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333creolelady · 2 months

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Lady Of The Blue Bakunawa Ch. 6

Afab black OC x Roman Reigns (Pirate au)

Banner by : @joannasteez

Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING. mentions of past child loss, grief, mentions of past child abuse, mention of past sexual assault, mentions of past murder, gore, mentions of past racism, heavy angst (with fluff), hard topics, sex, foreplay (fingering cunnulingus fem receiving) Handjob, description of bodily fluids (cum, arousal), emotionally heavy topics, Includes a creature (a collective) who thrives on pain, religious undertones due to mention of the seven deadly sins, brief mention of not wanting to be alive (not SH), patricarichal views (Jane is unlearning, give her some grace chile).Minors DNI. LONG CHAPTER ALERT.

Songs this chapter: When Ginny kissed Harry, Davy Jones, Avril 14, El matador, Observatory kiss

Alternative playlist songs: Like a star, Decks dark, The Moment I said it, Cemeteries of London, Simply beautiful

Chapter Playlist link here <-

Next-> chapter 7

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Alternative Playlist link <-

Second warning. This chapter is emotionally heavy. Please consider reading it in two parts if you have to. This chapter has brief mentions of PAST sexual assault mid chapter. There is also a consensual smut scene (foreplay) at the end of the same chapter. If this is too heavy for you I will send you a cliff notes version (just shoot message in my DM’s) Chapter indicators for the SA topic will be <color coded> so you may skip if need be. . Proceed with caution.

Roman

He watches her take a breath and shoot at an empty can floating on a piece of driftwood. Caden had tied to the wood to rear of the ship. It was the best way she could get shooting practice from a distance. Funnily enough, Jane was savvy with a gun. She’d only been practicing for a few days and could shoot pretty well from a reasonable distance. Roman was impressed.

He’d left her for a few moments to set the dinner table inside his cabin. The waters were calm and the warm breeze had made the humidity slightly too sticky. He made light of it, feasting his eyes on the exposed skin of her neck and arms. Warmer weather called for thinner clothes. He would enjoy it for now.

He placed her bowl across from his and plated the food onto a porcelain plate. There were many upgrades on this new boat. Night had a taste for the finer things and had many high priced items hidden on the ship. He seemed to like fine china. Jane noticed his absence and turned around, he beckoned her to eat. She sat down across from him and placed her pistol on the table next to her.

Roman observed the way she handled her weapons so confidently already. “ Like a proper pirate”, Roman teased. She pulled off the extra hat he gave her and sat it beside the gun. She smiled shyly, placing a napkin in her lap.

8 days ago Roman and Jane’s relationship had changed in what only could be described as an explosion of passion previously left unshared. He now would encourage her sword lessons with Adhar. He would teach her how to use a gun and how to defend herself.

And now there was no confusion on whether or not affections would be shared. It was clear as day that they liked each other. He was just waiting for Jane to lean into her desires and initiate more often.

She sat across from him and dug into the food, spooning it into her mouth. He went fishing for her and cooked it. Tropical waters meant better catches of fish.

“ What is this?”, she said with an enthusiastic mouth full.

“ Oka l’a. It’s a dish of my people. Most people prefer it raw but sometimes we cook it for the children or sickly. You get the cooked version”, he chuckled watching her pick up a tiny piece of fish and eat it with her fingers.

“ You made this?”, she said with surprise.

“ Yes. That’s why I was gone”, he smiled.

“ It kind of tastes like coconut too. We used to put coconut in some of our food back in Trinidad. My grandfather used to add it to his Callaloo”, she sighed in content.

“ So you like it ?”

“ I do! You never told me you could cook.”

“ There was never a need to. Always had somebody to do it for me but thankfully my memory is pretty extensive. I’m sure there are a few missing ingredients however. This was my favorite dish my mother made.”

“ You remember her?”, she asked with curiosity.

“ I’m not ancient ”, Roman laughed. Jane just smiled and went back for another piece of fish.

“ Sometimes the memories get fuzzy after so long”, she shrugged.

“ I feel that way sometimes. The food was the easiest thing for me to remember because it was one of the last meals I had. At least that’s what my memory tells me.”

“ So this..raw fish. Your culture eats it a lot ?”

“ Yes. We prepare it in a way. We knew which ones to choose—we could asses how healthy the fish was. It’s very fresh and the children are brought up on it young. We never got sick. Thankfully, now that we’ve moved into more tropical waters, we have healthier fish. I could never eat this from the port. It was would end bad since the water is so filthy.”

“ Lest we want another cholera event”, she joked.

“ Don’t even remind me”, Roman shivered.

“ Do you have any other favorite meals ?”

“ Pork.”

“ Pork? But you can get pork anywhere.”

“ We cooked it better.”

“ How did you learn to cook anyway?”

“ The men cook where I’m from. Especially for big feasts. So young boys learn how to cook from their fathers.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “ Remind me why we aren’t back there instead ? Everything I’ve heard so far is promising.”

“ If you want off cooking duty you’d best say so. Unfortunately my meals are only reserved for you”, he teased.

“ As tempting as that sounds, I can't abandon ship with Caden.”

“ So what’s another interesting thing about your culture ?”

“Our seafaring is unmatched. We were the first people in the world to migrate by boat.”

“ So this comes naturally to you then?”

“ Yes. Especially because all I knew was water even in my life before.”

“ Married to the sea”, she teased. Roman didn’t laugh but instead graced her with a soft unassuming smile.

“And what about you?”, he asked.

“What about me?”

“Is there anything you remember about Trinidad ? Anything at all ?”

“ I remember putting scotch bonnets in our food. We have really spicy peppers—maybe even some of the hottest in the whole world. As a kid, whenever a general was particularly mean to us, we would rub the rim of their mugs with the juices from the pepper. There lips would blow up like fish.”

Roman laughed. “ Mischievous .”

“ Oh you don’t know half of it. Me and my cousin used to get in SO much trouble. There’s a certain kind of fearlessness children are born with. I would never have the gull to do something like that now.”

“ I’m a fan of young Jane. She sounds like she doesn’t take any mess”, Roman smiles.

“ I also remember being able to wear what I wanted as a kid. The culture we created for ourselves didn’t concern itself with layers and corsets and thick fabric. It’s hot. If I left my house with my stomach showing as a kid, people would laugh at my pot belly at most. Women didn’t have to be covered from neck to ankle either—like I said, it’s hot. Our garbs were also very colorful and bright. Then one day there were all these rules. Wear this not that. Your hair should be this not that. Anything else was suggestive or loud.”

“ Well..sounds like a story I’ve heard one too many times unfortunately.”

Jane shrugs. “Well I suppose there’s no point in stewing in it now. You take the good parts and leave the rest.”

“ I would have disagreed with that before I met you but now….”, Roman trailed off teasingly. A smile spread slowly on her face. He had a habit of staring at her unpromoted now. She was convinced he just liked to see her squirm.

She anxiously changed the topic. “How much longer?”

“ A few more days. We’re close.”

“ Days? Good, we have more pressing matters to address anyways.”

“ Like?”

Jane looks down in her lap finding the courage to finally spit it out. “We kiss…”

“Yes.”

“On the lips….”

“Yes I know.”

“And you touch me…”

Roman scoffs in a humorous tone. “How could I forget ?”

“Yes but… usually when that happens there’s a reason for it. Like there’s a purpose.”

“I want to make you feel good. Is that not the purpose for any of it ?”

“What I mean is that we’re doing things that people who are in established relationships do.”

“ We are. Fun, isn’t it?”, he smiled smugly. He enjoyed forcing her to be more direct.

“ I am unspoken for. You have no claim on me and I doubt you intend to wed. I know people see that we are involved no matter how cordial and polite you are in front of others. It’s unbecoming for a woman on a ship full of men to be so loosely claimed, while clearly giving away the very thing reserved for a steady union. I mean what if people think I’m just…kept. And while I think that most of your crew have been outstanding gentlemen to me, they’re still just men Roman”, she uttered quickly.

He raised a brow at her. “ Who said you were unspoken for…?”

She mirrored his face with a surprise of her own. “Uh…well you never said.”

Roman leaned forward with his elbows dominantly on the table across from her. “ My apologies. We are together. Meaning that you are my intended, lover, suitor. Or if you prefer the term courting then that is suitable as well.”

Jane is visibly stunned. She just assumed that any relationship she formed with Roman wouldn’t be a steady one. He wasn’t exactly traditional. “ Courting would mean that you intend to marry…?”

“ So ?”

“ You’re a pirate ?”

“ And?”

Her expression flattened.“ You live in a boat in the middle of the ocean.”

“ Accomodations can be made, don’t you think?

“ I mean yes…”

“ Unless you prefer our connection to stay strictly physical?”, he asked.

“ No no. I was just concerned about how it looked.”

“ How about this…I could make an announcement?”

“ No… it doesn’t have to be some big event.”

“ Well then I won’t hide my affection.”

“ I didn’t take you as a publicly affectionate person.”

“ It’s not like I’ll have my tongue down your throat—without your permission of course. Hand placement goes a long way.”

A mischievous expression spread across her face. “ Well since you’ve declared that we’re courting I’ll have to put you to work more often.”

“ I aim to please Miss Ramlal.”

“ I’ve noticed”, she giggled.

Romans attention faltered when a loud thump echoed beneath them. He stalked to the edge of the ship to see a giant piece of plank wood bumping on against the boat.

“ Look!” Jane gasped.

Behind them a ship splintered into a million pieces laid on the shore of a beach. It looked old and the wood was wet and rotten. The sail was obliterated.

“ Why-has this happened ?”, Said Jane.

“ I’m not sure, it could have been anything. I know one thing for certain though, this means we’re getting closer to our destination.” Roman pulled out his spyglass and further inspected the shipwreck. The wood had chunks bitten out of it as if something attempted to eat the boat.

Worry clenched Roman’s chest as he folded the spyglass and put it back on the table.

“ Room for dessert dove ?”

Jane

3 days of wind and gray skies with absolutely no rain and plenty of thunder, it was unheard of. The air was colder and despite the wind there were no waves. The boat had an almost mechanical float, as if it had feet underneath the hull dragging across the sea floor. Roman insisted that things were moving according to plan. Jane wasn’t so sure.

Suddenly a thick mist filled the air causing Jane to step back cautiously. Jane retreated back towards Roman’s quarters as a huge groaning sound echoed in the distance. A rumble vibrating throughout the ship sent her scrambling for Roman. Sure enough she needn’t look far as he immediately looked for her too, stepping out of his quarters and holding onto her with caution. Something rumbled under the surface of the water completely gray, solid, and endless.

What looked to be a building made of stone or concrete traveled slowly and disruptively out of the sea and into the sky, reaching past the clouds and onwards to the heavens. Water fell from the sides splashing back down to the sea below. Jane turned to Roman with fear, a question already forming on her lips but never making it past them.

“ It’s alright. This is where we’re supposed to be ”, he reassured quietly.

A murmuring crowd had formed now. The building had hundreds of tiny small square glass windows but no light illuminated from them. The shape of the building was rectangular, narrow and smooth. She’d never seen a construction like it. It’s opening was a gaping black hole that she couldn’t see through. Large wet stone steps led to the entrance, just wide enough to put a ship ramp down. As afraid as she was, her feet felt compelled to move forward. If he was going to go then she was coming with him.

“William, Adhar, with me. Jane…”, Roman headed for his cabin leaving the french doors open. The two followed behind him. William loaded his pistol and Adar unsheathed his sword. They sat at the table sharpening weapons and loading their pistols. Roman’s attached two small pistols to his hip. Jane took a pistol for herself and Roman softly took it from her.

“ You should know what you’re getting yourself into before you make your choice”, he said softly.

“Well, let’s hear it”, said Jane.

“The man who gave me the map to the key was rumored to have been the only survivor of the journey but it changed him forever. Every pirate knows that this is rumored to be an eternal prison of all depravity and fear. Here belongs every spirit of corruption—the first of their kind. Some are referred to as fallen angels.”

“ Demons ?”, her face wrinkled in confusion.

“ Aliens, demons..fallen angels. Whatever your persuasion.”

Jane took in a sharp inhale.

“ You do not have to go in. None of you do. I can do this alone”, said Roman.

“No…no I won’t leave you”, said Jane.

“ We stay with the captain”, Said William confidently. No fear.

“ Us pirates have heard the rumors for years about what this will look like…what it will feel like. I fear the rumors have been true. That…this place is every bit of a prison. I don’t know what horrors await us on the other side. All I know is that you will be judged in some way. The myths over the years alter and change.”

“ I understand.”

“ I must warn you that this creature has a fixation for women. Crane mentioned that we may have a better chance of getting the key with you there.”

“ Why?”

“ I have no clue but for that reason maybe you should sit this one out. Fixation could mean anything ?”

“ I’m coming”, Jane said with a gentle firmness. Roman is visibly nervous and holds back on controlling the situation. She can see the wheels turning in his head.

“ Are you absolutely sure Jane?”

“ I stay with the captain”, she uttered.

Roman stood in finality. “ Adhar behind Jane. William at my side.”

The group goes back to preparing their weapons. Hat, boots, long shirts and cotton pants. It was cooler now despite being in the tropics. Jane dressed in Caden’s hand-me-downs, disguising herself as a man as best she could. She was almost sure “fixation” wasn’t a good thing where they were going.

The four of them finished gearing up and made way for the ramp. Caden wished Roman luck eyeing the building with hesitance. Their feet finally touch the wet slabs of the stone stairs leading to the opening. William stands with Roman and Adhar is behind Jane forming a protective shape around her. Jane reaches for Roman’s right hand. He let’s her have it, wanting to give her comfort in some way. She looks back at Caden only to find Adhar staring at their hands with an unreadable expression.

William and Roman take the first steps and the others follow. Their boots echoed into the abyss. A few steps further and they become engulfed in darkness. Then suddenly the dark opening is lit with dozens of torches. They paused when they sensed the presence of another person. A large person–or perhaps it was once a person held a lantern. Large muscles, hooved feet, a tail, long uncanny long arms, and a BULL’S head. Before the scream could leave Jane’s mouth, Adhar covered it. Roman pulled his hand slowly from her and rested his hand on his pistol. William held his hand out, motioning to wait. The bull tilted it’s head to the side watching the group as if to assess them. The Minotaur’s eyes grew darker and wider when they landed on Jane causing Roman to completely pull out his gun.

“ If you want in, those weapons are not allowed”, it spoke with a deep honking barrelous voice. He motioned for Roman’s weapon.

“ The girl needs protection”, said Roman.

“ As does fate. No weapons”, said the Minotaur crossing his arms.

“ Remember what we came here for Roman, it’s fine. We didn’t come all this way for nothing”, Jane whispered.

“ I am the keeper of this prison. I control what goes and what doesn't come out. This is your final warning. Lose the weapons or you will not pass”, the Minotaur warned.

Jane saw the puzzled anger in Roman’s eyes. For a moment she thought he would shoot the damned thing but she rested her hand on his back. With a tense jaw he slowly placed his guns on the ground followed by his sword. The others followed suit. The minotaur watches them for a moment and begins to walk, not bothering to motion for them.

He leads them up a thin and narrow stone staircase with small windows overlooking the sea. There was a wet mildew smell to this place that clung to her nose. The stairs carried them out to a stone floor that held 6 cells on each side. The first creature was something out of a nightmare. It was humanoid with fleshy pale gray wings, an emaciated slim body, large eyes—all pupil, holes for a nose and no mouth. It stood unmoving, eyeing her before placing it’s hand on the invisible barrier that held it inside its cell.

She turned her head in the other direction only to find an even more terrifying creature. There was an Octopus like creature whose skin resembled human flesh with tentacles that had suckers like human mouths. It’s moans sounded like that of a woman’s and an animal mixed together. Her breath hitched and her nails dug into Roman hands so hard that he winced and turned around to face her. The group stopped.

“ Just don’t look Jane”, he reassured her quietly. Adhar placed a reassuring hand on her back looking behind him protectively.

“ Come. They are contained”, said the Minotaur without looking back.

“ Come Miss Ramlal. They look just like my old military unit. Just another walk in the park”, William said quietly in that thick German accent.

They go back to following the Minotaur. Jane keeps her head down to the ground in order to avoid scaring herself again. The only problem is that they would have to travel ten flights of stairs before they reached who they were looking for.

Within those ten flights of stairs the sounds of these…beings were far too intriguing. Some levels were completely silent and so dark it looked like nobody was there. Others were extremely loud with howling screaming monsters. Some of the creatures were violent, banging against their magical traps while others didn’t bother to turn around and see who was there.

She peaked and saw three 4 foot beings with dark grey skin, large eyes, slits for noses, no mouth, long fingers, large heads and tiny child-like bodies. She saw beings that looked like humans with three eyes and mouths full of razor sharp teeth. She saw beings that looked like children with black eyes. Some of them looked like animals that stood on hind legs, some of them were beasts she’d heard of in fairy tales. Lizard creatures, vampires and wendigo. She saw creatures that she’d only heard of in Trinidadian folklore. Douens, Lagahoo’s and Chikcharney’s.

Magic was real. It was a real as rain and it was dark. It was scary. Suddenly she knew without a doubt that the treasure had to be real too.

“ We have arrived”, The Minotaur grunts.

The tenth floor was one long hallway with a stairwell. It was dark. So dark that the torch the Minotaur held looked like a candle light. He snapped his fingers and ten torches lit the room to reveal a cell at the end of the hall. The cell was completely dark as if nothing was there.

The Minotaur turns to them. “ Have you brought them a gift ?”

“ Them? There was no talk of bringing it a gift. Nobody informed us.”

“ They will not speak unless you’ve brought a gift.”

“ I have an apple..”, Adhar says quietly.

The Minotaur hold out his hand awaiting Adhar. Adhar places the apple in his palm. The bull places the apple into a slot by the cell and pushes it into the opening. For a moment it’s just quiet but then a voice calls out. It sounded like a child, a man, and a woman all speaking at once. Like three voices stacked on top of one another.

“Have you met my children? My aspects ?”

“ Children ?” Roman called out the darkness.

“ Yes, they are my flesh and blood and …bone. Created in my image”, the voices groaned.

“ I wasn’t aware,” said Roman cautiously.

“ Perhaps you have read the apocrypha ?”, said a child’s voice. It startled Jane.

Roman doesn’t respond.

“ This is what you were wore that day….it is not ?”, said the child voice. Suddenly the blackness of the glass faded until it revealed a little boy….

Roman

His palms grew cold and wet. The room was hot. There it stood. The reoccurring nightmare that he could never truly out run. Himself.

8 year old Roman stood in front of him in a cotton lava lava, barefoot, no shirt because it was especially hot that day. He’d been playing in the water and his mother finally flagged him down to eat. He ate the last meal he would ever eat from her. He played with his siblings making sand cakes and running around the shore line. Then his life turned upside down.

“ Roman”, he heard Jane whispered to him. He couldn’t even turn around to face her. He was utterly frozen in place. The memories come back to him. His crying, being pried from the hands of his mother, sand burn on his back from being dragged, the screaming, the pleading. Nobody understanding him because of the language barrier. The confusion. The realization that he would never see his family again. The realization that his parents were not invincible and in the end, there was nothing they could do against German occupation. The harshness in the soldiers' glares. The disgust.

“ Or perhaps…this form would be better…”, The creature morphed into his tormentor. Queen Augusta Luise. She stood with a knowing smirk on her face, fanning herself with that imported Chinese fan. She was in her usual dramatic ball gown with an obnoxiously large ruby and diamond necklace. Her hair was in a tight updo with brown hard curls pinned at the top of her head. Her blue eyes cut him as they always had. It had even mimicked her thick accent.

The most gut wrenching, visceral, primal rage came over him. If he ever saw Augusta again he vowed that he would make her suffer. He stepped closer to the cell and the Minotaur reached a hand out to his chest.

“ They can’t get out. You can’t go in. It is written.”

“ What does it want?” Roman urged.

“ Your pain is your payment. If you want the key your pain, secrets, and sins will be judged. There is no prize without punishment.”

“ That hardly sounds fair.”

“ Is it not? You desire a treasure older than your existence. A treasure that can only be held in the hands of a worthy man. Are you worthy ?”

Roman frowned. “ What does my pain do for you?”

“ feeds us..”

Roman frowned, disturbed by its words.

“ We are hungry. It has been many years since we have tasted the sweetness of fruit ... .but the sweetness of sorrow is unmatched. It is dripping from one of you. We could not pass up this opportunity”, says Augusta’s clone with a sickly fake sympathetic voice.

“ Is it really worth it all? We don’t need a fucking key to get the treasure. I’ll take my bloody gun and shoot whatever’s holding the goddamn thing. What does this thing know about any of us?”, William whispered to Roman.

“ William Wright. Prideful William”, The monster morphed into a 3 year old boy with strawberry blonde hair, freckles, large green eyes and a button nose. It’s voice became tiny to match the body it emulated. Jane’s eyes widened in horror as William dropped to his knees in as soon as he saw the boy.

“ Too prideful to spend time with your only son thinking being a provider is more important than being there for your sick child.. Now he’s gone and what do you have to show for it ? A dead General who did nothing wrong but give you the commands you signed up for. Plucking out his eyes in a misplaced fury….”, This monster morphed into a burly man with blonde hair, and a bloody face with missing eyes.

“ Stop this! You know nothing!”, William cried in agony. Jane debated comforting him or staying put. She didn’t want the attention to turn on her.

The creature taunts William in his sons form and voice, leaning against the barrier. “ Prideful William, too prideful to say that he took out his own eyeball in guilt but instead lies and claims that he lost it in a sword fight. William the prideful. Too prideful to write to his wife. You ignore her letters. You let her wallow in her grief alone. Oh…pride is your true love. This sin suits you well. Even now…you cannot face the truth. You refuse it.”

William sat on the floor reduced to tears, head tucked between his legs. How easy this fierce man broke down. Roman’s fierce fighter had self- destructed. A reminder that everyone has something in their life worth crying over no matter how strong they appear.

Roman rested his hands on Williams' shoulder. He looked back up into the cell to see Augsta staring at him with that smirk again.

“ Do you accept..wraithful Roman?”

Roman’s face fell. “ Fine…but not her.”

Augusta twirled her hair playfully. “ If your pain is worth the treasure you seek, then perhaps…”

“ NOT. HER”, said Roman sternly.

“ We shall see. Come …”, the monster said in a gentle voice as it morphed into a young woman with nearly ankle length jet black hair. She had tawny brown skin, thick brown eyes, a wide nose and full pink lips. She was gorgeous… She was his mother.

Roman let the tears happen, he didnt try to wipe them away. It was too painful to claim indifference. It had been many years since he saw her face. His mother– the monster, was crying with him. She placed her hand on the invisible barrier and Roman nearly did the same. He stopped himself remembering that it wasn’t her.

“ She grieved you for a long time. She didn’t believe you to be gone forever. She convinced herself that it was a bad dream and that you were simply lost. But you were not lost.. You had a new mother..”, said the womanly voice. The monster then turned to Augusta again. Anger creeped up on the back of his neck. He always felt anger on his back and on his neck. Now it was no different.

“ Have your lover the fantasies you have of killing your former mother?”

“ She is not my mother..”, Roman sneered.

“ You called her Mommy. You held her hands in yours, appeased her even when she made you beg for a God you didn't believe in. She beat you into submission. So peculiar how hatred can turn into an obsession. You were her little doll and you performed for her for years. Making her believe that her love was the cause for your greatness. Fencing, Math, Polo, Portuguese,Spanish, German, English, Japanese. Star pupil…handsome and muscular. Smart as a whip. Well spoken…they would say. When her back was turned you spat in her food. You stole her items and sold them for free. You cursed her name every night before you closed your eyes. Too afraid to show your rage, too afraid to upset your captor. How she had turned you into her perfect pet, performing at a whim and entertaining her high born friends.Then suddenly she outgrew you. Her little puppy had turned into a wolf and that rage had cracked and broken the seams of your composure. She kicked out her dog..”, The monster taunted. It shifted to his teenage self in tattered clothes.

“ Suddenly the victim becomes the monster. Does she know about the killing spree you went on after she discarded you? Kings guards, high society sweethearts? Anyone who looked at you wrong? You may believe that your anger was warranted but how many orphans did you create ? Mothers you made childless? They called you the Lacerator because of the mess you left behind. Everywhere you went there was destruction and pain. You killed your fellow pirates in ways that would make the devil blush. You killed for money, for greed, for power. Yet you believe that the family you formed in your crew washes the stain of blood from your hands?”

Roman turned to Jane to see a sick look on her face. Would she see him differently after this?

“ You mention no context. Those people saw me as subhuman. Some of them were even ordered to kill me or took it upon themselves to torment me. I did what I had to do to survive”, Roman countered.

“ Not all of them were high born. Some of them were similar to yourself. Class traitor…so dignified in your approach to violence. Does she know that every moment of your life you have a wraith boiling inside of you so legendary that I can feel it through our barrier. You wish to harm me. You wish to harm those who have done you wrong but instead you have pillaged your way to your current riches. The same way the Germans pillaged your people. No amount of blood spilled will fill the hole inside of you. Wraithful Roman. Be hopeful that all this suffering will have amounted to something. May god save the ones you love if you get to that treasure and find nothing but bones and dust.”

Roman watched silently as the monster morphed itself into countless faces…some he remembered and others he didn’t. He could bare it no longer.

“ You got what you wanted”, Roman sneered. The monster froze with the terror stricken face of his last kill. A pirate from Captain Night’s ship.

“ Adhar…oh Adhar....”, the creature groaned in a woman’s voice. It’s figure became that of a woman moaning in pleasure. Gingers, Brunette’s, Black, White, Asian. Fair skinned and Dark skinned. They all moaned Adhar’s name one after the other.

“ They all loved you, Adhar. What is it about you that drives women to madness ? What wound do you press against that makes them feel so unworthy. Or is it you? Is it you who feels unworthy ? Is it you searching for something you never had ? Perhaps it was your mother. She couldn’t be bothered to care about you. She was forced to have you. You barely know the warmth of a mothers love. Or was it your father ? Nothing was ever truly good enough for him. You weren’t a man in his eyes. Kita almost made you whole again. She loved you dearly…”, a soft voice called out. She was undoubtedly south Asian. Green eyes, curly shoulder length hair, elaborate jewelry and an olive complexion. Roman looked back at Adhar to see a watery smile spread across his face.

“ I didn’t have any money. I just wanted to be able to provide for Kita. To give her nice things. To take care of her like a real man”, Adhar sniffled.

“ Instead of stepping up, asking her father for her hand and living a humble life— you rob and steal. You killed the market owner, someone you knew since childhood. You take from your own community. You betray the ones you love for money. They had no choice but to send you away leaving Kita with broken promises and a broken heart. What do you do to ease the pain? You pursue countless women, giving them sweet nothings. They awake to the smell of you on their sheets. Lustful lonely Adhar, so sure he’s content. So sure that he’s simply a kind man. So sure he made the right choice but constantly searching for a woman you’ll never have. Your longing has no restraint. It is so boundless that it has made you envious of the man who saved you from a life of poverty and starvation”, said the monster.

Adhar breathing quickened. His fists balled up in flattered fashion. “I- I- I just didn’t want to be …I didn’t meant to hurt anyone. That was never my intent….”

Then with a sudden turn of events Kita morphed into full lips, brown almond eyes and black onyx hair. Roman looked at himself on the other side of the glass. The monster mirrored him perfectly before splitting itself into a second person. Jane. The monster had morphed into himself and Jane. Roman tensed up not understanding where this was going,

“ Not only are you lustful but you are envious. Envious of affections shared between your captain and your new friend. Envious of a love lost. Envious of the love brewing between Roman and his intended. If you feel that you are unloveable—then you will always be. No matter how much you fuck the loneliness away you are lustful lonely Adhar. Adar the envious”, said Roman’s Doppelganger. It turned to kiss Jane’s doppelganger. Adhar looked sick as he glanced over to Roman and then Jane.

Roman was just as embarrassed as Adhar was. All the speculations he had about Adhar and it never occurred to him that he was jealous of what he and Jane shared. He assumed he just wanted Jane but that wasn’t the case. He wanted what they had. He didn’t know about Kita or much about his life before. Adhar was a newer crew member who he didn’t get the chance to speak with often. He took him in because of his proficiency with the sword.

Roman turned to look back at Jane who was standing behind the Minotaur now. The last time she looked this frantic was the first time they saw each other. William was in a ball on the floor staring at the wall. Adhar looked like he was seconds from cracking. Everyone was a mess. Now he understood what the creature meant when it said pain. Everything about this was painful. Their worst thoughts about themselves actualized.

“ If you don’t mind sir I’ll…be waiting behind the door. Just yell for me? ”, Adhar looked to Roman. Roman nodded in agreement allowing him an early exit.

“ We are done”, Roman says with resistance. For the first time in his life…he was afraid. He was afraid of what came next. He was afraid for Jane.

“ I could stop now but…this treasure that you want. It’s more than just Gold, Silver, Rubies and Diamonds. This treasure would make you the wealthiest person to have ever lived. The monarchies would pale in comparison to you. I have seen nothing to convince me of any of your repentance. If you give me her pain I could feed off it for months. Give me her or you return to your ship and get swallowed by the sea”, the monster hissed. It’s voice was nowhere near the familiarity of a human. It was stripped of any of humanity.

“ She is mine to protect. We will and take our chances. Jane come, we are leaving ,” Roman stalked to her but she stepped back.

“ N-no. No I can do it.”

“ I don’t want this. You don’t want this Jane”, Roman raised his tone ever so slightly. He didn’t mean to but his mind was spinning. Whatever she wasn’t ready to tell him, surely this wasn’t the way she’d go about it?

Jane walked over to him and placed her hands in his in an attempt to calm him.“Do you honestly think that this would be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me? I’m stronger than you think. Besides…it all had to have been for something. There’s nothing that this thing can tell me that I haven’t already told myself”, Jane smiled sadly. Roman nodded and hesitantly stepped out of her way.

Jane

The creature before her was incomprehensible. It was all things horror, despair, loneliness, fear, lust and darkness. It was many things and then nothing at all. Limbs, eyes, many teeth—countless teeth. Many faces and orphases. Its shape took up the entirety of it cell. And then in an instant it mirrored her. It looked just like her, like she was standing in a mirror.

“ I’m probably not in the position to make requests but…would it be okay if William left the room as well as the Minotaur.”

“ fine”, said the monster.

The Minotaur picks up William and throws him over his shoulder, leaving out of the room. Now it was just Roman and herself and this ….thing.

“ Come closer sweet little creature…”, said her doppelganger.

She stepped forward just a few short inches from the barrier. Her doppelganger looked her up and down, walking back and forth from one end of the cage to another in a predatory fashion. Jane didn’t not falter her gaze.

“ I was told you like women ? Why is that ?”

“ Like isn’t the word I’d use to describe you creatures. It’s so much more than that. The essence of a woman is sweeter…their secrets—darker. You are the original sinners. Your capacity for corruption knows no bounds.”

“ I see”, says Jane quietly.

“ Jane Ramlal. Trinidad and Tobago…. September 22nd. Family is gone—I presume it’s from the Spanish and British occupation”, her doppleganger assessed in a detached manner.

“ You have a knack for lying don’t you? Your grandfather taught you reading, writing and arithmetic. Very rare for a girl like you…and to have to pretend all those years to not know a thing.”

“ he did.”

“ Such sadness. It wafts off you. Depressive, even as a child. Fun times were short lived. It’s almost like you were doomed from the start.”

Jane doesn’t respond. There was no need to. She couldn’t change what she was born into. There no point in being defensive.

“ You killed a general with your cousin at 10 years old. You put a scotch bonnet in his drink and it burned a hole in his stomach. I would deduct points for that but he wasn’t a very good man either. Seems like you know how to pick the bad apples unlike your dear friend Roman.”

“ It wasn’t right.”

The creature looked at her strangely as if her accountability was unusual.

“ How hard it must have been for you working for high society. Cruel wives and their vulture husbands. The last 13 years of your life have seemed to blur together. Every day is the same. Work, sleep, work, sleep. No enjoyment, no happiness. It’s as if I’m looking at a loop.”

Jane remained unmoved. “ Yes I only just…started living recently.”

<<<<<<<IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO BRIEF MENTIONS OF SA STOP HERE. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>!!!!!!!!

“ And you are no stranger to the violence of men?”

And there it was. Jane froze and closed her eyes slowly in shame. That’s it… the moment she was dreading. The one thing she would never say. The reasons she told the other men to leave.

“ I am more than familiar”, she croaked.

“ Something was taken from you…more than once. And again fairly recently on this boat taking you the America’s. You wish to not exist..?”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<SAFE.

“ I….”, tears flooded Jane’s eyes. “ I have many times.”

The doppelganger tilted its head. “even now?”

“ Months ago. Not now.”

“ That desire drove you to poke holes into the hull of that ship for months with screws and knives. When the storm came the ship could not withstand it. However, the storm took a violent turn and you were left for dead. You survived by hanging onto driftwood. What a viper you are. You play helpless very well”, the Doppelganger smirked at her.

“ Yes…I did those things”, Jane said stoically. She wasn’t proud of what she did but she felt that she had no other choice. She wouldn’t bother rationalizing it to the creature.

“ You have been given an exit from your suffering. You cannot tell the dark from the light. All around you… endless possibilities. So many women would want what you have. The chance to start over but you are haunted by your past. I give you the sin of trisitia. An old sin long before the seven. Tristia…sorrow..Are you aware of the cure for each sin?”

“ I am not.”

“ For lust it is self control. For gluttony it is temperance. For greed it is charity. For sloth it is diligence. For wrath it is patience. For envy it is kindness. And for pride it is humility. Can you guess what the cure for sorrow is ?”

“ No…”

“ To live. Jane Ramlal…I sentence you to live.”

Jane looked thoughtfully at her doppleganger. The last few months had proven to her that she didn’t know what it meant to live until recently. It wasn’t just surviving like she’d always known. Living…enjoying life. Eating food when you’re not hungry. Not caring about how rich a dessert tastes. Buying clothes for fun. Listening to music and swaying to it. Relaxing and not feeling guilty about it. Being present enough to laugh at a joke. Being admired and not feeling unworthy for it. That was living. That was what she’d been missing for so long. “ Have I…given you enough ?”

“ I suppose. You are worthy of this treasure. You may have the key”, says the creature in a bold flat tone. It shifts back into its original form. Carefully it used their hand to reach inside of one of its many mouths and pulled out a key with a long chain. It placed the key into the slot box, pushing it to the outside. Jane picked up the key and held it in her palm. It was a mortice shape.

“ Only you may wear it. If you give the key to anyone else it will destroy them. Now that you have this key there will be many creatures that do not want you to have it. Keep it safe and do not lose it.”

“ I will protect it”, Jane placed the chain around her neck and tucked it into her shirt.

She turned to Roman and saw such a tired and withered expression on his face. It was as if being here had aged him 10 years.

“ Let’s get out of here”, she said.

“ Goodbyeeee friendsssss!”, the creature hissed.

Roman makes no protest as he leads her out of the room. The Minotaur, William, and Adhar all stood quietly by the stairs. They gathered their weapons and made way for the boat. The bull led them back out to their ship without so much as a goodbye. She walked up the ramp and looked back at the Minotaur standing in the entrance.

Magic was real. It was as real as rain. And it was dark. This..she knew to be true now.

An exhaustion came over her so heavily. She stumbled into Roman’s cabin, kicking off her boots. He trailed behind her placing his weapons on the same table they strategized at. William and Adhar left to go be alone. Truthfully she didn’t want to be alone after something so triggering and sensitizing.

She’d never seen Roman cry and his nose was still red from it. She studied his face thinking about all the things he did. She felt not a single ounce of judgment towards him. He was a bit more morally complex than she initially thought. There was a time in his life that he was unrecognizable compared to the man before her. She understood it all. She could accept that anger for his past. She was still angry about her own past—sin or not.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes before he pulled a hidden stash of rum. He sat out two glasses and she chugged the first serving. The second glass she poured on her own, filling it all the way to the rim. Alcohol never really made the pain stop but it slowed down her thoughts. She took another burning gulp.

“ Easy….”, Roman sighed across the table. She sat the cup down and suddenly the tears came. They racked over her heavily and violently. She muffled the sounds with her face in her hands. Roman reached across the table and grabbed one of her hands.

“ It’s alright dove”, he whispered.

“ It’s not alright. I feel. I feel…violated. I feel open. I hate this feeling.”, she sniffled.

“ We all do.”

“ I was never going to tell you what happened to me. Especially on that ship.”

“ Why….”

“ Because men pretend to sympathize…to empathize. They pretend to be good people but they’re not. You tell them your past and they’ll be sure to give you double of it. To make it hurt worse.”

Roman didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure how to.

“ I…have spent so many years trying to come to peace with it. Then the ship happened and it unraveled me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole enough again to give you what you want.”

Roman frowned in confusion.“ What do I want ?”

“ What all men want. Real sex. Not whatever game that was a week ago.”

“ Game? That’s how you saw it ?”

“ What could be better than taking the pleasure you want as opposed to spending all your time giving it ? I came and you got nothing”, Jane scoffed, wiping her face.

“ You’re approaching this like some type of payment Jane. Sex isn't some transaction—at least not how I see it. Not with you. I don’t pleasure you in hopes that you do it back. I do it because I enjoy it and nothing more.”

“ I don’t believe you”, she shrugged.

Roman was dumbfounded. Absolutely dumbfounded. He thought he made his intentions clear.

“ What aren’t I saying to make this better? What am I missing ? How do I take this pain from you ?”

“ You can't, it's already done.”

“ Jane..”

“ I can’t….I can’t go all the way with you right now. I don’t know if I’ll ever enjoy real sex again. And what’s even more maddening is that I experience a desire for you that supersedes any other man I’ve encountered. I crave you in a way that is foreign to me. But I cannot give you the very thing that I’m supposed to. What any woman would. I’m trapped in my body—in my desire. I’m fucked up. I’m…broken Roman.”

“ Don’t say that….”

“ I am.. it’s true.”

“ It’s not true. I want whatever you give me. I want you. There’s so many other options on the table for us. It doesn’t have to be just ONE way Jane. However and whatever we decide to do is for us only. There’s no guideline on this sort of thing. I’m in no rush.”

“ You told me that if I chose you I would be guilty of crime by association. I’m telling you if you choose me—I may not be able to fulfill you sexually in the way that you need. At least not in this moment. That could be days, months, weeks, years. It could be a lifetime if we make it that long.”

“ I’m telling you that there are other ways. I am more than fulfilled right now. I’m fulfilled by your gaze. The touch of your hand. Whatever you’re comfortable with is what I’m comfortable with.”

“ You say that now but what happens when what I give you is not enough anymore? There could be someone else, someone more willing. Someone more beautiful.”

“ You must think my brain is located in my cock”, Roman chuckled.

“ I…I just want it all out of the table.”

“ No seriously. You’ve got to stop with these generalized statements about men. I know the horrors of men. Every person who looks like you and me understands those horrors. What I can say is that I know men don’t always have the best representatives. A good portion of them are shit—even I can agree. And for about a decade of my life I was one of them. But people do change Jane. I changed. I changed even more when I met you. Being able to call you mine is enough. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I will never pressure you. I meant it when I said you’ve paid your dues. I’m not here to cause you anymore pain. Neither one of us needs that now. Especially not after today”, Roman urged.

She carefully took in everything he said. The conviction in which he spoke, the sincerity in his eyes… he was telling the truth. Her gut told her so.

Roman continued. “ You and me—you especially, have been through hell and back. Let us have this one thing to ourselves, for ourselves. Leave the expectations behind you. I’m not your dictator. I'm not here to tell you what you should or should not do as a woman. I just want this, I want us. Nothing more.”

Jane’s face wrinkled in confusion. Roman was a strange bird. Any other man would have walked away—at least the ones she encountered previously. “ That’s not very traditional, you know ? You really truly want this…all my darkness? All my pain? It’s not too much for you ?”

“ In case you haven’t noticed, I’m nowhere near a traditional man. I could ask you the same but who else would understand me like you? You heard about all those things I did in my past and you still look at me like I hold the moon and stars. Like me—an ole’ pirate, has the right to cast judgment over you. I want you and anything that comes with it. The good and the bad.”

Roman gets up from his chair and walks over to her, crouching down to where she sat. Her arms leaned over his shoulders and she wrapped them around him tightly in a deep decompressing embrace. How often do they hug?? Not often, if even at all especially for it to have felt so good. She revels in the feeling, confused on how something so simple had taken so much weight off her shoulders. He pulls away and cradles her face in his hands.

“ I will take your darkness and turn it sweet. This I vow to you. No secret of yours should be burdened alone”, he says.

“ Okay”, mutters wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Why did she always end up crying in his arms? Why was it so easy too?

“ Okay”, he chuckles. He kisses her lips gently and sweetly. Like she’s made of glass. She doesn’t mind it. She doesn’t mind being doted on and revered as precious especially after such a hard conversation.

“ What can I do to make your frown turn upside down ?”

“ I need a hot bath”, she murmured.

“ Okay I can do that . Any other requests ?”

“ More of what you made me earlier.”

“ ahh. The Oka l’a ?”

“ Yes please”, she mumbled face first into his shoulder. All that crying had made her sleepy.

“ Your wish is my command.”

Roman

Much to Roman’s dismay, they stopped on the deserted island with the rotting boat for barnacle scraping. It was necessary to ensure that the ship continued to travel at its highest speed. Barnacle scraping was one of the more annoying facets of being a crew member. In moments like this he was thankful to be the Captain. All that sand and salt water battering against someone while they scraped away with all their might—it wasn’t fun. Rory and Thomas were on duty. He watched them scrape against the hall of the boat, flinging the barnacles into the sand.

He needed to touch land and recenter his thoughts. His mind kept wandering back to all the venom that the creature spat. The conversation with Jane played on a loop in his mind. He had come to the realization that every action he made with Jane was in protest to all the beliefs she had about men. It would be his job to show her better everyday. It wasn’t a hard job but she was resistant to her prior beliefs. He was patient with her.

He let a wave of warmth fill his lungs from his pipe as he stared at his ship from the beach. Should he feel guilty for his anger towards the monarchy? It wasn’t just Augusta that caused him pain. There were many people like her. However, he was angry quite a lot. It was something he had only recently gotten a hold of 5 years ago. He found other cathartic ways to deal with it. He’d gotten into reading again and collecting cigars. He’d even gotten a fucking parrot but every now and then his mind would wonder.

He’d rethink arguments and injustices and dream up something better. A desperate need to be the savior he needed for himself. The thirst for vengeance. The occurring nightmares did him no favours. Sure, he was remorseful of the violence that ensued. His treck to the top of the food chain had been bloody—sometimes unnecessarily. He was bitter for many years. Still, if Roman had no choice but to be removed from his family he would choose being a pirate always. He never wanted the life of a monarch.

This constant battle of being a fierce figurehead and a the gentlest version of himself for Jane was a catch 22. One side of him needed the other, yet his line of work contradicted the very thing he wanted to give her. How much longer could this go on? He would never out run the cruel man he used to be. But he had to make space for the man Jane needed.

The ache for her returned, dull and throbbing like a maddening tooth ache. Ever since he’d nearly left her it seemed like there was a thin long string between them. If he got too far she’d pop into his head and somehow he’d return. He’d have to head back soon. But he needed this fucking smoke.

He undressed her for her bath in his room. She was stunning while clothed and even more stunning naked. It seemed quite redundant after the intensity of their discussion. However she seemed to be fairly comfortable. He kissed her intensely before he left, he could still feel it on his mouth. He liked the way she used his space, it made the cabin feel “lived in”. He could see himself shutting out the world and imagining the captain's quarters as a house on land. She’d be busy doing tasks around the space like a house. There would not be a roaring sea outside and he’d have her all to himself. He would soon suggest the idea of her moving her things into his cabin. There was no use in being apart.

He turned around to look at the boat, realizing he had strayed further away than he should have. He threw his cigar in the sand and squashed it with his foot. He watched the embers burn out in the sand. A distant yell snaps him out of his thoughts.

He can see Thomas stumbling backwards in the distance before getting up and lunging forward. Maybe a fight broke out? Roman starts a light jog back to the boat. Another yell and Adhar appears to be swinging his sword around—fighting? Roman was sprinting now. He dreaded the thought of secret attack but how? They were in the middle of nowhere.

He ran to the other side of the boat to find Thomas sparing with what could only be described as a skeleton. A skeleton?

“ Don’t just stand there! It’s strong !”, Thomas choked. It took Roman a moment to actually process what he was looking at. Not even the creatures in the prison confused him this much. The Skeleton had its forearm pressed against Thomas's neck. Roman grabbed the back of its head and swung it effortlessly to the ground. The bones shattered apart. The two just stand there panting while looking at the pile of bones.

“ How the fuck did you manage to let a skeleton choke you?”, Roman turned to Thomas.

Thomas rubbed his sore throat. “ I’m telling you it was kind of strong. And it’s bones hurt. Bloody thing got me while my back was turned”, he hissed. Suddenly Thomas’s eyes widened. Roman turns around to find that the skeleton had reanimated. This time he pulled out his sword and slashed across it’s sternum with his sword, causing it to fall again.

“ Bloody hell….”, Roman groaned as the Skeleton made yet another attempt and rebuild itself.

“ Just keep it discombobulated. It can’t hurt you if it can’t put itself back together”, he gave his sword to Thomas and stalked back to the ramp.

The top deck was hell. Pirates' backs were being ridden by skeletons in Tang dynasty armor. Rory blasted through a group of skeletons with a roar sending bone parts flying everywhere. Adhar was sword fighting with two skeletons at the same time. Williams fought at the edge of the ship sending bones flying into the sand. Caden used a femur as a weapon warding off approaching skeletons. Each time a skeleton was knocked down they’d reanimate and come back for more.

“ Anybody got a fucking match ?”, Williams yelled with a pipe in his mouth flying a bone down the beach.

“ Don’t even bother they won’t burn, OUCH!”, Earl yelped as a Skeleton bit his ear.

The skeletons that managed to get on the ship held Dao’s. Some of them were rusted by sea water making sharp, rusted, jagged weapons that could potentially kill someone. That’s how Roman ended up in a fight with an armored Skeleton holding a spear. One for the story books.

Jane

She actually didn’t mean to fall asleep in his bed but he insisted that he had work to do. To her surprise she woke up to yelling. She quickly grabbed her pistol off Roman’s table and busted the French doors open to find utter chaos. Skeletons were everywhere and they were angry? Roman fought somewhere in the middle of the deck, throwing Skeleton heads in the air and kicking them off the boat.

An especially tall Skeleton in thick black armor came stomping towards her. Her eyes widened and she lifted her gun at its head, shooting at it in three short bursts. She shot the head, chest and pelvis. It paused looking at her momentarily before collapsing onto itself. Roman turned around, nose flared in a heavy irritation. He storms over to her.

“ Get back in there and close the door”, he hissed.

“ What ?! No. I just killed that thing. It looks like you guys need the help!”, she gawked.

“ It’s not safe t-— wait”, Roman punched the head off a skeleton creeping up behind Jane.

“ They’re trying to stab people with rusty knives. I’ll be damned if you die because a bag of bones shanked you. Go back into my room and lock the door”, Roman demanded. Another Skeleton attempted to swipe at Jane with a spear. He snatched the spear from the Skeleton’s arms causing the bones to disconnect from it. Now an armless Skelton was trying to bite him.

“ I’m fighting. We talked about this. You said I was perfectly capable of defen— HEY!”, Jane scoffs as Roman picks her and throws her over his shoulder like a bag of flour. She scrambles against his hold, beating against his back but it’s pointless.

Roman storms through the French doors and plops her on the bed. She takes a pillow and throws it at him. When she realizes he’s heading for the door she sprints after him. She's a second slower than him and he manages to trap her inside.

Roman

He wraps his belt around the double door handles and places a sword in between them to prevent her escape. He can hear her yelling and beating from the other side.

“ William!”

“ Aye Cap’n?”, he turns to Roman, face drenched with sweat.

“ Do not let Jane leave that room. Do not let anything enter that room. She can’t come out.”

“ Aye”, William stalked over to the door with a pistol standing in front of it.

“ JACKASS!!”, she shouts from the other side of the door.

10 minutes into this “fight” a skeleton had actually managed to slash the skin on his arm. It did nothing but piss him off more. Thomas had retreated back onto the boat with a Skeleton biting his ankle like one of those rat terriers.

“ We need to get off this bloody island!” Adhar yelled in exhaustion. There were over 100 Skeletons reanimating themselves with some rising from the under the sand, crawling from the rotten boat and even coming out of the tree line.

“ Fuck this. Raise the sails. Cortez! Get us out!” Roman yelled, pushing another skeleton down the side of the boat.

They made sail again, throwing the bones overboard. The reanimated bones on the shoreline tried following the boat but fell apart once the water reached their knees. What was left of the skeletons was dumped in the water.

The men sat there panting on the wind deck. This was somehow the perfect way to end a shitty day. Some of them had bite marks, cuts and bruises. Others just looked disheveled.

“ Let me out of here you NOW!!”, he heard Jane screech from the other side of the door. Roman painfully peeled himself from the floor and untied the French doors. Jane swung the door open and pushed Roman. He barely stumbled. Her eyes widened when she saw his arm.

“ You’re hurt”, she held his arm.

“ Just a scratch”.

“ You’re bleeding onto the fucking floor. Earl!.”, She pulled him inside the cabin and sat him down.

Earl came and assessed his arm.“Superficial though I’m sure very uncomfortable. You won’t need any stitches; the cut was clean. Why don’t we get you an astringent, some ointment and a bandage?”

“ I can help him. Why don’t you go relax Earl. I’m sure it’s been a long day for you.”

Earl thanked her and gave her the wound supplies before leaving, likely to go assess his own bite. After a quick wash up, Roman sat at the table with Jane on her knees, pressed witch hazel against the wound. She rinsed it cleaned and dabbed bag balm on the very top.

“ You know you might not have gotten than cut if you actually let me help”, she sighed wrapping his arm with a bandage.

“ It was no big deal.”

“ Oh really? If it was no big deal then why didn’t you let me help?”, she bit.

“ Rusty. knives.”

“ I don’t. care”, she mimicked.

Jane rolled her eyes and sat the bandage roll on the table. Roman unexpectedly pulled her forward in between his legs, leaning over her just inches above her face.

Roman smirked. “ Have I ever told you how cute you are when you’re mad?”

He leaned down and kissed her mouth firmly in a long hum. She stiffened and then softened, swatting at his chest as he pulled away. He chuckled at the pout on her face.

“ You’re not funny”, she whined with annoyance.

“ Maybe not but I have to admit, after all the shit that happened today I never guessed I would be nearly stabbed by a dead guy.”

“ Well…that thing did say that other creatures won’t want us to have the key . I just hope nothing else comes up. Nothing we can’t handle at least”, Jane sighed.

“ Whatever it is we will get through it.”

“ Not if you lock me away”, she frowns.

“ Alright fine. Next time I promise but not if I sense your imminent death.”

“ Fine but you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

“ How ?”

“ I don’t know.”

“ I could always give you a kiss.”

“ You just gave me a kiss?”

“ Not that kind of kiss darling.”

She yawns in an exaggerated manner. “ Maybe with breakfast. I’m exhausted.” She stands putting the pound supplies back in the aid kit.

“ Then… I bid you a goodnight Miss Ramlal.”

“ Good night you stubborn ass”, she drawled on her way to the door.

“ One of these days you’re going to have to move your things in with mine. it’s only right ”, he called back to her.

“ In the midst of you making it up to me, maybe you’ll give me your proposition”, she winked at the door before turning the corner.

Roman accepted that challengeand went to bed with a stiff cock.

Jane

Thanks to her nap earlier she was up tonight. She read, she had a snack, she even tried on new dresses she got back in Port Plado before they left. She was bored. It also didn’t help that ever since their exchange she’d thought alot about that “convincing”. She should have taken the offer.

A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. She gets up pulling on her robe and answers the door. Roman is standing there wish disheveled hair, opened shirt, just trousers.

“ May I come in ?” He asks quietly.

“ Of course”, she moved over to let him sit on her bed.

“ How’d you know I was awake?”

“ I could see a light under your door.”

“ Oh. Right ”, she smiled pulling her robe around herself.

“ feeling okay ?”

“ yes I’m fine. Just a bit restless”, she looked at his trousers and could see a dint. Her belly flipped in excitement but she tried to hide it. He seemed tired.

“May I…..touch you ?”

Fuck it…

“ Ye—-.” before she can even finish the word he ambushes her, covering her mouth with his mouth. He pushes up her dress. They fell backwards on the bed. He pins her left leg to her stomach, keeping her open to reveal her glistening center. He licks three fingers and places them at her clit swirling them in tight firm circles. Her eyes nearly cross as her head falls back. He's so big she can’t close her legs. He props her other leg over his shoulder for better access. She has to cover her mouth from the sudden stimulation. She’s audibly wet which gives away the arousal she’s had for the last few hours. He pulls back to spit on her cunt and then resumes with those firm circles.

“ Roman ”, she sighs.

“Jane”, he mocks quietly.

“ What are you doing ?”, she asks lazily. She knew exactly what but her mind didn’t have enough time to calculate the last 30 seconds.

“ You really do have such a pretty cunt”, he grunted against her mouth. She just sighs softly against them, closing her eyes and relishing in the warmth of his fingers.

“ I’ve been thinking about how it tastes ever since that night. I told you…there are so many ways to get my point across. You haven’t an inkling on what truly satisfies me. I can’t be satifised- won’t be satisfied, unless I can see you crumble in my fucking hands.” His tone was rough and sharper than usual. She didn’t mind it at all. He pulls back to gently but firmly slap her cunt and it ignites all of her pleasure centers. She gasps, Instinctively closing her legs. To no avail she remains wide open to him. Her back bends off the bed as he continues rubbing her clit.

“ Stay right there. You’re doing such a good job”, he whispered. She’s whimpering behind her hand now. He looks down to see a sticky arousal forming around his fingers.

“ You see, if you were in my bed you could yell as loud as you want. Think about that next time because I plan on doing this again”, he sucked her neck. Her eyes rolled around her skull as she gripped his bicep. She can feel her nails biting into his skin. It just makes his hand move faster.

“ Roman…sensitive”, she warned.

“ I hope you know that you’re not getting up from under me until you’re properly ruined”, he chuckles darkly. He flashes his teeth and he can see another dreadful wave of arousal come over her features.

“ You’re not ready to go all the way, that’s fine. I can take that. Take all the time you need but I will watch you cum. Whether I do it for you or you do it yourself. I will watch you shatter every single time Jane”, he murmured against her temple. Her brows scrunch and her lips tremble into a pout as she feels herself coming close to the edge. A true delirium was seeping in as she neared her impending climax. That stage where she’d do or say anything to cum. No matter how bat shit crazy it was. She’d recite the Spanish alphabet if it meant he kept going.

“ Yes ...yes only you—make me come”, she whined hazily. Her entire body had broken out into a light sweat. Properly wanton and consumed by desire. Not caring about her appearance. Raw pleasure.

“ Only me, yes. Say it again”, he says with another quick slap to her cunt.

“ Onl-Oh fuuckk”, she squeaked.

“ Tell me all the filth going on in your head right now. Tell me and I’ll lick you a bit. Tell me what you were thinking about before I came in here”, he taunts in her ear.

“ Y-your tongue. Your shouldersss-shit!”, she moaned.

“ What a good girl you are..”, he pulls away and laps at her clit. His tongue is pleasantly cooler than her heated sensitive skin, which gives her a gush of relief. Yet as quickly as she relaxed, she tensed up at the feeling of his tongue. It poked, flicked, lapped and dipped at the entirety of her cunt, pushing her closer to her release. She was seconds away from coming undone right then but he pulled away to watch her sex. She’s drenched down to the sheets. The longer he prolongs her pleasure the wetter she gets. He licks into her awaiting mouth.

“ You like my tongue?”, he mumbles against her lips.

“ Yes I love it I love it love it”, she chants desperately into the quiet of his mouth. His fingers become more frantic.

He shuts her up here and there with lip locks, sucking on her tongue to keep her at bay. Or he’d pull away just to rest his forehead on hers and watch the way her face breaks up and contorts. H finds her devastating in the height of pleasure—a feast for the eyes. He kisses her forehead as she hiccups underneath him, becoming desperate for reprieve.

“ More ?”, he asks her. She neither nods nor denies, just stares at him with pleading eyes. He pulls his hand away.

“ Open your mouth and say it”, he says firmly.

“ Yes please”, she gushes desperately.

She bucks her hips. He takes his thumb into his mouth, sucks it and places it right on her clit, swirling in fast circles now. Her pleasure becomes more narrowed and more precise. Her head falls back but he uses his other hand to pull the back of her head up, forcing her to look at him.

“ Right here. Right at me”, he says. Forehead to forehead she can see his pupils dilate.

“ I’m- I- I ”, she whimpers. Her words fail her. She’s so close she can taste it.

“ Shh. Just give it to me darling”, he soothed shushing her.

She felt it was her duty to describe to him how good this felt. How mad she was driving her. She almost pitied him for not being able to feel this intensely. So good so…

“ Look at that. So… wet. You see what happens when you keep from it. It’s weeping Jane”, he taunts.

God his fingers... Holy shit his fucking fingers. In her right mind she’d debate if they were better than his tongue. She can only nod as her eyes roll into the back her skull drunkenly. Just what he wanted.

She fists the front of his shirt stretching it towards her, closing the rest of the distance between them.

“ I’m going to cum”, she croaks out in a panic from the force of which she can feel her orgasm sprinting towards her. She imagines it like a train. This would be a big one —just as big as the party if not bigger. She holds onto his wrist in an attempt to brace herself. Eyes wide and filled with worry and desire. There were over 100 pirates just outside that door and the only thing on her mind was how hard she was about to come.

And then her orgasm briefly paused in it’s pursuit of her and she was frozen at her peak for seconds longer than she’s used to. She wants to screech at the intensity. It was agonizing. It was deliciously agonizing. Her climax had her by her throat and it was nearly unbearable.

“ Go ahead, Dove. Don’t need my permission”, Roman whispered softly.

And his words dislodge any delays and fuck her mind. What follows is nothing but pure ecstasy. She contemplates pushing against his chest or biting him to withstand the force. All she can muster up is the bend of her back off the bed. He smashes his mouth to hers but there’s no need. The release is so intense she can barely make a sound. Her hearing gives out and the room fills with dots.

“ Breathe”, he whispers. She goes limp from the lack of air she denied herself.Seconds later he pulls his hand away.

The moment a gust of air pushes past her mouth he eats it, swallowing it down for himself and pulling her into a dizzying sloppy wet kiss. She’s panting heavily looking at him like a crazed man. Then they both look down to see her drenched center glistening against the lantern light.

“ Inside, okay ?”, He asks. She nods.

He gently takes two fingers and pushes them inside of her, feeling her slippery release. The squelch of his fingers brings an inner warmth to her cheeks that thankfully can’t be seen. He then pulls them out and watches her intently as he sucks on them. He attempts to swipe at her clit with his thumb again but she bucks against him, shaking her head in warning. Too much.

He chuckles at her expression and looks down hungrily between her legs. He takes a moment to pull those lips apart to see the wet inside of her. She's pulsating, flashes of her climax still seizing her flesh. He pulls his hand away to grab her chin and kiss her. She groans, feeling the heat nearly return to her core from him.

“ Can you taste yourself on my tongue ?”

She nods almost dumbly. Did she have room for another orgasm?

“ I like the way you taste. If I was in a crueler mood I’d pin you to this bed and eat your cunt until you started wailing. Push you past the point of sensitivity. I’ll save it for another day.”

She’s gobsmacked. Center out and he just looks back down at her.

“ I’m just getting one last look before I go into my cabin and tug on my cock with my fingers in my mouth”, he says in the most casual tone.

She can still see a tint in pants. He begins to pull away.

“ You…you could do it here”, she pants. He pauses.

She leans forward and grabs him through his pants. His eyes closed slowly as if he was hoping she wouldn’t.

“ You said—.”

“ There are other ways, you said so yourself.”

“ Are you sure you’re ready for that ?”

“ I am.”

“ Absolutely sure ?”, he presses.

“ Yes I’m absolutely sure”, she drawls.

“Okay. If you want me to stop, just say the word.”, he slowly reached down to his pants and pulled them down to his knees. He was bare under his trousers which caused his length to pop out and hit his belly button. Her eyes widened.

The length alone was just as concerning as was the girth. She was happy to have chosen a patient man because she would need it. But it was perfect. Tawny colored, with a thick vein in the center underneath. The head was flushed and wet with his own arousal. He took off his shirt. She noticed a slight curve to it when she reached forward and pulled him towards her. His skin was hot and throbbing, twitching in her hand. It almost made her giggle with how reactive his body seemed to her touch.

She pulled her hand away, dipping her hands between her still soaked thighs and spread it onto the base of him. His head fell back, looking at the ceiling in restraint. “Christ, fuck”, he spat. She moved her hand up and down his length.

“ You can fuck my hand…”, she giggled. Something about the sentence seemed silly to her but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he eagerly took her invitation, drawing his hips back to his tip and pushing into her hand. His eyes moved back and forth, up and down her body. She licked her other palm and pressed it firmly around his base, allowing him to use both of her hands..

Truthfully she needed two hands for his length alone. He went faster, which caused the bed to shift resulting in her bouncing. Her breasts bounced up and down with each thrust which nearly sent him over the edge.

He became more eager. It was so obvious he wanted a quick release and she was happy to give that to him. She looked down to see the squelch of arousal in her hand as his cock appeared and reappeared around her fist.

She reached down carefully and cupped his balls. Roman took a fist between his teeth as she massaged them slowly. His composure broke.

“ Tell me where you want it”, he huffed, thrusting into her fist like a cunt.

“ You decide”, she grinned mischievously up at him.

He came with a grunt and settled for her stomach and breasts. His release shocked her. It was the most beautiful thing to see him come undone. It didn’t push her away, it drew her in. The way every muscle in his body seemed to get bigger, the way his stomach contracted, the way his mouth hung open, his eyes, the grunting. She loved every single moment of it. It took her a few moments to notice the wetness between her chest and on her breasts. She looked down and swiped his arousal off her nipple with her finger, placing it in her mouth. He visibly shuddered.

“ You taste really good”, she smiled up at him. He leaned down for another kiss.

She no longer needed any convincing.

————

Hey guys I’m back and feeling better. New chapter by Sunday at the latest.

#spotify #roman reigns #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader #the tribal chief #wwe #wwe smackdown #pirate au #roman reigns au #the head of the table

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jerzwriter · 1 year

Text

A Mother's Journal - Part 3

Book: Wake the Dead (pre-series)

Characters: Eli Sipes, F!OC (Florence Sipes)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence, cursing, mentions of death

Series: A Mother’s Journal

Category: Series - Angst with some fluff

Summary: Florence is learning how to mother two young men in a world she still doesn't understand. It ends with one afternoon she and Eli share together, one where they encounter danger but also a deeper understanding.

Words: 1593 (plus journal entries)

A/N: Hey there. I wanted to take this through the time Eli was twenty, but it would have been entirely too long. This series is meant to give a mother's perspective but also to give the reader a glimpse of Eli's life before Wake the Dead began. To explore the latter more thoroughly, the next part of this story will be a mini-series, Coming up Blank. It will cover a pivotal point in the boy's life, then the last part of A Mother's Journal will lead to the end of the story of Eli's family. Thank you to all who are reading! :)

Series Masterlist WTD Masterlist Full Masterlist

Spring 2031

Florence took a deep breath. Spring. Rebirth. Renewal. For a moment, she allowed herself to recall springs of years long gone. The feeling was only secondary to falling in love, she once believed. And in some small ways, it still was: warmer weather, longer days, and watching the flowers bloom was magical. But today, spring also meant drones returning in droves. They could go an entire month without a sighting in the winter, but once spring arrived, that luxury ended.

She caught a glimpse of Eli relaxing on the porch as she began to prepare dinner. Seeing her eldest at peace was so lovely, so she put dinner aside and decided to join him.

“Whatcha doing there?” she asked with a bright smile as she stepped outside.

“Just whittling,” he shrugged.

But peace never lasted long in this world, not even on a perfect spring day, and today was no exception. A hideous snarling sound seemed to surround them. Florence grabbed her pistol; but couldn’t determine where it was coming from. The stench of decaying flesh became more pronounced, so she knew it was near. She gasped in horror when she turned to find the creature’s oozing, mangled arm wrapped around her son’s torso. Eli was a soldier in this world, and it was rare to hear fear in his voice. But his whittling knife wasn’t doing a thing to stop the assault, and when he felt thick ichor dripping down his neck, he knew this could be his end.

“MA!” His voice was a primal scream, one he instantly regretted it. Loud noise could attract more drones, leaving his mother alone to defend herself, and he wouldn’t forgive himself for that. He furiously struggled to break free when there was an explosion in his ear. Just before the monster sunk its dripping fangs into her son’s shoulder, Florence put a bullet through its head.

“Not on my fucking watch!” she spat, pulling Eli up front the ground. “Do you hear me! Not on my watch!”

She wanted to drop everything and hold her “baby” close, but Eli grabbed his bow, and the two sprung to action. Survival first, emotions later, and they had a perimeter to check to ensure this one didn’t bring any buddies along.

Once confident the area was secured, they retreated to the cabin, where Florence took a shuddering breath. But she had one more task to complete before she could even think of settling her tattered nerves.

“Eli,” she started.

“I know. You have to check me.”

Her blood went cold at his words, making reality hit. This had been her greatest fear, finding a bite or a scratch on one of her boys. The dreaded “rule number three.” She doubted she’d be able to do it, and as she faced the real possibility for the first time, her heart felt like it could explode, which would be preferred over finding so much as a scratch on her son. But luckily, he had none.

Pulling him close and breaking into tears, Eli felt his body stiffen at first. He had never seen his mother break down like this. He had seen her sad, angry, and afraid, but this was different. At that moment, a right of passage occurred. He realized his parents weren’t superheroes who handled all the madness with aplomb. Instead, they were people, scared and frightened people who did the impossible. And though he never thought it possible, he now loved them even more. Enveloping her in his arms, they both fell to the floor, shaken.

“Eli, that’s the closest one’s ever been to you…” she sobbed, “if I hadn’t come out to see you….”

“But you did, Mom,” he said, staring intently into her eyes. “I’m here. I’m fine.”

Florence looked Eli over once more and smiled… they were safe. At least at this moment, they were safe.

“Go,” she pat his cheek gently. “Go wash all that gross crap off of you. I’ll keep watch until Dad and David are back home.”

“You sure?”

“Unless you want to sit around in zombie guts….”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I think I’ll shower.”

“Good choice,” she grinned, leaning over to pick his blood-stained clothes off the floor; they had to be put outside until they could be washed. Three small wooden stars fell out of his pocket as she picked up his pants. She took them in her hand and eyed them, vividly recalling them on the outside table just before the attack. They must have been important, she thought, if that’s the first thing he grabbed.

Shortly after, Eli entered the kitchen, drying his hair with a large cloth. Florence placed a steaming bowl before him as he plopped into a chair.

“I made your stew.”

Eli grinned brightly, and her seventeen-year-old son looked just like her little boy again. “You’re such a mom,” he teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If we’re celebrating? You make me food. If I’m sad? You make me food. Survive a zombie attack….”

“When in doubt, you go with what you know.”

Eli hummed with delight as he put a spoonful in his mouth, and Florence noticed his eyes lingering on the wooden stars lying on the kitchen table.

“They fell out of your pocket. I knew they must be important to you if you grabbed them, even before you grabbed your weapon.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

She wanted to ask more, but she knew her son, and pushing was the one way she could ensure he’d never open up.

“They’re for Nessa,” he volunteered after a few moments of silence. “Her birthday is coming, and you know how she loves stars. So I thought I’d make her a bunch. This way, she can have them, even during the day, or there aren’t any in the sky.”

“That is so sweet, Eli. I’m sure she’ll love that.”

Once again, silence filled the air, and once again, she didn’t dare to ask more. Then, she heard a clang as Eli’s spoon dropped into his bowl.

“Mom… can I ask you something?” he asked with urgency.

“Of course, anything.”

“How did you know? With you and Dad… how did you know… it was him?”

“Well,” she sighed. “It didn’t happen all at once, but in a way, it did. It was his first day at school after his family moved to town, and I wanted him to feel welcomed. But when we started talking, we just hit it off. Within no time, we were best friends, inseparable.”

“So, you knew that quickly?”

“Oh, no. We were very young and… well… we were just friends at first. But we started getting older, and….”

“Ma, please, no details,” he cringed.

“Relax,” she laughed, giving his shoulder a shrug. “I’m not going to tell you about the make-out sessions your dad and I used to have.”

She laughed more heartily when he threw his head into his hands with a groan.

“OK, I’ll stop,” she assured.

“But… you knew… right? You knew you wanted to be with him… as more than friends.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I did.”

Eli’s face twisted as he swallowed, speaking again with an almost pained voice.

“How do you know if it happens?”

“Oh, Eli,” she sympathized, touching his hand. “It’s unmistakable when it happens. You’d know it.”

He lowered his head, gently retrieving his hand.

“Should I feel that way about Nessa?” he whispered.

“There is no should when it comes to these things, you will either feel it or you won’t, son.”

“But it’s not likely that I will meet anyone else.”

“No. It’s not impossible, but you’re right, it's improbable that you will. Does… she feel that way about you.”

Eli shrugged and looked out the window; the sky was beginning to turn to dusk.

“I don’t know. She feels like I do, I think.”

“And how is that?”

“She’s my best friend, and I love her… but I don’t love her, and I feel like I should.”

“Oh, honey,” she sighed. “If the world was the way it should be, you and Nessa would have so many people to choose from. But here….”

“It’s probably inevitable,” he said. “And it could be worse. At least we’re best friends; we care about each other….”

“There are worse ways to start,” Florence replied wistfully.

“But when we kissed,” he blurted before his eyes went wide with horror when he realized what he had just said. Embarrassed, he jumped up from the table, but his mother took his arm.

“Eli, I’m not going to press you on that, and you don’t have to be embarrassed. Not with me. We don’t have to talk about it anymore, but I'm here if you ever want to.”

“Thanks, ma,” he sighed.

“And don’t be so hard on yourself. You don’t have to figure this out tonight, tomorrow, or even this year. Just… just keep loving each other as friends. That’s the most important thing. If more is meant to happen, it will.”

They turned toward the window when they heard footsteps approaching. Both reached for their weapons, then Florence breathed a sigh of relief when they saw David and Jim returning.

“Oh, thank God,” she sighed.

Eli jumped up from the table to greet them, eager to end the conversation.

“Thanks, Mom,” he half smiled before walking away. But after a few steps, he stopped in his tracks and turned around. “And Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“You were badass today.”

“Thank you,” she chuckled. “You’re pretty badass, too.”

A/N 2: Thanks for reading. The next part will explore Eli and Nessa's relationship, and we'll also learn more about his brother David and Nessa's brother, Brady. Again, thanks for reading!

Perma: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations

WTD Only: @kyra75 @cariantha @lilyoffandoms @missameliep

@choicesficwriterscreations Day 4 Self-Reflection

#wake the dead #wake the dead choices #eli sipes #choices fanfic #wake the dead fanfic

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closingwaters · 11 months

Text

PARTIES: @rhythmicmeow @closingwaters

SUMMARY: Teagan crosses paths with a hellhound on her run, and lucky for her Leticia also shares that habit and stepped in with her spirit to help. Teagan then patches Leticia up with some spice at the end.

TIMING: Current

WARNINGS: None

Sunset was both the best and the worst time to go running. The temperature of the town went down as Leticia’s pulse went up, but the shadows grew longer and more unusual. Things in Wicked’s Rest were never as they seemed, and as the shadows grew closer, Leticia ran faster, the fear of what might be lurking darkness was an excellent motivator. The monsters she conjured in her mind that were following her were nothing compared to reality.

In the silence between songs, Leticia heard a growling sound. Low and menacing, but far enough away that, while her heart rate spiked, she reasonably convinced herself that she could turn around and avoid the danger all together. Pivoting with every intention of running back home and ending things early, she heard another sound. Not the same growling threat, but a person.

Leticia pulled out her headphones and listened closely, losing her control on the balam spirit to heighten her senses. A woman. And a werewolf? No. That sound was different. As she sorted what she thought it was, Leticia was running in the direction of the fighting, knowing full well that whatever that woman was fighting, it wasn’t a normal dog.

The winter breeze was absent, taken hostage by the late spring air that was easy to accept. Warmer weather meant it was easier to withstand getting in and out of the lake with no bite to attack Teagan as she stepped out. With a sigh, she slipped on her running shoes, placing her phone in her pocket. She played classical music with a higher tempo on speaker, enough to give her a workout, but not so much as to wear her out too quickly. No need for something so physically demanding when the run was meant for leisure.

The nix’s heart was pounding as the run went on, the exertion forcing it to peak. Until, suddenly, Teagan’s heterochromic eyes fell onto something dark. Her stride came to an abrupt halt and glowing red orbs stared back with a growl. Teagan struggled to stop her music, dropping the phone just as quickly as she clicked the pause button.

The creature was large. A canine. A hellhound. “Fuck,” She whispered harshly to herself.

All she had was her knife, which she took out, wielding it tightly. Push came to shove, Teagan had her claws too, and she’d make it all work. She had no other choice, it seemed. The hound was already lunging toward her, landing it atop Teagan as they both thrashed on the ground, fighting for control.

Fuck. The woman’s voice carried and Leticia started rehearsing the game plan in her mind, hoping against all the odds that the jaguar would hold onto those last thoughts before she let it have full control. It didn’t take her long to find the woman and the beast. The hellhound’s focus was solely on the woman on the ground, she was skilled with a knife. No, it was more than that, she looked like she knew what she was doing and what she was fighting.

Tossing her phone to the ground and a failsafe for the woman in case the jaguar was less than cooperative after, “Hold him there! And try not to move around too much!” It was all Leticia could think to warn before running full speed towards the beast. The hellhound made eye contact with Leticia moments before an animalistic roar tore through her throat. The jaguar took her place seamlessly, paws replacing the hands she had outreached moments earlier, both landing on the side of the hellhound, gripping deep into the flesh of the other beast.

The jaguar moved carefully, circling in tandem with the hellhound. For now, her predator focus was directed at the hellhound, and not the woman nearby.

The hellhound caught whiff of the animal sizing it up, growl catching in its throat as its eyes locked onto the giant feline. It wasn’t a hitch out of fear as far as Teagan could tell from her perspective on the ground, the hound’s heavy paw burning into her chest. If anything, it looked perplexed and maybe even a little excited at the prospect of a fight with another animal.

Teagan seemed all but forgotten as the paw on her chest moved away and walked away. Confused, she flipped over on her stomach and saw what caught the hound’s attention. “A…is that a jaguar…?” Teagan asked herself, a bit perplexed. A ferocious bark echoed out of the hellhound’s chest, hackles raised. The nix groaned quietly, thankful for the moment of reprieve that the feline gave her. Hopefully it wouldn’t find her appetizing enough to change focus, though.

Each step the jaguar too had purpose, drawing an invisible circle in the area around them as it paced, analyzing the movements of the hellhound, waiting for a weakness to present itself. This was no typical beast that she was facing, this was a challenge that required precision and patience, and the jaguar had plenty to spare. It had been too long since she had run through the forests and hunted.

Lunging towards the other creature, the jaguar swiped with its claws, attempting to cut the hellhounds flesh on its shoulder. She landed on her paws next to the woman, roaring a warning to the hellhound — and a taunt. It should run away if it wanted to live. But that would make it cowardly. Her head turned toward the woman, she wasn’t a threat, but the jaguar bore her teeth at her anyway. A warning for her too.

Fear during battle wasn’t uncommon. A real warrior used it to their advantage, took it as an energy and repurposed it. What Teagan was experiencing though, was vastly different than one’s usual, run in the mill fear. It was abject terror. Fighting people was one thing, but how in Fates would she fend off a jaguar once the hellhound either ran off or died in battle?

Supernatural or not, the feline seemed vastly worse. Then Teagan remembered…wasn’t there a woman that called out just before the jaguar pounced? Where was she? She had told the fae to hold the hellhound in place, and then poof, beast. There was no fear in the tone either. Teagan could only guess that the stranger was either controlling it from afar or was the jaguar itself.

With a swallow, Teagan crawled backwards, watching the two beasts compete in their battle of wits. It felt like hours by the time the hellhound’s growls died in its throat and it began to back away. The nix let out a silent breath, thankful that the situation might grow calm.

It was akin to a dance. The two beasts move with intent and ferocity, but like most couple dances, eventually someone had to give way to let the other lead. The jaguar was relentless, identifying weak spot after weak spot and with laser precision, hitting those marks. During this dance, she had carved out her territory, pushing the hellhound back over an invisible line and then attacking only when the hellhound crossed it.

The lesson was short, the hellhound had been worn down from the intensity of the battle and the jaguar showed no signs of relenting. The only hope to survive this encounter was to flee it, and the beast did just that. She sat on the other side of her invisible line, watching the other beast sulk off into the shadows. The woman sitting on the ground had not been forgotten, the jaguar turned her head and investigated her from afar.

She had made no moves toward the jaguar during the battle, in fact, she had slowly moved back. Sniffing dramatically, the jaguar kept her head high, accepting the submission of the woman. Satisfied with the work that had been done, the beast stretched her limbs and sprawled out on the ground. The transformation was slow, the jaguar didn’t like giving up control all at once, she gave it back in pieces and enjoyed the sun on her coat while she drew it out.

Minutes passed before Leticia was the one on the ground. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she winced. The wounds weren’t deep or threatening, but her body ached. The woman. The worries she had before the transformation came in a wave. She whipped her head around. “You’re still here?” Her mind was still buzzing with adrenaline, her words tumbled out quickly, pausing barely long enough to breathe between her words. “Are you okay? That was really dangerous. Are you hurt?”

Teagan’s eyes widened, unable to tear away from the transformation taking place in front of her. She’d heard of people holding two spirits in one body, but never had she bore witness to such beauty. It was mesmerizing, and had it not been for the wounds on the woman’s body, Teagan likely would have made a move—a subtle one, of course. But such a moment called for focus, and the nix wouldn’t lose it.

“You’re hurt.” She whispered, rolling her lips over her teeth nervously. “I can help you. My-my cabin isn’t far from here.” Teagan took a deep breath, standing up slowly with her hands up to show she meant no harm. “Or we can stay here. Whatever makes you feel…safer.” And didn’t unleash the jaguar again. As helpful as it was with getting rid of the hellhound, the beastly feline certainly looked at her as if it could change its mind at any given moment.

“And, um—” Teagan pressed down her cuticles nervously, standing in place until she was told she could move closer. “My name is Teagan. I’m—I’m fae. So…your secret is safe too. Can’t have humans knowing we exist all willy-nilly.”

The wounds could have been worse, Leticia had thought to say, but the truth was that worse would have been dead. Hellhounds were not known for their mercy when someone encroached on their territory. And with the adrenaline blinding all her normal senses, maybe it was worse than she currently felt. “A little,” she admitted sheepishly, waiting for the penny to drop.

This woman had seen her transform, had watched the entirety of the battle, and kept a wide birthe. All natural responses, but would she keep the secret out of fear or respect? Or would this end up as another whisper in the streets of Wicked’s Rest? All things that she should have considered before jumping into the fire. The expressions of surrender didn’t satisfy Leticia in the way it was likely intended. A bubble of guilt and concern threatened to spill out in an apology, but she swallowed the words. Not wanting to show any weakness.

But she was a fae. The tension in Leticia’s shoulders dropped. Exhaling, she nodded. “Your cabin would be an excellent place.” Better for both of them. The hellhound was gone for now, but that didn’t mean this location was safe or private. “I’m Leticia,” she offered, slowly pushing herself off the ground and finding her balance. “And,” Leticia paused, trying not to laugh at herself for almost thanking her like she had Siobhan. “I appreciate your help.”

The relief, the way the weight rolled off of Leticia’s shoulders made Teagan smile wistfully. Being saved from a painful demise wasn’t a common occurrence, but even she knew that begged some sort of reward. “Pleasure, Leticia.” The name felt funny on Teagan’s tongue, Latine names not something she was used to. She did her best, though and found that she quite liked the name. It was pretty, making it almost a pity that she owed Leticia a favor.

“I owe you,” Teagan closed the distance and pulled the woman’s arm over her shoulders. “If I ever do anything—ow…” The nix winced. In the midst of all her wonder and awe, she had forgotten about her own wounds. She almost let out a chuckle, but another sting of pain forced a small yelp out instead. “Sorry. I’m okay. Just a little pain.” Her smile was reassuring, and she helped Leticia begin the trek to the cabin as she talked.

“Keep the favor or don’t. It’s up to you. But it’s there. You didn’t have to help me and you did. Promises and favors are important to fae, so I hope you cherish it.” Teagan could see the cabin in the distance, and she readjusted her hold on Leticia, ensuring she wouldn’t fall.

“Just a little more. Are you doing okay?”

Leticia’s gut reaction was to say that Teagan didn’t owe her anything, the idea of being owed anything or owing anything herself had always felt odd. But her thoughts were interrupted when Teagan expressed her own pain. Concern coupled with a frown touched her features. “It’s a good thing we’re both headed toward safety then,” she commented lightly, trying to dampen the extreme emotions that were coming as the adrenaline wore off.

Steadying her breathing, Leticia was quiet as Teagan explained that the favor was owed and it was up to her if she accepted it or not. Again, her first thought was that she didn’t want a favor, she didn’t like the idea of anyone binding themselves to her, especially after her own accidental binding. But the way it was presented to her now as vastly different from her first impression. It was, as Teagan had said something to be cherished.

“I won’t abuse it.” Though Leticia was appreciative and didn’t want to offend Teagan by disregarding it, she wanted to make sure that Teagan knew she could be trusted with this.

Leticia nodded her head in response, “I’m good,” she replied. “Glad you stayed, actually. I figured you would have cleared out as soon as we were distracted.”

“Glad I stayed, too.” Leticia was far from the typical person. Sure, many people took heed of warnings when it came to the sanctity of fae deals, but there was something about using the word abuse. Leticia made her intentions clear, which wasn’t something Teagan was used to from a stranger. It made her chest warm and sent a shiver down her spine. There was excitement there at being understood, or at the very least, respected. That was a basic principle that seemed lost, but not with Leticia, it seemed.

“All right,” Teagan groaned softly at the effort it took to walk up a small hill. Her body screamed for rest, but she needed to get Leticia cleaned up and bandaged. “We’re here.” Shifting both women’s weight, Teagan retrieved her key and unlocked the door. A homey cabin welcomed the two, plants and the smell of previously baked goods filling the space.

“Just gonna get you all cozy right here and then I’m gonna grab some supplies, okay?” Teagan helped Leticia settle onto the couch, quickly running off and returning with a cluster of different materials to help her new friend. She placed everything down on the table, and plucked a treat she tossed in with the array of supplies to get something in Leticia’s stomach. “Start munching on this, dearie. It’ll help. Then when you’re done, I’ll get to work. How’s that sound?”

Steading herself on the threshold of Teagan’s home, Leticia leaned away from the other woman, trying to spare her the weight that she had been willingly holding up the entire way here. The small noises of pain hadn’t gone missed. In one hand, worry had started to set in, wondering how much damage Teagan had been subjected to before she had come onto the scene, but in the other hand, the other woman had been honest and communicative so far, was there any reason to worry there was more damage than what could be seen? Closing her eyes, Leticia decided to trust the other to know her limits.

The door opened and as they moved again, Leticia opened her eyes and took in the inside of the cabin. It was warm and welcoming, and everything that Leticia missed about home. She took in a sharp breath as she was guided to the couch, forgetting herself for a moment in the comfortable feeling of familiarity.

The scene changed quickly, Teagan moving items around on the table and setting up supplies before handing her a snack. “Dearie?” Leticia repeated before taking a bite. “First time anyone has called me that.” There was a hint of amusement in her words. “Didn’t realize we already skipped to the nickname stage.”

Leticia was spry, of the intuitive sort, and was quick with a quip. If only the two of them had met in a club or a bar. Teagan would’ve made fast work of finding some way to steer a conversation into her bedroom, but she couldn’t do that without her conscience eating at her. Leticia needed her help, and Teagan wouldn’t turn a blind eye to her, nor would she let her own attraction distract her from her task.

But she could joke around as she worked, couldn’t she?

“Call all the cute ones dearie. Hope you don’t mind.” Teagan bit her lip, holding back a chuckle as she removed bandages from the medical box. “Now, if you’ll be so kind, dearie, please remove that blouse so I can tend to those nasty wounds.” Teagan looked away for a moment, realizing how it might sound. “I won’t stare. Just need to be able to clean them and bandage them.”

“All the cute ones?” But the comment didn’t dampen the smile on Leticia’s face. It provided a welcome distraction from the pain. Relief‌ came in more ways than one. The hint of a laugh that escaped her caused her to grimace. Her hand tightened into a fist, riding out the pain before nodding her head at the instructions, not thinking too much about it until Teagan drew attention to the words.

“I wouldn’t take you for the type,” Leticia offered before moving to remove her shirt. “A cheap trick and a treat?” She shook her head. The subtle distractions they were using to cope with the situation was one thing, but Teagan had given her no reason to doubt her integrity. So, she opted to trust her. Only time would tell if she placed her trust in the right hands, but she was confident. Without the fabric hiding the damage, she could finally see what was hurting. They weren’t fatal wounds but looking far worse than they were, Leticia still felt strange seeing her body like that. “Christ.”

The tightened fist built a pressure in the nix’s chest, brows furrowing with worry. Teagan couldn’t help herself when she reached out, cupping Leticia’s fist in her hands. “Sorry, lass. Just breathe. It��ll pass.” And it did. Teagan could tell when Leticia managed to wriggle out of her top. She helped as much as she could, guiding the garment up the balam’s arms carefully.

Leticia was right. Christ. Or rather, Fates. Her wounds looked worse upon closer inspection. Teagan winced visibly, her hands hovering with a wet cloth over one particularly bloody gash. “This might sting. Feel free to squeeze my shoulder when that happens.” Taking hold of Leticia’s hand, Teagan guided it to her shoulder, planting it firmly there before getting to work on the wounds.

With an experienced hand, Teagan wiped away the blood, closing what she could with butterfly bandages. She was surprised to see she only needed to do a few minor stitches. For a while, for the entirety of the cleanup really, Teagan wondered how often Leticia was wounded to such a degree. She had no room to judge—not that she was—but Teagan found herself wounded more often than not.

Frankly, she understood jumping in and letting her body be marked for the sake of someone’s safety. It wasn’t ever fun, but it was worth it. Did Leticia feel the same way? Was Teagan worth it? Probably not, but that didn’t matter. The cleanup was done.

“Okay. You’re right as rain—or will be. Nothing was too deep, luckily. Think you’ll just be sore for a bit.” Seeing a rogue piece of hair stuck to blood she missed on Leticia’s face, Teagan carefully pulled it away and wiped the area clean. She lingered a moment, blinking and stuttering back. “Um…do you want to rest here? Or do you need a ride home?”

The momentary comfort was unexpected, but not unwanted. Leticia focused her attention on Teagan and did her best to follow the other’s breathing pattern. It would pass. It was just a moment. Her hand was gently guided to Teagan’s shoulder, and she closed her eyes once more in preparation, not wanting to look at her directly in the eyes when the pain hit again.

There was something horrifically vulnerable about the position she was in, and Leticia hadn’t thought about it until she was gritting her teeth and avoiding Teagan’s eyes. She had done plenty of stupid things in the past, but running out to fight a hellhound for someone who could have been human was on the highest ladder of thoughtless decisions. One stitch started and her grip tightened only for her to forcibly loosen up.

As the stitches were finished, Leticia dropped her hand to her side and adjusted herself, feeling horribly stiff. “Sorry, I’m such a baby,” she laughed, the pain this time was barely bleeding through. “I don’t do this often.” Teagan moved closer to move the hair from her face and Leticia paused, watching her carefully. “Getting stitches I mean. Well, and fighting wild animals. Not my lifelong hobby, so.” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to promise that this wouldn’t be a habit of showing up to help people and ending up on Teagan’s couch or if she was trying to express disappointment that this was the end.

“If I stay, does that count as my favor?” A joke, but there was a quiet desire to stay. To give herself a chance to rest, Leticia told herself. The company was just a bonus. “You’ve already done so much for me. I can’t ask anything else of you.”

Every flinch from Leticia prompted the frown on Teagan’s visage to deepen. She knew she was doing what was needed, but it didn’t make the task any easier. Regardless, she was happy when it was all over, especially when Leticia was able to crack a joke. “Not a baby. I still whine when I have to patch myself up. Feeling pain is good sometimes. Proves you’re alive.”

With a warm and careful pat to Leticia’s knee, Teagan put away the supplies and set her kit aside, nodding away at what she felt was an awkward moment. She never was good at keeping things soft and intimate. Her nature was much too rough for that. Most of the time, at least. Sometimes, like right then, she could be a comfortable pillow.

“Nah, this doesn’t count. This was the right thing to do. You still have the favor. Cash it in whenever you like.” Teagan shimmied her way onto the couch to sit next to Leticia. She leaned in ever so slightly, hand still carefully on Leticia’s lap. “And you can stay. I…let all the cute ones stay.”

It proves you're alive. The smile was coming easier now, the pain subsiding to something closer to annoyance. “You have to patch yourself up often?” Leticia asked, a hint of concern that this was a regular occurrence for Teagan. The humor wasn’t lost on her though, she was still unnaturally worried about a person she had just met.

Her hands rested on top of Teagan’s. In the past, she would have pulled away immediately. Added a clear boundary about how close she would allow people around her. Intimacy wasn’t something that she easily offered, but that was in the past, wasn’t it? She wasn’t on stage anymore, and Teagan had nothing to gain from spending any more time with her than what she already had. This wasn’t about the publicity. This was simple. Leticia’s hands gently tightened around Teagan’s. Maybe she could do simple.

Leaning forward, not enough to close the distance, but enough to show intent. “I can stay,” Leticia repeated. “I hope to earn a different adjective though. Cute doesn’t quite match the vibe I’m going for.”

“I get myself into trouble quite often. Can’t help it. Too much fun not to, ya know?” Teagan bit her bottom lip and shook her head with amusement. Despite the peril the two found themself not long ago, everything felt so simple then. Soft, even. Teagan, as always, couldn’t help herself. She was too selfish not to.

“What vibe do you want, then?” Teagan smiled coyly, eyes glancing at Leticia’s lips. “Because I do have a few more adjectives. Especially after putting you back together.” She chuckled, confidence unwavering. “Couldn’t help myself, I’m afraid. You’re gorgeous. Is that all right with you, lass?” Inching closer, Teagan could feel the warmth of Leticia’s lips hovering over hers.

She was impossibly close, but still not daring to close the distance fully. As much as she wanted to. Fact was, Teagan loved bedding women, but she always held respect for them. Especially when she brought them home under a completely different pretense.

“It’s fun until it stings.” Leticia huffed a laugh. She’d have to leave her number in case Teagan needed some stitches herself in the future. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to Teagan, and she was well versed with a quick stitch up, but she chose not to look too closely. Any more analyzing she’d talk herself out of her thinly veiled excuse for a call me note.

“Hm,” she hummed, watching Teagan carefully. “Maybe I can earn a nickname all my own.” Leticia held her breath as Teagan moved closer, the smile on her face had all but vanished, just a hint of a smirk in the corner of her lips remained. “Perfectly alright.”

It was all the invitation that Leticia needed. One of her hands came up to Teagan’s shoulder and pulled her closer. Pressing her lips to Teagan’s, she opened her mouth, inviting more. The sting of the stitches was all but forgotten. If anything tore, she was sure Teagan would help fix it later.

#wickedswriting #writings #waving words #hot blooded #leticia and teagan

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

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October 17th

Sweater Weather

This one is for @jaz-the-bard who has trusted me once to write the much-beloved Gondolin OT3.

@last-capy-hupping here's my - much tamer - entry for this pairing :D

Here's a light-hearted scene of non-sexual nudity (kinda...but eh, yeah, decide for yourself!) and innuendo :D

Words: 572

Warnings: Nudity

Idril had the nerve to laugh when someone banged on the door of her chambers with some insistence; much to the outrage of Maeglin and the confusion of Tuor, she then proceeded to stuff both her bedmates into spaces much too narrow for their comfort.

“Oh sure,” they heard her chirp merrily, “you can take all of that away.”

Her cheeriness was grating to the two poor creatures who – as naked as on the day of their respective awakening to this strange world – started fighting the cramps their unfortunate, contorted positions in various spots clearly not meant to house living bodies provoked.

A low grunt resounded and then another person called through the half-shut door that she was wanted in the great hall for some urgent business only her word would settle.

“Coming,” she replied, still unduly jovial in tone and demeanour, and a mere moment later, a heavy door was heard closing with a resounding bang.

Maeglin counted his breaths and – after he had not heard a single sound coming from the room beyond his hideout for a lapse of time he considered safe – he scooted out from under the bed, scowling on account of the indignity of the whole situation.

Outside, the trees were bowing and swaying in their mute pantomime and a cold draft was creeping into the room from Eru knew where; Maeglin was shivering and miserable, a state only slightly amended by the sight of the man unfolding like a fragile, precious, and excessively rare flower.

“Uh-oh,” Tuor said in his usual concise eloquence which made his intended’s cousin whip around in alarm.

“That was the laundress,” Tuor explained when the other kept staring at him wild-eyed and wordless, “and she might just have taken away our clothes as well.”

“That is absurd!” Maeglin cried out. “It’s much too cold to be walking around the compounds naked.”

This outburst was graciously disregarding the secret nature of their meetings with the flawless princess of Gondolin of course; he did not even dare imagine what would happen if anyone was to see them exit her chambers while the sun was still struggling to break through the dense layer of nocturnal clouds.

“Eh, what about this?” Tuor – who had used his time folded into Idril’s wardrobe well as it seemed – lifted a heavy, long-sleeved dress for inspection.

“No.” The single syllable cut like his father’s black iron as it left Maeglin’s pinched mouth with the precision and speed of a lethal arrow; he had forsaken the trappings of a well-born lady long before he had arrived in Gondolin and he would never again don such a garment.

“Suit yourself,” Tuor spat, wriggling into the dress himself as well as he could and sighing happily when the thick, intricately embroidered fabric shielded his sensitive skin from the ambient cold.

Rolling his eyes, Maeglin tore the crumpled sheets off the unmade bed and wrapped himself into the cocoon – smelling of forbidden lust and dark secrets – with all the stiff-limbed grandeur of his royal birth.

Thus it happened that King Turgon, hastening along the corridors to retrieve a warmer overcoat, happened upon his nephew and his most cherished guest in highly irregular garb that would occupy his mind for many a sleepless night to come. Strange things were happening in his fair city, and he could but wonder if the demise of his blissful sanctuary – long prophesied and yet much dreaded – was indeed nigh.

@fellowshipofthefics here we go :D

I hope, as always, that you've liked this ❤️‍🔥

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist

#fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #fotfics October challenge #fotfics fictober #ficlet run #1 scene per day #a different pairing every day #the silm #the silmarillion #gondolin ot3 #Idril #Maeglin #Tuor #nudity #cross-dressing #trans!Maeglin #stupid little accidents #poor turgon

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dendrothecary · 1 year

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A hike was a good idea in theory—or so it had been when Kratos had presented it to him at the time. The air in the pharmacy seemed more stagnant in the fall, what with the humidity all but gone as winter lurked ‘round the bend. A change in season brought more patients, and more patients meant Baizhu was more than just a little cooped up in his office these days, flitting to and fro between his mortar and pestle, the exam room, and the reception desk like the busy bee he was. In short, he was eager for fresh air much the same way one sought to take a breath when submerged beneath a current of tasks for too long. So when the weather was by some chance a little warmer and his schedule had allowed for it, he thought he might join Kratos for a walk amidst the city’s outskirts, seeing as he’d given his word on joining him some time ago. Though perhaps he had neglected to consider how soft bellied and desk-bound he truly was... Their walk was little more than a crawl, at least in terms of pace. Thankfully, Kratos hadn’t appeared to mind. Baizhu doesn’t think he minds it either; it was simply more time to enjoy the company. Hand in hand, the man aids in hoisting his footing over an incline in the dirt path. Most of its strength lies in the other’s arm—Baizhu is merely pulled up like he equals in weight to that of a feather. Grateful for the assistance, he smiles and sighs. ❝ Thank you. It seems I’ve been a little too comfortable in my office as of late, haven’t I. ❞ The pharmacist’s laughter rings soft like a windchime, cheeks healthily aflush from activity and the touch of a cool, temperate breeze.

❝ I’ll say, ❞ quips a voice from inside the sleeve of his coat. Changsheng, being the coldblooded creature she was, looks to have sought better warmth inside it. Luckily for her, warmth is all but pouring off her master at the moment, thanks to a good bit of exercise. ❝ When was the last time you stepped foot outside for anything unrelated to that pharmacy of yours, anyhow? Stale air does neither you nor I any good. ❞ The shape inside his coat sleeve receives a poke; it lurches as Baizhu quirks a brow and grins. ❝ All the more reason to have taken a walk, then. Besides... ❞ His attention turns to the city that lies at their backs. From atop this hill, the view is quite something to behold. This hike was as good as it was in theory as it was in practice, too. Baizhu finds that he’s rather enjoyed it. ❝ The view more than makes up for my hard work as of late. ❞ His golden gaze flits to his side, the rest of him moving closer until he affectionately bumps shoulder to shoulder with Kratos. ❝ ... You did promise me a nice view for my troubles. I believe you’ve upheld your end of the bargain with considerable ease. ❞ @originskey —— unprompted!

#oops i. wrote you a novel #DON'T FEEL OBLIGATED TO MATCH LENGTH FGJGJD #was just setting up #originskey #originskey 021.

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starswornoaths · 3 years

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Prompt 1: Foster

The polycule finds themselves in the company of a stray kitten that Estinien fetched from a back alley from who-knows-where.

And they're going to rehome her. No, really, honest. They're not keeping her, or anything lol

Word count: 1,900

~*~

A rare rainy day off in Ishgard— on a rarer day off, no less— had left Serella happily cuddled up in bed, under the blankets. Joined by her betrothed, and their beloved Violet, what time wasn’t spent idly dozing, was a warm, floating haze of hands and lips brushing idly where they found skin. Though they were swathed in the overcast, pale light that spilled in through the curtains, its chill was far from them, the roaring hearth, gilding the gloom where it collided, its warmth reaching beyond its light. The perfect picture of coziness.

Which was why she was particularly miffed, when their dearest Estinien stumbled in through the door, soaked to the bone, and holding his bundled up jacket to his chest: it meant that she had to get up, to investigate.

As Estinien caught his breath from sprinting in the pouring rain, his paramours all collectively, if sluggishly, opted to disentangle themselves from the blankets enough to see what on earth had made him bluster in so.

Aymeric was the first to rise from their little nest of blankets, ambling over gamely. Serella wasn’t far behind, though stilled when she heard him melt over whatever it was that Estinien had bundled into his coat.

An animal, then.

Sure enough, she neared just in time for Aymeric to reach a hand out, and be met with a sooty paw reaching up to curl its little bean toes around his index finger. He cooed again, and his posture melted further toward the bundle—ah, it was a cat, then.

“Hello, little love,” Aymeric greeted, his voice turned sing-song, and pitched a few notes higher, as it always did when he greeted an animal.

Already, Serella knew this was trouble.

All the more, when Hyana gasped as she scrambled to free herself from bed fully, hissing and cursing as a blanket stuck stubbornly to the pointed ridges at the end of her tail. Freeing herself, she stumbled over eagerly, completely blowing past Serella as she did.

After giving the two of them a few more moments to coo, she and Estinien passed a look between them, and silently agreed that it was time to be the responsible ones. For a change.

“Alright, alright, what do we have here, then?” Serella called, gently nudging them away to give the little creature some breathing room.

“Creature” almost seemed an apt description for the cat nestled within Estinien’s coat: covered in rain water and mud, it was almost impossible to tell what the cat’s true fur color was. It trembled, even pressed against Estinien’s chest—must still be cold. Those large eyes squinted up at her, as the little kitten sniffed and sneezed at her proffered hand. The cat’s shivering made its purr sound tinny, like it rattled the poor thing’s lungs just to do it.

“A bath first, before we do anything else, I think.” She said aloud.

With a breath to steel herself, Serella accepted the bundle of cat and coat in her arms, when Estinien relented to her. Despite the shivering, and the wetness of its fur, the kitten felt warm against her chest, when it immediately snuggled up to her body warmth. Reminding herself that they already had two dogs and a cat—two cats, technically, if she counted Duchess back at Borel Manor—Serella rounded the corner out of their bedroom, and into the bathroom.

Her polycule trailed in on her heels. It was hard not to liken them to a gaggle of Scholasticate kids, all crowding around the door to watch. It warmed her, how even the most standoffish of her loves couldn’t resist the draw of a cute animal.

The bathtub would be too massive, for the little kit—the sink suited just fine. Hyana was kind enough to fetch their bottle of feline shampoo, and set it on the counter for her.

As she let the water run to get a bit warmer, Serella lifted the kitten, gently, to hold it—her, Serella realized, with a glance—at eye level.

“You won’t like me for this,” she warned the kitten. “But that’s alright, it’s only temporary.”

The kitten squirmed, and licked the tip of her nose. Ignoring the way her insides turned to softened butter, Serella dutifully set to work, carefully bathing the kitten.

Unsurprisingly, the water was, at first, most unwelcome, and the cat had no scruples with voicing her complaint and trying to clamor out of the sink. For such a small thing, her wailing meows of discontent were rather loud—good. That meant her lungs were healthy. Once the warmth of the water sunk into her skin, however, she relented, somewhat, though instead sat in the shallow, warm water, and vibrated from the intensity of her disgruntled, rumbling meows.

It was hard not to liken her to a rat, watching her quake with the effort of vocalizing her displeasure. With each careful massage of Serella’s fingers into the kitten’s fur to wash away the grime, however, her true coat began to shine through.

As it turned out, her fur was still mostly black—save for her white capped paws, and her underbelly, all the way up to her chin. All downy soft, thin fur, in a sleek coat. Once she’d gotten a chance to dry out, under the careful ministrations of Aymeric drying her down with the softest, fluffiest towel he could find, she was actually a rather beautiful cat.

When she still shivered, as she finished drying, Aymeric would brook no negotiation, and immediately bundled himself—and her—back in bed, with the blankets. It seemed to be exactly where she wanted to be, as she promptly loafed herself upon his chest, and shook with her purrs.

“We need a name for her,” he said, not taking his eyes off the little kit, as her eyes began to drift shut.

“Absolutely not.” Serella tutted. “It isn’t responsible for us to take in another cat—here, or Borel Manor—and no, she doesn’t look ready to be a road companion, before you even entertain suggesting it.”

“Act like you don’t want to keep her.” Estinien scoffed. “You didn’t even ask me how I’d found her—you do that, when you do something I don’t like. You ask questions.”

“She’s a stray, you found her, and brought her here. What else is there to know?” Serella huffed, and even to her, she sounded a touch defensive.

“We can’t just turn her out after a bath, either, though.” Hyana argued, in the gentlest tone Serella had ever heard from her, as she snuggled up to Aymeric’s side to offer her hand to the kit. “She’ll have to stay for a while.”

“Until we can responsibly rehome her, of course.” Aymeric hastily added on, unconvincingly.

Serella wrinkled her nose when Estinien made a noise of agreement, even as the both of them also crawled in bed.

Once they had hemmed him in on all sides, Aymeric piped up, “But we have to call her something, in the meantime.”

When Estinien reached out to pet her, both of her paws shot out, to wrap around his hand. Her claws pricked at his skin, as she tried to force his hand over to her head. He snorted.

“Krile, perhaps? The little snot seems keen on getting her claws in me.” He grumbled, with no real venom behind his words; he hadn’t even taken his hand back.

Alas, he had already been lost to this kitten’s wiles, it seemed. Probably was, the moment he found her.

“I’ll tell Krile.” Hyana replied in that same, cooing voice, not even deigning to look at Estinien, as the kitten wriggled across the broad expanse of Aymeric’s chest, to bump her forehead against Hyana’s.

It was fascinating, watching how all three of them—powerful, stalwart warriors, all—had turned to puddles under the might of this singular kitten’s cuteness. Danuja, Vardr, and Rhalgr were already getting jealous, she realized, when she felt their collective, agitated curiosity on the fringes of her focus.

“Menphina,” she suggested, before she could stop herself. When all present turned to look at her, she elaborated, with a wry twist of her lips, “She’s certainly charmed all of you enough to warrant it.”

“…Menphina.” Hyana tried again, speaking it to the kit instead. At the curious mrr the cat trilled in response, Hyana nodded. “She likes it. It’s settled, then.”

When the weather improves, I’ll put up signs, she resolved to herself, just as the kitten laid her paw atop Serella’s hand, over Aymeric’s heart.

To her credit, she did. But the problems that trickled in after that came threefold: there was little demand for a beautiful runt, all the more of an indeterminable breed of cat. What demand there was, was often in the interest of Menphina being a “practice pet,” for a child. Fearful that that would translate to unsupervised children treating her like a toy, until she was injured, Serella would be the first—and firmest—to rebuke such offers. Add to all of that, the kitten’s propensity for extended bursts of high energy, that demanded that she be played with, ruled her out for any of the elderly candidates that applied, looking for a calm housecat.

To say that she had no success finding a suitable home for Menphina, would be a gross understatement.

Every time, she would come home, and Menphina would have to crawl out of the collective fur of Vardr and Rhalgr, just to trill up at her in greeting. And every time, Serella would have to scoop her up, and tell her how sorry she was, that it wasn’t meant to be, for that applicant.

“There will be others,” Serella reassured her, every time.

A few moons down the line saw Menphina still very much fostered in their care—to the point, that she was tucked close, huddled in the bend of Serella’s knees, as she’d curled up on the couch with a book. She’d fallen into a sort of pleasant lull, where her focus was on her book, though she could still pick up on Aymeric and Hyana chatting amicably in the kitchen.

At the mention of the date, in the midst of their conversation, Serella’s ear perked; she couldn’t recall the exact date, that Estinien had hauled this scrawny little kit in from the cold, but as she looked down at Menphina again, now filled out on good food and loving attention, she realized, with dismay, that she had not been strong enough.

“You were never a foster cat, were you?” She grumbled accusingly at Menphina.

The kitten looked up at the sound of her voice, and gave a questioning mrr?

As though she didn’t know what she had done. Smiling wryly, Serella gave her affectionate scritches between her ears.

“No, I suppose you never were, at that.”

Taking this as an invitation, Menphina unfurled herself with a long stretch that morphed into a yawn, and scampered up Serella’s hip, and settled in on the curve of her side, as though it was just for her.

Groaning, Serella let her head hit the back of the couch, as she finally admitted her defeat loud enough for the household to hear: “We’re keeping the cat.”

Amidst the giddy celebrating, she swore she distinctly heard the clink of coin being exchanged—they’d gone and taken bets, on how long it would take for her to crack.

Gremlins. Hellions, all of them. Hers. How she loved them, as they were—Menphina included.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv #Aymeric de Borel #Estinien Wyrmblood #Hyana Geriel #Serella Arcbane #unstoppable forces and immovable objects #featuring: catte #'I'll be the responsible one and say we're not adopting her' Serella said. like a liar.

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creativerogues · 4 years

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Using Myths to Create a Campaign Setting...

So while researching for this Mega-Post (which will probably become one part of many), I’ve found that myths, legends and folklore as a whole is really just a cool thing to read about.

There’s so much creativity and wonder in every myth, and it’s been super fun to find story elements that have persisted all the way to the modern day.

With that said, and wait for it: Making a D&D Setting can be really really tiring.

So, after rediscovering my love of mythology, I thought I’d take a new approach to all this: Using “Comparative Mythology”.

“Wait! What’s Comparative Mythology?” I hear you ask. Well Comparative Mythology is when you compare myths from different cultures and identify all the things they share.

So let’s start this Mega-Post by ending this long-winded intro and getting to the whole point of this: The Common Myths!

The Creation of Mankind from Clay

The creation of man from clay is a thing that recurs throughout a bunch of world religions and mythologies. In this Myth, Mankind is created from dust, clay or earth by a single deity.

In Greek Mythology, Prometheus molded men out of water and earth.

In Egyptian Mythology, one of the several ‘Creator Gods’, called Ptah, is a Potter who fashions the bodies of humans (and some Gods) from clay.

The Theft of Fire

The theft of fire for humanity is another that recurs in many world mythologies. Where a deity, sometimes the deity of earth, the forge, or the deity that actually created Mankind, steals a portion of the Sun or a Magical Heavenly Flame and gives it to humanity so they don’t freeze to death or starve because they can’t cook their food.

Probably the most famous version of this Myth comes from Greek Mythology, where the Titan Prometheus stole the heavenly fire of the gods and gave it to humanity, the thing he created from clay, so they could build their first civilisation.

The Great Flood

Cultures around the world tell stories about a great flood that leaves only one survivor or a group of survivors. Sometimes the Flood is meant to restart the world, defeat a great evil, or as a punishment to Mankind for some known or unknown thing.

In the Hebrew Bible, probably the most famous example of this, God sends down a global flood that wipes out humanity, with only one man surviving and saving the world’s species by taking them aboard a giant boat.

In Greek Mythology, a Myth says that Zeus, Head of the Gods, sent down a great storm to flood the world after people started trying to sacrifice humans to him, which was completely against the Greek Laws of Hospitality and a big ol’ no-no in the eyes of Zeus.

The Dying-And-Rising God

Many Myths feature a God or Goddess who dies somehow and returns to life thanks to the help of the other Gods.

In Egyptian Mythology, Osiris, who was slain by his brother Seth, was brought back to life by his sisters Isis and Nephtys. Osiris eventually became the ‘King of the Dead’ while his Son became ‘King of the Living’, which may have something to do with a Father-like Figure giving power to their Son, which is another theme that pops up in a few cultures…

In Greek Mythology, it’s Adonis, a beautiful man born from his Mother that just so happened to be turned into a tree. But after being left in a Forest by Aphrodite and told to avoid any wild Boars (also known as Ares in disguise), Adonis immediately decided to do the opposite and hunt down the wild Boar (also known as Ares, the God of War). The fight didn’t really go in Adonis’ favour, and after Aphrodite found out, she stormed into the Underworld and demanded her Boyfriend back, and eventually Zeus got involved, deciding to split the Year in two, the warmer months (summer and spring) where Adonis would be with Aphrodite, and the colder months (autumn and winter) where Adonis would go back into the Underworld. This is why Adonis is associated so much with spring, renewal and rebirth.

The Creative Sacrifice

Many cultures have stories about divine figures whose death creates a certain part of reality.

These myths seem especially common among cultures that are farmers or have agriculture as a major part of their society.

In Norse Mythology, the First Giant, known as Ymir or ‘The Cosmic Giant’ was killed to create the World of Norse Myth.

In Aztec Myth, after Huitzilopochtli kills his sister Coyolxauhqui and his 400 brothers, Coyolxauhqui's severed head becomes the moon, and her 400 dead brothers become the stars in the night sky.

In Greek Mythology, when the many-eyed Giant Argus was slain by Hermes, Argus' eyes were transferred by Hera to the tail of the peacock, hence the beautiful tail feathers of a peacock!

The Seat of the World

The seat of the world is usually noted as a place that sits at the centre of the world and acts as a point of contact between different levels of the universe: Usually Heaven, Earth and the Underworld.

And as a small Sidenote, there’s a LOT of mythologies and world religions that use a giant ‘Cosmic Tree’ to represent the seat of the world, and they usually describe it as “a great tree joining heaven, earth, and the underworld”, with branches that reach the Heavens and whose roots that reach the Underworld.

In Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist Mythology, Mount Meru (also recognised as Sumeru, Sineru or Mahāmeru), is a sacred five-peaked mountain, and is considered to be the centre of all universes, both physical and spiritual.

In Norse Mythology, Yggdrasil is an immense mythical cosmic tree that connects the Nine Worlds of Norse Cosmology.

In Greek Mythology, the “Seat of the World” was the City of Delphi, the literal centre of the Greek Mythological World. Delphi was almost always seen as “the belly-button of the world”, with many tales surrounding the famous Oracle of Delphi. You could also consider Mount Olympus to be a sort-of “Seat of the World” too, since that’s the famous place where only the Gods lived...

The Ideal God

This is usually referring to a King, Queen or some kind of Head of a Pantheon, a God to rule the Gods.

Even actual Official D&D Settings do this by having an ‘Overgod’.

In Norse Mythology, Odin is the Leader of the Gods.

In Greek Mythology, Zeus is Head of the Gods, though Hera (his Wife) also has some influence on the Pantheon.

In Roman Mythology, which is extremely similar to Greek Mythology, they have Jupiter as the Head of the Pantheon and King of the Gods.

In Egyptian Mythology, Ra is Head of the Pantheon, though some interpretations vary on his actual name.

And as a side-note, it seems most ‘Head of the Pantheon’ Gods are male with some sort of connection to the Sky, the Sun, or Storms, and are often extremely wise or extremely powerful, usually depicted as extremely ripped and wielding big ol’ stabby weapons...

And weirdly enough, most have some sort of connection to birds, I can’t really find out where that comes from, but it’s cool nonetheless.

The War with the Titans

This is usually the Myth that creates the “Official Pantheon” for a Place’s Religion. The Titans (or sometimes called Primordials, beings that represent chaotic and destructive elements like Fire and Lightning) fight the Gods, sometimes a few Gods die, but the Gods always win.

Again, the most famous version of this Myths is In Greek Mythology, where the Titanomachy was a ten-year series of battles consisting mostly of the Titans fighting the Olympian Gods and their allies. This event is also known as the War of the Titans, Battle of the Titans, Battle of the Gods, or just The Titan War, which is just a cool name in general...

Gargantuan Giants

By “Gargantuan Giants”, I mean Gargantuan compared to Humans, who in most cultures were less than 6 Feet Tall, so sometimes Giants were as short of 8 Feet, and others they are quite literally the size of the Universe…

In Greek Mythology, there’s the myth of Ourion (or more commonly known as ‘Orion’) the Giant, a Huntsman famous for being placed among the stars as the constellation of Orion. There’s also the Hecatonchires, also known as the Hundred-Handed Giants, as well as the Myth of the Cyclopes and a bunch of other Gods and Demigods who are described as “Giant” in size.

In Norse Mythology, there’s dozens of famous giants, also known as Jotuun in some texts. From Surtur, the fire giant that leads his kin into battle during Ragnarok, to the trickster giant Utgard-Loki, famous for annoying the Hel out of Thor and thoroughly embarrassing him in front of all the other giants.

Mythical Dragons and Serpents

Sometimes just large snakes and other times gigantic snakes, legendary snakes and serpent-like creatures appear in the folklore of a bunch of different cultures around the world. And speaking of Dragons, while they vary from region to region, they’re almost always depicted as gargantuan serpentine creatures with four-legs.

Mythical Serpents in Mythology

In Egyptian Mythology, Atum shaped the world thanks to four mythical serpents. Also in Egyptian Mythology is Apophis, a gargantuan mythical serpent that symbolises chaos, who tries to eat the sun every day as part of the Journey of Ra and his Sun-Barge/Sun-Boat.

In Greek Mythology, there’s the Lernaean Hydra, more often known simply as the Hydra, a multi-headed snake monster killed by Heracles as part of his Twelve Labours. There’s also Python, a big ol’ sea snake with the gift of prophecy, that was then promptly killed by a Baby Apollo...

In Aztec Mythology, there’s Quetzalcoatl, a giant feathered serpent (and sometimes a dragon!) characterised as the God of Wind, the Dawn, the Planet Venus, Arts and Crafts, Wisdom and Knowledge.

And another thing, it seems some Myths depict these giant snakes as pets or living weapons used by Kings, Queens or even the Gods to keep their subjects in check.

Dragons in Mythology

In Eastern Cultures and Mythologies, Dragons are usually depicted as wingless, four-legged, serpentine creatures with above-average intelligence and the ability to control rivers, the ocean, the wind and the weather.

In Western Cultures and Mythologies, Dragons are often depicted as savage, winged, horned, four-legged, and capable of breathing fire.

The Myth that founds a Custom

This myth is way more varied than the rest. Many cultures have myths describing the origin of their customs, with most societies often justifying their customs by claiming that the Gods or the Mythical Heroes of their Culture established those customs.

The Curse of Cannibalism

Human cannibalism features in the myths, folklore, and legends of many cultures and is most often attributed to evil characters, with the idea that consuming human flesh is an evil act that usually transforms the person into a monster of some kind.

In Greek Mythology, there exists the Lamia, a woman who became a child-eating monster after her children were destroyed by Hera after Hera learnt of her husband Zeus’ little “escapades”.

In Native American Myth, there’s the famous Wendigo, a creature (or sometimes depicted as an evil spirit) from folklore, with some sources saying Wendigos are created when a human resorts to cannibalism to survive.

The Hero's Adventure to save their Lover

This is usually a story of three parts: Hero gains a Lover, Lover dies through unforeseen circumstances, and finally the Hero goes on an Adventure (most commonly going to the Underworld) to meet/save/resurrect their Lover.

This Myth can also be known as the “Hero goes to the Underworld to save their Lover” Myth, which is also super common when you look at all the different world cultures.

In an old Babylonian Myth, the Babylonian Goddess Ishtar (Goddess of Love, War and Fertility) gets trapped in the Underworld with the Queen of the Dead after trying to save her husband from the Underworld. But then Asushunamir, a gender-ambiguous individual constructed by Enki (a Babylonian Ocean God), is sent to the Underworld to save Ishtar, so I guess that’s two stories in one?

In Japanese Mythology, Japan has two Creator Deities: Izanagi and Izanami. But after the Birth of Kagi-Tsuchi (the Fire God), Izanami dies. So Izanagi decides to just go on down to the Underworld to get her back. But after lighting a torch in the Underworld when he’s specifically told not to, Izanami is understandably peeved and sends a bunch of monsters after Izanagi to chase him down until Izanagi decides to block the entrance to the Underworld with a giant rock so no monsters get out. Yay?

In Greek Mythology, Orpheus (one of Apollo’s kids) walks on down to the Greek Underworld to chat with Hades and maybe get his dead lover Eurydice back. Hades says “Yeah, sure bro! Just don’t look at her before you two get back to the World of the Living again, okay?” But Orpheus, like an idiot, decides to immediately do the opposite after thinking Hades is tricking him, and Eurydice is dragged back down in the Underworld to stay there forever...

The Sun gets eaten by a Giant Beast

This is usually what Cultures and World Religions use to explain celestial events such as an Eclipse.

In Aztec Mythology, they had a God called Huitzilopochtli (Yay! I spelt it right!) who was their Sun God and God of War and Human Sacrifice. Huitzilopochtli also had 400 Brothers and one Sister: Coyolxauhqui. After murdering his sister, Coyolxauhqui’s severed head becomes the moon and several of Huitzilopochtli’s brothers become the stars. And now the sun is constantly at risk of being devoured by the night sky and to put this all short: Huitzilopochtli is constantly fighting off the severed head of his sister (The Moon) to stop her eating/murdering the sun and the earth. FUN!

In Norse Mythology, at some point during Ragnarok (the Norse “End of the World” Myth), the sun and moon are eaten, possibly by Fenrir, but definitely by Mythical Wolf of some variety, sources differ.

In Egyptian Mythology, the Egyptians would pray against Apophis (the giant snake in the Underworld) to squash his nightly attempts to eat the sun as it passed through the Underworld.

And as a side-note, this one doesn't have to be a Beast, sometimes the sun is stolen by a thief, or something happens and it's sealed away or just straight up nopes out and disappears for a few days...

Gods named after Planets

It’s right in the name, a lot of Gods are named after Planets, Stars, Constellations and other Celestial Objects.

In Egyptian Mythology, the Gods are actually named after the various Stars and Constellations that can be seen in Egypt’s night sky.

In Roman Mythology, examples include Jupiter, Head of the Pantheon, as well as Mars the God of War, Mercury the God of Merchants, and Venus the Goddess of Love and Beauty, as well as Neptune, Saturn and More!

The Beast to be Released and Kill the World

This is usually a Wolf, Snake, or other Giant Beast that, when the Apocalypse comes, is released from whatever bindings they have and wreak havoc on the Mortal World. Sometimes the Beast is chained away or trapped in the Underworld, but other times they’re just sleeping until the Apocalypse comes knocking…

In Egyptian Mythology, this Beast is known as Apophis, a Giant Snake trapped in the Underworld that tries every day to eat the Sun (and sometimes eat Ra too!) before Apophis is defeated by the powers of Gods and the apocalypse is stopped for another day.

In Norse Mythology, this Beast is Fenrir, a Giant Wolf and Son of the Trickster God Loki. Fenrir is bound by a series of heavy chains, and when Ragnarok (the Norse version of the Apocalypse) comes, Fenrir will break his chains and go on a big ol’ god-killin’ spree!

So there you go! I’m so sorry for having to cut quite a bit of content, since I didn’t want to make this Post a full-blown essay.

If I missed your favourite myth, or forgot to add a detail that you thought was important or cool, I apologise profusely.

The research for this Post was A LOT, and I just want to thank everyone in the Community who helped out and contributed to this thing.

I hope that when you’re building your own D&D Worlds, you can look back at this Post as inspiration for creating a pretty cool and realistic world for your Players to mess around in...

#dnd #DnD 5e #dnd 5e campaign #dnd 5e homebrew campaign #dnd campaign setting #mythology #Greek Mythology #norse mythology #Roman Mythology #egyptian mythology #creativerogues #communitymade

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gerrycoco · 3 years

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Here are chapter 4 and 5 of the TOL fanfic I’m writing based on @nwarrior777 comic. I’d been meaning to post chapter 4 a while back but hadn’t been sure where my cut off was between these two chapters until I finished them today.

Hope you enjoy and more should be coming soon hopefully!

You can also read this fic on ao3

Chapter 4

The weeks ticked away slowly but surely at the Academy, summer turning into fall and steadily veering into winter. I continued to have the best of fun with Tamara doing all sorts of shenanigans.

With the end of October came Halloween where she snuck us out to go trick or treating when Halloween came around. As we finished up grabbing as much candy as we could, I only half noticed how cold the weather was becoming.

A few weeks later there came the first snowfall, which everyone was super excited about. After a particularly big snowfall most of the residents of the Academy, myself and Tamara included, found ourselves in the outdoor courtyard making snowmen.

Given my nature of not being very good at anything, my own attempts at making a snowman were quite subpar. I could see others not far away snickering among themselves, probably whispering about how ironic it was that someone with ice powers was so bad at stuff involving snow.

I was rather preoccupied by my increasing discomfort at being in the cold to really notice them. Tamara, however, glared in their direction as she joined me after reappearing from having gone to get some extra accessories for our snowmen. "Don't listen to them, Demian," she said, "this isn't a competition or anything, the whole point is just to have fun."

"Yeah I know," I replied, trying to blow on my hands to get them warmer, which only made things worse as with my powers all I did was blow frost over my fingers. It was then that I realized that I didn't have to go about making a snowman the old fashion way. Stretching my hands out in front of me me I tried summoning the snow around me to form into a shape.

"Demian maybe that isn't a good idea," Tamara said, her voice filled with concern, "the doctors told you to be careful about how long you spend in the snow and you already look really cold. I think we should go back inside."

"Hang on, just give me a minute," I managed to reply despite my teeth chattering loudly due to how cold I was. A small crowd of others had come by to watch curiously and I was not about to give them another reason to tease me. Within moments I'd accumulated a pile of snow that I was twisting and bending with frost from my own hands. I’d stopped shivering by then so I ignored how painfully cold I was feeling and concentrated to finish what I was doing.

Soon I had made a full sized snowman, but this time shaped like an actual human. "Tada," I said, with difficulty, now that my whole face felt frozen, "say hello to snow Tamara!" The others all gasped as they came closer to inspect the near perfect snow and ice replica of my friend.

Tamara herself however looked at me, a very stern expression on her face as she grabbed my hand and teleported us inside. Once she was done she dropped my hand and glared at me, looking quite mad. "What were you thinking?! That was dangerous!" she exclaimed loudly.

"What do you mean?" I meant to ask, surprised by how angry she looked. I never got the chance to do so though as everything suddenly went dark.

***********************************************

"You got him here just in time so thankfully he's going to be alright," I heard an unknown voice say.

I groaned as I tried to stir, finding that my whole body was tingling from the sensation of me slowly defrosting. With difficulty I managed to open my eyes, to see that I was in the back room of the infirmary.

"What, what happened?" I asked, the words slightly slurred as my mouth and tongue still hadn't regained full sensation.

"You did something really stupid is what happened," Tamara spat out, angrily wiping tears from her eyes. She then ran out of the room, leaving me alone with who I now saw was a nurse.

“Tamara wait!” I called out. I tried to sit up so I could go after her but realized I was still too numb to do so.

“Woah take it easy there,” the nurse said, putting a hand on my shoulder to prevent me from trying again. “You need to stay lying down for a while longer, your body likely can’t tolerate going into an upright position just yet,” he explained to me. “Right now you need to rest. The doctor should be here shortly to check up on you to make sure you’re doing alright.”

I sighed unhappily but nodded in resignation. The image of Tamara’s face was burnt into my mind as I replayed the scene again over and over again. She had looked so scared and hurt, I felt terrible for putting her through what I imagined was a rather frightening experience.

My wallowing was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor, who I saw was the same I had met when first arriving at the Academy. “We meet again young man,” he said, though he clearly was far from delighted to be seeing me at the present. “That was a very foolish thing you did back there.”

“Yeah I know…” I replied, feeling the guilt weigh on my chest. Added to the fact that I fail at basically everything, I’ve also never exactly been known for being a particularly smart person. Even back at home, my family would usually avoid leaving me alone for extended periods of time.

“It’s a good thing your friend was there and that she was able to teleport you back inside when she did,” the doctor went on, his brows creasing into a concerned frown. He looked over at the monitor I’d been hooked up to and then picked up the chart on my bedside to examine it as well. “Thankfully you hadn’t gone far beyond moderate hypothermia and so your loss of consciousness was likely a form of rewarming shock.”

“I… I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad..” I said, feeling quite scared myself now that the reality of what had just happened was sinking in. “I wasn’t even shivering at the end.”

“Well that’s because shivering is only associated with the milder forms of hypothermia,” the doctor explained, putting the chart down and pulling out a small flashlight from his pocket. He then proceeded to point it in front of each eye and had me follow the beam with my gaze. “We already knew that you would be more sensitive to cold, but it appears now that because of your powers you’ve gone from warm blooded to cold blooded, no pun intended.”

“You mean, like a lizard?” I asked, my brain feeling a bit fuzzy as I tried to process what the doctor was telling me while spots danced in my vision from having the flashlight directed at my eyes.

“Yes precisely, or almost anyway,” the doctor replied, “cold-blooded creatures can’t internally cool themselves off while you have no problem with that. However, like them, you appear to have difficulty with generating sufficient body heat without some external help, which would explain why you progressed so quickly into an increasing hypothermic state.”

I simply blinked at him in response, his sciency explanations were too much for my thawing brain to understand. He appeared to see the look of overall confusion in my eyes and he gave me a small half-smile as he put the flashlight away in his pocket.

“The point is,” he went on, “from now on you will have to take extra special care to make sure you only spend short periods of time in cold environments.”

********************************************* I took the doctor’s word very seriously once I was allowed to leave the infirmary. Not only did I completely avoid going outside, I also made sure to always have an extra warm sweater as well as a hoodie wherever I went. While it might have been overkill, I didn’t want to risk anything happening again.

Mostly I kept to myself as the others gave me looks whenever I was in the common areas or the cafeteria. They had either been there to see me almost freeze to death or had heard about it as gossip spread rapidly around the Academy. I therefore spent the next few days in my room waiting for something new to happen so they wouldn’t be focused on me anymore. Time passed slowly though as I spent it alone seeing Tamara and I hadn’t spoken since the incident.

While normally she was constantly popping into my room to hang out, almost a week went by without me seeing her at all. She had obviously been very upset by my actions and I figured she was still mad at me about it. I really wanted to go and apologize, but, because of her teleportation powers, Tamara was very good at making sure she wasn’t able to be found if she didn’t want to be.

After a few days I decided it had gone on for long enough and decided to park myself outside her room. I figured if I stayed there at one point she’d have no choice but to talk to me. There was always the risk of her teleporting in and out of her room without ever having to use the door, but Tamara could usually only teleport so many times in a day before it started draining her too much and she risked ending up in the wrong place.

I decided then to go and wait outside her bedroom door after dinner time since she was more likely to be tired then and therefore less likely to use her powers to disappear on me. I’d been sitting there for a while, just scrolling on my phone as I waited, when I finally saw her walking down the hallway towards her room. She hadn’t noticed me yet, her head bent and gaze stuck around her shoes, looking about as miserable as I had been feeling.

“Tamara!” I called out, popping her out of her thoughts as her head snapped up at the sound of my voice. At this point she was about ten steps away from her door and I could see in her eyes that she was weighing whether it was worth it to try teleporting past me.

I stood up quickly and walked the distance between us, putting my hand on her arm. “Tamara, please,” I pleaded, “can we talk? I’d really like to apologize…”

She grimaced for a moment then let out a sigh. “Fine,” she replied, removing my hand and going to her bedroom door. I followed closely as she opened it, hoping that she wouldn’t dash in just to slam the door in my face. Instead she held the door open and gestured for me to come inside.

I went and sat down on the chair by the desk while Tamara shut the door before going to sit on the end of her bed. She glanced quickly in my direction before looking away and crossing her arms, visibly still quite upset with me.

I’d spent the time waiting outside her room going through how best to apologize to her, but in that moment all scenarios vanished from my mind as we sat in silence while I tried to figure out the best way to start. “So… I guess I’ll just start off by saying that I’m aware that what I did was really stupid and dangerous and I’m sorry for doing that to you…”

Tamara was silent for a beat before turning to look at me. “What were you even thinking doing that?” she interrogated. “Even without using your powers you’re more at risk when it’s cold, but with what you did you just made it 10 times worse! So what, you just couldn’t help but show off, right?”

I stared at her, surprised for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to me that by using my powers I’d put myself in even greater danger, although thinking about it now it did make sense. “No I wasn’t trying to show off, at least I don’t think so…” I replied, feeling quite uneasy. “I was failing at making a snowman the normal way just like I fail with everything else and then I remembered I have ice powers so, like, why not use the one thing I’m good at that’s actually relevant to the situation for once.”

“You’re telling me you made a snow person that looked just like me and it wasn’t just so you could look good in front of the others after they had made fun of you?” Tamara retorted, looking rather skeptical.

“I mean, maybe a tiny bit,” I admitted, “but mostly I did it because I thought it would make you smile. You’re always doing nice things for me so I just wanted to be able to do something nice for you too for once.”

“R-really?” Tamara asked, her tone now very different.

“Yeah, I just thought it would be funny for you to have a snow twin,” I said, letting out a nervous chuckle.

At this Tamara finally gave me a small smile before it fell away and she suddenly looked quite sad. “I guess I thought you had ignored my warning because you were too busy trying to impress the others. And maybe deep down a part of me was also scared that if it worked you were going to find new friends and wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore…”

“What? Tamara no of course not…” I replied, getting up from the chair and going to sit down next to her on the bed. “You’re my best friend Tamara, you’re my only friend really. You’re also the reason nothing worse happened since you pretty much saved my life by teleporting us back inside when you did.”

“Damn right I did,” Tamara retorted with a smirk. “I hope you learned your lesson because I might not always be there to save your butt.”

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t plan on making the same mistake again,” I laughed. Tamara gave me a real smile this time and leaned over to hug me tightly.

“Okay enough talk about snow and ice now, how about we go get some hot cocoa?” I suggested.

“Good idea,” Tamara replied before teleporting us out of her room.

Chapter 5

While I was quite happy to be hanging out with Tamara once again, our time together afterwards was somewhat short lived. Her one year at the Academy was coming to an end and shortly before Christmas she returned home to her family. Thankfully, during the holidays, the Academy made special allowances where they hosted an annual Christmas party and other fun events for family and friends. With this I was kept well occupied up until New Years after which things went back to normal, leaving me to find myself mostly alone once again.

I was able to see my family during visiting weeks of course, but I still wasn’t having much luck in finding any other friends now that Tamara was gone. No one really cared about me when I wasn’t using my powers and ever since my last incident I’d basically decided against doing anything ice related unless it was actually useful, which in the dead of winter it really wasn’t.

Although my own one year milestone was still a good few months away, I figured I could start looking at different job possibilities to look forward to once I was able to return home. It was better than dying of boredom in the meantime. After all, the Academy had a department set up for the exact purpose of counseling and preparing those who wished to find themselves jobs once their time was up.

This didn’t end up being the most successful endeavor however. While the counselors were very nice and tried to look at different options with me, they had a hard time finding anything that would be a good fit. I’m not sure what I was expecting really, since by being not so great at basically everything I didn’t exactly have very many employable skills. The other issue is that usually the main solution is to try to find something that works with a person’s specific powers. In my case though, this didn’t pan out much since all the actual real jobs that would hire someone with ice powers involved working in very cold environments, and I was not going to make that same mistake twice.

“Unfortunately the only other option I can find is volunteer work,” Lenny, the counselor who had been assigned my case, informed me. “That means you wouldn’t be paid, but it would still be something if ever you’re interested.”

I left the employment center feeling quite disappointed as I headed towards the cafeteria. It was family visiting day and my mom would be arriving soon. Multiple parents and other family members had already started arriving as I entered the cafeteria and sat down at a table while I waited. A few minutes later I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Hi mom,” I said, doing my best to smile as I turned to hug her before she sat down next to me.

“What’s wrong honey?” my mom asked directly. “Something is up, I can tell.”

I blinked with surprise at this. I’d forgotten how perceptive my mom could be. “I… well…” I started, going on to explain to her my less than promising visit with the employment department. “So I might not be able to get an actual job once I’m done here…” I added, looking down at my hands, blinking my eyes madly as I tried not to cry.

“I see,” my mother replied. She reached over to take one of my hands in her own and gave it a tight squeeze. I looked up at her to see her smiling warmly at me. “Demian, just remember that no matter what happens, whether you manage to find a job or not, you will always have a place at home waiting for you,” she said tenderly as her free hand went to wipe away a tear that had slid down my cheek.

I gave her a watery smile as I leaned in to hug her tightly. “Thank you mom, I love you,” I said, sniffling softly.

“I love you too sweetheart,” my mother replied, hugging me back just as tightly. “Always have and always will.

****************************************

After the visit with my mother I felt somewhat better about my future beyond the Academy. Though I still didn’t exactly know how I would ever manage to find a job, I also knew that I couldn’t give up trying.

My mood was also greatly improved by Tamara’s sudden and unexpected return to the Academy mid February. She’d had an unfortunate mishap with her powers, although she hadn’t really wanted to talk about it much upon her return. Bottom line was that she needed to be monitored at the Academy for another year now because of it. While I found that extremely unfortunate for her, I was also, rather selfishly, quite happy to have her back around.

It was only about a month later that she was finally willing to explain to me what had happened. Apparently when she had gone back home she had bumped into a former partner she had been dating not long before she had arrived at the Academy. They stayed in contact for the first little while after she had discovered her powers, however the long distance slowly became a strain on their relationship.

“At that point we agreed it was best to take a break and reconnect once I was able to go back home after my year was up,” Tamara explained to me.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?” I asked, feeling surprised and almost a bit hurt that I’d never heard about this before.

“I guess I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high just in case it didn’t work out,” she replied. “In the end that’s what happened because when I finally saw them again they were dating someone else…”

“Oh Tamara… I’m so sorry…” I said, gently putting my hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she said, though she had a sad look in her eye. “It was for the best really, I don’t think we would’ve lasted very long in the end. But this happened on Valentine's Day of all days so needless to say I wasn’t feeling great after that. After seeing them together with their new partner I almost ran home, trying not to cry. I tried to teleport back but instead of my room I somehow ended up on Mars.”

“Mars?! You mean, like the planet?” I asked, shocked and confused.

“Yep,” Tamara replied. “Luckily I quickly teleported back to Earth, first in Antarctica and then at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It took a few tries but I finally made it home before coming back here and begging them to put me on blockators. I felt like I was going insane.”

“Wow that’s crazy,” I said, not sure what else to say at this point.

“Yeah…” Tamara acquiesced, her gaze downcast. “I’ve never really been lucky with dating anyway so I guess it’s not really all that surprising. I am a bit much after all and I’m not really dating material…”

“Absolutely not!” I protested, offended that my friend could think so low of herself. “You are funny and adorable and super thoughtful and anyone would be lucky to date you!” I exclaimed, tapping the table with insistence with every new point I added.

Tamara laughed at my display, most of the sadness now gone from her eyes. “Thank you, I really needed that,” she giggled. “But that makes me think, what about you? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned anything about dating either.”

“Oh,” I replied meekly, now that I was being put on the spot. “I haven’t ever really dated to be honest…”

“Really? Like you’ve never had a girlfriend… or a boyfriend?” Tamara asked, leaving the door open for me to fill in the blank.

I could feel myself blushing at this, feeling a bit embarrassed about the topic. “I, uh… I guess I’m not totally sure where I stand in terms of sexuality… it’s never felt super clear for me and I haven’t really had the chance to figure it out for myself quite yet.”

“That’s okay then,” Tamara said, smiling kindly. “There’s no rush for you to find an answer or anything. And if ever you do figure it out and feel like dating whoever it is will also be lucky to be with someone like you.”

“Thanks Tamara,” I said, smiling back at her.

“Just for the record, you’re great and everything, but you’re not my type dude,” Tamara stated matter of factly. We looked at each other seriously for a moment before both bursting into laughter so hard we were in tears.

**************************** Before I knew it there was only one month left before I was to leave the Academy. Poor Lenny was still doing his best to try and find me a job but unless I miraculously developed an actual useful workskill there was only so much he could do.

Of course I was allowed to stay on at the Academy once my time was up in order to volunteer and help with the newcomers. I would be allowed to room and board there by doing so but it wasn’t an actual job or anything and that wasn’t something that actually paid. Because of the laws and regulations put in place for awakened, there needed to remain a place for them to stay if they weren’t able to return to society for one reason or another. To avoid people taking advantage of that and using it as an easy way out to not have to work, the Academy stipulated that they would not pay permanent/long term residents. Instead it was a barter type system where those who wished to stay had to contribute in some form or fashion according to their powers or abilities.

Some people, both within and outside the Academy, still saw it as a lazy option while others saw it as the epitome of despair. I thought both those views were rather extreme and unfair. However, I also didn’t want to stay at the Academy forever. I wasn’t ready to believe that there was truly nothing out there for me, not yet at least. The only thing that made me feel better was knowing that Tamara was also still going to be around for a good few more months even if I did wind up having to stay at the Academy for longer.

There was also the option of going back home to my parents for a while before coming back to stay at the Academy. That way I could stay with them for a bit and then move back into the Academy the next time I would be coming in for my regular post one year check in to make sure my powers were still stable. As time went on I figured I would go with that option since I hadn't gone home in nearly a year and had mainly seen my parents during visits. That way I would get to spend some time with the rest of my family but also come back to be with Tamara for the time she had left at the Academy.

I was starting to pack my stuff when I heard an unexpected knock at my door. I was confused as to who it could be, since Tamara usually just let herself in at this point. Putting down the shirt I’d been trying to fold I went to open the door, surprised to see Lenny standing there. “Lenny, what are you doing here?”

“Hi Demian,” Lenny greeted me, “I know you’ve been planning on going home soon but I have some interesting news for you that might just change your mind…”

#temperature of love #tol #fanfic #pov fanfic #ao3

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teaganmyrick · 2 years

Text

Who Let the Dogs Out? || Cass & Teagan

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @teaganmyrick @stolensiren

SUMMARY: Cass runs into Teagan as a hellhound makes its attack.

WARNINGS: None

The winter breeze was absent, taken hostage by early spring air that was easy to accept. Warmer weather meant it was easier to withstand getting in and out of the lake with no bite to attack Teagan as she stepped out. With a sigh, she relaxed and looked at the sky happily. The sun was making its daily trek below the horizon, not taking its warmth with it. She loved warmer weather, deciding that she would be outside a little longer. While she loved the escape and freedom of swimming in her home, there was something about the rush of wind gliding on one’s skin during a run.

Slipping on her shoes, the nix played classical music with a high tempo. Enough to give her a workout, but not so much as to wear her out quickly. No, this run was just for fun. There wasn’t a need to bring in training. Teagan, already feeling a little sluggish, just wanted to let herself be. Let her eyes fall onto the leaves full of life and the pollen-less air. Until suddenly, those cerulean irises fell onto something dark, halting her stride abruptly. Glowing red orbs stared back, accompanied by a growl. The creature was large. A canine. A hellhound. “Fuck,” She hissed to herself, backing away slowly in hopes that the creature would dismiss her.

Heart pounded and she knew it could hear it, drool pooling on the ground beneath its jowls. All Teagan had was her knife, and she took it out, wielding it tightly. She’d make it work. There was no other choice, it seemed, as the hound lunged forward. She yelled out. Not because fear consumed her, but because a battle was ensuing. The cry echoed as the two clashed for a moment, giving her just enough time to leave her mark on its side and push it back to give herself space. As it stalked, sizing her up, she too mimed its movements in preparation. This would be a difficult fight to win, but she’d fought worse and prevailed. She’d prevail again. That’s what fighters did.

It felt so much safer to be in the woods now. Without the tree, without the roots, without the human sacrifices. If asked, Cass would pretend it made no difference to her. She was a superhero, so of course she could handle all those things when they came to her. Of course she could roll with the punches. But… it was kind of nice to only have to be scared of the normal White Crest oddities instead of a whole new brand of Captain Planet gone rogue-type stuff.

Of course, that wasn’t to say that the ‘normal White Crest oddities’ weren’t still a problem.

She heard it way before she saw it. Breaking twigs, snapping jaws, a yell. Cass ran towards the sound without second thought, not trying to be silent as her feet pounded against the forest floor. Speed was more important than stealth, she was pretty sure. As she got closer, she figured she found proof of the assumption. One woman, brandishing only a small knife, was facing off against… the biggest looking dog Cass had ever seen. For a moment, she had no idea how to act. But the dog (wolf? Coyote? God, what was this thing?) was sizing up the woman and getting ready to pounce, so she knew she had to act quick.

“Hey!” She yelled, grabbing the dog’s attention. She could distract it, at least. Hopefully long enough for the woman to take it down and not run away because if she decided to bail… Well, Cass didn’t love the idea of being left alone with a monster dog in the middle of the woods. It seemed less than ideal. “Hey, over here! C’mere, puppy!” She waved her arms, jumping up and down and making herself a bigger target. This was great, she decided. This was a real Top Ten idea.

“No!” Teagan saw the young goggle-wearing stranger break through the clearing and she instantly ran to put herself between her and the hellhound. She wouldn’t let someone risk themselves for her. People who protect didn’t allow that. “You shouldn’t be here,” She swiped her knife in front of her, making the hound growl. “If you run straight back, it’ll stay on me.”

Hellhounds breathed two things, the nix remembered that much. What Teagan couldn’t quite put her finger on though, was how to kill it or if that was even possible. She knew that was pretty important to know. For the time being, she decided that holding her own would have to do. “When I go forward, you run.” Taking a deep breath, scales, webbing, and sharp claws flowed over skin in preparation. She had another knife, but she knew she’d need her hand to properly fight a beast.

“Go!” The nix hoped her instructions would be followed. There was nothing else she could do but hope as she lunged, tackling the creature to the ground and rolling with it for several feet. A mixture of claw and knife marks littered the beast upon collecting itself back on its feet, but it seemed so unfazed. “Dammit.”

The woman didn’t react the way Cass expected her to at all. Usually, when she came in to save someone, they… let themselves be saved, at the very least. This woman, however, seemed intent on putting herself back in the dog’s sights. Cass watched as she swung her knife, trying to keep the dog at bay. And while it worked for a moment, she knew it wouldn’t hold. The dog was angry and growling and maybe rabid. It wasn’t going to run off without hurting someone first.

Or, at least, it was going to try. The woman in front of her, Cass suddenly realized, was no ordinary woman. That didn’t come of as much of a surprise as it probably should have, these days. White Crest was full of people who were not-quite-human — Cass was still learning to come to terms with the fact that she was one of them. She wasn’t sure what species this woman was, but it was clear that she knew what she was doing here. Even so…

“I’m not going to leave you,” Cass insisted, darting to circle around the dog. “We stand more of a chance together than either of us would alone, anyway, right? I’m not running away, and clearly you’re not, either. So let’s work together. Let’s make sure we both get out of this. Okay?”

Teagan arched a brow, considering the idea. She knew the stranger was right. Two against one was always better, the odds evening the fight, maybe even tilting the balance in their favor. “Okay,” A nod, determination narrowing her eyes at the growling beast. “I’m Teagan.” She informed as she lunged and swiped at the hound’s legs. It let out a low whimper, dark and thick blood trickling down with as much speed as the drool on its chin, in preparation. Which would it be though, she wondered. “It can breathe fire and…something else. Can’t remember for the life of me. Be careful. The wound will get infected.”

Knife jabbed forward, claws following suit. In return, the hound’s jowls maneuvered through the attacks and clamped down onto the nix’s scaled arm, forcing out a quiet whimper. Teagan wouldn’t let herself scream, not when someone else was relying on her. She had to be strong. That’s what protectors were. Strong. They fought back until they couldn’t, so that’s what she did. Another jab went into the canine’s neck, setting Teagan’s arm free so she could place distance between them. Blood dripped down to the grass, but she rose it again in defiance, watching as a mixture of orange, red, and yellow danced in the hound’s mouth. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

There was a hint of relief as the woman agreed. Cass didn’t want to have to argue with her, not when it would only waste time. It was so much easier this way, so much better. The smile Cass offered her was a grateful one. “I’m Cass.” She realized, belatedly, that she probably should’ve gone with the superhero name to protect her secret identity… but this was a high stress situation, and it could be pretty hard to remember things like that. It was fine, she reasoned. Teagan was probably trustworthy enough. “It breathes fire?” Cass repeated the words with a blink. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t a dog. Classic White Crest. “What’s it called?”

The not-a-dog rushed forward quickly, and Cass let out a cry as its teeth sank into Teagan’s arm, as if it were her being made into kibble. She darted over to her new ally as she yanked her arm from the hound’s neck, hovering carefully. “Give me the knife,” she said quickly, reaching for it. “I’ll go at it from behind and catch it off guard.” It seemed more focused on Teagan at the moment, likely because it viewed her as the larger threat. Cass could work with that.

“Hellhound.” Teagan panted, cradling her arm protectively as she eyed the canine and handed her knife over. She had another. Giving one away wouldn’t lessen her odds of survival. If anything, she had just increased them. Cass looked like a comic book character with her getup, and the nix found herself smiling at the idea. The goggles really sold it. “I’ll keep it distracted. It’s tasted my blood. Make sure to plunge the knife into it as much as you can. It can only die from decapitation or sheer brutal attacks. Be careful.”

Legs were a little wobbly, but she fought against the pain and dizziness as she stood in front of the hound. She had grown used to that feeling, like she was constantly falling. While she didn’t know what was the cause, she didn’t really have time to ponder on it, as much as she wished she could. Fire bellowed from the hellhound’s mouth, and she needed to act quickly. Leaping to the side, heat radiated to her left, only to be doing the same on her right. The fire just barely missed her, and continued to with every movement of evasion. God, she felt nauseous.

Hellhound. Mina had told her about these, albeit briefly, and they definitely didn’t sound like the sort of thing Cass was equipped to deal with, but… She meant it when she said there was no way she was leaving the other woman alone to fight against it. Especially not when she was looking a little woozy already. Taking the knife, Cass grimaced and nodded. “Let’s… Try to keep it from tasting any more of your blood, though.” The last thing she wanted was for Teagan’s distraction to involve putting her own body on the line for more injuries. That wasn’t the kind of hero Cass wanted to be, not ever.

The Hellhound barely seemed to recognize Cass was there at all, so intently focused on Teagan that it was like everything else faded away. Cass waited until it seemed sufficiently distracted before launching herself at it, sinking the knife into its hide and yanking it back out again. She repeated the action as many times as she could before the Hellhound whirled around to face her, snapping its jaws in her direction before shooting a flame towards her. “Hey, Teagan, swap?” She danced out of the way of the flames, hoping Teagan would take the chance to dole out more damage on the Hellhound now that Cass was distracting it.

With a nod, Teagan unsheathed her second blade, watching the hellhound carefully. It was bleeding badly, dropping momentum in the fight it must’ve known it was losing. Despite the flaming growls and barks, there was a festering struggle with each breath. The pained whines and failing limbs were evidence enough. If it were to never come after them again or never hurt another person, Teagan might’ve thought twice before lunging forward with how pitiful it looked. But she knew leaving it alive would only mean death for someone else later. Protectors didn’t leave room for error like that.

The blade entered the wretched dog over and over again, continuing until there was no movement, and then a few more times after for good measure. Sweat beaded down Teagan’s face as she panted over the dead beast. The pair had won, but it didn’t feel like a victory. Taking a life of something only following its natural instincts always hurt, but the nix knew it couldn’t be helped sometimes. The hellhound’s actions were motivated by a hunger that couldn’t be stopped unless they did so permanently. And they did. They had done it. But god, she felt so dizzy and nauseous.

“Good job, Cass. Good job.” Teagan continued to pant, unable to control her breathing. Bloody hands propped her body up on trembling knees, hoping to stay upright. Hoping wasn’t always enough though, and she fell sideways as black spots trickled into her vision.

There was always an air of guilt to fights like this one. The Hellhound would have killed both Cass and Teagan if they let it, would have ripped them to shreds in a heartbeat, but it was hard not to feel bad as its blood dripped onto the forest floor. Cass wished, desperately, that there was another way. She wished things like this could be reasoned with the way the more humanoid supernatural creatures could, wished she could just ask it to let them go home in one piece, wished it was simple. But it wasn’t. In situations like this, the only options were to take this creature off the playing board entirely or leave knowing it would hurt someone else eventually. And Cass couldn’t live with the latter. She never could.

Still, there was no feeling of victory when the Hellhound fell. There wasn’t even relief, not really. There was an acidic grief that seemed to follow the dull thud of the body hitting the ground, a heavy guilt. Cass sighed, staring at the fallen beast for a moment. She should bury it, she thought. She should do something.

Teagan’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and Cass looked over to the other girl. Her mood went from guilty to concerned the moment she laid eyes on her companion, because Teagan didn’t look good. She was panting, she was unsteady, she was hurt. Quickly, Cass rushed to her side, putting her hands on her shoulders and trying to keep her upright. “Are you okay? Do you need a hospital? What can I do?”

Cass sounded so far away, muffled by the pounding of her heart in her ears. Teagan tried to carry her weight, but found her body aching too much, letting the younger girl keep her up. “No hospital. I’m okay. I’m okay. Just need to get to water. Fresh water.” With a deep breath, the nix managed to get back on her feet, shifting her discolored scales back to flesh. She was wobbly and looked a little sickly, but with a little help, she knew she could make it back to the lake. The distance wasn’t far, having only jogged for a few minutes from it before the hellhound made its appearance.

“Can you help me get to the lake over there?” Teagan pointed her finger in the direction, hands shaking uncontrollably. “It’s not very far. But I’m afraid I can’t make it on my own. I’ll be able to heal in there.” She hoped so at least, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in discomfort at the prospect of it not working. For a few weeks, the lake didn’t provide much solace save for feeling like home. Just didn’t have the typical benefits that the water nymph was used to. But being in there was better than being bloody and exposed.

Cass let herself become a crutch under Teagan’s arm, holding her weight as best she could. “Water?” She didn’t entirely understand the request, but she figured Teagan knew her needs far better than Cass could. This was White Crest, after all. And she’d just seen in the fight that Teagan was something other than human, something different. If fresh water was what she needed, fresh water was what Cass would get her.

Nodding at the request, Cass shuffled them both towards the lake, one shaky step at a time. She navigated them around the dead Hellhound, ignoring the lump in her throat at the sight of it. It would be slow going, getting to the lake. Slow, but steady. Cass could handle that. She just hoped Teagan could, too. “When we get over there,” she said, “maybe we can talk more about… all that.” She gestured vaguely to the Hellhound now laying behind them, to the bloodied blades and the forest floor.

#wickedswriting #words in the water #who let the dogs out?#cass and teagan #writings

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

Text

Suga We’re Going Down

Part 4

Masterlist

Y/N stared at the lawyers. Everything they said went straight over her head though it didn’t seem to bother Yoongi. They were his layers after all. They’d probably already gone over the contract with him in detail, something Y/N did not have the advantage of doing. She just didn’t have the time or the money to hire her own lawyers to look over it.

It felt odd going over a contract for what would essentially be a relationship. It felt clinical, but in a way that was good. She wanted that professional distance. This wasn’t romantic. They weren’t dating. She wanted, needed, that line firmly drawn in the sand. This was not a forever situation.

Thankfully, the lawyers were patient with her, answering all of her hesitant questions, making notes if she wanted something changed. Yoongi seemed to find it cute. Every time the lawyers looked at him to confirm a change, he would nod, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his lips. He was surprisingly gracious about it all. He agreed to every slight change to the contract she wanted to make.

“Now, Mr. Min will be providing a car and driver for your transportation.”

“That really isn’t necessary…”

“It’s non-negotiable.” Yoongi interrupted leveling the lawyers with a hard glare. He wanted her to be safe, and a driver would help with that. It would also provide him with access to her 24/7.

“Of course, Mr. Min.” The lawyer nodded. “There is also the wardrobe budget that Mr. Min will be providing.”

She was about to protest that as well, but Yoongi beat her to it. “Also non-negotiable.”

The lawyer nodded humming in understanding. “And the amount of times per week is alright with the both of you? Three times a week with other meetings interspersed as requested and can be accomodated by Miss Kang given her schedule?”

They both nodded.

“I’m sorry,” She interrupted softly. “It’d like it to be in there that my home is off limits for meetings. I’m willing to meet him wherever he would like, but I’d like to keep my home, well, mine. If that would be alright.” The last bit was added on as a rushed after thought her eyes wide as she looked from Yoongi to the lawyers.

The lawyers looked to Yoongi who nodded. “I’m fine with that.”

“Excellent.” The man smiled making a note on the contract. “There is something else we need to discuss.” Both Y/N and Yoongi turned to look at him attentively. “We need to establish the boundaries of your more… intimate relations.” The man informed them looking vaguely uncomfortable.

Yoongi perked up, but Y/N shrunk back in her seat feeling suddenly very small. She knew they had to discuss it, but that didn’t make it any less awkward for her.

She looked to Yoongi waiting for him to speak, waiting to see what was expected for her.

Just as her eyes were fixed on him, his were fixed on her, assessing, calculating. Of course Yoongi planned to have her in every way, but he needed to know how far he could push her and how quickly. If he went too far too fast, he could lose her entirely. She was a cautious creature. One wrong move on his part and she would bolt.

He had to suppress a grin watching how serious her eyes were, the way her hands trembled slightly. The poor thing. She looked out of her depth. She was, of course, but she would never know just how far out of her depth she was. Yoongi had everything drafted up perfectly. None of her requests interfered with his plans. They were reasonable requests from a reasonable girl. Allowances for school. Keeping her home a safe space. He could let her have her space for now, until she was more comfortable with him. Besides, he planned on spending most of their time together in his own home.

“Nothing weird?” She requested fidgeting uncomfortably and refusing to make eye contact.

“Weird?” He asked quirking a brow curiously.

“Like…” Her tone was unsure and her eyes wide. A blush made its way up her neck and stained her cheeks red as well. “Oh God…I… I honestly don’t know…”

Realization come over Yoongi leaving him stunned for a moment, before a deep sense of satisfaction took its place. She was a virgin. His sweet little muse was untouched just for him as if she couldn’t get any more perfect. No wonder she was so uncomfortable, the poor thing.

She wouldn’t have to be for long though. No one else would ever touch her. He would make sure of that. She was his sweet muse, untouched by the world, and he was going to keep her by his side no matter what. He knew the transition would be a little uncomfortable, but he was willing to help her through that if it meant having her by his side.

“We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He assured her finding her panic cute.

“But you would be open to a sexual relationship?” One of the lawyers asked, pen held at the ready to make the necessary changed.

“Yes.” She had to hold back her cringe as the word left her. She hoped Halmeoni could forgive her for this. She hoped she could forgive herself.

“Then you would be fine with confirming birth control? Mr. Min is willing to pay for whichever method of contraceptive you choose to use.”

“That’s fine as well.” She murmured too embarrassed to meet anyone’s eye. She felt all of two inches tall. How could everyone else treat this like it was normal? It was all so foreign to her, but hey were completely un-phased.

“Excellent. Could you sign here?” He asked sliding the contract over to her, along with a pen. “That should be it on our end. We’ve already discussed the rules of this arrangement and the payment has already been decided. We should be ready to proceed unless you want to add anything else?”

“No.” She couldn’t help the way her fingers trembled a she reached for the pen, but she signed her name and placed her stamp never the less.

Yoongi signed and stamped after her before turning to face her with a gummy grin.

“I guess it’s official now.”

“I guess so.” Her own smile was much less enthusiastic. It was actually quite weak. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d signed her soul to the devil.

“Let me take you to dinner.” He offered standing from his seat.

She shook her head standing as well. “I can’t. I have other things to do today. Besides, it’s too early for dinner.” She shot him a shaky smile hoping to smooth over her refusal though the deadpan expression on his face wasn’t giving her much hope that she’d succeeded.

“Come on.” He placed a hand on her back and began ushering her out of the room despite her stuttered protests.

“Yoongi.”

“It’s one meal. A celebration of our new contract.” He loved the way her face scrunched up in concern as she thought it over. “We’ll do it eventually. Why not start now?” He shrugged gently placing her coat over her shoulders eyeing it with distaste. “This isn’t the coat I gave you.”

“No. It’s my coat.”

“The one I gave you is warmer.” He didn’t like how thin the coat she had looked, especially not when he had provided her with one of his own, one of his favorites.

“And it’ll be returned to you next time.” She shot back sighing in defeat as he ushered her into the elevator.

“You should keep it. I don’t like how thin that coat of yours looks.”

She huffed under her breath but didn’t argue further. She didn’t want to ruin this before it even started. She needed this money. She’d already spent the money from the first few meetings in her head. A new coat for Eun Jae before the weather got too cold. The first installment on her father’s debt. They needed to fix the stove at the restaurant as well. Not to mention her tuition.

“I’ve already arranged a car for you.” He placed a hand on her back and led her out of the elevator. “It’ll be at your disposal day and night.”

“I really don’t need…” “You do.” He argued glaring down at her gently. “It’s for your protection as well as convenience. Fans can be a little rabid, and I’d prefer to know that you were safe.”

“Only for meetings.” She relented as he led her towards the side entrance of Jin Hit.

“You’ll use it as much as you need to. It’s safer than the bus or the train.”

“You can’t make me take the car.” She shot back eyeing him with concern. A car just seemed like too much for a sugar baby. She hadn’t even done anything yet.

He paused turning to level her with another gentle glare. She knew they could be worse. Nina has showed her enough Agust D videos for her to know just how fierce he could look. He was going easy on her.

“Take the car. Even if you don’t want to use it, I’ll just have Jackson ready to pick you up anyway.” He shrugged. “He’ll just shadow you until you take it.”

She didn’t like the sound of that either. “I’m fine taking the bus.”

“But I’m not.” He looked at her eyes dark and unyielding as they both tried to decide which of them would be the first to yield. “For your safety and my peace of mind.” He grumbled leading her out of the building to the waiting car.

It was a dark SUV with the windows specially tinted for celebrity privacy with a driver waiting outside for them.

“This is Young Jae my driver.” He introduced.

“Ma’am.” The man nodded about to open the door for them, but Yoongi beat him to it. Like a gentlemen he opened the door for her and helped her inside following in right after her.

“Where are we going?” She asked as the car pulled away from Jin Hit.

“Out for an early dinner. I know you probably have studying to do.”

“I do.” She nodded fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“You never told me what you were studying.” That was true enough. He had never asked her, and she had never told him, but he knew anyway.

She looked at him in surprise. She had never thought that he would actually be interested in what she did outside of their arrangement. It wasn’t really in the nature of their relationship for him to care about what she did.

“Elementary Education. I want to be a teacher.”

“It suits you.” He hummed. “What do you do when you’re not studying?”

“I play the cello.” She admitted only a little hesitantly. Music was her passion after all. It was something that they shared, she supposed.

He smiled leaning back against his seat. “Classical?”

He pretended to be surprised. She didn’t know that he had watched her play before. She didn’t know that he knew a lot of things about her. If she knew how much he knew she would probably go running for the hills, not that she could. Not legally at least. He had had his lawyers slip a few surprises into the contract, hidden within the fine print. She was locked into the contract for at least a year. If she broke contract for any reason, she’d be responsible for paying out the contract, and the price was set at far more than she could afford, as well as a few other surprises.

He had his tricks to keep her close. She was a sweet little songbird, but she was skittish, wary of him. She was too sweet for the arrangement she had gotten herself into, but Yoongi was determined to keep her safe. She would always be safe with him.

“Yeah.” She agreed. She did love classical music, but it was fun from time to time to play more modern adaptations. Those were usually easier on the piano though. It was easier to find piano sheet music than cello for pop or rock songs, and she just didn’t have the time to go about transcribing sheet music for the cello, so she stuck to the classics for the most part.

“Never any Agust D?” He asked teasingly.

“Never on the cello.” She agreed.

“Any other instruments?”

“Piano.” She admitted with a smile.

Yoongi loved that smile. It was bright, unguarded. She was talking about something she loved, something he loved. It was as though her entire face lit up, and she seemed to shine from within.

“You’re quite the musician.”

“Not like you.” She pointed out sighing as she leaned back against the seats as well. She was exhausted from the day, and dinner sounded less and less appealing as the minutes passed. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to forget that the day had ever happened, and pretend if only for a moment, that she was still just Y/N and not Agust D’s sugar baby.

“A musician is a musician.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if you play at home or in the arenas.”

They slipped into silence after that.

Dinner was short. She had studying to do, and the urge to see her baby. The day had left her rankled and seeing Eun Jae would help settle her again. So dinner was a light sweet meal where they got to know each other a little more before Yoongi sent her off in a car of her own. It was another dark SUV just like the one they had taken to get to the little restaurant.

“This is Jackson.” He nodded to the man waiting outside the car for her. “He’ll be your driver from now on.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” The tall young man greeted with a respectful bow and a charming smile.

“Please, call me Y/N.” She introduced herself with a small smile of her own.

He nodded shooting her a grin, both of them unaware of the dark look Yoongi was giving them. She was never so at ease with him, but she would be soon with any luck.

“Take good care of her, Wang.” He ordered seeing his own car pulling up ready to take him to the next thing on his schedule for the day. “Take care, Y/N. I’ll be seeing you soon.” He gave her nod though it wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss her. God did he want to kiss her, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. Soon though. Soon.

She got home safe and sound though it was a surprise for Halmeoni to see her there.

The elderly woman looked at her with a sharp eye as she entered the restaurant. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see Eun Jae. It’s been a rough day.” She answered with a weak smile.

Her grandmother nodded in understanding motioning her head towards the stairs that led up to their home. “He’s upstairs. I’ll make tea.”

She nodded gratefully before practically sprinting up the stairs. She saw Eun Jae sprawled across the floor coloring, and it was like she could breathe again. Everything would be okay. It had to be okay. And even if it wasn’t, she would make it okay, for him.

part 5

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yandere #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #rapper yoongi #agust d #bts fanfic #suga we're going down #suga x reader #dark romance

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factual-fantasy · 3 years

Text

21 asks, some old some new, all basically just heart warming compliments. ♡ඩᴗඩ♡

You’re welcome!! And thank you so much!! Something I always love to do with characters like this is give them some crazy depth. Give answers for things that the media they’re from never answers. I always work really hard to make it all fit together and really feel natural and I’m so happy you noticed! (இ﹏இ`｡)

I’ll be sure to. I’m still feeling really crummy mentally, but taking a break from my lovely community of fans certainly didn’t make me feel any better. XD

Pfff Kitty cat Pirate man XD

Well you’re sort of right. Captain Barnacles is my favorite character 100%, but the reason why I draw those two together so often is because the show has established that they are really good friends.

Where ever the Captain is, Kwazii is usually nearby. Kwazii was the only one that knew about the Captains fear, Kwazii is the Octonauts lieutenant, which probably means that they spend a lot time around each other. They share a bed pod, they have had these little interactions that don’t happen with anyone else. Like fist bumps, shoulder pats etc.

They’re even used as an example of symbiosis in the crab and urchin episode! Now, you can interpret that how you’d like, but I believe the show is somewhat subtly trying to push the point that these two are best friends, like family even.

So when ever I draw Captain Barnacles, I always have an incentive to draw Kwazii with him. :}

Honestly by my headcannons, I feel like Kwazii would need it more than anyone else really. But yeah, the Captain could really use me a pick me up. XD

Dawww you’re welcome, I’m just glad everyone likes my art so much. ♡●ᴗ●♡

Th-Thank you!! That’s so sweet!! I’ll Be sure to keep making them!- Be sure to drop in some suggestions you guys so I know what ya’ll want to see!! :}

COMMERE YOU

(before I left for a break)

Well I may have needed more time to “relax”, but I just missed you guys too much lol.

Wow! That’s a lot of shows! I don’t recall really watching.. any of them.. any way uh- that aside, there are several shows I used to watch as a kid. Some weren’t meant for kids but were still funny to me.

For one, like I’m sure a lot of people did, I watched SpongeBob.

I also used to watch, of course, Octonauts. Although that was when I was a wee bit older.

I also used to watch The Three Stooges.. this one was for adults I think but it was still hilarious.

I also used to watch Beetle Baily, although this one was kind of like a once a year tradition type thing we did.

There may be one or two more but I don’t recall.. I mean, we did have one episode of speed racer that I watched over and over and over again. Or.. was it a movie? Heh, I uh, cant really recall..

(after my break announcement)

Thank you, turns out taking a break from Tumblr kind’a just made me miss the community. I felt really awful while I was gone but feel a little better after returning sooo.... guess I’m hangin around for a little while longer! :}

No I don’t ship anyone personally, although I can see how some of their dynamics could be seen like that.

Oh! No worries, that’s alright, and that thing is in the description as a heads up kind’a. If I tag my own art as ship or explicitly say it is okay to do so, then go for it. I just don't usually ship characters and don't want my art to be perceived incorrectly..

I have watched both Octonauts movies and season 1-3 on Netflix. When it comes to season 4, so far I haven't had much trouble just finding it on YouTube.

When it comes to watching season 4 in order, just go to the episode wiki, find the names in order and keep searching on YouTube until you’re sure you’re on the right episode. Pretty sure you can find basically all the Octonauts episode this way, go ahead and give it a shot! Hope it works!

To keep the fourth wall breaking to a minimum, what would my Transformer OCs think of Octonauts?

Suburban, A.T.Dragster, Green Truck, Escort, Vega, Red Van, Brown Suburban, Miata, AND Honda, most likely wouldn't really be interested and wouldn’t really have an opinion on the show, but they don't make fun of anyone who does watch it. No matter how old. Volvo specifically would respect the educational aspect of the show and most likely wouldn’t pick on anyone for watching it either.

U.M.Dragster would kind’a poke fun at the show and its imperfections. But low key is peeking around the corner wanting to know what the characters do next.

White Truck thinks it pretty cool and kind’a likes to watch it with others, but wont really go out of his way to watch it on his own.

Beluga would probably think its really cute, bet 10 bucks her favorite character is Kwazii.

Ranger would be hooked. She loves everything about Earths water and want’s to learn everything about it. Including the creatures that live in it. She would appreciate the show “dumbing everything down” for her, because she doesn’t know these basic things that kids know. Having everything “dumbed down” makes it easier for her to understand everything.

Jeepy’s driver used to make fun of me for watching it, but now he thinks it neat. So maybe he’d think its silly but eventually come around?

Bash Buggy cant see the screen-

But really Its cool though, he wouldn’t be all that interested in it even if he could watch it anyway.

Daww thank you! ♡●ᴗ●♡

Oh how cool! I never thought so many people grew up watching this too, I thought this show was really obscure! Glad I can share the nostalgia and joy with ya’ll through my art! :}

You mean the Vegimals? These little dudes?

I just haven’t had a good opportunity to draw them yet is all.

Hmmmm.... let me think.. I feel like my Transformer OCs would mostly like certain aspects of seasonal things, not one season and all of its aesthetics as a whole.

Suburban, Red Van, Escort, Brown Suburban and Green Truck love the bonfire part of colder weather. The warm, bright and surrounded by loved ones aspect of it is what they enjoy. Especially Brown Suburban. He loves bonfires man. The more light and heat the better, that poor mech is freezing his aft off out there in that old manky dark shed all by himself. He just wants to be around his loved ones where its warm and bright.

Miata would probably like pumpkin spice lattes, and just that aspect of fall. Beluga and Honda however would be all over fall and all its traditions. They’d be all over every season really, always up to date with trends and having fun.

The Dragsters are all about summer and its aesthetics. Summer is the prime time for dragstrips and the weather they function most efficiently in so they’re all for it.

Vega is more about fall. Sure its not really racing weather, but he does like all the pretty colors and the temperature is just right for him.

White Truck would like summer the most. He’d like the attire, the swimming, the warmth, all of it. He’d function a little on the edge I’d think though, he does have a bit of an overheating issue.. but still, I think summers for the win.

Ranger would like summer. Summer = more fish in the water. She loves to look at fish and be out in the water and just explore everything. Summer is when most of the fish are around so she’d really enjoy that. When it comes to seasonal outfits and food? Meh, waters cooler.

Volvo doesn't care for any weather or aesthetics honestly. But would prefer fall for its cooler temperatures. Having so many layers of armor is bound to make you overheat eventually.

Jeepy would like the fall and winter most of all, because of MUD. Going slipin, driftin and slidin with Bash is a real hoot, so he’d really like those seasons. He’s just built for them you know? Plus he’d kill a man for a glass of eggnog so he likes that aspect of cooler seasons too. :}

Bash Buggy likes summer and spring for the temperatures mostly. He also likes winter and fall, but because of the mud, he doesn’t like them for any other reason. Just the mud and goofing around with Jeepy. Everything else about those cold seasons are terrible, and he cant even see all the pretty colors and aesthetics so what does it matter? His body has no insulation anymore so the cold just eats him up, and he cant go outside in the snow because of his blindness and the cold. So he’s stuck shivering indoors while his friends go goof around in the snow without him. Colder seasons suck besides mud, the warmer ones are a win.

I don’t know, it just kind’a makes me uncomfortable. Not all artists are the same, not all artists like that.

It kind of feels like stealing to me in a way, I just don’t like it..

I want to, but I am completely halted by the knowledge that these comics don’t get much traction. They only get a handful of notes when I post them, which just makes them feel like a waste of time.

I’m weird about time. I don't like talking about my interests with others because I know I’m wasting their time and they don’t care anyway.

I am heavily discouraged to draw things online, not just because people steal, but because only a handful of people truly care and get excited about them.

And I mean, a handful of lovely followers, is a handful lovely followers. But you can see how a people pleaser like me would drift towards what people want me to draw instead of what I want to draw.

And when it comes to what people want me to draw? Besides those lovely few, people don’t want to see my comics.

#my response #octonauts #transformer ocs #about me

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

Text

The Hunt - Geralt of Rivia

It was a meeting by chance: two hunters that work alone. More like two storm heads clashing in the dark of a nights sky. That night, you both took a risk. Weeks later, you both found it was not a risk at all. It was fate tying you together.

AN: The Reader is much like Geralt in their demeanor! Also, sorry this sucks...I just had to write it out...

You released the breath held strongly in your chest. It wavered in a small puff of steam against the cool air; a tiny cloud from your lips. Wisps of it began to meld into the branches above and around your head, disappearing into the depths of the forest. To ease the stiffness in your joints, you rolled your shoulders ever so slightly.

The arrow notched, set in your bow shifted out of place. Another breath, this one louder and angrier than the last, rattled your bones. Fearing a cramp, you relaxed your posture and lowered your weapon. The branch you were balanced on creaked with your movement. In the tree across the way, the fat squirrel you had targeted scurried off down the elm.

“Shit,” you muttered, leaning back against the trunk of the tree you were perched in.

That kill would have gotten a meager handful of coins. Not enough for the week but enough to survive until the next. If you were lucky, the day after that too. Now, you’d be hungry until more game crossed your path.

Much to your disdain, that meant waiting. Waiting, watching time slip through your fingers. Time you didn’t have as the sun began to set. Tucked behind the dark clouds, the sky glowed in dull oranges and reds. Before long, it would be too dark to hunt.

A heavy sigh seemed to echo in your chest; an empty sound as dread filled your stomach. It would be the only thing in your gut for a while. No game meant no coin and no coin meant no ale or pies. If you didn’t bring in something, you would starve.

As if thinking of starvation made it all too real, your stomach grumbled angrily. Hints of a hunger that always seemed to plague you.

“Fuck,” you snapped, your grip tightening on your bow. Just as you settled in against the tree trunk, the snapping of twigs reached your ears.

Your body tensed at the sound and you carefully craned your neck to sneak a glance at the source. On twig-like legs, a doe crept forwards. Her eyes were wide and dark against her tawny fur, watching the world around her for any sign of danger. As she bent her head down to nose through some dead fauna in search for food, you knew that you had not been found out.

Some part of you ached at the idea of killing such a beautiful creature.

But muscle memory kicked in and you had notched your arrow once more before you had a chance to dwell on the thought. You pulled back the string and nock. The wood of the bow’s limbs creaked in your ears; a sound that has carved itself in your brain since you first held your weapon of choice. Carefully, you watched the doe step deeper into the woods around you.

You released another breath and let go.

“Twenty coppers, that’s all? For this!?” You gestured to the doe you had lugged through the woods. Now it was splayed on the butcher’s table, a stout man with a balding head and sharp grey eyes. “It’s at least a hundredweight!”

“Aye, but with me services, the skinnin’, the guttin’ and the cuttin’,” the man clucked his tongue. “Could raise it to twenty-five for ya.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line and thought. The grumbling in your stomach had a good argument, one you couldn’t ignore. “Fine.”

The butcher nodded, turning his large form away from the table and wandered over to a secluded, slight obscured corner of his shop. With each step he took, the wood flooring below creaked with distress. Smoke and the metallic scent of blood seemed stuck within the walls. Your nose crinkled when the butcher turned back around, bringing with him a new waft of sour smells. All of your discomfort melted away when he held out his hand, a pouch full of copper coins just for you.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” the butcher sighed, already tugging the doe to prepare it. You nodded and turned your back to the counter. Satisfied that he didn’t short you, you shoved the pouch of coins into your coat.

You were about to stride out of the shop when a thought hit you. Slowly, you spun on your heel and faced the butcher once more. “Is there an inn nearby?” Lifting his grey eyes, the butcher gave you a curious look. “Not from around here, eh?”

“You could say that,” you snapped back. If you had learned anything from your life on the road, you knew better than to answer questions that veered to close to the heart. You had put distance between you and you heart, your wants for so long that you feared going back to it. The butcher wasn’t worth the risk.

“Heh,” the butcher scratched at his dark-bearded chin, “well there’s uh Padrick’s down the way then to tha right. Might have a room for ya if yer lookin’ for a place ta stay the night.”

You dipped your head at the butcher before pushing out the door.

Night had officially fallen over the land. A chill came with it, lurking in the shadows that now called the forest home. As you made your way down the dirt road, a breeze kissed your cheeks. In an attempt to hide from the cold and any eyes on you, you pulled the hood of your cloak up over your head. The last thing you wanted was attention.

You even quickened you pace, partly eager to escape the cold but mostly to get away from the narrowed gazes trained on you now. Bustling down the way, you ducked right and towards the inn mentioned by the butcher. At least you thought it was the inn. The sign hanging from the front looked worn and weather-beaten, the text barely legible.

Too desperate to care, eager for peace, you pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Sound, loud and unexpected, assaulted your senses, making you cringe. Only a moment later, when you adjusted to the shocking noise, you realized it was music. High pitched, a bit empty, but it was music. A bard was singing, a lute in hand, a cheery tune that was horribly out of place within the inn.

The place was dingey, almost dirty if it were not for the blazing fireplace and barkeep that was busing empty tables. Despite being inside, warmed in an almost golden glow, you felt on edge. It was like the hunt never left your veins. Each step you took, you were careful not to step too strongly as if fearful to alert nearby prey. You kept your hood up too, insulating yourself, camouflage of the ‘civilized’ world. However, this environment was foreign to you.

As you gripped a stool at the bar and pulled it back, it’s feet scraped loudly against the wooden floor. White hot, fear shot through you. The bard stopped playing and you glanced around, out from under your hood.

“Need something?” You snapped your head back to the bar. The tender behind it, a younger man with fiery red hair, eyed you questioningly. It was clear that he didn’t trust you. Though, owning a bar, you imagined, broke down any sort of faith in humanity.

“Ale,” you muttered, sliding on top of the stool. “And a room.”

“Can help ya with the drink but we’re fresh outta rooms. Sorry there...what’s your-”

“Is there another inn?” You interrupted him, his question, knowing all too well where it led. “A place nearby, where I can stay?”

The bartender blinked at you, as if you had spoken in Elder Speech. “You won’t find another inn outside of Hagge. You’ve got a better chance findin’ a cave in the Blue Mountains.”

You exhaled deeply through your nose and turned your gaze down. Of course. It was just how your life had always been: one negative turn after another. Sadly, today that meant a night out in the cold. You only looked up when the bartender placed a tankard before you.

“That’ll be four coppers.”

Begrudgingly, you pressed the coins to the counter top and took a hold of your drink. As the bitter, lukewarm taste flooded over your tongue, you scowled. A stool a but farther down the bar screeched with movement and pulled your from your disgust. You didn’t dare switch your gaze over. Instead, you busied yourself with studying the different bottles displayed behind the bar. In the warm fire light, the colored glass made little rainbows on the wall.

“Ale,” said the new comer to the inn. There was something in the lowness of his voice that felt familiar to you. It was like soft thunder in the night; more soothing than frightening.

You couldn’t help but turn on your stool. Some part of you yearned to see who could hold such a voice. One glimpse wouldn’t hurt the distance you had shaped around you. If it did or did not, it was a risk you were willing to take. What you saw set you on the edge of your seat.

“Witcher,” the word came out in a quiet breath.

The the silver-haired man’s eyes met yours, though you couldn’t describe the color. They weren’t brown, they were warmer somehow. You took in his strong features: his brow, his jaw, his shoulders. Everything about him was strong. In his presence, you should have felt small. Yet, the tone of his voice still rang in your ear. It still pulled at some part of you with a comfort, a familiarity you hadn’t felt in years.

All Witcher’s are strong, but this one was different. You could feel it as your hands could feel the tautness of your bow during a hunt. You were attuned to him, this Witcher, in the same way. It was as if you could read through him and him through you in a single glance.

“Yes?” Amber. His eyes were an amber color like tree sap or honey. For a moment, you forgot that he had spoke. Forgotten only until the dull rumble of his gentle voice echoed in your ears. Something in it made you forget the struggle you faced day-to-day.

“Ale’s shit,” you replied, tearing your eyes from his. You brought your mug to your lips and sipped at the liquid in spite of its taste. As you drank, you could feel the Witcher’s eyes on you. Not in a way that made you feel like prey but in way that made you feel seen. Seen in a way that you never had before.

“Thanks for the warning,” he mused wryly. You looked over to the Witcher just as the bartender placed a pint before him. He gave the older looking man five coppers, verses your four, before picking up the tankard and putting it to his lips.

You forced your eyes from him, gazing back the array of shining bottles. There was a stillness in them that reminded you of the forest, of the hunt. A shaking breath passed over your lips and you fought the urge to look back over at the Witcher.

Before long, your drink distraction ran dry. Still trying to resist your softer nature, you trained your eyes steady on the edge of the cup in front of you. You thought back to the forest, forced yourself to wonder what other game may lurk in its depths. Idly, your fingertips traced the lips of your empty cup as you thought.

“You’re a hunter.”

You snapped your gaze back to the Witcher, back to his amber eyes which were trained on you. He was looking at your fingers as they danced along the cup. With slight shock, your mouth fell open.

“How can you tell?” You tried to not to stare at him. You tried not to let on about how you felt so strongly connected to him.

“The same way you know that I’m a Witcher,” he mused, “your eyes.”

If it had been anyone else, you would have scoffed. Hell, if it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have even spoken up or asked a single question. Yet you could not deny the presence of this man. It was as if you were meant to find him here. Years of fighting for survival had ebbed away at any idea you had in fate or some higher power but hints of what you lost were, seemingly, found in him.

“My eyes,” you echoed. The Witcher let out a low hum and, to your shock, the startings of a smile spread along his lips.

“And the dirt under your fingernails.” You raised a brow at him. Slightly buzzed from your drink, and drunk on the feeling of finding someone who might understand, you sat a bit straighter. Carefully, as if you were hunting, you eyed the Witcher.

“That could be from anything.”

“Yes, but you smell like elm and blood.”

“You would know,” you fired back, trying to hide your slight surprise. “Witchers are hunters too, after all. Just deadlier game, some believe.”

Finally, you found the strength to tear your eyes from the Witcher. You knocked your empty cup against the countertop and the bartender rushed over to refill it. Before you could throw in your coppers, the Witcher had already paid for your drink.

“You say that as if you’re up for the challenge.”

You looked back at him with sharp eyes, “of what?”

“Deadlier game,” the Witcher pressed. In his voice, the low thunderstorm returned and flooded your being with the feeling of home. A home you hadn’t known for years.

A home where you could shed the walls you had built around your skin and heart. You could roll yourself up in the deepness of his voice and stay there. Or maybe it was the drink. You had only had one but it could have been enough to loosen your inhibitions. Why not see how far this goes?

You downed your newly filled drink with a solid chug. With the ale mixing with the intensity of Witcher’s eyes, you could feel the skin of your cheeks begin to warm.

“Perhaps I am,” you drawled, leaning towards the Witcher as you spoke. It had been so long since you had spoken like this to anyone; let your speech take on a flirtatious edge. It was risky when you were out on your own.

Yet, you felt, you knew that you were safe with this Witcher. Kindness was clear in his sharp face just as clearly as you heard thunder rumble in his voice. He was a risk you were willing to take. Whatever that meant to you in your slightly drunken state.

“Hmm, I think you’re already hunting.” There was an almost purr to the Witchers voice and a knowingness in his amber eyes. “Aren’t you?”

You grinned and stood up from your stool. What coppers you had left jingled together in your pouch. The Witcher’s eyes never left yours as you moved. You had his whole, intense attention.

“Perhaps,” you said with a smile. “Care to join me?”

The Witcher stood, ignoring his still filled tankard. There was something tangible in the air now, as if a cord was tied between you conducting an unseen energy.

“I have a room.” For the first time since speaking with him, the Witcher seemed almost shy, bashful even. It didn’t last though.

As soon as you smiled a little wider, the Witcher was leading you through the inn and to his rented room for the evening.

Your heart was pounding, your breathing as uneven as it was when you first drew back an arrow. This wasn’t like you. In the moment, you enjoyed the feeling of being prey. Of being pinned against the closed door of his room and attacked. It was like surrendering but sweet, something softer. The Witcher was surprising gentle, so gentle that it distracted you from your own thoughts. You were thrust out of your own head the moment his lips met yours.

His hands were gripping at your waist, pulling you impossibly close. Your hands busied themselves in his hair and pulled. The Witcher grumbled something against your lips. Forcing yourself to lean back, you met his hooded gaze.

“What?” You were panting now.

“Geralt, my name is Geralt.” He pressed his forehead to yours, noses brushing together. The breath you managed to catch suddenly left you in a rush. He didn’t need to ask the question. It was the same question the bartender had almost asked you. It was the risk you never really took.

“Y/N,” you whispered. The Witcher, Geralt let out another thoughtful hum before you kissed him again. What a sweet distraction a kiss could be. You would have to be sure to sneak one last one before you left in the morning. But you could think about that later. Geralt had a way of grounding you. Thoughts about the next day or the next hunt, what you would do to try to survive all faded away.

The next morning, before the sun rose, you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Geralt’s lips. Despite everything you had heard about Witchers, there was something in his nature, something you felt or saw last night, that pulled at your heart as you left the inn. Only time would tell if what you felt was true.

“Ale,” you ordered, wiping the spray of blood from your brow. The hunt had not gone as smoothly as planned. None of your recent hunts had. It was as if the forests had turned sour all over the land in the last month. It was as if you lacked the heart, the hunger for it anymore. Almost as if it had been replaced.

“Rough day?” The innkeeper asked, a dark haired women with amused eyes. You glared at her, taking the nearest stool for yourself. She frowned in silent reply and went to fill a tankard for you. As you sat down, the seat at your side screeched as it was pulled back.

A blur of blue filled your peripheral sight before your eyes were drawn back to the innkeeper. She set a cup in front of you, the smile on her face replaced with a scowl. You reached into your coin pouch but the woman shook her head.

“On the house.”

Part of you felt bad but the other part, the overtired and hungry part, won over. You took the free drink and took a swig. The bitter taste almost scalded your tongue and you cringed.

“Cheap stuff, huh?”

The blur you had noticed at your side before began to speak. You stayed quiet, not looking over. You weren’t in the mood to take a risk. The last time you did you had felt awful. Nearly as nasty as the taste in your mouth.

“Quiet one then. Silent type always have a story to tell.”

You fought a scoff and took another drink. The ale was growing on you. It was better company than the talkative man at your side.

“Sad too. Most always are. I mean, you could just ask Ger-”

“Jaskier.” The name came out low, a warning, bathed in a tone of voice that felt familiar to you. Felt like the rolling of thunder over a hill. But you still did not turn around.

“What? I’m only-”

“Let’s go, Jaskier.” That voice! Where had you heard it before? Your heart ached for you to remember. Yet, you still did not look.

“I do believe I found a new story to write into song,” the bard, Jaskier, turn to look at you. When you finally looked at the chatty man, you saw his blue eyes were curious. “And perhaps someone more quiet and brooding than you, Geralt.”

Goose bumps rose up along your arms at the name. Slowly, you turned on your stool and locked eyes with the only Witcher you had ever met.

“Y/N.”

“Geralt.”

“What?” You glanced over at the man at your side. The man, Jaskier, eyed you then Geralt then you once more. “You two…”

He pointed a finger, tracing a line, a thread, between you and Geralt. Suddenly, his soft features twisted up in what looked like disgust.

“Oh no...no…”

Within the same blur of energy you had first noticed him in, Jaskier darted away and past Geralt. Then it was just the two of you, like the first time. You were sharing the same space and that chord between you long ago was no longer stretched across the land.

“What brings you here?” Geralt took a step towards you but did not take a seat. His amber eyes stayed focused on you.

“Game, same as you I suppose.” Geralt hummed in agreement, the stormy sound soothing you slightly. A heavy silence fell between you but not an uncomfortable one. You wanted to break it though, eager to hear his voice again. “Ale’s shit here too.”

Geralt smiled. “Inn can change but everything else stays the same.”

You shook your head. “No, I imagine you’ve changed,” you tipped your head over to Jaskier, “added to your party.”

“I took another risk,” Geralt mused and you nodded. Finally, Geralt took the seat beside you. Warmth flooded from his body to yours. “I couldn’t forget you.”

His words caught you off guard. It was a show of emotion that you had kept yourself from for so long. Something that you would not allow yourself to admit. But it had infiltrated every hunt you had embarked on. Geralt was always in your mind, clouding your will to survive. It had been so easy with him and you longed for it again.

“Geralt,” you murmured, “I-you know you should. Our lives could never meet.”

“But they have,” he pressed gently. He was never harsh, not with you. Even after all this time and the trials you imagined he had endured. “We are hunters.”

“And that is all we share.”

“No,” his hand grabbed yours carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal. “You know it is more than that. You’ve felt it and we’ve met again.”

“It was a surprise, a chance.”

“A risk we both took,” he corrected, “and I’ve learned that...surprises are often more than what you originally bargain for.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me,” you whispered sadly. You did, at least, your heart knew. Geralt smiled softly and leaned in towards you.

“We hunt for the same thing, Y/N. We have traveled through mountains and swamps only to find each other again. We want a home.”

In the depths of his voice, you knew this was true. Whatever magic Geralt was tied to and whatever destiny whatever god had planned for you did not matter. A real hunt could not fill the void of hunger in your heart. Only a home could do that; even if that home was a place or a person. Or people. You had been on the run from your heart for so long you couldn’t even imagine the possibilities.

“Yes,” you whispered. Geralt cocked his head to the side, slightly confused.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you repeated, “I want to take a risk again.” Then, you kiss him not caring who sees or who knew: he was home.

#this sucks #I just needed to get it out of my system #sorry #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt fanfic #geralt imagine #geralt imagines #geralt fanfiction #the witcher imagine #the witcher imagines #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #jaskier

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allsassnoclass · 4 years

Text

this is a niche au written specifically for @calumsclifford because she put the idea in my head. I probably won’t continue it but there’s Potential in this universe so please enjoy the very beginnings of a Raven Cycle au

Luke Hemmings has forgotten how many times he has been told that he will kill his true love.

He grew up with predictions swirling around his household before he could talk. Most of them are significantly less specific: You will have the opportunity to earn a sum of money, be ready for it. Something catastrophic will happen tomorrow, possibly to do with the number six. You have a difficult decision that will not make itself. Go with your gut.

Liz Hemmings and the other ladies of 300 Fox Way begin each reading with the assurance that “these predictions will be accurate, but not very specific.” It’s easier that way. Clients can then believe however much they chose to. Was the neighbor offering to pay extra to buy their lawnmower a coincidence, or what the psychic foretold? Was the minivan carrying six passengers that ran into their car bad luck or a fulfilled prophecy? In this way, it becomes a bit of a game for clients to figure out how exactly each prediction will come true. Their little house remains a roadside attraction without garnering an inconvenient amount of attention.

Predictions about Luke were never anything but precisely accurate. His mother knew that he would sprain his wrist on the first day of school. He could never lie about his grades, because Jimi or Persephone would tell his mom about the content of his report card before he got home. Calla always predicts what song he’s going to play when he pulls out the guitar even if she’s never heard it before. Everyone in that house knew he was gay before he ever thought to come out.

The Fox Way psychics do not have a habit of being wrong, whether they’re predicting Liz’s tax returns within ten dollars or humming a song a minute before it plays on the radio.

Luke has had his palm inspected, his tea leaves pondered over, and his tarot cards read an infinite amount of times by every psychic woman to pass through their doors. Each one of them says the same thing:

If Luke were to ever kiss his true love, his true love would die.

He hates this prediction, because despite it’s accuracy, there’s still so much he doesn’t know. Does it have to be a kiss on the lips, or would kissing his true love’s forehead do him in? How long after the kiss would he die? What type of death would it be?

The thought of him having a true love, someone who is made for him and perfectly compatible like a fairy tale, fills him with warmth. The thought of being the cause of his death has resulted in various late nights spent crying in the quiet of his tiny room, trying not to be heard by one of the various women he lives with.

By the time Luke turns sixteen, he decides that he’s not going to fall in love in order to avoid the ordeal altogether. Around the same time, his mother starts having intense whispered conversations with her two best friends, Persephone and Calla. The conversations always drift off or quickly change when he enters the room, and eventually he asks Persephone about them.

Persephone is the most likely to tell him, because her predictions often leave her mouth without permission and he knows that she doesn’t like secrets in the house.

“Luke Robert Hemmings,” she says, cupping his face with her palms, frizzy blonde hair looking like a halo in the sunset light, “this is the year you will fall in love.”

-/-

It’s cold in the churchyard.

Every year, the 24th of April feels colder than it should to a small town like Henrietta, Virginia. No one notices, because no one outside of 300 Fox Way thinks of St. Mark’s Eve as a significant day year after year. There are no decorations to put up, and no gifts to exchange or parties to throw. No one gets St. Mark’s day off of school, or marks it on the calendar.

No one except the psychics, that is.

Year after year, Luke and his mom drive to the abandoned, crumbling, nameless church positioned on the corpse road. Year after year, Liz looks at the spirits of those who will die within the year and asks them their names. Year after year, Luke writes them down for her and tries in vain to catch a glimpse of what she sees.

He never sees any spirits. He sometimes sees mist, but only if it rained recently, and he always sees the caved-in roof and moss-covered stones that used to make the frame of the church. He never hears anything, either. Even crickets and other nighttime creatures tend to stay quiet on St. Mark’s Eve.

Luke spends the time waiting for the future-dead gazing at the stars, clearly visible this far out of town, and fiddling with his lip ring. They’ve already been there for what feels like hours, but they always come well before midnight and more often than not stay late. The dead have no need for punctuality.

At least he remembered his beanie this time. His mom tried to get him to put on gloves, but Luke hates writing while wearing them, and that’s half the reason he’s here.

“Tonight is the night,” Liz says, voice soft and airy like it sometimes gets when she’s making a prediction. Luke glances at her, ready to start writing names, but she falls silent, looking at the outline of a gate positioned in the wall steadily but without the urgency that accompanies the spirits. Every year, they open that gate in order to let the dead walk their path to the church.

The cold settles a bit deeper into Luke’s bones. He’s come with his mother on St. Mark’s Eve since he was too young to properly write, but it does feel different this time. He’s not sure why, but there’s a heaviness in the air, an anticipation that he hasn’t felt since he was six years old and being brought to this abandoned church for the first time because Liz said she focuses better with him there. At six years old, he hadn’t always realized exactly what that meant.

While Luke can’t see spirits or predict the future, every psychic in the house says that they can do that better when he’s there, sometimes going so far as to call him in during difficult readings to give them direction.

“You’re like a lighthouse,” Persephone once said. “You show us where to go.”

“It’s like turning up the volume when you’re in the room,” Calla added. “We all hear better with you there.”

“It’s something to be proud of,” Liz always tells him. “It’s extremely rare to be able to enhance a psychic’s gifts.”

Luke has spent a lot of time sulking over being the only person in the house who isn’t privy to the supernatural, on top of being the only boy. He’s had sixteen years to come to terms with it, but sometimes it still stings. It stings less when the women thank him for his help with something important and tangible.

During the day of the year when both time and the spirit world collide with their own, Liz always has Luke with her to pull everything into focus.

“Aglionby boys haven’t been giving you any trouble, have they?” Liz suddenly asks, startling him enough that he drops his pencil and has to root around in the freezing grass for it before hopping back onto his spot on the wall.

“No,” he says, frowning at the mention of the private school full of politicians' sons and trust fund babies located just outside of town. His mom has drilled into his head that they’re more trouble than they’re worth, and should be avoided like the plague. Every interaction that he’s had has supported that advice. “Not more than usual, anyway. They’ve started getting their convertibles out with the warmer weather, but I only ever see them at work when they haggle for more iced tea. Why? Are they going to be giving me trouble?”

Liz hums, then stiffens suddenly.

“They’re coming.”

Luke straightens and keeps his pencil poised. He follows his mom’s gaze, but just like in previous years all that greets him is the darkness of midnight in the country. He knows by the way her eyes are fixed now that that isn’t all that Liz sees, though. The spirits of those who will die in the next twelve months are making their march on the corpse road to the church, and they are there to ask their names.

Every year, the believing citizens of Henrietta ask if they or a loved one will die within the next year. Every year, for a small fee, Liz will tell them who is on their list.

“Who are you? Robert Neuhmann,” Liz begins, and Luke hastens to write down the names phonetically and as quickly as possible. “Who are you? Ruth Vert. Who are you? Frances Powell.”

Luke can’t hear anything except Liz’s voice, can’t see anything except her shadowed figure a few feet from him, but the names of the future-dead appear in his notebook nonetheless.

It’s a lot of names that would have been popular decades ago, with familiar last names. Henrietta is full of old families. Not many people move to town, but almost no one leaves, either.

“What’s your name?” his mom asks. Then, a bit louder, “Excuse me, what’s your name?”

Luke glances up, then loses his breath. Where there should be empty air is instead the vague shape of a person, faded and fuzzy but unmistakably there. He blinks, but the scene doesn’t change.

“Mom, I can see him,” he says, voice shaking.

The spirit wanders forward, almost stumbling. Luke always thought that the procession of spirits would be orderly in some way, but this one seems lost, scared. The more Luke looks, the more he can make out other details. He’s wearing a sweater and slacks, hair soft and rumpled. His face is fuzzing and faded, like Luke is trying to look at it through a fogged window, features completely indistinct. Luke wouldn’t recognize him if he passed him on the street tomorrow, but somehow he feels like he would know him anyway.

He’s unmistakably young, not much older than Luke, if at all.

The spirit picks at his sleeve, in such an alive way that Luke feels vaguely sick. Then he stumbles forward, as if jostled from behind.

“Get his name,” Liz says frantically. “He won’t answer me and I need to get the others.”

Luke slides off his spot on the wall, heart hammering in his chest. He approaches on unsteady feet, then asks “What’s your name?”

The spirit doesn’t seem to hear, moving slowly towards the church door in a zig zag, as if he can’t see the path but feels a pull to it anyway.

He doesn’t seem to know that he’s going to his death.

“Who are you?” he asks, stepping closer. He won’t step on the corpse road, not tonight when spirits are actively using it, but he needs to be sure that the boy can hear him. Even this close, his face is indiscernible. Nothing about him suggests that this is a person, but Luke can feel it. His mind knows what his eyes can’t figure out.

His eyes catch on the raven insignia on his sweater, and his breath stutters.

That’s the Aglionby symbol. He’s a high schooler, just like Luke, and he’ll be dead within the year.

The boy continues forward, and Luke follows, repeating his questions. The closer he gets, the colder he feels. Logically, he knows that it’s the spirits drawing on his energy, but it feels like dread, and it feels like death.

The boy approaches the entrance to the church, and Luke knows that he’ll be gone if he passes through that doorway. Impulsively, he reaches out a hand and touches the boy’s sweater. His fingers go numb from the cold immediately, but the boy stops, and for the first time seems like he might notice Luke next to him.

“Please,” Luke says, softer. “Will you tell me your name?”

“Ashton,” he says. His voice is quiet, but not because he’s whispering. It sounds like his voice is coming from far away, tinny like it’s been passed through a radio. The top of his sweater is wet from a rain that hasn’t happened yet, and Luke can’t stop looking at where his face should be.

Of all the times Luke imagined what it would be like to see the dead, he never anticipated that it would feel like this. Cold, maybe. A bit lonely, perhaps. But not like he’s looking at a grave only to find it staring back and asking why it couldn’t be saved.

“Is that all?” he whispers.

“Ashton Irwin,” the spirit says. He closes his eyes. Luke doesn’t know how he knows this, since he can’t see any facial features, but he knows. “That’s all there is.”

Ashton falls to his knees, hands braced against the dirt. The black of the church seems to swallow him up, and Luke feels a lump in his throat.

“Mom he’s--he’s dying.”

“Not yet,” Liz says. Sometime during his talk with the spirit, she finished writing the rest of the names and moved to stand behind him. She puts an arm around his shoulders, and Luke leans into her, resisting hiding himself because he feels like he has to see Ashton off at least. He fades into the church, or maybe the church fades into him. Luke watches until there are no traces of him left.

“Why could I see him?” he asks into the quiet. It feels loud in the night. Warmth starts to return to his skin, and in the edge of his hearing he registers the distant sound of an owl and a few crickets.

The spirits have passed on, but Luke feels stuck. His lungs are unfreezing, but the cold is replaced by an empty feeling. Grief, or perhaps regret.

“There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve,” his mom says carefully. “Either you’re his true love, or you killed him.”

#trc au #my writing #catch me completely writing neeve out of this because I simply do not vibe with her #anyway! I had to I just had to #half of this is plagiarized directly from the prologue and first chapter #I had the book open in front of me while I wrote #Maggie if you help me figure out how to do the plot I'll consider rewriting this part and continuing it #snippets

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timexistsnow · 3 years

Text

my baby (oh my pup)

Chapter 3: the stories (we make)

Techno entertains Tasha.

“I kept a distance from these and drew the enemy toward them. I face them and cause him to put his back to them,” Techno finished the paragraph he was on, checking on the page number: 74. Oh, Techno balked, he had been sitting here for a while. The pup in his lap was not quite asleep but definitely more relaxed than she was before the reading had started. It seemed he had found a past-time for them. Which they could resume later, “I know that I’m no genius with kids, but you probably need more than just a house to make this thing work. We’re not exactly in a living situation that supports two people.” There were a lot of things that needed to be done. He should probably make a list.

“Us?” Tasha murmured into his chest.

“Of course, Tasha.”

But if he wanted to make a list he would have to move Tasha and that would be… difficult. His fingers ached in memory. So he picked back up his book and resumed. Was his copy English… yes, but could anyone blame him for not wanting to learn a third language? No.

A few minutes passed when a nail poked into his side. The book slipped from his hands and he fumbled, trying to stop it from landing on Tasha’s head. She looked annoyed and when he waited for her to talk, she poked him again, harder this time.

“Hey, chill. What?”

“No. Chill,” she huffed, “No. Speak. Book.”

He rolled his eyes and resumed his reading, this time remembering to narrate. One more poke and Tasha was satisfied.

Until she wasn’t. She didn’t poke this time but Techno knew that look, the spacing out: Tasha was bored. Which was a little insulting to such a classic like The Art of War. He had spent countless hours in this very chair rereading the text when he had nothing else to do. Everyone could learn something from it, the strategies and the battles- yeah, that was going to be boring to anyone that wasn’t Techno. Looking back now, Techno did only pick it up when he was bored.

“Are you bored?”

Tasha wiggled, her pent up energy finally escaping. A hand came out and patted at his face. That was a yes then. Perhaps it was time for a different book. He twisted as best as he could, arm snaking around his shelves. A few manuals, an enchanting guide, a textbook on English (far more detailed than anyone else would want), and so on. Nothing that a piglin pup would find interest in.

“Sorry, pup, I’ve got nothing else on me.”

The pup in question grumbled and refused to yield, “Get. Else.” Nice, she was either threatening him or telling him to buy a book from a non-existent trader. If he had the free time he could… no, that would be pointless and he wasn’t that skilled. Unless…

No.

“How about instead… we… go downstairs,” smooth, “and see what needs to be done?” Ignoring the grumbling, he scooped and carried Tasha down and to the carpet she loved so much. Look for something, Techno, don’t be a fool. Ah-ha, “I need a chair.” Easy, all he needed was some dark oak planks which he didn’t have- but he did have saplings. And bones for bone meal. And just like that, he’s got a plan. No one should ever doubt his abilities.

Grabbing his axe, Techno swung open the door, letting the cold air in. Tasha whimpered but was wearing her cloak. She must need warmer clothes. Techno would take care of that later- which was another activity!

Out on the porch, Techno reached down to help Tasha down the stairs, but she wasn’t there. She was still sitting on the carpet… whimpering. “Hey, what’s going on,” he soothed.

“Change. Mind?” she whispered, Techno’s ears just sensitive enough to pick it up. No, no, she didn’t think that, please, Tehno begged.

Techno kneeled in front of her, setting his hands on her shoulders. She flinched away

Techno wasn’t getting used to the pokes and prods, even after they had been happening for so long. The needles were starting to get long and stuck further into his skinny body. The villagers were returning soon, all he wanted was for the touching to stop.

and Techno retracted his hands. He stayed crouched but leaned back, giving her some space. He needed to fix this now, “I’m keeping you for as long as you want to stay. That’s my promise and I never break them.”

Tasha’s lip quivered, her eyes watered. Not a single tear fell. After a moment of doubt and Techno forcing himself to have patience, she lunged forward into his arms. “Promise?”

“Yes.” She would realize later how she was better off without him. But not yet, “Are you ready to go? I can show you my skills with a carving knife if you want.”

She wrapped her limbs around him so Techno could stand up and take them outside. The tree could just be grown a little ways from the house in the clearing. He crouched down to plant a few saplings and almost toppled over, “Hey, Tasha, you’ve gotta let go.” Tasha peered down at the ground, the snow a few inches thick. Techno batted the snow around and she oinked in wonder. Her hoofs crunched in the snow when she hopped off of him.

“Snow…” she scuttled around the saplings, kicking snow everywhere and watching it blow in the wind. Techno let her play, growing the saplings into a mighty dark oak tree. Distracted by the snow, Tasha squealed when the tree appeared. Her hoofs didn’t catch up to her mind causing her to trip and face plant into a snowdrift.

At the sight of the poor pup, Techno let out a belly laugh. Aw, Tasha was pouting- nope, that was a quivering lip. His laughter ended, “Sorry! Uh… Tasha, I wasn’t laughing at you,” okay that was a lie, “I was- It was funny, the situation, not you.”

Her lip stopped quivering and she smiled hesitantly, “Funny?”

“Yeah, kiddo.” Techno helped her up, and gave her a handful of snow, “Go back to playing and I’ll be done soon.” She obliged with an oink and went back to running around. Techno made sure she was away from his axe before he hacked his way through the tree, netherite turning the bark to butter. He only needed one or two logs, but it was never a bad idea to have more. Down the tree went and this time Tasha watched it fall with wonder-filled eyes. The slam echoed around the mountains.

Getting to work at hacking apart the trunk, Techno made a stack of logs under the lone spruce tree in front of his house. Now they would remain at least a bit sheltered from the weather. One of the logs was turned into planks for the chair. Inside the cabin, Techno would carve and sand them down further.

Techno carried the wood in one arm and Tasha in the other, the latter grumbling and making grabby hands at the snow. When they got to the door, though, Tasha helped Techno by pushing open the door and then patted his face. Techno thanked her.

The wood went on the table and Tasha went in her chair. Or his old chair… which meant it was way too big for her. Hmmm. He could make the new chair to her size and he would just get back his old chair. It would take less time by being smaller.

“Could you help me out with this?”

The pup slipped out of the chair and stood next to him, studying the wood. “How. Help?”

How was he going to do this? “I need your measurements: height, width, and…” Techno droned on, focused on assembling the chair to the best of his rusty ability. Tasha followed him around, marking where he said, grabbing new pieces of wood, but never using the saw he had brought inside. Techno didn’t let her. She did make a nice assistant, Techno smiled to himself.

The chair was assembled, and Tasha looked comfortable in it, much more than she was in his chair.

She saw him judging his handy work and said, “Make. Mine. If. Techno. Can.” Her fingers were running along the smooth wood, nice but not very interesting. Perhaps.

“I could carve some things into it. What do you want?”

Tasha’s tongue stuck out in thought, “Fun,” she perked up, “Not. Nether.”

Okay, something from the Overworld that was fun. Fun. Fuuuun. What sparked joy in the world? Friends, family, pets- no Carl wasn’t the most amusing horse, mostly just annoying-, animals. Kids loved animals. Oh, he knew: “How about some pigs, those are pretty fun animals.”

She shook her head, “No. Nether.”

Techno explained, “No, pigs are in this world, piglins are in the Nether. Pigs are brilliant creatures. Fun, as well.”

A soft oh escaped Tasha. “Show?”

“Later I’ll show you a real one, but you’ll get the idea from the carvings if you still want them.” When no opposition was heard, Techno began carving into the back of the chair. He hadn’t done this since he was a kid, he used to carve on his practice wooden swords. They were never good, Techno had a habit of biting off more than he could chew, but a pig was simple.

But then it was carved… not very well. Techno bruh-ed. Maybe he underestimated the challenge a pig would prove to be. No matter, he had to get at least one good pig, so he started a new one, a few inches to the left of the previous. Tasha watched closely, breathing in softly as if she didn’t want to disturb him. Her face was leaning closer and closer with each pig Techno finished. By the time that he was done with the back and the tops of the arms, her snout was brushing against Techno’s hand. When Techno pulled his hands back to admire his handy work, Tasha was so caught up in following his movements that she bumped into the arm of the chair, not realizing that Techno had left.

She let out a squeal and rubbed her snout. Still not noticing that he was done, just that he had moved, Techno nudged her, “Do you like it?”

Her hand moved away from her face and to the carvings, running along each intricate pig. After the first three, Techno had finally gotten a hang of it, the rest- and there were many more- of the pigs were pretty cute. The chair wouldn’t fit where the table currently was so it went into the main room. Techno then dragged the chair over to the table, her side being the one closest to the crafting table, and pushed Tasha in. She was at the right height size now, it was clearly meant for her.

Tasha oinked at a pig with a smiley face on the left arm, yeah she liked it. “Pig! Chair! For. Pig. Tasha!” Oh, she was such a baby, an adorable, little baby. As Techno wrung his hands out, the tension escaping them, he couldn't care less about all of the scrapes and nicks that the knife gave him, Tasha’s sparkly eyes made it all worth it.

“It’s your throne, Tasha,” he sat down across from her, giving her a potato and golden carrot.

“Throne… Pig. Throne,” Tasha gasped, eyes glowing. After her declaration, she monched down on her potato. Then went the carrot.

Techno sighed, this was good. Tasha was happy. Techno was content.

He pulled out his notebook from his belt where it was always fastened. A list was still in need. Tasha’s Needs was a good start. There were obvious ones like food which consisted of potatoes and carrots but he would run out of potatoes soon, the villagers didn’t trade for them and he had no farm. The next was clothes: Tasha had some, but the ones she had were old and few. Techno would have to make more using the old ones as patterns. The last was iffy, Tasha needed a bed. Tasha had only stayed two nights and only during one did she use a bed. That left the question of whether she would use his or her own and if she had her own, she needed a room.

But… he would figure that out later. For now, he had a pup to entertain and still a few hours of daylight to waste.

“Story. Time?” Tasha must have been watching him just stare at his notebook after finishing his list.

“No,” Tasha pouted, “But… maybe later. For now, we can go outside again, play in the snow.”

Tasha did not hesitate and scrambled for the door. She got scooped and off they went to the clearing. It must have snowed when the chair making was going on, as there was a good fourth of a block of snow covering the frozen grass.

Even though Tasha wasn’t wearing real pants, just a dress, she didn’t mind once she was put down. That didn’t stop her from sinking down to her knees in it. After kicking around in it, Techno lied down and made a snow vex, not getting up after. It was comfortable, don't judge him. He closed his eyes and listened to Tasha giggling-

A snowball splattered next to his face. Ah. A battle it was.

Techno scrambled behind the pile of wood he had made earlier and started to pack up snow. Another ball exploded next to his hoof. He’d have to hurry. He peeked around the corner, let out a war cry and a snowball. When he heard a squeal he threw the next one less… excessively. Techno wouldn’t call himself competitive. Just… battle-ready.

They traded hits, Tasha picking up Techno’s war cry, hers being a high pitched screech. Soon, Techno was cornered in the woodpile, so he ran to the forest, making sure to stay in Tasha’s sight. Through the trees, he weaved. He hid behind a thick spruce with low branches and made the biggest snowball he could. This… this would be the finishing blow. Not- Not in a death way, Techno scolded.

He could hear Tasha’s crunching hoofsteps growing closer and closer- there! He spun around the branch and-

Tasha let out her screech, Techno blinded by the snow she had smashed into his face. No… he- Techno had lost. But Technoblade never dies. How could this be? No, no, Techno refused. He wiped the snow out of his eyes and pounded a snowball into shape, he aimed.

Tasha wasn’t there.

No.

She must have run away, must have gotten scared at his yell. Techno had gotten too aggressive, had gotten too engaged in the fight. It was supposed to be fun, just a game. The trees must have made her think he was trying to lose her in the wilderness, and Tasha… didn’t know the area. She wasn’t the Human GPS. She could easily fall into one of the snow overhangs and hurt herself on the ice. No!

Techno scrambled after her hoof prints, a new snowfall starting to cover them up. He tripped over a root and yelled out. His ankle twisted but he kept plowing forward. The prints were weaving through the brush and Techno struggled to keep track of them.

He let out a sob when he saw Tasha in the distance skidding over some ice. She kept her balance but either didn’t hear or care that Techno called out her name. Techno’s fears were right: she was running away. Should he stop? That might calm her down but if she left, she would never come back. Techno didn’t want to be left alone again, not after he had grown to like Tasha so much.

He was starting to gain on Tasha! Right as she was in reach, Techno grabbed out and slipped. Ice broke his fall and winded him. Trying to get up, Techno rolled to his side and watched her disappear from his view over a hill. It was too late.

When his breath came back to him, he limped back to the cabin. His eyes blurred, Techno was a failure.

“Me. Beat. You!”

Techno collapsed onto the carpet. Curling in on himself. She was… playing tag. Okay. That was. Fine.

“Techno?”

He needed a minute but Tasha hopped down from where she was sitting regally on her throne. She curled into his side and stayed there. When Techno regained his composure, he tucked his head into his knees and whispered, “Please don’t run off like that again, Tash, I thought you-” his voice broke, “Just… don’t, okay.”

Tasha pulled his arm over her, “Okay. Sorry,” she whispered back.

They stayed like that until Techno’s back hurt. Tasha stayed quiet and clung to Techno when he stood up. He scooped her up and brought her upstairs. It was bedtime for them.

He helped Tasha get changed out of her wet clothes and into one of his nightshirts. With her situated for a moment, he went into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. It was frigid but welcomed. Off his cloak and dress shirt went to be replaced with a soft cotton one. Tasha was where he left her, standing and fiddling with something.

Setting her on the bed, she stopped him from tucking her in. “Here. For. Sad.” In her hand was a crumpled dandelion. He closed his eyes and breathed for a moment.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

When he tucked her in, the dandelion sat on the chest of clothes. He would have to pot it.

Techno slipped in beside her, and she crawled over him to be on the open side, Techno against the window again. The sun was slipping down the horizon and golden light seeped into the room. When the sun was fully done and the moon rose, Techno found himself still awake. He was restless, both from their battle and the aftermath.

Slipping out of bed and hushing Tasha back into a slumber, he looked for something to occupy himself. His journal sat on the chest next to the flower. Taking a gentle hand and adjusting the flower’s petals, he took his journal to his library chair and got comfortable.

He might as well get a head start on the stories Tasha wanted. Quill dipped in ink, he began his first story.

#technoblade #technodad au #timexistsnow #ao3 #my writing #mcyt #dream smp #my baby (oh my pup)

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