug the young Lord in her arms, he releases the most spine-chilling scream, only one emotion present in his face for the first time since he was found — terror.

and with this chapter, i established my side and i am ready for battle.

reply or send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist !!

taglist: @winxschester @darylandbethfanforever9 @averyyreads

#— rory's passages 🌼#— family line | hotd ☀️#aegon ii x oc #aegon x oc #hotd x oc #hotd x reader #aegon targaryen x oc #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii fic #hotd aegon

53 notes · View notes

helenadurazzo · 3 months

Text

The Lord of the Underworld And His Lady Of Spring Part 2

In this continuation of ‘The Lord Of The Underworld And His Lady Of Spring,’ a part of me and @princess-of-pearls-and-stars HPHM x Twisted Wonderland AU, the guys and Asteria all come together in the Headmage’s office only to make more discoveries, but still no answers on how to resolve the issues of the invaders. As always, Helena belongs to me and Asteria belongs to @princess-of-pearls-and-stars

Everyone who seemed to be coming finished with Malleus and Lilia teleporting into the Headmage’s office. Asteria had to note Fae magic was quite interesting and they seemed to perform these teleportations just like apparations, albeit with much less stress.

“I hope we didn’t keep you waiting.” Malleus apologized.

“Malleus! Lilia!” Kalim cheered, “You made it!”

“Hmm…” Lilia mumbled to himself in a barely audible tone, “Seems like I was correct about who was abducted for the most part.”

For the most part!? Asteria thought to herself. What was that supposed to mean? She knew Malleus and Lilia were full of secrets yet some bothered and caused more speculation than others.

Trey cleared his throat, “I was just baking some cookies in the dorm when I got word that Riddle had been kidnapped. Then I heard Ace and Deuce were injured and went straight to the infirmary. It was all so sudden it’s hard to wrap my head around it.”

“The stables where Riddle was taken is like a war zone.” Cater added. “Even the grass was burnt to a crisp. What in the world is going on?”

“That’s what I want to know!” Ruggie exclaimed. “Leona surrendered unconditionally, yeah I know, Leona of all people. Then he said ‘Ruggie, you’re in charge of Savanaclaw until I get back, Then again, I can’t be sure I’ll come back at all…’ He was dead serious too!”

“As we understand it.” Jade began smoothly, “Azul was taken during a club meeting.”

“The board game club guys say he left with them peacefully.” Floyd continued for his brother. “And Firefly Squid and Lil’ Clione went along too. I don’t know though, it doesn’t sound like Azul.”

“Asteria’s group and I were originally with Vil and Jamil back at Ramshackle.” Kalim revealed what Asteria knew all too well.

Rook elaborated further, “We tried to fight the intruders with magic, but it had no effect on them. They took Vil and Jamil, along with Grim and Helena.”

Jade pondered for a moment, “There must be a reason then that Leona and Azul didn’t fight back.”

“Yeah…” Ruggie realized, “Now that I think about it, Leona seemed to know what their deal was…”

“…hm” was the only audible sound that escaped Malleus’ lips before more words were spoken at long last, glancing at Lilia. “Kingscholar is from an old royal house. It would stand to reason he has heard of them…”

Asteria raised an eyebrow, “What are you talking about?”

~~~

“I’ll field that question.” Asteria heard the familiar voice of Professor Trein as he entered the room.

“Oh hello Trein.” Lilia spoke casually at the somewhat unexpected visitor, “Where is the headmage?”

“Styx took him into custody as well.” Professor Trein enlightened them. “I’m in charge while he is away.”

“Maybe it’s good the Headmage is gone.” Asteria muttered to herself, “Perhaps we can actually get answers.”

“Hold up what’s Styx?” Floyd asked the Professor with a puzzled look.

Professor Trein folded his arms, “An organization that operates independently of any nation or government. It is an arcane institute that conducts research on blot. They have done so for many years.” A revelation that brought shock to nearly everyone, except the Diasomnia Housewarden and Vice Housewarden.

“They study blot?” Jade broke the silence that was formed.

“I get it now…” Floyd added.

“Get what?” Kalim raised an eyebrow.

“Think about who they took.” Jade pointed out.

“It was Riddle, Leona, Azul, and Jamil.” Cater reminded the group, “So they abducted Jamil, who is a Vice Housewarden, and left Kalim alone. But they didn’t take Rook who is also a Vice Housewarden. So they aren’t targeting just Housewardens or just Vice Housewardens.”

“It’s people who’ve overblotted!” Kalim exclaimed.

“Wait a few questions, one when did Vil overblot!?” Ruggie looked at Rook and Kalim and only received silent nods in response. “And two that doesn’t explain why they targeting Grim and Helena.”

“Nor the fact that Riddle and the others received proper medical treatment.” Trey pointed out. “They have all made a complete recovery. Why would this come up now?”

“Hmm…” Malleus pondered, “There is someone who probably knows their reasons, the Watchman of the Island of Woe.”

“The what?” Asteria was still just as confused as she was before.

“Ah” Rook seemed to have more knowledge of the subject than she did, “I’ve seen mention of them here and there in old history books. Are you acquainted with this dreadful isle and its Watchman, Roi des Dragons?”

Malleus had a confused look on his face, “Are you that clueless Hunt? You are acquainted with him as well.”

“I am?” Rook seemed to regain confusion.

“And not just Rook.” Lilia reminded Malleus, “We all are acquainted with him to some extent at the very least.”

Rook folded his arms, “Are you suggesting what I think you are that Idia is this so called Watchman?”

“Well it’s more of a family title.” Malleus explained, “I believe the current head is…Aidne Shroud?” Looking over at Lilia for confirmation.

Lilia shook is head, “No, she passed away, now it is Aidne’s son, Idia’s father.”

“Human generations pass by so quickly.” Malleus quietly realized.

“True but Styx is a rather recent development.” Lilia reminded him. “Perhaps only a century or so?”

“Wait slow down.” Ruggie pleaded, “I am still confused. Leona mentioned Idia’s family is apart of some megacorp but that’s just a cover for the whole Styx and Watchman of Island of Woe thing!?”

~~~

“While the Watchman has become sort of an urban legend now.” Lilia explained. “You see back in the old days, when mages were called witches and wizards, they were feared across the land. People believed the Island of Woe would punish anyone who abandoned their principles and went mad with power.”

Malleus continued, “One of my family’s history books even claims that the group is so ancient they date back to the age of the Gods. Back then, the relationship between magic and blot wasn’t realized. Instead, people believed, overblots were disasters that occurred without warning. The Jupiter Family sealed those disasters away on the Island of Woe to bring peace. And the Watchman is in place to protect the land from those disasters plaguing everyone once more. The first was one of the Shroud family’s ancestors.”

“Sounds more like a myth than history.” Cater remarked.

Lilia picked up where Malleus left off, “Mind you, humans never stopped researching magic, eager students that they were. Time marched on and eventually magic became safe to practice, with witches and wizards becoming known as mages. In the present, mage licenses are international and are globally recognized for the betterment they bring society. And there have been many laws and acts to help with the necessary discipline and overtime the Watchman began to fade from the history books. But regardless the group continued their research on the disasters, and that is what Styx is.”

“I see.” Professor Trein continued, “We were aware that Idia was the son of the Shroud family. But this is the first I have heard of a connection between his family and Styx. I haven’t even seen any of this discussed and I have read just about every book and work on magical history.”

“Ah but you see you are limited to the texts that survive among humankind.” Lilia pointed out. “Humans and Fae stopped intermingling long ago, and not every truth is written down.”

Trein cleared his throat, “This makes me wonder if the headmage was aware of any of this. And if he was does that mean he was unable to work with the Shroud family to prevent this?”

Malleus only shrugged, “Who can say really. Even if he had known he wouldn’t have been able to stop them.”

“So does that enlighten anyone about the plan they have for the ones who were abducted.” Trey wondered out loud.

Jade spoke strangely casually, “If they are lucky they will only be examined. If they are unlucky they will become test subjects. And if they are REALLY UNLUCKY they-“

“Let’s not finish that sentence.” Kalim requested with a freaked out look.

“But those goons rolled up and blasted half of campus.” Floyd reminded everyone, “There are ton’s of witnesses right? At least someone had to have gotten them on video. Doesn’t seem very sneaky or secretive to me.”

“Perhaps they have a reliable way of clearing the mess they make up?” Jade suggested.

Professor Trein sighed, “Look, we don’t know where the Island of Woe is which means we can’t pursue those who were abducted. I want all of you to return to your dorms and do a roll call, check for any injured students and report back to me.”

“Yes sir!” The remaining housewardens and vice housewardens said in unison except for Rook who had an ever growing scowl on his face.

Around the same time as it would turn out, those who were captured would arrive at the mysterious Island of Woe. More specifically, Styx’s headquarters. The four housewardens and vice housewarden looked at their surroundings, yet soon enough, they spotted a familiar face with hair made of fiery blue flames.

“Uhh hey everyone, welcome to the dark and gloomy Island of Woe.” Idia awkwardly greeted them, “And Styx headquarters.”

“It’s you…” Vil breathed furiously.

“Yep Idia Shroud acting director of Styx.” He added as he was joined by Ortho Shroud, Helena Othonos, and one of the intruders from earlier.

“How did Helena get here before us.” Leona grunted, “Must have gotten special treatment.”

“That’s the only thing that comes to your minds?” Idia raised an eyebrow, “No ‘Say What!!!’ Or ‘No Way!!!’”

Azul sighed, “I’m so shocked I’m actually calm.”

“Granted we already assumed there was some connection.” Vil pointed out. “But you’re the acting director? That’s not some tangential link!”

“Less Chit Chat more answers Radish Sprout.” Leona glared at Idia, “Why did you bring us here and I can’t believe I am saying this, but why does Helena act and look more like a robot with those new glasses and uniform of hers than Ortho? You did jam us in cargo and didn’t bother even giving us an economy seat.”

“Yikes those are some scary fangs.” Idia jumped as Leona growled. “Just cool your jets and this will all be over and we can have a good time.”

Jamil was simply furious, “You attack our school and abduct us. And clearly have done something to Helena as she hasn’t even said a word of recognition. And you still want us to ‘cool our jets’ you are lucky her sister isn’t here or you would already be dead as a doornail.”

“Do you want to lose your head!?” Riddle exclaimed.

The previous intruder starts speaking in a robotic tone, “Detecting a buildup of magic in Subject A. Readying stun-“

“Woah woah!” Idia called out, “Pause that.” He then looked over at the others, “And Helena’s perfectly fine since unlike you all she hasn’t forgotten one itty bitty detail that’s very crucial.

“Huh?” The boys exclaimed in unison, equally confused.

Idia grinned deviously, “Where are you again? And who am I again? I’m the BOSS” words that seemed to frighten the five guys. “Don’t hurt us we won’t hurt you. It’s as simple as that.”

“Injury will decrease by 57% as long as you follow my brother’s instructions.” Ortho gleefully predicted.

“Very well.” Vil sighed, “There aren’t any better options regardless. I’ll comply and behave.” After a bit of silence, Vil’s tone turned more assertive, “Well? Are forcibly detaining us, I trust you at least have the decency to serve us some tea? Surely your girlfriend isn’t the only one who will be treated like a normal person.”

Idia mumbled, “The way you’re acting doesn’t remotely suggest compliance or good behavior… but whatever. Come on everybody follow me.” He then turned to Helena, “Would you mind preparing the tea?”

“Not at all.” Helena mindlessly smiled.

16 notes · View notes

stromuprisahat · 11 months

Text

For a moment Saera was at a loss for words, but only for a moment. Then she gasped and said, “My Sweetberry? Truly? She…oh, what has she done? Oh, my sweet little fool.” If Septon Barth’s testimony is to be believed, a tear rolled down her cheek. Her mother was not moved. “You know perfectly well what she has done. What all of you have done. We will have the truth from you now, child.” And when the princess looked to her father, she found no comfort there. “Lie to us again, and it will go very much the worse for you,” King Jaehaerys told his daughter. “Your three lords are in the dungeons, you ought know, and what you say next may determine where you sleep tonight.” Saera crumbled then, and the words came tumbling out one after another in a rush, a flood that left the princess almost breathless. “She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. ... “What have you done?” the king said, when at last the princess ran out of words. “Seven save us, what have you done? Have you given one of these boys your maidenhead? Tell me true.” “True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.” Jaehaerys was so horrified he could not speak, but the queen kept her composure. “You are very proud of yourself, I see. A woman grown, and nearly seven-and-ten. I am sure you think you have been very clever, but it is one thing to be clever and another to be wise. What do you imagine will happen now, Saera?” “I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.” She had gone too far. Jaehaerys rose to his feet and descended from the Iron Throne, his face a mask of rage. “You would compare yourself to Maegor? Is that who you aspire to be?” His Grace had heard enough. “Take her back to her bedchamber,” he told his guards, “and keep her there until I send for her again.” When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father. ... The king was angry and unyielding, for his shame was deeply felt, and he could not forget Saera’s taunting words about his uncle’s wives. “She is no longer my daughter,” he said more than once. Queen Alysanne could not find it in her heart to be so harsh, however. “She is our daughter,” she told the king. “She must be punished, yes, but she is still a child, and where there is sin there can be redemption. My lord, my love, you reconciled with the lords who fought for your uncle, you forgave the men who rode with Septon Moon, you reconciled with the Faith, and with Lord Rogar when he tried to tear us apart and put Aerea on your throne, surely you can find some way to reconcile with your own daughter.” ... That very night, Princess Saera sealed her fate. Instead of remaining in her rooms as she had been instructed, she slipped away whilst visiting the privy, donned a washerwoman’s robes, stole a horse from the stables, and escaped the castle. She got halfway across the city, to the Hill of Rhaenys, but as she tried to enter the Dragonpit, she was found and taken by the Dragonkeepers and returned to the Red Keep.

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

... and the Academy Award for the best actress in 84 AC goes to ...

Fragile, scared Daella HAD TO be married off at fifteen, but her younger sister's not even betrothed at seventeen? No wonder she felt like she's overlooked and she's "acting out".

Why is it such an issue Saera is no longer a virgin? It's not like she's wrong. She's a princess- give her some tea, wait a few months and marry her off. This is one of those cases that nicely show Jaehaerys was very comfortable with Westerosi traditions, and he was more than happy to view women as walking,- annoyingly also talking- cunts.

Men are so quick to disown their children. Is it because they didn't carry them? Does zero investment at the beginning make it so much easier to cut the losses?!

You know what?! I wish Saera had managed to claim a dragon before she got caught. How did Rhaena "start a tradition of giving dragon's egg into Targaryen cradle", when whole generation after, none of the children got it?! Is it because there was so many babies? They weren't worth the effort?!

#ASoIaF #Fire & Blood #valyrianscrolls #ch: The Long Reign Jaehaerys and Alysanne: Policy Progeny and Pain #Saera Targaryen #Jaehaerys I Targaryen #Alysanne Targaryen #Septon Barth #Gyles Morrigen #V #books #quotes #GRRM

23 notes · View notes

headcanonsandmore · 11 months

Text

Pride 🏳‍🌈

Summary: Yasmin Khan is feeling a little down this June. Luckily for her, she's got a community of people around to support her. Happy Pride, everyone!

Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~~

Yasmin Khan sighed, and stretched out on the sofa.

It was now June; it was just over a year since she had returned to life on Earth, and she was slowly starting to grow used to normal life. She hadn’t returned to her previous job; instead, she’d been promised a free-lance post by Kate Stewart. Apparently, U.N.I.T wanted people with experience dealing with extra-terrestrial affairs.

Yaz supposed that description fitted her well. In more ways than one.

She was enjoying living in London, though; granted, it was a marked departure from Sheffield, but the place wasn’t all bad. The group that Graham had helped set up the previous year had gone from strength to strength, and Yaz was enjoying the support of other people who had been through similar experiences as her.

Maybe not exactly the same. She already knew that most people who had travelled in the TARDIS weren’t… well, didn’t have the same sort of relationship with a certain time lord as Yaz had done.

Martha Jones had been a great help. Not only had she helped Yaz work through some of her grief (helped by the other people from the support group) but she had also had Yaz move in as her roommate.

It was a nice flat too; granted, it was a little strange not to live somewhere without her mum and dad poking their heads through her door, but Yaz had started to really enjoy it.

Even if her heart still clenched a bit whenever she saw a packet of custard creams.

She missed the Doctor. Her Doctor. Maybe she always would.

Knock. Knock.

Yaz frowned. Martha had her key on her, and she wasn’t expecting any visitors. She got up and walked down the corridor to the front door.

‘Oy!’ came a familiar voice. ‘AA here; c’mon, let me in!’

Yaz smiled, bemused. Ace McShane had started styling herself as “AA” to Yaz (short from “Auntie Ace”) and, while Yaz already had enough aunts as it was, she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

Yaz opened the door.

‘Heya!’ declared Ace, thumping Yaz on the shoulder as she barged into the flat. ‘Don’t worry; we brought the correct snacks this time. No custard creams in sight!’

‘What?’ Yaz said, weakly, as what seemed to be half the companion support group followed Ace through the door. ‘How- why are you all-’

‘Listen, I know you said you didn’t want to go to Pride this year,’ Ace said, grinning widely. ‘You didn’t want to deal with the crowds. So we brought Pride to you!’

Sure enough, most of them were festooned in rainbow flags of various types. Dan was even wearing a loud rainbow wig as he grinned at Yaz.

‘Ace…’ Tegan Jovanka said, eyes narrowing. ‘I thought you said Yaz was expecting us.’

‘Well… she is now,’ Ace replied, shrinking a little under the Australian’s glare. ‘Same difference, really…’

‘I swear to goodness…’ Tegan sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, before turning and placing her other hand softly on Yaz’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Yaz; we won’t force you to celebrate it if you don’t want to.’

Yaz smiled at the older woman. Tegan was definitely something of an aunt to her now as well, although she had so far avoided using any nicknames.

‘Ta, Tegan, but I think I probably could do with some moral support about now. Happy Pride, ‘n all that.’

‘Great!’ Ace said, bouncing cheerfully on her heels. ‘Right; into the living room, everyone!’

‘Cool,’ Yaz replied. ‘Be w’you in a mo; just grabbing some stuff from m’room.’

She headed along the corridor and entered her room. She grabbed a few CDs, a couple of rainbow flags, and some of her favourite queer films.

‘You sure you’re okay, Sheffield?’

Dan was stood in the doorway, having removed his rainbow wig.

‘Thanks, Dan,’ Yaz said. ‘But I really am fine. I was feeling a bit mardy by myself today; you lot arrived at the perfect time.’

‘Great,’ the Scouser replied, smiling widely. ‘You think this wig suits me? Di said I’d give you a fright wearing it.’

Yaz chuckled, clicking her bisexual flag pin to the front of her t-shirt.

‘Looks cool, mate,’ Dan said, giving her the thumbs-up sign.

‘Yeah,’ Ryan said. ‘Very you.’

‘Ta,’ Yaz replied. ‘But I’m still not giving y’ Sonja’s number.’

‘Oh, your mum gave it me already.’

Yaz rolled her eyes.

Ryan was staring at a picture on the wall. It was of Yaz and Sonja’s shared bedroom when they were younger.

‘I didn’t know you fancied the lady from “Broadchurch”,’ he said, pointing to the background of picture, where a magazine clipping of a brown-haired woman was awkwardly attached to the wallpaper with blue-tac.

‘Shut up.’

‘Hey, she kinda looks like-’

‘Shut. Up.’

Ryan chuckled, before patting Yaz on the shoulder.

The three of them headed into the living room, where the various people had arranged themselves on chairs. Those who were a bit younger had nestled themselves comfortably on the floor.

‘Nice!’ Ace grinned, as Yaz placed the various CDs and DVDs on the table. ‘Rocky Horror? You have great taste!’

Yaz grinned, as she removed the disc from its case and set it into the DVD player under the TV. She then seated herself on the sofa, in a place that had presumably been reserved for her.

Nearby, Tegan was sat, hand-in-hand, with Nyssa of Traken. The curly-haired woman had arrived on Earth barely a few months before. In that time, Tegan had gone from “I’m glad to have my best friend back” to “okay maybe I have some underlying feelings I ignored back in the eighties” before finally landing on “me and Nys kissed each other in my kitchen the other day and now we’re dating”.

It was actually really sweet to see the two of them together. Tegan looked happier than Yaz had ever seen her and, judging from what Ace had said, Nyssa had fallen head-over-heels for the Australian in the same way.

Well, by the sounds of it, they had been in love whilst they had both been travelling in the TARDIS, but details. What mattered was, they had found each other again.

‘Hello Yasmin,’ Nyssa said, smiling kindly at the younger woman. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Fine,’ Yaz replied. The Trakenite woman always insisted on calling Yaz by her full name. ‘How are you? Settling in okay with Tegan?’

‘Tegan is lovely as ever,’ Nyssa said, smiling at her partner. The Australian’s cheeks pinkened slightly as she smiled back. ‘Well, when Ace isn’t barging in at nine-thirty in the evening, that is. She was giggling like a hysterical adolescent.’

‘Hey!’ Ace said, as everyone laughed. ‘It was quite a shock, walking into the sitting room to find Nyssa with her hand down Tegan’s-’

‘Ace!’ Tegan exclaimed, face flashing crimson.

Every else, including Nyssa, bit down a laugh.

‘Sorry, Tee,’ Ace replied, not looking remotely apologetic. ‘Anyway, we are all really happy for you both.’

‘Thank you, Ace,’ Nyssa said, squeezing the still-flustered Tegan’s hand. ‘We really appreciate it. Although… maybe next time, try knocking instead?’

Ace let out a bark of laughter.

‘Nevermind us,’ Tegan said, smiling grimly to herself. ‘What about you, Ace?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Well, I mean, the fact that, earlier, you seemed to be holding hands with both Graham and Mel was rather telling.’

Ace pretended not to hear. Both Mel and Graham avoided eye contact, going a little red in the face.

‘Yaz, can you hit play on Rocky Horror?’ Ace said, turning to the Yorkshirewoman. ‘Is this the sing-along version? I hope you lot have your vocal chords all warmed up…’

Several hours later (and after several other musicals with the sing-along versions selected), Yaz had decided to get some fresh air, standing on the small balcony. Inside, she could hear the sounds of her friends laughing and chattering awa; Martha and a few others had turned up over the intervening hours, and the place was now filled with those cosy feeling that came with many friends all packed into a small flat.

Yaz stared up at the stars in the night sky above.

She knew the pain would never really go, but… that was okay. Grief was a form of love, after all. She had loved her time with the Doctor. Her Doctor. And she would always smile when she remembered that wonderful blonde alien, who had fallen from the stars and into her heart.

Yaz walked back inside, closing the door behind her. In the living room, someone had found Yaz’s cd-tape-radio set. Mel, ever the pragmatist, was trying to gently advise Ace that the rest of the assembled people probably didn’t want to listen to the greatest hits of Bikini Kill.

‘But “Rebel Girl” is basically my theme!’

‘Love, please…’ Mel said, placing a hand gently on Ace’s arm. ‘For me?’

A small smile appeared on Ace’s face.

‘Alright, doughnut,’ she said. ‘For you. But no soppy love songs-’

‘Too late,’ Tegan said, pressing play on the set. ‘Hope you all like my 80s favourites CD.’

Ace rolled her eyes, but didn’t complain further, instead choosing to lean against the wall. A song started up, with an synth keyboard solo.

Looking from a window above… it's like a story of love… can you hear me…

‘Nys?’ Tegan asked, reaching out a hand to the Trakenite woman. ‘May I have this dance?’

Nyssa smiled, her cheeks pinkening slightly.

‘Of course, my darling,’

Nyssa took Tegan’s hand, and the two women began to dance gently together.

Can you hear me… all I needed was the love you gave… and all I needed for another day… and all I ever knew… only you…

‘Thanks for today,’ Yaz said, coming to stand beside Ace, as they continued to watch Tegan and Nyssa sway softly. ‘I think I needed this.’

‘Hey, what are friends for?’ Ace replied, grinning. ‘We’re here for you, Yaz; no matter what.’

Yaz smiled. Yes, she had experienced a fair amount of hurt, but also a lot of love. And, during Pride of all times, it was important to remember love. From the sheer romance of the two older women dancing a few feet away, to the friendship that she felt with every person in the room. It was everywhere.

Yaz sighed, contentedly. She’d be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed this fic based in my little "companion support group" nicheverse.

26 notes · View notes

pvffinsdaisies · 6 months

Text

the Anglo-Celtic Isles as song’s from Maisie Peter’s “the Good Witch”

(With little to no explanation) (featuring OCs)

THE GOOD WITCH: WALES

“When all I do is think about the past, and haunt a house nobody lives in, you wanna hear about it all, where do I start? Well, I guess when it kicks in.”

COMING OF AGE: IRELAND

“I wish I would’ve seen it sooner, why did it take me ages to say it? I wasn’t your cliché, no, this is my coming of age!”

WATCH: SCOTLAND

“You’re so bad (so bad!), you look better (what the fuck?) I fought it but I saw it and it sawed me right in half. You still get to me, but I still let you (yes I do!) you’re being a superstar and all I’ve got are victim cards and you’ve got every single thing you want, and I just watch.”

BODY BETTER: NORTHERN IRELAND

“Then I, I can’t help thinking that she’s got a better body, has she got a body better than mine? And I, I can help thinking when you touched it were you sorry, were you sorry like weren’t at the time? Loving you was easy, that’s why it hurts now, the worst way to love somebody’s to watch them love somebody else and it work out, now, I can’t help thinking that she’s got a better body, has she got a body better than mine?”

WANT YOU BACK: NORTHERN IRELAND

“So I know, that you did bad, but if one more person says it I might go mad. Yeah I know, it didn’t last, and what was cheap to you to me was all I had. The issue is, I know all of this and I, I still want you back.”

THE BAND AND I: ENGLAND

“It was Friday nights, it was video gold, oh it was shining lights, it was rock and roll. It was the band and I, on a 12 bed bus, it was making and messing it up! It was endless roads, in the same old boots, oh it was letting go of everything but you. It was the band and I, on a 12 bed bus, if we’re living the dream, I hope we never wake up.”

YOU’RE JUST A BOY (AND I’M KINDA THE MAN): CORNWALL

“I’m on a one-way trip to take over the world, you could’ve come but your head’s in the sand, what’s a girl gonna do when she’s in love with you, but you’re just a boy and I’m kinda the man. I’m on a one-way trip to take over the world, you could’ve come, babe, I held out my hand. Yeah it’s sad and it’s true, and I’m in love with you, but you’re just a boy and I’m kinda the man!”

LOST THE BREAKUP: IRELAND

“I know I’m obsessed and right now I might be a mess, but one day you’re gonna wake up, and OH SHIT! You lost the breakup. I’ll smile and you’ll have to face it, I’m the greatest love that you wasted, but by then I’ll be far away, and OH SHIT! You lost the breakup!”

WENDY: WALES

“You could take me to neverland, baby, we could live off of magic and maybes, but I know the girl that you want and it scares me, behind every lost boy there’s always a Wendy. So I’ll lock the windows and turn on the AC, you’ll throw your rocks and you’ll scream that you hate me, but it gets old being forever 20, and what about my wings? What about Wendy?”

RUN: SCOTLAND

“If a man says that he wants you in his life forever (run!) if he calls you up says he’s so in love and it’s been one week you better (run!) if your heart says broke and your friends say “don’t” it’s an r.i.p you better (run!) as fast as you can, take a quick sharp turn at the side of the man and make it done! If a man says that he wants you in his life forever, (run!)”

TWO WEEKS AGO: NORTHUMBRIA

“You were driving fast, I was holding back and I loved you babe but I bet you knew that. The song was true and the sky was black, god, I wish it was two weeks ago. When you said we’re like your mum and dad, knew you loved me babe, when you told me that, and the song was true and the sky was black, god, I wish it was two weeks ago.”

BSC: CORNWALL

“Broke me big time, it’s funny and im laughing baby, you think im alright, but im actually bloody motherfucking batshit crazy!”

THERAPY: IRELAND

“Now you’re gone, honey I can’t sleep, I’m just talking to your memory. I still love you, but you’re taking me from your arms back to therapy, therapy, oh Lord, I’m going back to therapy, therapy. You swore it’s somewhere I would never be, so how come you’re taking me from your arms back to therapy?”

THERE IT GOES: SCOTLAND

“The love we had was covered in snow, I had to let it go. The love we had was eating me whole, I had to send it home. Oh there it was, heaven knows, there it was, now there it goes.”

HISTORY OF MAN: NORTHUMBRIA

“I’ve seen it in the poems and the sands, I’ve pleaded with the powers and their plans, I’ve tried to rewrite it but I can’t, it’s the history of man. She stays up, he’s sleeping like a lamb, she begs him, he says he doesn’t understand, she loves him more than anyone ever has in the history, the history of man.”

#I pray there are more Maisie fans in this fandom #bc this took me forever #hetalia #aph anglo-celts #aph uk and ireland #aph uk siblings #aph wales #aph ireland #aph scotland #aph northern ireland #aph england #aph cornwall #aph northumbria #maisie peters

9 notes · View notes

al-ld · 1 month

Text

(The OG draft was made Dec 5 2023, I’m now posting to post them and clear my drafts :p)

When the aro(ace???) takes over your writing and now half the plot ploint are based on parental issues

(RW that I sorta scrapped)

There was a riot and the lord of Irene’s village attacked her mother

Irene was shocked she held her mother in her arms

Placing her hand over the wound

Irene had learned she come easily pass through dimensions at will

One dimension she went to was the Aether

She learned healing magic and was soon branded with their mark

A mark that appear in her forehead

A mark of the sun with two rings

Angels wing as the people would say and five wings as the Aether people would say

As Irene placed her hand in her mother’s wound it slightly glowed a pure white and with that her mother was healed fully

Everyone was shocked

Soon her father came up to her

“Father, look! Mother’s ok now!”

She looked up at him in joy, hoping so would he but that was not the case

“You inhuman freak! What have you done?!”

Irene looks confused

“Inhuman freak?”

Why would her father say that

She just saved her mother

“Father, what do you mean? I just saved mother, aren’t you happy?”

“Don’t call me father! My daughter is not a mage freak! How did you even learn magic?! Only elves can do stuff this, you’ve become inhuman!”

“Father…what you’re saying is wrong, humans can lea-“

“Enough! I want you out of the village!”

“But fa-“

“Out!”

The people started to speak up some who agreed some who didn’t

This was to much for Irene

She was barely an adult and she was being kicked out of her hometown by her own flesh and blood

Irene looked to her mother who had gone next to her father

She looked at Irene with disgust

Irene knew what she had to do

She stood up and left

Those who wanted Irene to stay tried to stop her but to no avail

But where would Irene go now

I guess she would just have to travel and travel she would

She would go anywhere, helping anyone, and one day she came across a village

The people worried her about a man, near same age as her that lived in the woods

Where he went he brought corruption and destruction

Irene was curried about such boy

She went to the forest, she found him, yatta yatta, when it’s time for her to leave he follows along

The she finds Enki an Ender men, ender dragon, human hybrid

And then the path splits

She finds a man who can control all four elements - Esmund

She finds a woman of fire and air (Menphia) and a man of earth and water(Kul’Zak)

Opposite

Irene Aether - Shad Nether/Esmund Earth - Enki End

(Since Esmund is protection Memphia would be Fury(offensive) and Enki would be keeper(staying to one place(most of the time) and Kul’Zak is the wanderer which makes sense)

TIMESKIP

An evil man, the lord of O’Khasis, starts taking over other kingdom

She and her other guards take this man down

THIS SHIT JUST DOESN’T HAPPEN!!! This whole kingdom take down makes NO SENSE in the timeline!!!!!

REAL TIMESKIP

After Irene and others travel around a bit they pass by her hometown

She plans to show that she proved herself

HOWEVER

She comes the day of someone’s funeral

Who’s?

Her parents

They had died (How? No fucking clue)

Irene was devastated

She decided to split up the team for the time

Taking over the village

She made Scaleswind

The other has gone many different places

Enki to Gal’Ruk

Esmund to O’Khasis

Kul’Zak just wondered, leaving just of himself with Enki

Menphia had gone to Tu’La

And soon they faded away

Leaving behind nothing but there relics

#mcd #minecraft diaries #aphmau #aphmau mcd #lady irene #mcd irene #mcd rewrite #minecraft diaries rewrite

5 notes · View notes

shallyne · 1 year

Text

🎅Secret Santa Playlist🎅

@acotargiftexchange

For @alwaysreading9622

Playlist on Spotify | Playlist on Youtube

Merry Christmas, my darling! ❤️

This Playlist shows the journey of Feysand from the moment Rhys had glimpses of the mortal girl. I hope you enjoy it!

I made an Youtube Playlist in case you want to listen in order but don't have Spotify Premium.

To give you an insight of all the songs, why I chose those songs and what lyrics remind me of Feysand, I made a list! 🥰 You can find it all under the cut

ACOTAR

Bring me to life - Evanescence (Rhys has dreams and glimpses of Feyre Under the Mountain)

How can you see into my eyes like open doors? Leading you down into my core, where I've become so numb. Without a soul, my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold until you find it there and lead it back home Wake me up inside, call my name and save me from the dark. Bid my blood to run, before I come undone, save me from the nothing I've become. Bring me to life, I've been living a lie. There's nothing inside, Bring me to life. Frozen inside without your touch, without your love, darling. Only you are the life among the dead. All of this time, I can't believe I couldn't see. Kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me. I've been sleeping a thousand years, it seems, got to open my eyes to everything. Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul. Don't let me die here (There must be something more) bring me to life.

The Night We Met - Lord Huron (Rhys and Feyre meeting for the first time in Calanmai)

I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt. I've been searching for a trail to follow again, take me back to the night we met. I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met, I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you. Oh, take me back to the night we met. When the night was full of terrors and your eyes were filled with tears. When you had not touched me yet, oh, take me back to the night we met.

I want it all - Queen (Rhys deciding to fight when Feyre arrives UTM)

Adventure seeker on an empty street, just an alley creeper, light on his feet. A young fighter screaming, with no time for doubt with the pain and anger can't see a way out. It ain't much I'm asking, I heard him say, gotta find me a future move out of my way. I want it all, and I want it now. Listen all you people, come gather round, I gotta get me a game plan, gotta shake you to the ground but just give me, huh, what I know is mine. People do you hear me, just gimme the sign. It ain't much I'm asking, if you want the truth, here's to the future for the dreams of youth.

Kelsey Woods - Music Under the Mountain

Survivor - 2wei (Feysand on the balcony UTM)

Thought it would be over by now but it won't stop. Thought that I would self destruct but I'm still here. Even in my years to come, I'm still gon' be here. I'm a survivor, I'm not gon' give up, I'm not gon' stop, oh, I'm gon' work harder. I'm a survivor, I'm not gon' give up, I'm not gon' stop, oh, I'm gon' work harder., I'm the survivor, I'm gonna make it, I will survive Keep on survivin'.

The winner takes it all - ABBA (Rhys watching Feyre going home with Tamlin)

I don't wanna talk qbout things we've gone through. Though it's hurting me, now it's history. I've played all my cards and that's what you've done too. Nothing more to say, nomore ace to play. The winner takes it all, the loser's standing small beside the victory. That's her destiny. The gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice and someone way down here loses someone dear. Somewhere deep inside you must know I miss you but what can I say? Rules must be obeyed.The game is on again, a lover or a friend, a big thing or a small, the winner takes it all. I don't wanna talk if it makes you feel sad and I understand you've come to shake my hand. I apologize if it makes you feel bad, seeing me so tense.

ACOMAF

Carry you - Ruelle (beginning of ACOMAF, Feyre is in Spring Court, Rhys is in Night Court and feels her through the bond)

I know it hurts, It's hard to breathe sometimes. These nights are long, you've lost the will to fight. Is anybody out there? Can you lead me to the light? Is anybody out there? Tell me it'll all be alright. You are not alone, I've been here the whole time singing you a song, I will carry you. I know you can't remember how to shine, your heart's a bird without the wings to fly.

Speak Now - Taylor Swift (Rhys interrupts the Feyres and Tamlins wedding)

I sneak in and see your friends and her snotty little family all dressed in pastel. Somewhere back inside a room, wearing a gown shaped like a pastry. This is surely not what you thought it would be, I lose myself in a daydream where I stand and say +, Don't say yes, run away now, I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door. Don't wait, or say a single vow, you need to hear me out. And they said, "Speak now", Fond gestures are exchanged and the organ starts to play a song that sounds like a death March. I hear the preacher say, "Speak now or forever hold your peace". There's the silence, there's my last chance, I stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me. Horrified looks from everyone in the room but I'm only looking at you.

Don't give up on me - Andy Grammar (Rhys and Mor saving Feyre when she's locked in the spring manor)

I will fight, I will fight for you. I always do, until my heart is black and blue. And I will stay, I will stay with you. We'll make it to the other side like lovers do. I'll reach my hands out in the dark and wait for yours to interlock. I'll wait for you 'cause I'm not givin' up, I'm not givin' up, no not yet. Even when I'm down to my last breath, even when they say there's nothin' left so don't give up on me. And I will hold, I'll hold onto you. No matter what this world'll throw, it won't shake me loose.

Cars outside - James Arthur (Rhys saving Feyre after getting locked up)

I'm packin' my bags that I didn't unpack the last time. I'm sayin', "See you again, " so many times, it's becoming my tagine but you know the truth, I'd rather hold you than try to catch this flight. So many things I'd rather say but for now, it's goodbye. I'm not gettin' in the Addison Lee unless you pack your bags. You're comin' with me, I'm tired of lovin' from afar and never being where you are Close the windows, lock the doors,don't wanna leave you anymore.Oh, darling, all of the city lights never shine as bright as your eyes, I would trade them all for a minute more. I don't wanna leave you, don't wanna leave you anymore.

Yellow - Coldplay (Feyres first week at the NC)

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you and everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow. Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones, turn into something beautiful and you know I love you so. I swam across, I jumped across for you. Oh, what a thing to do. I drew a line for you and you know, for you, I'd bleed myself dry

Iris - Goo Goo Dolls (Feysand night court weeks)

And I'd give up forever to touch you 'cause I know that you feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be and I don't want to go home right now and all I can taste is this moment and all I can breathe is your life and sooner or later, it's over, I just don't wanna miss you tonight. And I don't want the world to see me 'cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am and you can't fight the tears that ain't coming or the moment of truth in your lies. When everything feels like the movies, yeah, you bleed just to know, you're alive.

Enchanted - Taylor Swift (Feysand in summer court)

There I was again tonight, forcing laughter, faking smiles. Same old tired, lonely place, walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when I saw your face. All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you. The playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks like passing notes in secrecy. This night is sparkling, don't you let it go, I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you. The lingering question kept me up, 2 AM, who do you love? I wonder 'til I'm wide awake and now I'm pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door. This is me praying that this was the very first page, not where the story line ends. My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon, I was enchanted to meet you. Please don't be in love with someone else, please don't have somebody waiting on you.

I see the light - Mandy Moore, Zachary Levi (Starfall)

All those days watching from the windows, all those years outside looking in. All that time never even knowing just how blind I've been. Now I'm here blinking in the Starlight. Now I'm here suddenly I see, standing here it's all so clear, I'm where I'm meant to be and at last I see the light and it's like the fog has lifted. And at last I see the light and it's like the sky is new and it's warm and real and bright and the world has somehow shifted. All at once everything looks different. Now that I see you, all those days chasing down a daydream, all those years living in a blur. All that time never truly seeing things, the way they were. Now she's here shining in the Starlight, now she's here suddenly I know. If she's here it's crystal clear, I'm where I'm meant to go. And it's warm and real and bright and the world has somehow shifted. All at once everything is different now that I see you.

Rewrite the Stars - Zendaya, Zac Efron (chapter 44, Starfall)

You know I want you, It's not a secret I try to hide. I know you want me, so don't keep sayin' our hands are tied. You claim it's not in the cards and fate is pullin' you miles away and out of reach from me but you're here in my heart, so who can stop me if I decide that you're my destiny? What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine. Nothing could keep us apart, you'd be the one I was meant to find. It's up to you, and it's up to me, no one can say what we get to be. So why don't we rewrite the stars? Maybe the world could be ours, tonight. All I want is to fly with you, all I want is to fall with you,so just give me all of you. It feels impossible. It's not impossible. Is it impossible? Say that it's possible. How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine? Nothing can keep us apart 'cause you are the one I was meant to find. It's up to you and it's up to me, no one can say what we get to be and why don't we rewrite the stars? Changing the world to be ours.

Hold On - Extreme Music (acomaf chapter 49, Rhys gets captured by Hybern soldiers and Feyre saves him)

You've been on this road too long, hearing music but it's not your song. Wanna scream but your voice is gone, days trapped inside your head. Can't look up 'cause your world is down, walking miles, staring at the ground all alone inside the crowd. Letting pockets hold your hand but the sun is always there to shine, the clouds block out the sky. Oh, hold on, just one more day. Hold on, you know you'll find a way. Hold on, you've got stars in your eyes, so let's paint the sky. Oh, hold on, just one more time. Hold on, I'll be your reason why. It's time to start remembering dreams, lift your eyes, see the things unseen. Remember who you wanna be, let the light hit your eyes. Let out the beauty that's been trapped inside, let them know that you're not gonna hide. Hey up there your arms open wide, spread your wings and fly but the sun is always there to shine, the clouds don't own the sky.

Haunted - Taylor Swift (Feyre leaving Rhys in the mud after the Suriel tells her they're mates)

You and I walk a fragile line, I have known it all this time but I never thought I'd live to see it break. It's getting dark and it's all too quiet and I can't trust anything now and it's coming over you like it's all a big mistake. Oh, I'm holding my breath, won't lose you again. Something's made your eyes go cold, come on, come on, don't leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out. Something's gone terribly wrong, you're all I wanted. Can't breathe whenever you're gone, can't turn back now, I'm haunted. Stood there and watched you walk away from everything we had but I still mean every word I said to you.

POV - Ariana Grande (Feyre realizing she wants Rhys, chapter 50-53)

You know me better than I do, can't seem to keep nothing from you. How you touch my soul from the outside? Permeate my ego and my pride. I wanna love me the way that you love me, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too, I'd love to see me from your point of view. I wanna trust me the way that you trust me 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do, I'd love to see me from your point of view. I'm gеtting used to receiving, still gеtting good at not leaving. I'ma love you even though I'm scared, learnin' to be grateful for myself. You love my lips 'cause they say the things we've always been afraid of. I can feel it startin' to subside, learnin' to believe in what is mine. I couldn't believe it or see it for myself. Boy, I be impatient, but now I'm out here fallin', fallin', frozen, slowly. Fallin', got me right, I won't keep you waitin'. All my baggage fadin' safely and if my eyes deceive me, won't let them stray too far away.

I hear a symphony - Cody Fry (chapter 54)

I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. Now in it's place is something new, I hear it when I look at you. With simple songs I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore. You are more beautiful by far, our flaws are who we really are.

Kelsey Woods - chapter 54

Cosmic Love - Florence + The Machine (acomaf chapter 54-55)

And in the dark I can hear your heartbeat. I tried to find the sound but then it stopped and I was in the darkness, so darkness I became. The stars, the Moon, they have all been blown out. You've left me in the dark, no dawn, no day. I'm always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart. I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map and knew that somehow I could find my way back. Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too, so I stayed in the darkness with you.

Lay all your love on me - ABBA (acomaf chapter 55, Feyre accepting the mating bond)

I wasn't jealous before we met, now every woman I see is a potential threat and I'm possessive, it isn't nice, you've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice but now it isn't true, now everything is new and all I've learned has overturned, I beg of you: Don't go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me. It was like shooting a sitting duck, a little small talk, a smile, and baby I was stuck. I still don't know what you've done with me, a grown-up woman should never fall so easily. I feel a kind of fear, 2hen I don't have you near. I've had a few little love affairs, they didn't last very long and they've been pretty scarce. I used to think I was sensible, it makes the truth even more incomprehensible. 'Cause everything is new and everything is you and all I've learned has overturned. What can I do?

Stargirl - The Weeknd, Lana Del Rey (chapter 55)

I had a vision, a vision of my nails in the kitchen scratching counter tops, I was screaming. My back arched like a cat, my position couldn't stop. You were hitting it and I shouldn't cry, but I love it, starboy. I just wanna see you shine 'cause I know you are a stargirl.

Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift (acomaf, before entering Hybern)

He's so tall and handsome as hell, he's so bad, but he does it so well. I can see the end as it begins, my one condition is: say you'll remember me. Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe. Red lips and rosy cheeks, say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams.

Alive - Victoria Carbol (Acomaf)

Bring me back to life, end this darkness inside. I want to feel alive, eyes lit with star-kissed fire. A touch taking me higher, I want to feel alive. Who are we? Friend or rivals? Falling under your spell. What lies behind your smiles? Oh, you wear them so well I could learn to be, to trust but the fire I was has burn to dust. Again haunted, again taunted. Again trapped and running in circles. Then you release me, again I am free. Oh, again. Take my hand and we'll rise.

ACOWAR

Infinity - Jaymes Young (acowar)

Baby, this love, I'll never let it die. Can't be touched by no one, I'd like to see 'em try. 'Cause I love you for infinity, I love you for infinity. Oh, darling, my soul, you know it aches for yours and you've been filling this hole since you were born, oh. 'Cause you're the reason I believe in fate, you're my paradise and I'll do anything to be your love or be your sacrifice. Meet me at the bottom of the ocean, where the time is frozen. Where all the universe is open, love isn't random, we are chosen and we could wear the same crown, keep slowing your heart down. We are the gods now.

Never Enough - Loren Allred (beginning of acowar)

I'm trying to hold my breath, let it stay this way, can't let this moment end. You set off a dream in me, fetting louder now, can you hear it echoing? Take my hand, will you share this with me? 'Cause darling, without you all the shine of a thousand spotlights, all the stars we steal from the night sky, will never be enough. Towers of gold are still too little, these hands could hold the world but it'll never be enough.

You should see me in a crown - Billie Eilish (acowar court of nightmares)

You should see me in a crown, I'm gonna run this nothing town. Watch me make 'em bow one by one by one. You should see me in a crown, your silence is my favorite sound. Watch me make 'em bow one by one by one

Everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears (High Lord meeting)

Welcome to your life, there's no turning back. Even while we sleep we will find you, acting on your best behavior. Turn your back on mother nature. Everybody wants to rule the world. It's my own design, it's my own remorse. Help me to decide, help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever,everybody wants to rule the world. There's a room where the light won't find you, holding hands while the walls come tumbling down. When they do I'll be right behind you. So glad we've almost made it, so sad they had to fade it, everybody wants to rule the world. I can't stand this indecision, married with a lack of vision. Everybody wants to rule the world.

Take on the World - You Me At Six (Feysand getting ready for war)

Just say the word, we'll take on the world. Just say you're hurt, we'll face the worst, oh. I can see, see the pain in your eyes, oh believe, believe me and I have tried. No I won't, I won't pretend to know what you've been through, you should know, I wish it was me not you. Nobody knows you the way that I know you, look in my eyes I will never desert you and just say the word, we'll take on the world. And it's the fight, the fight of our lives. You and I we were made to thrive and I am your future and I am your past, never forget we were built to last. Step out of the shadows and into my life, silence the voices thay haunt you inside. We'll fight, we'll crawl, into the night, I won't let go with you by my side. The calm, the storm we'll face it all.

Somewhere only we know - Keane (acowar before battle)

I walked across an empty land, I knew the pathway like the back of my hand. I felt the earth beneath my feet, sat by the river and it made me complete. Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?. I'm gettin' old, and I need something to rely on. So, tell me when you're gonna let me in, I'm gettin' tired, and I need somewhere to begin. I came across a fallen tree, I felt the branches of it looking at me. Is this the place we used to love?. Is this the place that I've been dreaming of? And if you have a minute, why don't we go, talk about it somewhere only we know?. This could be the end of everything, so, why don't we go somewhere only we know?

I guess I'm in love - Clinton Kane (Rhysand pre-battle speech for Feyre)

Oh, I'm obsessed with the way your head is layin' on my chest, how you love the things I hate about myself. That no one knows, but with you, I see hope again. Oh, I'm a mess, when I overthink the little things in my head. You seem to always help me catch my breath but then I lose it again, when I look at you, that's the end and why do I get so nervous when I look into your eyes? Butterflies can't stop me fallin' for you and darlin', this is more than anything I felt before, sou're everything that I want, but I didn't think I'd find someone who is worth the wait of all the years of my heartbreak but I know now I found the one I love and I love the way you can never find the right things to say and you can't sit still an hour in the day. I'm so in love, let's run away because us is enough. Come close, let me be home for anything, good or bad, I know it's worth it

Dancing with our hands tied - Taylor Swift (Feysand story until acowar death)

I loved you in secret, first sight, yeah, we love without reason. Oh, twenty-five years old, how were you to know, and my love had been frozen. Deep blue, but you painted me golden and you held me close. Oh, how was I to know that I could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets, picture of your face in an invisible locket. You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it, I had a bad feeling and darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis. People started talking, putting us through our paces, I knew there was no one in the world who could take it, I had a bad feeling but we were dancing with our hands tied. Yeah, we were dancing like it was the first time. I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us. I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted. Oh, 'cause it's gravity keeping you with me. I'd kiss you as the lights went out, swaying as the room burned down. I'd hold you as the water rushes in, if I could dance with you again.

All I want - Kodaline (Rhys's death)

All I want is nothing more to hear you knocking at my door 'cause if I could see your face once more I could die as a happy man I'm sure. When you said your last goodbye, I died a little bit inside. I lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side but if you loved me, why did you leave me? Take my body, all I want is, all I need is, to find somebody. I'll find somebody. 'Cause you brought out the best of me, apart of me I'd never seen. You took my soul wiped it clean, our love was made for movie screens but if you loved me, why did you leave me?

As the world caves in - Matt maltese (Feyre screaming over Rhys's dead body | more vibes than accuracy)

Till Forever Falls Apart - Ashe and Finneas (Feysand death pact)

Out on our own, dreaming in a world that we both know. Is out of our control but if shit hits the fan we're not alone 'cause you've got me and you know that I've got you and I know if the tide takes California, I'm so glad I got to hold ya. So this is it, that's how it ends, I guess there's nothing more romantic than dying with your friends and I'm not sorry for myself, I wouldn't wanna spend a minute loving anybody else. I've spent a lifetime giving you my heart, I swear that I'll be yours forever 'til forever falls apart.

ACOFAS

Moondust - Jaymes Young (Acofas)

I'm building this house, on the moon, like a lost, astronaut. Looking at you, like a star from the place, the world forgot and there's nothing, that I can do except bury my love for you. The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough to bury my love in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice to bury my love in the Moondust. Nothing can breathe, in the space. Colder than, the darkest sea, I have dreams about the days. Driving through your sunset breeze but the first thing that I will do is bury my love for you.

Queendom - Aurora (Feyre after acowar, working as High Lady)

The underdogs are my lions, the silent ones are my choir, the women will be my soldiers with the weight of life on their shoulders. Drink until you've had enough, I'll drink from your hands, I will be your warrior, I will be your lamb 'til queendom come, my queendom come. The sea waves are my evening gown and the sun on my head is my crown. I made this queendom on my own and all the mountains are my throne. I hunt the grounds for empathy and hate the way it hides from me, with care and thirst I have become, you have a home in my Queendom

Out of the woods - Taylor Swift (Acofas remembering acowar)

Looking at it now, it all seems so simple. We were lying on your couch, I remember you took a Polaroid of us, then discovered the rest of the world was black and white but we were in screaming color and I remember thinking, are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet? Looking at it now, last December we were built to fall apart, then fall back together, Oh, your necklace hanging from my neck, the night we couldn't quite forget when we decided, to move the furniture so we could dance, baby, like we stood a chance, two paper airplanes flying and I remember thinking are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet?

Lover - Taylor Swift (Domestic Feysand, finally happy)

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January and this is our place, we make the rules and there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear, have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years? Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And take me out, and take me home You're my lover. We could let our friends crash in the living room, this is our place, we make the call and I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you, I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all. Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover. My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue, all's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover and you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me and at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover. Darling, you're my lover.

ACOSF

Coldplay - Sparks (Feysand holding Nyx)

But I promise you this, I'll always look out for you. Yeah, that's what I'll do. My heart is yours, It's you that I hold on. Yeah, that's what I do.

22 notes · View notes

thisonesatellite · 11 months

Text

i was tagged by the lovely and wonderful @booksandabeer . Thank you, darling. (Transatlantic is now officially on my watch list.)

last song: People of the Sun - Rage Against The Machine

Rage slaps harder than coffee and sometimes i need that in the morning.

last show: Shadow & Bone S2

Yes. i know i'm so behind. But last year work was such that i fell behind on everything and i've spent this whole year so far catching up. i have managed to binge Stranger Things S3 AND S4 (do you see how far behind i was?), Obi Wan, Book of Boba Fett, Mandalorian S3, and The Last of Us, as well as make a small dent in the back catalogue in the shape of Leverage, Leverage Redemption, Dopesick, and The Librarians. All since December. So do not come at me with my tardiness. i'm doing my best. 😘

last movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.3

i have gone to see every single MCU movie since Iron Man on opening night and despite the MCU's descent into madness and disappointment i can't stop now, you feel me. Having said that i think that Guardians was a good movie, not least because it was refreshingly self contained. i loved the fact that for a change the entire Fate Of The Universe And Everyone In It did not hang in the balance. As Angela says in Bones, "Sometimes you don't save the world. Sometimes you just make your friend happy." EXACTLY.

Also, James Gunn listened to the exact same albums as a teenager as i did, i will die on that hill. Obscure 80s British post punk anyone? Late 70s Springsteen? Parliament, Cheap Trick, Spacehog, Faith No More, Three Dog Night, fucking X? The fact that Gunn plastered a The The song across one of the emotional turning points of this movie - i almost stood up and clapped. IN THE MOVIE THEATER. (i would never. i am the person who will ask you to stop talking if you sit next to me and don't shut up. And i will be firm about it.)

If Star-Lord ever returns to the tunes of New Model Army or Mother Love Bone, i will die.

currently watching: Justified and The Umbrella Academy S3.

Still trying to make a dent in the current and back-catalogue watchlist. Do not say the word Witcher in my presence. 😂 Or Ted Lasso, which i will binge the moment the last ep drops, no matter what series i'm in the middle of. Also, now i had to put @booksandabeer's rec Transatlantic on the list WHAT HAVE YOU DONE.

currently reading: DOES IT LOOK LIKE i HAVE TIME TO READ RIGHT NOW? i BARELY HAVE TIME TO WRITE. 😂 But actually, if audiobooks count, i'm listening to An Economic History of The World since 1400 (from The Great Courses), because macroeconomics are fucking fascinating, ok? i think macroeconomic trends, constraints, and ambitions are the only reason human beings as a whole have ever done anything, ever, (and by macroeconomics i don't mean money).

All this while a stack of books collects dust on my night stand.

current obsession: the aforementioned macroeconomics, stucky (there's the historical event AND a cold war east germany spy fic to write, i'm looking at you @bittersweet-in-boston). There is also an epic dramione idea i had last year which is starting to seriously snap at my heels. i might have to visit that sandbox again. (Forgive me @mysteriouscatstellation)

Also, how do i get rid of the need to sleep? Those are hours i could use, people. Anyone have tips?

Damn, this got so long. That was way more answer than any of you were looking for, wasn't it.

Absolutely zero-pressure-tags: @cable-knit-sweater, @crisis-froggo, @mwritesff, @voylitscope, @controlofwhatido, @ace-in-reserve

#ask game #tag game #asked and answered #thisonesatellite #personal #satellite q

10 notes · View notes

sephyathredon-writing · 2 years

Text

Dancing with the Reaper (The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles)

((Warning: Do not read if you have not finished both Great Ace Attorney 1 and Great Ace Attorney 2: Resolve!))

((This is my first time writing for the GAA fandom! I hope I did Van Zieks justice, he’s quite a hard character to pin down!))

Van Zieks trying to do a court trial with an injury that he’s hiding, because he knows he’s the one best qualified to solve the case. An entry for Whumptober under the prompt “Hidden Injury”.

“Lord Van Zieks?” Ryunosuke asked, “Are you alright?”

Barok jolted suddenly, remembering where he was. Now was not the time to dwell on his thoughts, not in the middle of a trial, not in the Old Bailey. He looked across the Courtroom at Ryunosuke and his apprentice, Susato.

They had no idea that he was hiding a gunshot wound just above his brother’s badge, that precious memento that was the only thing he had left of him. If they had destroyed it, he would have killed them without a second thought.

“Yes, I am. There is no need to worry about me.” He replied, “What we need to focus on now is the case.”

As with all other cases that he went against Ryunosuke on, this one seemed fairly simple but ended up becoming more complex under the surface. A man had murdered a woman on a London street in the middle of the night in cold blood. Despite it being so late at night, there were plenty of witnesses around.

The only problem was that the man that had done the murdering was in the dockett as the defendant, and Ryunosuke’s belief that the defendant is innocent, which had served him well in the past when they actually were, was starting to get on Barok’s nerves.

Especially since he’d seen the murder happen. He’d tried to stop it from happening. He had irrefutable witness testimony, but he couldn’t reveal it because that would reveal the fact that he’d been shot and he’d be taken away to get treated, unable to finish this trial to its conclusion.

No, he’d just have to try and prove that the defendant was guilty without revealing the fact that he’d been injured. As a man of the law, he hated hiding the truth this way. Barok tried to steer Ryunosuke in the correct direction, but he’d gone down a different rabbit hole insisting that the woman’s death was a suicide, or that it had happened before the defendant showed up. Normally Barok admired his ability to account for all possibilities, even if they may seem strange, but this time it was just annoying.

At least he managed to bind the wound with thick bandages so it didn’t bleed through his clothes. The bullet was still lodged in him, but it didn’t matter. He’d go to a hospital as soon as he won this case. Still, he kept his cloak on as a precaution.

“Are you sure?” Ryunosuke responded, “You don’t seem to be yourself today. You haven’t even taken your cloak off.”

Barok winced, “It is colder than usual in the Old Bailey today. So I have elected to keep it on for the time being.”

He turned his attention to his chalice, pouring wine into it as was the usual routine. Despite how many times he filled his chalice, he never got drunk during a trial. To be inhibited in such a way would surely lead to a loss for him. In this case, the wine helped the wound to hurt less, so he drank more than usual.

The way one of his hands shook as he raised the glass to his lips wasn’t lost on Ryunosuke’s assistant.

“You’re shaking.” Susato spoke up, a concerned look on her face, “And you haven’t crushed a single chalice since this trial started.”

“Susato is right.” Ryunosuke agreed, “At first I thought the fact that you hadn’t destroyed any of your hand crafted chalices meant that I was on the right track, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

The sound of glass shattering broke the silence between the two after Ryunosuke finished speaking. Wine and shards of glass leaked out from between Barok’s fingers as he fixed Ryunosuke with a glare.

“I can assure you, I am more than capable of breaking my chalices. Now, I don’t see what this has to do with the case at hand.”

The judge spoke up from the stand.

“True, but if something was ailing you, Lord Van Zieks, surely you would need to go to a hospital-”

“I said I’m fine!” Barok shouted, his tone defensive as he turned his glare on the judge, “I don’t need any of you worrying about me. We’re here today to solve a murder case, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

They dropped it for the time being, but Ryunosuke still wore a worried look whenever he noticed one of Barok’s few slip ups. Still, Barok believed he did a good job of hiding the wound. Heavy, shaking breaths were disguised by tipping a chalice with wine in it to his mouth, and whenever he felt a sharp stab of pain from the wound, he rested his hand on his brother’s badge instead, as he often did.

The pain was manageable for half the court trial, but at some point it became unbearable. His whole frame tensed up as he tried to ignore the burning in his chest. He knew the bullet had to come out soon, or he’d be done for.

He was trying to finish up the trial as soon as possible, but Ryunosuke still insisted that the woman was already dead before the defendant had arrived, Based on some loose evidence that had barely been strung together. It was infuriating to say the least. After a summation examination, even the jury seemed to be on his side.

“Lord Van Zieks?” The sound of the judge’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Do you have somewhere you need to be? You really do seem to be in a hurry.”

“N-No, your honor.” He cursed internally at the stutter and shook his head. His frame swayed a little before he tensed it again, it was just enough to catch Ryunosuke’s eye.

“I think this charade has gone on long enough, don’t you?” He asked.

Barok didn’t move, keeping his head down.

“Clearly you have been injured.” He continued, “Don’t try to deny it this time. I have ample proof. You have been shooting down any other possibilities that I have tried to put on the table, you seem so sure that the defendant is guilty.”

“It has occurred to me that there is an important question that I have forgotten to ask until now.” Ryunosuke slammed his hands on the desk and fixed Barok with a determined look.

“Lord Van Zieks. Were you there at the time of the murder?”

He couldn’t lie. Barok had been caught and he knew it. After a couple of moments of silence, he downed the rest of the wine that was left in his bottle and tossed it back into the public gallery.

“Your honor....” He addressed the judge, his expression solemn, “If you would permit me, I would like to call a witness to the stand.”

“Oh, and who might that be?” The Jugde asked.

“... Myself.” He responded, making his way over to the witness stand.

“Then who is going to prosecute this trial?”

“I will!” Someone viewing from the public gallery spoke up. Moments later, a young man hopped the wall and landed in front of the Prosecutor’s bench. It was Kazuma Asogi, Barok’s apprentice.

“Kazuma!” Barok heard Ryunosuke exclaim from across the room.

He’d been so caught up in the idea that he should be the one to put the defendant in jail, that he didn’t realize he already had someone that he trusted to do it competently. After all, the man had prosecuted his own trial and while he didn’t win, he had helped unravel one of the greatest mysteries the Old Bailey had ever seen, and he’d helped settle things regarding his father and Barok’s brother.

It had been a few months since that trial and, while they weren’t exactly close yet, Barok had let himself learn to trust this man. During that trial, the two had found a sort of kinship in the similar struggles they had to go through.

“Mr. Asogi,” The judge said, “I trust you have been paying attention to all the details up until now.”

He nodded, “And I recognize my partner here…” He gestured to Ryunosuke, “Has been spouting pure nonsense, just as Van Zieks suggested. This is a very clean cut case, as I’m sure Van Zieks is about to tell us.”

“And you trust Mr. Asogi, Lord Van Zieks?” The Judge asked.

Barok was in so much pain that his hands dug into the wood where it gripped the stand. He nodded in response to the judges words.

“Very well.” The judge nodded, “You may take Van Ziek’s place for his testimony and, should he really be injured, the rest of the case. Though, I must stress that this is a most unprecedented turn of events. Never has a prosecutor called himself to the stand as a witness before.”

Kazuma nodded and stepped closer to the bench, right where Barok had been standing.

“You may present your testimony.” The Judge spoke, looking at Van Zieks.

He took a deep, shaking breath and, with trembling hands, pulled off his cloak and dropped it to the floor next to him. Then he removed his sash, then his jacket. As each layer of clothing came off, the truth of what he’d been hiding became apparent.

Soon Barok was left in only his white undershirt and his cravat. Red blood stood out against the white fabric. A grim sight. The wound had been irritated so much from his activity that it bled completely through the bandages. After showing it to the court, Barok covered it with a white gloved hand to try and stifle the bleeding.

“As you can see, I’ve been hiding a gunshot wound for this entire trial. I attempted to stop the defendant from killing that woman, but in the end, I could not save her life.”

Silence filled the courtroom.

“My goodness, someone call a carriage, he needs an escort to St. Barts!” The Judge exclaimed. The bailiff slipped away from the spot where he had been standing, presumably to call that carriage and to notify the hospital of an arriving patient.

“No.” Barok grit his teeth, “I refuse to get this wound treated until I am done testifying.”

“But, Lord Van Zieks…” Ryunosuke started, “If you got that gunshot wound at the time of the murder, that means you’ve gone almost half a day without getting it treated. How are you not dead already?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. But I will finish this testimony.” Barok snapped.

“Then by all means, do so.” The Judge continued, “The sooner you do, the sooner you can get treatment.”

Barok nodded to the Judge and looked between Ryunosuke and Kazuma, taking a deep breath. He began to list off several pieces of evidence Ryunosuke found and explain how they fit into the case from his perspective, having been a key witness.

“I apologize for hiding this from you all. Deception was not my intent, not in a malicious sense. I just wanted to be the one to put this man away for good. It feels… like the right thing to do… like It somehow makes up for the fact that I couldn’t save her.”

Kazuma scoffed. “You idiot. Why didn’t you call me? I would have taken this case for you, just as I’m doing now.”

Barok’s arms shook and his gaze went from Kazuma to the ground, “I don’t know. Pride I guess.”

“Well look where that’s gotten you.” Kazuma replied, “Sure, you’re on your feet, but for how long? How much damage have you done by waiting so long?”

Barok didn’t answer. His whole form started shaking, his nails leaving long scratches in the wood.

“Lord Van Zieks?” The Judge asked.

Suddenly a piercing scream filled the courtroom. Barok’s voice echoed off the walls. He hated showing such vulnerability to the public, but he couldn’t take it anymore. The bullet lodged in his chest was killing him.

He crumpled to the ground and soon some people arrived at the courthouse to take him to the hospital.

----

The next time Barok opened his eyes, he was laying in a bed at St. Barts hospital. Immediately, he noticed that he wasn’t alone. Ryunosuke and Kazuma were there just as they had been at the courthouse.

“Ngh… don’t the two of you have a trial to finish?” He asked.

“You’ve been out for a while, Lord Van Zieks.” Ryunosuke responded, “The trial ended already, two days ago.”

“Yeah, it was easy to get a guilty verdict with what you revealed in your testimony.” Kazuma added.

“I see, well that is good news. At least that woman’s killer is put to rest.” Barok’s voice sounded relieved as he spoke, though there was still some lingering pain that showed through from his injury.

Ryunosuke nodded, “I’m glad for that. This has taught me an important lesson. Sometimes a case is as simple as it seems and not everyone who is put on trial is innocent. I had briefly forgotten that the McGuilded trial taught me that. I’m sorry, Lord Van Zieks, if I had seen what was right in front of me, you could have gotten help sooner.”

“He should have let me take the trial for him, so there’s nothing for you to be sorry about Ryunosuke.” Kazuma interrupted before Barok could reply, “Honestly, he’s lucky he survived at all.”

“You’re right Kazuma,” Ryunosuke responded, looking at Barok, “You were in bad shape when they took you out of the courthouse. Everything you had tried to hide about your injury became known as they took you out the doors and loaded you into the carriage bound for St. Barts.”

“They said the doctors were able to save you, but just barely, which is why you were out for two days.” Kazuma continued where Ryunosuke had left off, “So next time, don’t be a prideful idiot, okay? You could have died today.”

Barok once thought it wouldn’t matter if he died. He’d once taken on the name of the Reaper to keep the streets of Britain clear, even if it meant he’d be the main target of london’s criminals. That was before he’d learned the truth of his brother’s death, before he realized that he had something to live for. His niece, Iris. His apprentice, Kazuma. and his eternal rival and closest friend, Ryunosuke. He owed his life to the last two, who had fought tooth and nail in court to uncover the truth when he was the defendant.

It would have been a shame to throw away his life today, when Ryunosuke had fought so hard to preserve it.

“You’re right.” Barok finally spoke, “I will not be pulling something like that again. There is no need to worry…”

He could see Ryunosuke release a breath he was holding, “Alright then. We’ll leave you to heal. We’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll see if I can get Iris to come along as well.”

Even if the kid wasn’t aware she was really Barok’s niece, she’d taken a liking to him, so he was sure she wouldn’t miss the chance to turn down a visit.

“I think I would like that,” He responded, “So long as Mr. Sholmes doesn’t decide to tag along.” His antics were not what he wanted to deal with.

Ryunosuke laughed, “I can’t make any promises.”

And with that the two of them left, leaving Barok alone with his thoughts.

#Whumptober 2022 #no.4 #Hidden Injury #The Great Ace Attorney fandom #fic #gunshot wound #blood #Great Ace Attorney fic #Great Ace Attorney #The Great Ace Attorney #The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles

2 notes · View notes