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rosyrosethings · 6 months

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Y/n returns after missing

This story is a rewrite/edit. I posted this story a while ago. But I'm doing over my master list. So i rewrote this. It inspired by the tv show manifest which is a about a plan that goes missing and they return a few years later

Four years had slipped away since the passengers aboard flight N-47 vanished into thin air, presumed to have tragically succumbed to some unfathomable fate. Yet, in a twist befitting a miracle, three souls previously lost had reemerged. Y/n Y/L/N, James Carter, and Sus-... The screen went blank as she snapped off the TV, cutting the newscaster off mid-sentence. For Y/n, those four years encapsulated an epoch of isolation, an overwhelming void where time seemed inconsequential. The world had marched on, relentless and indifferent, leaving behind a cascade of changes she could scarcely begin to absorb.

Memories of her life before the ill-fated flight were vivid and achingly sweet. She had been on the cusp of a new chapter, her dreams tangibly close. A blossoming fashion designer, Y/n was set to weave her creativity and passion into the very fabric of the industry. Her return from Rio was supposed to be a celebratory milestone, marking her transition into a life shared with Harry and the thrilling prospect of seeing her best friend Kendall, potentially the next supermodel sensation, flaunt her designs down the runway.

The reality she returned to, however, was starkly different. Expectations of a warm welcome, of falling back into the comfortable embrace of her old life with Harry, were shattered. Hours turned into an eternity at her mother’s house, each passing moment amplifying her confusion and heartache. Where was Harry? Why was he submerged in a new life where he was a solo artist, a far cry from the hiatus he'd taken from his band in 2015?

Trepidation gripped her heart, preventing her from delving too deep into the life Harry led now. The fear of discovering him entwined with someone else was paralyzing. With a resigned sigh, she closed her laptop, a barrier against the torrent of information that threatened to drown her.

“Y/N? Honey,” the gentle voice of her mother broke through her reverie. The joy in her eyes was unmistakable, yet it carried the weight of years filled with mourning a daughter lost. They had even held a funeral for her, Y/n realized with a start. The profound relief and elation of having her back were palpable in every hug, every tearful smile her mother gave her.

“Yes, mom?”

“Umm, someone is here to see you.”

***

Contrastingly, Harry's life had been a portrait of attempting to move on while being anchored in the past. His home, once a sanctuary of memories shared with Y/n, now housed his new relationship. Kendall, her head resting on his chest, was a constant presence, offering solace in a reality where Y/n existed only in echoes. She was 'Kenny' to him, a pillar during his darkest times, understanding the depth of losing Y/n as she, too, had lost a dear friend.

But the past clung to Harry with stubborn tendrils. His routine, for three long years, involved calling Y/n’s voicemail, a one-sided conversation where he'd spill the day's trivialities and monumental changes alike, seeking solace in the sound of her recorded voice. It wasn’t until the pain dulled into a quiet ache, and with Kenny’s unwavering support, that he ceased this ritual. Yet, he never truly let go, with monthly visits to Y/n's mother becoming a testament to his undying connection to her.

Their bond had been forged in the innocence of childhood, blossoming from neighborly acquaintances to an unbreakable union of soulmates. It was a love story initiated when two eight-year-olds found friendship and grew seamlessly into love as they reached sixteen. It was a story abruptly paused, until an unexpected phone call threatened to turn the page once again.

Harry’s phone shattered the comfortable silence, Mrs. Y/L/N’s number on display. Kendall, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, sat up, her own complex emotions swirling as she watched Harry answer the call.

“Yes, Mrs. Y/L/N, how are you?” Harry’s voice was cautious, unprepared for the emotional maelstrom the conversation would incite.

Kendall battled with her feelings, a mix of jealousy and self-reproach. She loved Harry, but standing in Y/n’s shadow was a constant reminder of what she lacked. She was never going to ignite in Harry the passionate love he held for Y/n. She was a balm, she realized, not the cure to his heartache.

“Harry.. she’s home. My baby is here, Harry. She came back to us.” The words, heavy with emotional gravity, froze Harry in place. Confusion, hope, and sheer disbelief warred within him.

“Okay, I’ll be there shortly, Mrs. Rose,” he managed, his mind racing.

“What is it, Harry? Who was it?” Kendall queried, apprehension lacing her words.

“Y/n’s mom...”

“Are we going to dinner with her tonight?” she attempted lightness, a stark contrast to the situation’s gravity.

“She’s alive, Kenny.”

The words hung in the air, a fragile truth that threatened to change everything. Once again, life’s unpredictable tide was pulling them in a direction they never anticipated. The lost was found, and with her return, the threads of their lives were irrevocably entwined once more.

Y/n felt the soft give of her childhood mattress beneath her as she rose, each muscle groaning, still remembering the harshness of the ground she'd slept on for years on the island. The air around her buzzed with a mixture of familiarity and foreignness, a sensation that had enveloped her since her return. She was home yet felt like a stranger in a place woven into the fabric of her earliest memories. Her room, though untouched, seemed to belong to another era, one before her life had fractured into a before and after.

Since her unexpected return, her home had turned into a pilgrimage site. Relatives she hadn’t seen in years, cousins whose names she struggled to remember, and a throng of others had paraded through the living room. She had hoped, with every knock, that she would see Harry’s face, hear his voice, touch his hand. But as hours turned into days, her hope waned.

Dragging herself to her feet, she moved through the hallway, each step echoing the pounding in her heart. Her feet, moving of their own accord, carried her towards the living room, the epicenter of the constant, suffocating stream of visitors.

And then, she saw him.

It was as if the world contracted in that moment, every sound, every color, every breath funneling into this singularity. Harry stood there, a portrait of the years gone by. His hair, shorter than she remembered, framed his face, and those green eyes, which had haunted her dreams, seemed to glow. Dressed in the simplest of clothes — black jeans and a white t-shirt — he was a sight for her sore eyes. He was her beacon during the darkest nights on the island, the memory of him, a silent prayer, a sacred chant that wove through the solitude of her survival.

For Harry, the sight of Y/n wasn't just a balm; it was a resurrection. She was here, alive and so achingly present that his heart faltered in its rhythm. The past years had been a cacophony of grief, confusion, and a numbness that seeped into his bones. And here she was, her skin glowing with a vitality that seemed impossible. He had always adored her skin, the richness of her complexion; it reminded him of the sweetest chocolates he'd ever tasted. He had spent years bolstering her against the world, against the harshness of critics and fans alike, reminding her of her beauty, her worth.

He was captivated by the woman before him, who had been tempered by survival, her spirit burnished but unbroken. How could it be that she stood before him even more breathtaking than he remembered? In that instant, Harry understood the depth of the void her absence had carved into his life. She wasn't just a missing piece; she was the very foundation that his reality had been built upon.

Without a word, he closed the distance between them, his arms enveloping her in a hug that felt like a collision of every unsaid word, every unshed tear, every unfulfilled longing of the past four years. His emotions breached the dam he had painstakingly built, tears wetting the crown of her head as he nestled his face there. "God, I've missed you so much," he breathed, his voice a hoarse whisper laden with every nuance of pain, relief, and overwhelming love he felt.

Y/n, ensconced in Harry's arms, felt a sense of returning. Here, in the circle of his arms, the world righted itself. His scent, the solidness of his chest, the timber of his voice — they were her lighthouse. "I never stopped thinking about you, not even for a moment," she confessed, her voice muffled against him.

Their reunion, however, was shadowed by an unspoken acknowledgment of the time lost and the reality that had marched on relentlessly in her absence. Y/n detected subtle shifts in him, intangible but unmistakable. As they sat on the couch, a chasm of unsaid words stretched between them. Harry's affectionate term, 'kitten,' once a playful endearment, now seemed to echo across a vast distance, a reminder of a shared past that was both their bridge and barrier.

Their conversation meandered, a tentative dance around the elephant in the room. Y/n's fatigue, both emotional and physical, soon became too cumbersome to carry. Her eyelids grew heavy, her body demanded respite. "I need to close my eyes, just for a little while," she whispered, her words a mix of exhaustion and a quiet plea for things to be simple again.

Harry, understanding her unvoiced request, smoothed her hair back, his touch a promise. "Rest, love. When you wake, we'll grab some lunch, maybe even see Kendall. It'll be like old times," he murmured, the ache in his voice belying the casualness of his words.

Y/n's smile, before she succumbed to sleep, was a fragile thing, a tentative hope. And as she drifted off, nestled against Harry, she clung to the sound of his heartbeat — a lullaby that spoke of shared pasts, present uncertainties, and the uncharted future that lay ahead of them.

Harry and Kendall sat in the subtle ambiance of the café, the murmur of conversations blending with the soft clinking of cutlery. The tension between them was palpable, like a silent storm brewing. Harry's fingers drummed nervously on the tabletop, betraying the calm facade he attempted to portray.

"Did you tell her?" Kendall's voice sliced through the tension, her agitation evident in the rhythmic tapping of her perfectly manicured nails against the wooden surface.

He hesitated, the truth weighing heavily on his chest. "No... I couldn't," Harry admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he averted his gaze, finding sudden interest in the patterns of the wood grain. The confession felt like a betrayal, a stark deviation from the promise he made to himself about honesty.

Kendall's sigh was a mixture of frustration and understanding. "We can tell her together," she offered, extending her hand to provide solace. Her fingers were warm, a contrast to the cold dread filling his stomach.

As he intertwined his fingers with hers, seeking comfort in the touch, his eyes caught a familiar figure approaching. It was Y/n, a sight that made his heart leap into his throat. Instinctively, he retracted his hand from Kendall's, a subtle but unmistakable reaction.

Y/n's energy was like a breath of fresh air as she arrived. "Kenny!" she exclaimed with genuine affection, stretching her arms out for a heartfelt embrace. Kendall rose to return the gesture, her own emotions a complex web of happiness, relief, and an underlying sense of conflict she wasn't ready to face.

The warmth of their hug was short-lived for Kendall, overshadowed by a realization that Y/n's presence might change everything, including her own newly discovered hopes. As they separated, Y/n slid into the seat across from them, her presence filling the void but also reminding them of the intricate dynamics of their past.

"Harry, my mom told me what you did for her while I was...gone. I can't thank you enough," Y/n's voice held a mix of gratitude and sorrow, referencing the home Harry had bought for her mother after the accident — a gesture of kindness in the face of tragedy.

Kendall, feigning ignorance, asked, "What did you do, Harry?"

He hesitated, swallowing hard before explaining. "After Y/n's accident, I...I bought a house for her mom. She was devastated, thought she'd lost her only child." His voice was laced with past pain, the memories visibly haunting him.

"And you never mentioned this because...?" Kendall prodded, a hint of hurt in her tone.

Harry's response was evasive, his discomfort evident. "It wasn't about publicity or gratitude. And you were away, busy with your modeling." He tried to downplay his act, but the hurt it caused was unmistakable.

The conversation took a sharp turn when Y/n's eyes fell upon the sparkling diamond on Kendall's finger. "Kendall, you're engaged?!" she exclaimed, joy in her voice. But the excitement dissolved as realization dawned. Her eyes darted between Harry and Kendall, the implications clear and heart-wrenching. "Oh... I see," she murmured, her voice a fragile whisper.

The atmosphere turned heavy, the weight of unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings pressing down on them. "Y/n, please, let's talk about this," Harry pleaded, desperation seeping into his voice. But Y/n was retreating, her defenses coming up.

The meal that followed was a symphony of discomfort, punctuated by stilted conversation and Y/n's increasing detachment. Harry recognized her coping mechanism as she ordered more food than she could possibly consume. It was her refuge, her way of finding control in a situation where she felt she had none.

Her breaking point arrived with silent tears streaming down her face as she attempted to keep eating. "Kitten," Harry whispered, an endearment slipping out as he moved to comfort her. But she recoiled, the nickname a reminder of what they had and what seemed lost now.

"I need a to-go tray," she announced abruptly, her voice strained. She stood up, her movements robotic as she packed her food, her exit a clear signal of her emotional state.

"Kitten, please, can't we just talk?" Harry implored, but his plea fell on deaf ears.

With a sad smile, she replied, "That's the thing, Harry. I'm not your kitten anymore, am I?" And with that, she walked away, leaving behind a table laden with uneaten food, unspoken words, and unresolved futures.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #fine line #watermelon sugar #harrys house #manifest

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animeyanderetalker · 2 months

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In no particular order, which five characters from Hunter x Hunter do you believe have the highest probability of being yandere if they were to develop an attraction to someone?

Those are the ones I could think of spontaneously.

I feel like Kurapika would have a good possibility of turning possessive and very overprotective over the person he starts gaining feelings for. The massacre of his own clan has left him scarred and set on revenge so he would be much more careful and paranoid if he would fall in love with someone. He has made an enemy of the Phantom Troupe by killing Uvogin and Pakunoda and also using his Chains on Chrollo to make him unable to use his Nen abilities. He knows that the Phantom Troupe is ruthless and probably wouldn’t be afraid to use you against him and that thought is going to haunt him.

Hisoka just won’t let someone go the moment they catch his interest so god forbid if this menace actually gains genuine feelings for someone. As genuine as he can go at least. He literally won’t leave that person alone and worst is that there’s no way to get rid of him. Threats don’t work and he’s too smart to get caught by the police or he just kills them. Hisoka has no morals and his loyalty lies in what catches his interest. Rejections, insults, threats and tears don’t work on him either. Instead Hisoka is oddly invested in whatever emotion he can squeeze out of you and he’s going to be the asshole who makes you cry on purpose. He’s so persistent and is going to be so annoyingly clingy too so there goes any sense of privacy either. He is terrifying because he has no shame in killing people nor expressing his perverted desires to you.

Start playing freaking Hellfire from Hunchback of Notre Dame for Shaiapouf and his first stages of interest in that person. He’s part of the Royal Guard, he was born to serve the Chimera Ant King and no one else so him gaining an attraction to someone that isn’t his King defies genetics. That is going to be a sting for him, all the more if we’re going with a scenario where Meruem is dead and Shaiapouf already survived. His King was killed by a human, the species that was supposed to be beneath Meruem and his Royal Guards so for Pouf this would be salt in the fresh wound. It’s an utter humiliation and he plans multiple times to kill you only to be unable to do so. There is a paranoia within him because he has failed the one thing he was born for so in a way he’s projecting on his darling by initially forcing them to act like the royalty Pouf is supposed to serve before the genuine infatuation kicks in and he embraces it completely. His paranoia and trauma will never let him let go of his darling, he’s going to be so overbearing and controlling whilst playing their servant.

Pitou is a very similar story to Shaiapouf. Them gaining an attraction for someone goes against their natural instinct to protect the Chimera Ant King yet it’s still happening. Since Pitou is also partially a cat, there is going to be a lot of curiosity involved and much less hostility than with Pouf. Neferpitou’s mind tells them to seek out answers for those weird feelings that their darling awakes inside of them and no one can tell them to stop. Pitou is possessive over their darling and will guard them and the place they’re put in with literal teeth and claws. There is pain and trauma if we once again assume a world where Meruem and Komugi both died so for a while they view darling as a toy to forget those feelings until they realize that their emotions for them are actually sincere. That’s when darling really won’t be able to ever escape.

He has shown a fascination for the way humans work so imagine how obsessed he would be with the person he gains an interest in. It’s unexpected because the only people Chrollo has ever cared about are the members of his Phantom Troupe but that is what makes his darling so precious and special. He yearns to know every crevice of their soul to the point where he feels almost incomplete if he doesn’t as the mere feeling of not knowing becomes a black tear in his being. He’s smart, he is observing and at one point he knows your every habit and reaction yet he’s like a glass with no bottom as he keeps taking everything about you in to engrave it forever in his black soul. You are the rarest treasure the thief has ever found and he’s going to commit massacres to ensure that you never leave his side.

#a talks #yandere thoughts #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh

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gracieryder · 8 months

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Happy Thursday! I come bearing gifts!

A collection of one-shots by the wonderful @extasiswings as a fic book you can purchase with beautiful cover art from @like-the-rest-of-la. If you're interested, please send me a DM for the link!

This book includes the following Buddie one-shots for your enjoyment:

fire on fire • 6.7k

"You’re sleeping with him.” “I’m not—” Eddie rolls his eyes and corrects himself halfway through. “I’m not sleeping with him like that, okay?” Sophia looks at him for a long moment as her gaze turns from teasing to thoughtful. “But you want to be. Right?” [Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.]

With A Little Help From My Friends • 2.9k

“You know…several of us parents get together once, maybe twice a month or so. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. I can add you to the email chain.” Not for the first time that day, Eddie’s surprised. It’s not that he’s opposed, more that the invitation is unexpected. He’s not particularly social—when he is it’s with the team or with Buck or with his family, all of them in each other’s houses, in each other’s lives both at work and away from it. Outside of them… It occurs to him that he’s never really known how to make friends. [Or: Eddie makes friends outside of work and realizes that Buck might not, in fact, be just a friend]

unfold me (tell me you love me) • 2.4k

Eddie follows the sound of running water to the kitchen. He stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and spends a moment just watching Buck scrub potatoes in the sink until the other man glances up and notices him. “Hey,” Buck greets. “Chris is reading in his room, I’m just working on dinner. How was the date?” God, I love you, Eddie thinks, and nearly has to bite his tongue to keep it to himself. [Or: Eddie goes on a date and has some realizations about what he really wants.]

for all the perfect things I doubt • 5.2k

Evan Buckley is really good in bed. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t.

dream of some epiphany • 7.4k

Evan Buckley is lost. It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door. Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name. Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

of men and of angels • 13.5k

For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known. - 1 Corinthians 13:12 Eddie Diaz learns a lot as a kid. Boys aren’t soft. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t kiss boys. As he gets older, he realizes that everything has exceptions. Boys can be soft sometimes. Boys can cry sometimes. And some boys kiss other boys. But Eddie likes kissing girls. And since he likes kissing girls, that’s the end of the story. Isn’t it? [Or: the one with all the repression]

translate the magic (show me) • 8.1k

“I think I might be bad in bed.” Eddie rolls that thought around in his head, trying to decide the best way to respond, weighing the options of what Buck needs to hear versus how to say it. It’s not a conversation he wants to be having, is part of the problem. Thinking about Buck desperately seeking connection through fleeting sexual encounters with strangers already makes him swallow back a wave of petty jealousy and possessiveness. But there’s an added level of insult to injury to the idea that Buck wasn’t even having good sex. Which maybe explains why despite his initial commitment to delicacy and tact, what comes out of Eddie’s mouth is— “You probably were. Bad at it.” Buck’s eyes widen, a strangled noise sounding from his throat. “Don’t pull any punches,” he shoots back as he hunches in the chair and drains the last dregs of his beer. “I didn’t mean it like that.” [Or: the one where Buck has a crisis and Eddie teaches him what good sex really is]

paint me a heaven with your bloodied mouth • 3.3k

Buck. Four letters. One syllable. Eddie knows it’s a nickname. He doesn’t know why Buck picked it or why Buck seems to use it exclusively, but he figures it isn’t really his business. And also that it probably isn’t that deep—all of them use nicknames at work or otherwise in their daily lives. Eddie himself might find it weird if anyone outside of his immediate family suddenly started using his full name regularly after so many years of only rarely hearing it from anyone else. So. Eddie calls Buck Buck. And he doesn’t think anything of it. At least…not at first.

all my atoms • 3.9k

Every atom of me and every atom of you...we'll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pin trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams...and when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won't just be able to take one, they'll have to take two. There are three things every child learns about daemons: Don’t ask questions or talk about another person’s daemon—it’s rude. Don’t put too much distance between yourself and your daemon—it’ll hurt. Under no circumstances should you ever touch someone else’s daemon. Simple. Straightforward. Easy to remember, easier to follow. That’s what Eddie thinks of the rules.

half agony, half hope • 4.4k

“My brother does look well tonight, doesn’t he?” Adriana asks, changing the subject as they turn. Her eyes spark with mischief when Buck hums idly in agreement. “Strange that bruise on his neck, though. I can’t imagine how he could have gotten such a thing.” “Perhaps his fencing partner got a bit overzealous,” he offers, despite knowing that won’t be good enough for her to drop it. [Or, after four seasons, the ton remains baffled that no engagement appears forthcoming between Viscount Buckley and the youngest sister of the Duke of Cederhall. But perhaps they should be paying more attention to the viscount and the duke himself...]

safety and home • 3.1k

The thing Eddie remembers most about the shooting isn’t the shot itself, or the pain, or even the fear—it’s the cold. He’s been through enough in his life to know that his subconscious works in weird ways. After Afghanistan he dreamed more directly of burning helicopters and gunfire, blood in his mouth and smoke on his tongue. Shadows and screams and guilt. After the well his dreams were of Christopher, Shannon, waves crashing on a beach. And Buck. Sunlight. This time...this time Eddie dreams of drowning. [For the prompt: "I'll keep you warm."]

light the dynamite • 1.6k

Buck shivers as he thinks back to earlier in the day, at the way Eddie snapped his name like a whip across the radio when he did exactly what Eddie and Bobby both had told him not to do. At the frosty glad to hear it, Firefighter Buckley, when Buck called dispatch back to tell Eddie he was fine if a little bruised. At the way Eddie had called him at the end of the shift, voice low and quiet and commanding, hooking deep beneath Buck’s skin and stealing the breath from his lungs until all he could manage was a rasping acknowledgment before hanging up. It could be seconds, or minutes, or an hour more, but finally the bedroom door clicks open and— “So you do know how to follow instructions,” Eddie says, the edge in his voice not quite sharp enough to cut but a warning nonetheless. “I was wondering.”

show your cards • 2.7k

“What was this tonight?” Buck rasps, his voice rough as sandpaper to his own ears. Eddie’s lips quirk as his eyes flick to somewhere just to the left of Buck’s ear like he can’t respond if he’s looking at Buck outright. “It was dinner, Buck,” he says. “Dinner and a poker game.” And Buck could leave it there. Honestly, he probably should leave it there, leave it alone, let it drop despite the fact that he can practically taste the lie in the air. But he’s too warm and his pulse is so fast that he’s dizzy with it and Eddie is so close that Buck can’t breathe so he can’t help himself— “Eddie.” His voice cracks. Eddie looks back at him, meets his gaze. Slowly, with more than enough time for Buck to move or to stop him, Eddie brings a hand up to curl around Buck’s shoulder, his thumb brushing Buck’s neck in a way that lights up every inch of his skin. “Tonight was whatever you want it to be,” Eddie corrects finally. “No more, no less.”

you make my heart beat • 1.9k

Eddie Diaz knows two things: 1) he's a great nurse; and 2) he does not fall for patients. After spending five months with Evan Buckley...well. Maybe that second one is a little more of an open question.

graveyard whistling (and why things hurt) • 3.2k

“Eddie?” Buck’s hand touches his shoulder and Eddie inhales sharply and comes back to himself. His eyes flick back to the phone—the screen now dimmed and black—then settle on the counter next to it as he swallows hard. “You okay?” Buck asks quietly. “She died today,” Eddie replies. “And I forgot. I forgot that it was today.”

only human, nothing more • 1.9k

It’s stupid maybe, but it feels a little like something happens in that chair. They cut away the softness and leave behind sharp regulation edges and it doesn’t stop Eddie from being afraid, but it...helps. Helps him pretend. Helps him fall into the role of someone who is responsible, someone who knows what they’re doing, someone who— Someone who is in control. (Stupid, maybe. Stupid, definitely, is what he settles on years later when he’s back from war, trapped in his own head and drowning on dry land, because regulation edges make him flinch when he looks in the mirror and he knows no haircut in the world is going to help him fake his way back to normalcy. So he just lets it grow again. It doesn’t matter anyway.) [Or: Eddie introspection through the seasons as explored through haircuts]

It’s 5.5 x 8.5 in. and 319 pages.

Of course, no money is being made off of this collection. Here's the evidence of that:

(For other 9-1-1 fic books, check out @tsoanatural's fic book tag here. For "Stuck on Fast Forward (Throw Away the Blueprint)" by @extasiswings, you can check out my post here.)

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 #playground love: tales from the engine (and beyond)#extasiswings #chapel my darling! <3

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mitsuki91 · 2 months

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It's Valentine! That means... 😏

Snowbaird valentine event!

Thanks to @snowbaird-events and @burntblueberrywaffles and all the snowbaird server for this beautiful event! 😍

There are seven prompts and I decide to write some little short stories all in the same "au". There will be plenty of fluff, silliness and happy ending. Also, this is a fix-it. I will post even on ao3 in the collection and I will link the story at the end.

So, let's start!

Here is the first story

1. Valentine

The first time he heard this he thought he had misunderstood.

"... Valentine..."

He looks up from the newspaper he is reading and sees Lucy Gray and Tigris confabulating on the other side of the living room. They giggle, see that he is looking at them and turn away, covering their mouths with their hands and lowering their voices further.

I wonder what they are up to , thinks Coriolanus. He doesn't give it much thought, even though the male name pinched his ears uncomfortably, since it was Lucy Gray who pronounced it. With a lot of enthusiasm.

Mentally, he shrugs his shoulders. It must be a model from Tigris' new atelier or something. He has nothing to fear anyway.

Right?

***

He seems to hear it everywhere.

This time he went out, with Lucy Gray and Festus and Persephone. A nice double date.

He is coming back from the bathroom when he sees Lucy Gray half lying on the table, leaning towards Persephone and saying something to her with a bright, amused air.

"... Valentine..." it's that name again. His ears perk up and a shiver seizes him and he marches determinedly towards the table.

"What are you talking so cheerfully about?" he asks, smiling quietly.

Persephone chuckles and Lucy Gray returns to sit composed, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Nothing interesting, sweetheart," she replies to him, "Persephone was telling me that her parents will probably give her a cat for her birthday."

A cat named Valentine?

Coriolanus watches her, quiet. Something doesn't add up.

He realizes only later, when he goes with Festus to pay: Lucy Gray was acting. She was not authentic.

She is hiding something from him.

***

Even with Clemmy - even with Clemmy!

Lucy Gray stopped by the university after a morning of errands downtown and he caught her talking under her breath to Clemmy on the threshold of the chemistry room.

"... Valentine..."

Clemensia smiles and giggles, which is quite unusual for her.

"Good morning, girls," Coriolanus greets them, trying to smile but feeling his face get stuck in a paresis. He is starting to get irritated.

He doesn't like the excited glow in Lucy Gray's face.

Who the heck is this Valentine?!

Lucy Gray laughs and is already in his arms. She stands up on her toes and kisses him ardently.

Immediately Coriolanus calms down. Surely it cannot be anyone special if Lucy Gray continues to seek him out in this way, even in public, even when it would be better to avoid it.

***

Then suspicion sets in again when even Festus gets involved.

This time he catches them together. A very stupid thing, at the supermarket. He passed by almost by chance because of an unforeseen gap in university schedule to buy a treat for the evening, because he knows Lucy Gray loves them. And he has seen Lucy Gray and Festus so close that they almost brush against each other as they look at the pastry shelves.

Immediately a burning anger invades him and closes his stomach.

Really? Just what... Four months in the capital and Lucy Gray is already cheating on him with one of his friends? With his best friend?

And then he feels it again, as he is pinned down at the beginning of the lane, unable to advance towards them - and maybe it's just for the best, because right now he just feels pervaded by a murderous rage.

"... For Valentine..."

What is that, a code name? The name Lucy Gray calls Festus by in some moment of passion?!

The idea is so ridiculous that it almost distracts him, and then it is Festus who notices him.

He smiles like it's nothing, approaching him perhaps too quickly, leaving the cart behind.

"Coryo! Don't you have class with Gaul now?"

There it is, the admission of guilt. You wanted me to be busy, didn't you?

"She's absent," he replies, flatly. Lucy Gray emerges from behind his back.

"Isn't that an odd coincidence? I wanted to buy a treat for tonight and ran into Festus instead."

She's acting, too. Again.

Coriolanus merely looks at her and nods, without smiling.

“Then I think I'll go back to the university. I came for the same reason,” he replies, without any inflection in his tone of voice, and turns his back on them and leaves before either of them can retort.

***

It is the fourteenth of February and Coriolanus has spent a sleepless night, pondering in fevered fantasies whether to make a scene to Lucy Gray and leave her, whether to behave stoically and leave her before she can do so and face his own pain alone, or whether to go down on his knees and beg her forgiveness for whatever he may have done and, above all, for the return of his love.

Pathetic.

He gets out of bed because he has nothing else to do and goes through the bathroom to settle down. His expression is terrible. It's been so long since he's sulked with someone that he almost struggles to recognise himself.

Pathetic. And it's all that damn Valentine's fault.

He still finds it hard to believe that it's a nickname for Festus - by the way, does he have to say something to Persephone? Maybe she has some idea what's going on? Or is he going to come across as a paranoid lunatic?

(... But, on the other hand, Persephone might also be involved. Festus is too libertine to settle for a monogamous relationship, yet he is so happy with her. Surely there is something going on).

(Ok, now he's definitely losing his mind).

He goes back to his room and gets dressed, elegant as usual. In less than an hour he has to be at the university. He will think about his own heart problems when he gets home, assuming he can stand up all day after the sleepless night.

A delicious smell comes out of the kitchen. Something chocolatey. Perhaps Ma’ might have outdone herself...

When he enters, however, he finds only Lucy Gray and a gorgeous, huge heart-shaped cake on the table.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" she exclaims, jumping in excitement.

Coriolanus's heart sinks and begins to pound at the same instant. What does that mean?

He asks her, almost in despair.

"What does it mean?! "

Lucy Gray rounds the table and throws her arms around his neck. She kisses him and her mouth tastes like chocolate.

"It's a Covey tradition," she explains to him, "An old lost holiday. Valentine's Day, the fourteenth of February, the day of lovers. And it's customary to exchange chocolate treats."

The relief is so great that it almost makes him bend his knees. Coriolanus pulls her close to cling to her.

"So... In these weeks..." he murmurs.

Lucy Gray laughs and kisses him again, this time for longer.

"I was telling everyone about the tradition" she replies to him “I made sure Tigris took Grandma’am away this morning, with an excuse. I explained it to Percy so she could organize something for Festus and I told Clemmy so she would spread the word among the girls, at the university, to bring back the tradition. And finally, I asked Festus what your favorite chocolate dessert was and for help in choosing the ingredients”.

Coriolanus starts giggling, hysterical.

Hell! He was hysterical. All in his mind, as usual.

A celebration! Valentine's Day.

The celebration of lovers.

Only Lucy Gray could come up with something so absurd and romantic at the same time.

"Do you want to eat the cake?" asks Lucy Gray, after his outburst.

Coriolanus tilts his head, observing her.

"You said Tigris and Grandma’am aren't here, right?"

Lucy Gray widens her smile and Coriolanus kisses her again.

"I'll just taste the chocolate like this, for now," he tells her, taking her in his arms and pushing her towards the table, well away from the cake "And then, if there's time left over, we can eat the cake too."

Lucy Gray, in response, grabs him by the hair and pushes him back to her lips, squeezing her legs behind his back and trapping him against her.

Exactly in the one place he wants to stay for the rest of his life.

💖💖💖

Link on ao3:

#snowbairdvalentine2024 #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #snowbaird #coriolanus x lucy gray #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #shades of rainbow #fan fiction #ao3fic #tumblr fic

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luvwah · 6 months

Note

hey babes.. 🫡

hobie brown x fem!reader !!

can you write about going to a pub to see one of hobie's concerts with a bunch of fangirls for him, but when he finishes his performance, he goes straight to the reader and kisses them, leaving all the fangirls shocked?

can be hcs btw if you're too lazy to write a full fic 🤞🏻

take your time with this request, love you!!

🍰

thank you lisey!! i hope you like it ☆: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:☆

masterlist

synopsis : : waking up in hobie's room, you learn he's playing a surprise gig at the pub. you join him, and amidst an electrifying crowd, hobie singles you out, sharing an intimate kiss. as you and hobie disappear into the night, a love story unfolds, leaving behind a lasting impression on the witnesses.

word count : : 629

warnings : : none ! !

———————————

🍰 - temptations ./づ~ 🍓"

the soft morning light streamed through the curtains, bathing hobie's bedroom in a warm glow. you blinked against the gentle illumination, momentarily disoriented. as your senses sharpened, you realized that you weren't in your own bed. the room bore the unmistakable mark of hobie's eclectic taste – a blend of music posters, scattered vinyl records, and an array of electronic gadgets.

stretching languidly, you reached out to find an empty space beside you. the absence of hobie in the bed prompted a curious frown. your eyes scanned the room, searching for any clues, and that's when you spotted it – a folded piece of paper on the bedside table.

with a mix of anticipation and curiosity, you unfolded the note, revealing Hobie's handwriting.

"hey sleepyhead, had to dash for a surprise gig at the pub. couldn't wake you, you looked so peaceful. join me for the show? can't wait to see you. – Hobie."

a smile graced your lips as excitement coursed through you. hobie, ever the spontaneous artist, had a surprise gig, and you weren't about to miss it. swiftly getting ready, you made your way to the pub, guided by the distant hum of music and the promise of a night filled with beats.

the pub was alive with an electrifying atmosphere as you entered. the air buzzed with anticipation, and the rhythmic thump of the music vibrated through the floor. the stage was bathed in colorful lights, and there, shredding his beat up guitar, was hobie. his fingers danced over the frets, periodically staring down people in the crowd.

you found a spot in the crowd, your eyes fixed on hobie as he masterfully drew the audience into his world. the energy in the room was palpable, a mix of passion and excitement that mirrored the soulful melodies he played.

as the night unfolded, the crowd swayed to the rhythm, completely immersed in the sonic journey hobie crafted. the final notes echoed through the pub, prompting a surge of applause and cheers.

in that moment, you saw hobie stepping away from the stage, the crowd still caught in the throes of the music. he scanned the room, his eyes seeking something, and when they locked onto yours, a spark of recognition lit up his expression.

hobie descended from the stage, and a hush fell over the fangirls as they watched their idol approach someone in the audience – you. the surprise on their faces was evident as hobie reached you, his eyes never leaving yours.

without uttering a word, hobie pulled you into his arms, the music fading into the background. in that crowded, buzzing pub, everything else disappeared as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. the world paused for that brief moment, and it was just the two of you, immersed in the magic of the music and the intimacy of the kiss.

the fangirls, initially stunned into silence, erupted into a mix of gasps and whispers. the unexpected turn of events left them wide-eyed, their idol breaking from the stage to share an intimate moment with someone they hadn't seen before.

breaking the kiss, hobie grinned at you, his eyes filled with affection. "couldn't resist," he whispered, the words a shared secret between the two of you.

as you and hobie walked away from the stage, the pub slowly returned to its lively chatter. the fangirls, now buzzing with excitement, began to piece together the unfolding love story between their idol and the mysterious girl who had stolen his attention.

in the midst of the pulsating beats and the sea of fangirls, hobie and you disappeared into the night, leaving behind a lingering melody of love that resonated in the hearts of everyone who witnessed the unexpected, magical connection between a rockstar and his muse.

———————————

𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗲𝘆 ! @liseytopia

-𝘅𝗼𝘅𝗼 𝗿𝗼𝘅 <𝟯

💌

———————————

©: do not copy, translate, or steal my work. ｔｈａｎｋｙｏｕ！！ :3

#୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 rox's blogs ! !#moots. ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡#💌#₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ hobie brown ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 #𓍯𓂃 itsv ೀ⋆｡🌷#hobie brown #atsv hobie #spiderpunk #atsv #fem!reader #hobie brown x reader

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oboetemasuka · 30 days

Text

Order of Attack, Part 15

"YONAH"

(Or, if you have a better one-word title that fits the themes, I'll take it before I put this on AO3.)

After this, there's one chapter left before the main fic concludes. Side stories (and incessant bothering of Beans) shall continue.

Special thanks to @seariii for the feedback!

The moment Es opened Kotoko's cell door, she began speaking. "Greetings, Es. You kept me waiting." She didn't bother waiting as Es took a seat. "While you were gone, I carried out your judgment. Since this was only the first trial, though, I didn't go all-out-" She stopped when she noticed Es's expression. "Why are you so-"

"What have you done!?"

"Oh, my apologies. I wasn't able to cause enough pain to Kayano Mikoto and Shiina Mahiru."

"You… you…" You caused enough pain to them, alright! Mahiru lives in constant paranoia, wondering when it's her turn and believing it should be. Mikoto is suffering in isolation because he unknowingly interfered-

"Es? Are you okay? You're hardly coherent."

Es realized they had been hissing and growling instead of venting their thoughts. Fine by them. They didn't need to give Kotoko any more ammunition against the other prisoners.

While they were catching their breath, Kotoko continued.

"I decided to attack in numerical order. I was able to deal plenty of damage to Kajiyama Fuuta. Then Momose Amane showed up unexpectedly, saving me a trip. Kayano Mikoto interfered before I could finish, however, and I was unable to get enough hits in before Mukuhara Kazui broke up our fight, and when I went to Shiina Mahiru's cell-"

"Kotoko!" Es stood up, making Kotoko flinch. "You didn't go 'all-out'? You almost killed them. If everyone hadn't interfered when they did, Fuuta and Amane could have died!"

"Is that cause for concern?" Kotoko asked, concealing all traces of having been rattled. "You told me yourself that it's okay to kill scum that are murderers."

"Scum!?" Es slammed the table. "You're calling them- Wait, when did I ever say that?"

"Ever since you finalized my verdict, I could hear your voice loud and clear. 'That man was the trash of society. He got what was coming for him.' Honestly, I didn't mean to go that far, but-"

Es figured there was no arguing about the voices. The voices were a near-universal experience. Still…

"Did you ever consider what Fuuta and Amane had done?"

"What does it matter? You said they were unforgivable, so it wouldn't have mattered if-"

"You would have killed a child."

"So what? Children can be just as dangerous as adults. She's in this prison for murder, Es. You didn't let her off the hook, so why should I?"

I didn't know who her victim was last trial. I made my judgment on a mistaken assumption… They had to redirect their thoughts quickly. It wasn't their place to tell Amane's situation to Kotoko.

"That goes beyond 'letting them off the hook'. You attacked them when they couldn't fight back."

"Criminals don't fight fair. I wasn't going to seek them out on even ground. Say, you seem awfully protective of Amane, considering that you hit and restrained her last trial too."

Es was still mad about how Kotoko had eavesdropped on all the interrogations last trial, but they couldn't counter her argument.

"Or, could it be… You judged her for reasons other than her murder? A guilty judgment born out of misguided c-"

"Shut up!" Es pounded their fists on the table. It was all they could do not to slam their palm across Kotoko's face.

Kotoko chuckled. "You're only proving my point."

Es was supposed to finalize Amane's verdict later that day. Any lingering thoughts of declaring Amane unforgiven were crushed by this conversation.

They needed to break away from the topic of Amane. Maybe they could bring up Fuuta? He enacted misguided justice on a child too. Maybe Kotoko would see reason. No, they shouldn't feed Kotoko any more information about the other prisoners.

Kotoko took over in the silence again. "You've gotten soft, Es, backtracking and defending the very people you condemned. Did I execute my judgment based on such flimsy decisions? What a shame."

"There was no 'judgment' for you to execute. You acted on your own accord, out of line. There was no need for you to go that far!"

For all Es tried to reason with her, she may as well have been a brick wall. The way she attacked their character ticked them off so much that they could no longer stop their hand from connecting with her face. That only seemed to encourage her more.

Honestly, Kotoko brought up a lot of good points that they couldn't counter. They were almost drawn to her invitation to rely on her.

But no. They had to stand their own ground.

For Mahiru's sake. She wholeheartedly trusted Es to stick to their beliefs and judge honestly.

For Amane's sake. They owed it to her to make judgments they could stand behind firmly.

For Fuuta's sake. They promised to judge him with resolve. Leaving that judgment up to Kotoko would be a huge disservice to him.

And even for Kotoko's sake. If they were going to be the warden she expected them to be, then they couldn't falter and fall back on her.

It was Es's job to run Milgram. Kotoko would not take it from them.

Q. Aren't your actions overstepping boundaries?

A. I was just enacting your judgment, regardless of who was at the other end of the stick. I only serve as an extension of your will.

#milgram #es milgram #milgram es #kotoko yuzuriha #bad things happen to amane

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stellamancer · 3 days

Note

not necessarily a summary, but a storyline with something too good to be true?? (lmaoo, sorry, i just liked ur nier fic sm, i think u would rock smth like that😔)

LMAO. justice for my nier fic!!! it's good!! i want to say everyone should read it because i do think that but i also don't think it's very representative of my typical work at all.

anyway a story about something that is too good to be true (in the vein of nier fic).

i actually thought that would be too hard to think about but. and honestly, i'm sure there's a fic like this out there already lmao.

so uh. lmao.

cw: character death, yandere (not reader or geto)

reader is a non sorcerer who comes from a rich household, and seeks out the monk suguru geto after they think they've been cursed (which they have). i want to say that they are... anxious during their first meeting; they've heard about this man and how he strikes fear into the hearts of even the most rich and powerful of men.

but when they meet him, he's not only handsome, but cordial to boot. he collects the curse and sends reader on their way without too much fuss once they've paid for his services.

and that would be that if reader didn't keep getting cursed over and over, and they visit geto over and over, and he is not only handsome and cordial, but he's charming, and kind. and reader starts to fall in love with him.

geto can tell too, he's no stranger to people feeling this way about him, and he's not above manipulating the emotions of non-sorcerers if they stuff he wants (money and curses to harvest), so he plays into it a little. i'm a romantic at heart so i do want to think that maybe he did grow a little fond of them but at the end of the day, they're still. a monkey. :'D

anyway, as reader's visits to geto continue, concerned parties (people they know mostly) start to warn them that he's using them and that he doesn't really care and i want to say that reader dismisses them, but i don't want them to be that dumb, so they kind of take those words into consideration, and like, they can kind of see what people are saying but it's hard to really... stomach when he is just so nice and charming, but in the back of their mind they start to think something is wrong, but at the same time they. don't want to think about it because it really does feel like geto really cares about them.

anyway, things really come to a head when the person who has been cursing reader finally goes off the deep end and they try to just kill reader. maybe they're a suitor reader turned down who has finally decided if they can't have reader then no one can. they start chasing after reader and reader calls geto for help, but it goes to voice mail. and not like... after ringing a bunch of times, it goes to voice mail in the way that you can tell someone just sent you to voice mail

and at that moment reader realizes geto never really cared for them at all.

the suitor catches reader and drags them to an alley to kill them and after they think they've done it (reader is dying but not actively dead) they realize what they've done and try and scamper off

but.

geto actually does show up and he kills the suitor then and there. very mercilessly and then

Footsteps, soft yet scratchy against the asphalt approach your bleeding body. You try and turn your head to look, but you can't seem to get your body to listen, to obey. The sound stops and the person squats down, moving so that they enter your field of vision. It's Geto. Your lips twitch as a smile tries to make it's way onto your face. "...so you came after all." "...did you think I wouldn't?" he asks and you wonder if you're imagining his voice sounding gentle. You must be; he has no need to be paying you any sort of lip service any more, not with you at death's door. "...I don't... have anything to offer." It's a struggle to even speak, but you would hate to leave his questions unanswered when he came all this way. His gaze is unreadable as he stares at you, then, after a moment, he tilts his head and frowns. "No... I suppose not." You let out a weak chuckle. "...sorry to have wasted your time." If this were back at his compound, or perhaps if he even felt a fraction of emotion toward you, you think he'd be kind and tell you that it wasn't a waste. But he says nothing, his silence speaking the truth of how he feels. What a fool you've been. Not that it matters now. "...in my bag... I think i have about... five hundred thousand yen," you say slowly. "...is that enough... to ask for you to embrace me?" Geto frowns, disgust marring his handsome features. "...sorry," you mumble. Your eyes are staring to feel heavy, your thoughts growing more and more blurry. "I just... wanted you to hold me... even just..." Your time runs out before you finish your sentence, before you can feel Geto's fingers brush against the fading warmth of your cheek. Hours later, when your body is found, your personal effects are found along side you. Untouched and undisturbed.

[send me a summary or premise of a fic you'd like to see me write]

#ask games #ru tag

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geeky-politics-46 · 2 years

Note

Hi again, I love your stories and I loved how my last Request turned out it was awesome, thank you, I was wondering if I could Request another one, like the reader and sinister had a bit of an Argument like nothing big but they both needed space, so sisters idea of space is going back in time to Visit his lover when she was younger like 5, just to spend time with her, he doesn't Do anything to twist time or anything and cause like destruction just some cuteness, like Hide and seek and tea parties, and than he comes back and the tow make up.

In A Different Light

References to my story "Actions Speak Louder" but can be read alone.

Pairing: Sinister Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: After a fight with you he goes to quite literally see your point of view, & comes back with a new understanding.

Warnings: Minor argument & some angst w/ a happy ending. Some relationship red flags. Fairly Disney-esque level fluff.

Again I'm embracing fluffy Sinister Strange. I'm obsessed with him. I wouldn't call it a toxic relationship, not super healthy still, but use your own judgement.

Something good and pure in you had served to balance the evil and corruption in him. That was why you had been the one to fall into his universe. Even after he had fallen prey to the Darkhold the fates had decided he deserved a chance at redemption. That was why you saw a silver lining where he only saw a dead end. It made you an odd couple of sorts, but you brought out something in him he had thought died long ago.

You balanced each other, and you balanced the cosmic scale of the crumbling universe around you. Instead of continuing to devour the city piece by piece, the world had found a sort of homeostasis. It was something he had only noticed after that day when he gave you his sweatshirt. When you had fallen asleep in his arms. After he let his affections for you show.

Not long after that your relationship began to bloom in something beyond incidental housemates. First into friends, then slowly moving towards lovers.

Pieces of the world slowly stopped crumbling away. Day after day he had grown used to looking out the large window of the Sanctum only to see a new building that had fractured in two, or rubble where a building had been just the day before. It took a few days before he realized that nothing was changing anymore. A hunger seemed to have been satiated in the maw of the incursion.

As the hunger of the cannibalistic world faded, a hunger grew inside him. An emptiness that yearned to be filled. He wanted to change too. He wanted the emptiness in his heart to be filled by you. By your love.

The first time he kissed you, really kissed you, was the first day you saw the sunshine since you had been there.

The whole thing came to a head the first time you got him to slow dance with you. It was to an old country record you were surprised to find in the Sanctum at all. It was "In A Different Light" by Doug Stone.

It was a song you had spent hours hearing your parents dance to, when you were growing up. It was their song. Of all the things to find here, at the literal end of the world, this seemed like such an odd thing. Even Strange said that he had never seen it there before you found it. Not that it was exactly his style of music anyway he could easily have looked right past it.

You essentially had to beg him to dance with you. All you were asking was one slow dance. After some arm twisting and making your best sad face he finally relented. Secretly pleased when you giddily ran over to put the song on.

He extended one hand to you to grasp and reached to wrap his other arm around your waist. He tried to hold you at a slight distance, to keep his frame stiff and formal, but as he heard your sweet voice sing along to the song softly he started to let himself melt against you. Pretending for a moment you were just another couple dancing in your home. There was no incursion and no crumbling building, you were just normal and you were happy together.

"You know in a weird way this song is perfect to describe us. I see you as such a different person than who you try to be. I really like that person Stephen. I like it here, with you."

Your confession pulled him from his fantasy and he became crushingly aware of his own fate once again. This was his punishment, he was doomed to be miserable. It was something he was sure of. At least he was sure of it, before you. Now he didn't feel so sure of anything. This had to be some sort of joke. You couldn't be happy. He couldn't be happy.

"Why do you insist on trying to project some happy fantasy onto your life here?! You are trapped here with a monster! With the man who did this! You should hate me with your entire being! Why do you insist on trying to love me when all I can do is cause pain and suffering?! I cannot save you from this place!"

His suggestion hurt you. You had truly started to care for him. You saw the cracks in his cold facade. You were falling for the man who let you see beneath the surface. He wasn't about to shut you out again without a fight. He had to know that you would fight for him. For he man who likes it or not, somehow, someway did something to bring you there.

"Who says I want to be saved?! I'm not some damsel in distress Stephen, and I don't see you as some broken toy to fix either. I have never asked you to be anything other than who you are. Who says I'm not happy here exactly as things are, you and I?"

"You can't be happy here! You just can't!" He screamed as he pulled at his hair in frustration both at you and himself.

The best thing to do was remove yourself from the situation. You were both letting your emotions get the best of you. You were both angry and upset. So you removed yourself from the situation.

"We aren't doing this right now. We will do this once we can talk about it without screaming. I'm going to be in my room, and I need to not see you for like 2 hours. So I can calm down. Okay? Come find me when you're ready."

He stood in stunned silence. Once again you managed to take him by surprise. He wasn't used to fights that didn't just continue to dissolve until things started being thrown and things were said that could never be taken back. You waited to walk away until you saw him give an almost imperceptible nod.

You stayed away from each other the rest of the day. At opposite ends of the Sanctum, or at least you tried. You could feel his presence when he would come to your side, just to make sure you were okay, even though you knew he thought you couldn't. He liked to underestimate you.

You hated how cold the room felt when you curled under the covers of the bed you hadn't slept in in months. In the bedroom he said was yours when you first arrived. You had grown so used to snuggling into his side, feeling him go stiff at first be relaxing into your touch. You knew you had to let him come to you though, he would tell you when he was ready to talk.

He cracked open the door of your room when he knew you were sleeping soundly. He felt so lonely even with you just that far away. He had to understand what made you so confounding to him. He had to understand this idea of love that you had. The image that had been set for you in your mind all those years ago.

He wouldn't mess with anything. He just wanted to see. So he grabbed and pursued the books of the Sanctum in the dark of night looking for the one he needed to take him there. The one that would allow him to turn back the clock and see.

As he cast the spell he watched the decayed Sanctum melt away to the sight of greenery and fresh smell of cut grass. It was early evening and the noise of crickets starting to sing could be heard over the sound of the radio. On the porch stood your parents arm in arm in their own world dancing and singing to each other. Laughing when one of them would be horribly off key or step on the other's feet.

"Are you a prince?"

A small girl with pink cheeks and a pure curious smile had snuck up behind him. Dressed in a shimmering princess dress and crown. He recognized her smile immediately. It was you. You were maybe 7 at the time, but it was without a doubt you.

He was surprised not only at your question, but at the fact you could even see him. He had taken care to magically cloak himself. It must have worked as your parents were clearly none the wiser to his presence. They weren't far away from where you had been playing. So why could you see him?

He didn't want to frighten you, but he desperately didn't want to disrupt the timeline and return to the Sanctum to find you now erased from his life. He decided to just get out of the situation as fast as he could. Pretend he was a new neighbor dropping by, or a salesman. Something innocuous.

"Far from it actually. I was hoping to see your parents, but I don't want to interrupt. So I'm just going to leave and come back later."

He started trying to back away from you and move towards the street. Once he was out of eyeshot he would portal back to the Sanctum. Before he could get far though you lunged forward and grabbed both of his large hands in your small ones without a hint of hesitation. If you noticed his scars it didn't show. How his appearance hadn't terrified you he didn't know.

"Wait! You seem sad. Will you dance with me? Dancing always makes me smile, and you seem like you need to smile."

It was very apparent to him at that moment that you were still the same person you were all those years ago. You had always had an optimism and a curiosity that even in his best days, before the Darkhold, he never had. The pureness of intent was the same. You just wanted to help him. It wasn't about making him into your perfect Prince Charming. It was just about wanting to see others happy. Even him.

"Who am I to say no to a princess?"

So he let you lead him as you turned and side stepped together, around in a small circle. He thought about all the ways the world had jaded him even before he succumbed to the evil of the Darkhold.

That what had brought him to the moment you came into his life was a desperate search for somewhere he was happy. Where he could have the love he felt he had been so cruelly denied.

He thought about the question Christine had asked him on her wedding day; 'Are you happy Stephen?'

He had given up long ago on ever even thinking he would approach that feeling, but as he thought of you he realized. You made him happy. He was happy when he was with you. That's why he pushed you away earlier. He was being given the thing he had wanted more than anything, and it scared him.

He wasn't miserable with you there, he was happy. Finally, He was happy. He wasn't just happy, he was falling in love. That's why the universe was repairing itself. The very thing it had been fractured to find was blooming inside its broken pieces.

As the song ended, a genuine smile was no on his face as well as your small cherubic one. He had to get back and apologize to you. He had to make things right. He let your hands fall from his and took a bow.

"Thank you princess. I feel much better now."

Your mother suddenly called your name and he immediately worried he had been found. As soon as you turned away he vanished himself out of your world and back to the Sanctum of his own universe. Immediately going to make sure he hadn't changed his own world beyond salvage once again.

You were still there. Still asleep. Holding the light blue sweatshirt, his light blue sweatshirt, close to your chest and cuddling into it as a substitute for his presence. He fought the urge to go pull the garment from your grasp and slide into its place, his place, next to you.

For once he wanted to do things right though, and the right way to say he was sorry wasn't to slink in under the cloak of darkness. He wanted to make a grand gesture. To show you how much you had changed him. That he may not be a good man by the standards of most in the multiverse, but he would be a good man for you. You made him happy.

So he worked for hours to make everything right. He cleared out a space to use as a dance floor and surrounded it with candles. Then he put on your parents' song loud enough for you to hear in your room and waited for you to wake up.

When you wandered into the room you were clearly confused and still half asleep. Hair disheveled and wearing your favorite old baggy t-shirt and ratty pajama shorts he had magically recreated for you after you arrived. You still managed to take his breath away.

You slowly wandered over to him, about to ask what was going on. He went ahead and beat you to the punch. The longer he waited to speak the greater the chance he would over think it and chicken out.

"I've never been good at saying the words 'I'm sorry', so I hope that this will help show you that I am sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I got overwhelmed. I'm not used to having someone else here. I'm not used to caring for someone or having someone care for me. So… will you dance with me?"

You smiled at him softly. While he spoke you continued to walk towards him. So instead of answering first with words you reached out and placed his arms around your waist. Yours looping around his neck and pulling him to the center of the floor.

"I'll always dance with you Stephen. All you have to do is ask."

As he held you in his arms and started slowly spinning you around the floor of the Sanctum a flick of his hand illuminated tealight candles floating in the air above and around you. It almost looked like you were surrounded by fireflies. That alone had you speechless. When he started to sing you had to fight not to cry. It was barely audible at first, but you recognized it immediately.

I see you... In a different light

Your hair falling down With love in your eyes

In my mind... You're a beautiful sight

I see you in a different light

Just the way I saw you, last night

"I'm sorry for being such an asshole. I just... You know I've been here alone and I've done some terrible things... I don't think you're capable of harming a fly. I just don't deserve you, someone as irredeemable as me doesn't deserve someone so good, but I want to deserve you. I want to be better... for you, because of you. You make me happy and searching for happiness is what got me here. I just forgot how to let myself feel happy. A villain isn't supposed to get the princess and live happily ever after. I'm scared, but I'm happy… because I'm falling in love with you."

"Stephen, I understand how hard it's been for you here. I also know that something you did caused this, and in time I hope you'll tell me everything. Truthfully. To me, it feels like I was brought here to help you, not to change you. So all I want is for you to be the man you want to be. Know that I will always see you in a different light than the one you cast yourself in. A princess doesn't have to find a prince, Stephen, they just have to find someone who makes them happy. You make me happy and I'm falling for you too."

You danced in silence for some time before you finally spoke again.

"I remember you by the way. It took me a bit of time after I got here, but it hit me one day. When you thought I didn't see you watching me. That day in the backyard. My parents were convinced I had made you up and that no one was there. That you were some imaginary friend I created, but I knew you were real. I don't know how, but I knew. That's why I believe in you. That's why I love you, because I always have. Even if you aren't a prince."

You tilted your head up to his and he let his lips melt into yours. You stood surrounded by the flickering lights and for a moment the decayed facade of the Sanctum faded into what it once was. You looked up to see Stephen actually smiling down at you.

"Stephen, before either of us says anything to mess this up, take me to bed please. Make love to me."

He lifted you up bridal style and kissed you once more before he started walking toward the bedroom.

"Who am I to say no to a princess?"

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

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kuriipi · 1 year

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People who keep claiming that "Jin Guangyao didn't have to do what Jin Guangshan told him! He could leave/kill him/steal all their money/go to LXC/NMJ!"

Really seem to like to forget that:

a. Jin Guangyao new way too much for JGS to just let him go?? The man has killed people for less, and he certainly doesn't hold any love for his bastard children.

b. You do realize the only reason JGY goes in the vault is bcs he is the sect leader in mdzs. Like this is pretty elemental, but the vault is only accessed by the sect leader. If Jin sect could just be robbed they wouldn't be the richest sect...

c.Lan sect was burned to the ground at the time and the Jin were helping them rebuilt. Even if they chose to involve themselves and turn against JGS (LXC and LWJ support alone does not guarantee the Lan Sects support, a we've all seen and it also very much doesn't guarantee ones survival, rip wwx...that first time). What power exactly do you think they had against the pretty much Wen sect vol.2 ?? Like by constanntly calling JGS promiscuous (which he was ok) we keep ignoring the crazy amounts of power he held back then...

d. NMJ. Honestly I can't believe I have to keep saying this but if your friend/sworn brother tries to murder you without even giving you a moment to plead your case (you know as is the legal system, or whatever) you tend to not trust them very much after??? Besides NMJ seemed rather content at the time to ignore JGS entirely and just try to blame everything on JGY. You guys please tell me you at least understand that XY was the Jin sects, aka JGS', ward? protege? idk the word but he was under their protection. JGY had no power to do anything about him, even if he wanted to, if JGS didn't permit it. You'd think as a sect leader NMJ's "righteousness" would puss him to talk to his fellow equal, sect leader JGS instead of constantly trying to kill JGY, but oh well.

e. Do you guys think killing your own father is easy? Just emotionally, cause if you do irl seek help tbh that's not normal. Not considering the logistics of killing a sect leader when you're his direct successor (tbh I think that any other method than the one JGY choose wouldn't have held up but that's another story). Like even if people didn't like JGS they liked JGY as head of Jin sect even less.

#jin guangyao #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #jgy #mdzs jgy #jgs

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dandelion-wings · 10 months

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Thinking about Liloupar first telling us the story of a betrayed woman using her children to destroy Gurabad, then so proudly declaring that it was her, and also thinking about how I used the Favonian Freezer team throughout, and...

---

They pause for a meal before passing through the sandstorm, despite the Jinni's impatience. Jeht does her best to forget all her pain and unease and enjoy a meal with Lumine and the companions she's brought with her.

Still, she notices when Kaeya quietly excuses himself from the group and goes over to stand by Liloupar where she floats by the balcony's edge, staring over the sands. She shifts her position a little as if to listen more attentively to the two sisters, talking of their far-away cathedral where they worship a far-away god, and strains her ears for that conversation instead.

Neither sister seems to realize that she's paying them no attention, though Rosaria, whom she'd assume to be even more distracted by this discussion than they are, gives her a pointed look.

Kaeya hasn't exactly been the most comfortable of travel companions. Something about him sets her on edge--the ease of his smiles, the casual way he speaks, so clearly hiding something beneath the blithe exterior. All his companions seem unbothered by it, though, even Lumine, so she's let it go. And up until now she's felt some kinship with him around the Jinni in particular, for she's dismissed them both as savage desert-dwellers despite his polished words and foreign clothes, scornfully telling him that he was worse than Jeht for his 'masquerade.'

But he'd applauded when Liloupar confessed, after this last fragment, to using her children murder her lover--and while it had seemed mocking, Liloupar had spoken a bit less condescendingly to him afterward. Jeht is just uneasy enough to want to know what they're saying now.

"So," he says to the Jinni, looking out over the whirling sandstorm. "Your children were merely instruments of your revenge, hmm?"

"Not merely anything. They were beautiful, my children... brilliant and strong, shining as brightly as their father did when I first beheld him. But yes, they served their purpose well. And I do not believe you have any right to judge."

"Not at all. I truly am impressed. It's such a revenge that the descendants of Khaenri'ah seek against those who wronged them... and our methods aren't so different, after all."

"No." The Jinni cycles through several colors, silent a moment, and then returns to her golden sheen. "Though... as a mother, I do wonder now and then what my children might have been, with all their brilliance, if it had not been necessary to make them instruments of my revenge."

"That's what happens when you turn them into tools," Kaeya says, so quietly that Jeht can barely hear. "You never get the chance to find out."

Something in his tone, soft and thoughtful and utterly calm, sends a shiver down Jeht's spine. She resists the urge to turn and look at what expression he might wear. Instead she looks over at Lumine, beside her, who has ceased speaking to the sisters and has an abstracted look on her face. Rather than unnerved, though, the look in her eyes is sad.

"Well, aren't we quiet," Kaeya says from directly behind Jeht, making her jump. He chuckles. "Does that mean it's time to pack up and go?"

"We're not done eating!" Paimon insists, looking a bit furtive as she clutches at his abandoned plate.

Even Jeht has to join in the giggling at that. She glances over at Lumine, though, watching Kaeya as he sits back down. Lumine looks back at Jeht and gives her a small smile.

It's meant to be reassuring, Jeht can tell. But even as she smiles back, she makes a mental note. Lumine has had her back through the betrayals she's faced thus far. If Kaeya turns out to be as much a danger as her nerves insist... Jeht will have her back, too.

#i was thinking about the potential for this conversation through that last fight #and jeht makes such a good outsider pov for these favonians she barely knows :)#(actually the FIRST thing i thought of was #kaeya golf-clapping when liloupar so proudly says that line about using the hearts and hands of her children #but then that conversation after it)#sumeru spoilers #kaeya is a bundle of knives behind a smile #fic bits

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warabidakihime · 2 years

Text

Invisible Strings: Final Chapter

Characters: Uzui Tengen x Reader | Modern AU Synopsis: Sequel of Parallel Lines Content Warnings: profanity, smut, sleep paralysis, eventual violence, blo0d, slight manga spoilers (tho i strayed away from the original plot but yeh), can be a bit psychologically triggering for some so proceed cautiously.

Previous Chapter: Prologue Next Chapter: Chapter 2

a/n: I can't believe we've made it to the finale of Invisible Strings! I'm not going to lie, I'm a little sad that it's over. This is not my first story, but it is the first in which I have put so much time and effort. My writing isn't great yet, but I'm pleased with how this turned out. Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read my work and provide feedback. They were one of the factors that aided me in writing this piece.

Don't worry, there's still an epilogue, so stay tuned for an update soon! I just got a little busy at work, so updates are a little sluggish this time.

Again, thank you so, so much! Ily!

The demon slayers had meticulously prepared themselves, honing their skills and steeling their resolve for the battle that lay ahead. Their determination was unwavering, fueled by the fervent belief that they could triumph over the malevolent forces threatening their world.

But, as the saying goes, some things are easier said than done. In a mere blink of an eye, Kibutsuji Muzan, the sinister figure they had sworn to vanquish, single-handedly reversed the tides, shattering their hopes and turning their valor to dust. Though not at his full capacity, Muzan's present state proved more than enough to render the valiant demon slayers utterly worthless.

A cruel smile twisted across Muzan's lips as he stood triumphantly over the maimed bodies of the fallen warriors. Tengen, his newly 'recruited' right-hand man, loomed menacingly over your broken form, his insatiable craving for your blood mirroring the unquenchable thirst of a newborn demon. The Demon King cast his eyes down upon the battered demon slayers who had dared to stand against him. Their injuries were grave, their fate hanging precariously by a thread. Without a miraculous intervention, their lives would soon be extinguished.

With a surge of adrenaline, Tengen unleashed his wrath upon Muzan, seeking to avenge your suffering after the demon king's resurrection. His strikes were fierce and resolute, managing to land a few powerful blows that severed Muzan's limbs. Yet, to their astonishment and dismay, the demon's body regenerated instantaneously, mocking their fleeting victory. Tengen, like his companions, bore the weight of his injuries; his wounds were deeper and more severe, having borne the brunt of Muzan's savage onslaught.

And then, in that moment of unfathomable disbelief, the unthinkable occurred. Muzan revealed a twist in his dark machinations. Rather than snuffing out Tengen's life, he saw fit to twist fate itself, offering the grievously wounded warrior an unholy alliance—Tengen would become his new right-hand man. A cruel fate had befallen the demon slayers—a treacherous turn of events that would forever alter the course of their struggle against the forces of evil.

Why?

Why would Muzan go to such lengths, keeping you alive, only to spite you?

The answer revealed itself in a chilling realization—he had given you a sufficient dose of his blood before the battle, a twisted experiment, believing your body would respond favorably to it. Muzan's malevolent plan became clear: if you were able to rise once more, he would wield you and Tengen as weapons, aiming to eradicate the demon slayers in one fell swoop.

"Kill me now, Sanemi! Fucking kill me now!" Tengen's plea roared across the room, desperation lacing every syllable.

"No, I'm not going to kill you!" Sanemi's voice quivered with a mix of anguish and defiance.

"Do you want Y/N to die?!" The words tore through the air, weighted with the unbearable stakes.

Sanemi stood frozen, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening, torn between the excruciating choices that lay before him. Meanwhile, the other demon slayers strained against Tengen's relentless grip, and their futile attempts to separate him from you met with failure. Tengen, a towering force of strength, overwhelmed them all, save for Gyoumei, who managed to push him back with all his might, despite the deep wound that marred his own arm.

Unbeknownst to Tengen, the insidious truth loomed over him—Muzan had also transformed you into a demon. Emerging from your unconscious form, all he saw was a haze of crimson, blinding him to the imminent danger that lurked within.

You remained still, seemingly at peace on the surface, while your very being writhed in unrelenting torment. Muzan's blood coursed through your veins, a malevolent force ravaging you from within. You fought desperately against the abyss, determined not to succumb and perish.

"Sanemi!"

"Will you shut the fuck up?! I already told you, I am not going to kill you!" Sanemi's voice cracked with a mixture of frustration and resolute determination.

"Don't worry about me; slit my neck already! Didn't you say you were coming for my head the instant I put you in danger?" Tengen implored, your voice laden with a mixture of desperation and resignation.

"I did, but..." Sanemi's voice trailed off into a barely audible murmur. "There has to be another way."

Sanemi's gaze shifted uneasily from Tengen to you, his pink eyes searching for a solution. As his gaze settled upon you, his lips quivered, and a desperate whimper escaped him—a sound of anguish echoing through the tumultuous air.

Why did it have to come to this?

Why were the choices so heart-wrenching, forcing Sanemi to decide between you and Tengen?

Why did history repeat itself in such a cruel manner?

Sanemi had foreseen the impending calamity and braced himself for the worst, but this level of despair surpassed his darkest expectations.

It was utterly ridiculous.

"I don't want you to die, and I don't want to lose any of you." Sanemi's voice wavered with the weight of his love and torment, his devotion to his comrades etched into every syllable.

The Sound Hashira, though touched by the unwavering resolve of his friends to save both him and you, knew that it was only a matter of time before his demonic strength spiraled out of control, threatening to bring about the demise of all those involved.

But as Sanemi had uttered, there had to be a way.

For heaven's sake, it was the twentieth century—a time of boundless advancements, where the human spirit triumphed over countless obstacles.

In the aftermath of Muzan's reign, Shinobu remained vigilant, tirelessly developing antidotes to counter the insidious curse that had plagued their world. Her foresight now bore fruit, as she possessed the means to administer the life-saving drug to both you and Tengen. However, the very person capable of providing salvation lay sprawled on the floor, her body broken and battered. Fractured ribs threatened to puncture her delicate lungs, making each movement a treacherous dance with death.

Yet Muzan, determined not to repeat his past mistakes, launched a vicious preemptive strike, targeting those who posed the greatest threat to his nefarious plans. Shinobu, Kanae, Tamayo, and Yushiro bore the brunt of his assault, their bodies left almost lifeless from the sheer force of his relentless aggression. Yushiro, bleeding profusely from a deep gash on his back, bemoaned the loss of his Blood Demon Art, his bitter chuckle punctuating the grim scene as he lay helplessly in a pool of his own blood.

Kanae's limbs twisted at grotesque angles, her once graceful form reduced to a painful contortion. Tamayo, flung mercilessly against a heavy apparatus, suffered a grave concussion, rendering her immobile and disoriented.

Unrelenting, Muzan continued his assault, turning his attention to the other Hashiras once he had incapacitated the doctors. Rengoku and Giyuu bore the brunt of his fury, their bodies marked by severe injuries. Rengoku, his eye lost in the chaos, narrowly escaped losing a limb thanks to the intervention of Tanjiro, who rushed to his aid. Giyuu, much like Tamayo, found himself hurled across the room, his strength drained, and in a swift, cruel gesture, Muzan shattered his sword with ease, rendering it useless in battle.

As the onslaught persisted, Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke fought valiantly, their bodies enduring varying degrees of pain and injury in their desperate attempts to aid the Hashiras. Inosuke, his nose broken and hand shattered, grimaced through the searing agony, clutching the hilt of his sword with unwavering resolve, for the stakes at hand left no room for weakness.

On the other end of the spectrum, Nezuko bore the marks of Muzan's deliberate and prolonged torment. Bruises marred her once pristine form, serving as a twisted reminder of his grudge against her for eluding his clutches. Tanjiro and Zenitsu, fortunate enough to sustain only minor injuries, stood alongside their comrades, resolute in their shared struggle. Mitsuri and Obanai, consumed by urgency, labored tirelessly to tend to Kagaya's wounds, their unwavering determination a shield against despair. Failure was not an option—they would not let him slip away.

Tengen, gasping for air, fought the relentless onslaught of thirst that gnawed at his throat, a relentless reminder of his waning strength. Agonizing pain coursed through his veins, threatening to overpower his will. Tears streamed down his cheeks, a testament to the torment he endured.

When his eyes scanned the room, falling upon you and the broken forms of his comrades, a suffocating sense of humiliation washed over him, chilling him to the core. The weight of his helplessness bore down on his shoulders, leaving him adrift in a sea of despair. For the first time in an eternity, Tengen, the unyielding pillar of strength, felt the suffocating grip of hopelessness tighten around his heart.

Muzan, basking in his premature triumph, cast a wicked glance around the chaos he had wrought, his deranged laughter reverberating through the air. Approaching Kagaya, whose visage had become unrecognizable under the onslaught of the Demon King's merciless blows, Muzan knelt, gripping his hair with force and unadulterated contempt. His eyes brimmed with venomous triumph.

"I win."

Kibutsuji Muzan had not tasted the sweet nectar of victory coursing through his veins in centuries, and he reveled in the electrifying sensation that surged through him. Relinquishing his hold on Kagaya, his demonic gaze shifted towards you. Strangely, the seething rage that consumed him on the night you betrayed him seemed tempered, replaced by a sinister curiosity that danced within his demonic eyes.

Gratitude, an unexpected emotion, swelled within Muzan, directed solely at you. In some inexplicable way, he found himself indebted to you and perhaps even drawn to your presence.

With an air of arrogance, Muzan closed the distance between you, his steps echoing with sinister purpose. He then pivoted to face Tengen, his expression seething with contempt at the defiant gaze he received. In a display of power, Muzan backhanded him with a resounding crack, a direct response to the perceived insolence in Tengen's eyes.

"Lower your head, you wretched imbecile. Learn how to address your master," Muzan sneered, his voice laced with venom.

Tengen's eyes blazed with a murderous glare as he defiantly retorted, his words dripping with disdain, "You are not my master, and I would rather bite the dust than serve a lunatic like you."

Unfazed by Tengen's venomous defiance, Muzan instead found amusement in his audacity. The Sound Hashira's resistance only served to further stoke his interest. Oh, how well he had chosen his vessel.

Once again, Muzan struck Tengen, this time with a brutal force that left an ugly dent on his face, a grotesque reminder of his wrath. The blow was potent enough to nearly sever Tengen's head from his body in a single, devastating strike.

"Keep your distance from y/n," Muzan hissed, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "She belongs to me now. Your filthy hands have no place near her."

A sinister smirk crept across Tengen's bloodied lips as he defied Muzan's claim. "You underestimate y/n. From what I've gathered, she holds no affinity for men like you. In fact, she despises individuals of your kind. So take a hike, you useless corpse of the past."

Muzan's eyes narrowed, a flicker of intrigue mingling with his unbridled fury.

"Is that so?"

Muzan retaliated with a swift, brutal act, severing Tengen's limbs. Agonizing pain coursed through Tengen's body, causing him to howl like a wounded animal. Before he could even begin to recover, Muzan ruthlessly seized a fistful of Tengen's hair, pulling so tightly that blood trickled down his scalp. Tengen gritted his teeth, refusing to show any weakness in the face of such cruelty.

"Who says her words hold any value to me?" Muzan sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Worthless and disposable women like her, who prance around like bitches in heat, would betray the very hand that feeds them. They have no rights whatsoever. Their only purpose is to sit, look pretty, and serve me for eternity."

Those words were the final straw.

Tengen's determination surged within him like a raging inferno. Without hesitation, he charged toward Muzan, challenging him to an all-out brawl. At this point, Tengen had nothing left to lose—they were both demons now. Among their kind, it was commonly understood that engaging in a fight between blood-sucking monsters with monstrous power and durability was futile. Hence, they seldom bothered fighting their own kind unless Muzan specifically commanded them to do so.

As Tengen and Muzan grappled with each other, their bodies crashing to the floor, it created an opportunity for the others. They could exploit this distraction, seeking an opening to strike back against the Demon King. However, there lingered the underlying threat that Muzan might choose to end Tengen's existence completely. After all, it was Muzan who had transformed Tengen into a demon, granting him life and power; thus, he possessed the ability to revoke it and deliver a fatal blow.

Tanjiro and Zenitsu reacted swiftly, assuming their battle stances, joined by Obanai and Mitsuri, who had skillfully tended to Kagaya's injuries. Though still severely wounded, Kagaya was no longer in immediate danger.

Within the confined space, the room transformed into an absolute bloodbath within a matter of minutes, intensifying the already macabre atmosphere. Tengen fought valiantly against the Demon King, fueled by his newfound determination and unyielding spirit.

In the face of this relentless assault, Tengen could dare to believe that victory was within his grasp. If he could sustain this momentum, there might be a chance to save not only himself but also the lives of those he held dear.

I'm here again, huh? But this time I can't see a damn thing.

Am I actually dead this time?

"Please, wake up! Y/N, wake up!" The desperate voices of Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma resounded in the emptiness, tugging at my consciousness.

But my eyelids refuse to obey; they are heavy as lead. My entire body feels weighed down, as if trapped in an abyss. I'm sorry, Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma. I can sense that it's you who have been calling out to me. Even after all this time, your voices are familiar and comforting, like a balm for my soul.

"Y/N, you must resist Kibutsuji Muzan. Do not let his cells take control of you again." Hinatsuru's words echoed, her concern palpable. Makio chimed in, her voice filled with urgency, "Yes, y/n. You're not a demon anymore. You never were. Lord Tengen would be devastated if he lost you again."

"And we haven't forgiven you for leaving us!" Suma's voice wavered, a mix of grief and disappointment. "We were overjoyed when we returned from the Entertainment District, thinking we would see you again. But instead, we discovered you had perished."

The weight of their words bears down on me, sinking into my consciousness and stirring a sense of remorse. I understand, and I am truly sorry for abandoning you.

"Y/N, please... don't leave Lord Tengen again. He cannot bear another loss." Hinatsuru's voice trembled with a poignant blend of sorrow and pain, her words piercing through the emptiness.

Hinatsuru... Makio... Suma...

Tengen...

Everyone...

Your eyes flew open, and you gasped for air as consciousness rushed back to you, seizing your senses.

"What—?" you managed to utter, disoriented and dazed.

Beside you, a voice exclaimed with evident relief, and as you turned your head, you found Obanai's face filled with an unusual mix of frustration and triumph. It took a moment for your groggy mind to process the situation and catch up with the whirlwind of events unfolding around you.

"It worked. It fucking worked," Obanai muttered, his voice laden with both disbelief and satisfaction.

What worked? Your mind raced to comprehend as your gaze followed Obanai's intense grip on the syringe he clutched so tightly. The answer began to crystallize—it was the antidote. Obanai had taken charge of administering it while the others focused on bringing Muzan down.

Shinobu had predicted that Muzan would first attempt to dispose of her unit, so she wisely delegated the responsibility of distributing antidotes and poisons to another capable individual—Obanai.

Meanwhile, the battle raged on. Tengen, Gyoumei, and Rengoku valiantly kept Muzan pinned to the ground, limiting his mobility and minimizing his threat. With fierce determination, they unleashed their strength, their combined efforts serving as a formidable barrier against the relentless demon.

Giyuu, wielding his sword, aimed for Muzan's eyes, his strikes resolute but blunt. Tanjiro and Zenitsu, their resolve unwavering, sliced through Muzan's limbs with precision and unwavering resolve. Every action they took was a gamble—a high-stakes wager between life and death. They knew the risks and understood the potential sacrifices, but they refused to falter. Their goal was clear—to bring Muzan down and protect the world from his insidious wrath.

None of them hesitated, for they knew that victory demanded unwavering resolve. With each push, each swing, each punch, and every resounding battle cry, they fought as if their very existence depended on it.

But Muzan, despite the odds stacked against him, remained defiant. He clenched his teeth, his gaze filled with a menacing intensity as he glared at Tengen.

"No way I'm letting some peon like you impede my plans," Muzan hissed through gritted teeth, his voice laced with venomous defiance.

Tengen, undeterred by Muzan's threats, met his gaze head-on and spat back with equal conviction, "You no longer have a place in this world, Muzan. It's high time you accepted reality."

A dangerous glint flickered in Muzan's eyes as he retorted, "We'll see about that."

In this pivotal moment, where the forces of darkness clashed with unwavering determination, the stage was set for a battle that would determine the fate of their world.

Muzan's arm recoiled, ready to strike the Sound Hashira with devastating force. Tengen braced himself, preparing for the impact that never came. Instead, a sinister sneer twisted across the Demon King's face, a triumph evident in his eyes. In a moment of cunning deception, Muzan had seized the opportunity to infiltrate Tengen's body, seeking to enslave him from within.

Time seemed to freeze as the realization washed over Tengen. A scream tore from his lips, mingling with the agonized howls of pain as he doubled over, feeling Muzan's presence coursing through his veins like vile poison.

"He's going to use me to hurt all of you!" Tengen's voice cracked with desperation, his words echoing through the air. Every fiber of his being writhed in anguish as he struggled to convey the urgency of the situation.

Before he could continue, blood erupted from his lips, reminiscent of the horrific moment when Muzan attempted to seize control of your body. Tengen's gaze darted to Sanemi, whose face reflected a blend of fear and panic as he stood resolutely, guarding you.

"I won't ask so politely this time! If you don't want everyone to die, you have to kill me!" His plea reverberated through the battlefield, addressed to all yet holding a particular weight directed at Sanemi.

"But—"

"No!"

Your words reverberated through the room, cutting through the tension and drawing every gaze towards you. Relief washed over the faces of your comrades as they laid eyes on you, their expressions filled with a mixture of gratitude and joy. They were undoubtedly glad to see you safe and well, reassured by the efficacy of the antidote that had restored you to a state of remarkable vitality.

Tengen's gaze met yours; his eyes were no longer the ones you were accustomed to seeing. They held an otherworldly quality; his once vibrant complexion was now pale and sickly, and his fangs protruded from his once luscious lips. It dawned on you that he had fallen victim to Kibutsuji Muzan's vile transformation, his love for you shining through even in his altered form. The sight tugged at your heart, filling you with a bittersweet mix of adoration and despair as you feared for his very existence.

In the midst of this turmoil, Tengen's hasty plan ignited a surge of apprehension within you. You couldn't bear the thought of losing him, not after the arduous journey it had taken for you to be reunited. Determination welled up within you, overshadowing any pain or weakness that lingered from your recent surgery.

Without hesitation, you pushed yourself out of bed, paying no heed to the stability of your own legs or the protests that echoed around you. Crawling forward, you summoned every ounce of strength, your arms enveloping Tengen in a fierce embrace. The soreness in your knees from the impact against the cold, unforgiving floor went unnoticed as your sole focus rested on the man you loved.

"I refuse to let you die, Tengen," you whispered, your voice filled with unwavering determination. "We've fought so hard to be together again, and I won't stand by and watch you waste your life like this. Tengen, find that inner strength within yourself. Don't succumb to the likes of Muzan. Fight back with every fiber of your being."

As your flesh made contact with Tengen's, he inhaled sharply, his grip on sanity teetering on the edge. The torment of Muzan's presence within him was amplified by his insatiable thirst, and your proximity only intensified his struggle.

"Y/N—no, don't come near me. You'll get hurt," Tengen pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation, attempting to tear you away from him. But you clung to him, refusing to let go.

"No! There must be another way!"

Agony flickered across Tengen's face as your words echoed Sanemi's earlier plea. Just as he was about to respond, Muzan's malevolent presence surged to life, casting everyone else aside and leaving you vulnerable and alone with the towering brute.

"Y/N, please, run while you still have the chance! Sanemi, kill me now!" Tengen's voice cracked with anguish and determination, his plea filled with a mixture of love and self-sacrifice.

"No!" Your voice wavered with both fear and defiance as you locked eyes with your cousin, who stood prepared to strike, battling his own conflicting emotions.

"Sanemi, don't!"

Tears welled in the eyes of the Wind Hashira as he clutched his sword tightly, his heart torn between honoring a dying friend's wish and hoping against hope for a miracle. The weight of their helplessness pressed heavily on everyone, rendering them momentarily powerless in the face of this convoluted situation.

If only they could find a way—a sliver of hope amidst the chaos. But time slipped through their fingers like sand, and the urgency of the moment left little room for deliberation.

"SANEMI!"

Disregarding your objections, Sanemi unleashed a heart-rending war cry, swinging his Nichirin sword with all his might.

TAGLIST: @babygirl-panda19 @hypnocountrymusicfunnyfan @exodarkwolf16 @qdreamueen @vesta-ro

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xxsksxxx · 7 months

Text

Liberating the Mirage

Summary:

When an assignment goes horribly wrong, Mulder has to race against time to find Scully.

But sometimes the line between reality and illusion blurs—and it turns out there’s more than one locked door that needs to be opened.

Notes:

This is my little contribution to Fictober, a yearly event that celebrates writing and reading—and fall. All of which are good things in my world.

Since there’s no way I can come up with a new story every day, I’ve decided to write one fic that includes all prompts from the Fictober 2023 prompt list. They’re all in bold if you want to seek them out specifically. You can find the list here: Fictober 2023

This story is complete, but to keep in the spirit of Fictober, I’m posting one chapter a day.

I hope you’ll have as much fun reading this fic as I had writing it.

AO3 | Start at the Beginning | @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Chapter 5: Illusions

Pearson Steel Corp., Washington D.C

Mulder slowly crept closer to the edge of the old factory. It felt oddly familiar, and Mulder realized with surprise that it had only been 18 hours since he had crept along a similar stone wall. It seemed like a lifetime ago—and this time Scully wasn't sitting in a van listening. She was inside here somewhere, and he didn't have any time to waste.

Mulder’s fingers sought the weight of Scully’s cross around his neck, the jagged edges cutting into his palm, serving as a sharp reminder that she was waiting for him to find her. He grabbed the cross tightly for a moment, recalling another painful time when she’d been missing, and he’d lost himself in a swirl of pain—her cross the only anchor that kept him alive.

He pulled the lock pick out of his jacket and looked around. He couldn't see anyone, nor did he notice any cameras. Expertly, he picked the lock and silently slipped inside.

The inside of the abandoned mill was dark and silent. The high ceiling echoed every sound, and he was glad he'd chosen sneakers before coming here. Mulder looked around, the large iron machines loomed like dark sentinels, not giving anything away.

He swiftly moved through the manufacturing hall, looking for a staircase or a basement where Scully could be held. The former offices appeared to be on one side of the hall, so he decided to head in that direction first. A large window opened to the hall at the top of a small iron stairway. Probably a foreman’s office from where the production could be overseen, he thought. Quietly, he climbed the stairs and cautiously opened the door. Another door on the other side of the office seemed to lead farther into the building, and a small sliver of light streamed from under the door.

Mulder took a breath to calm his racing heart, inhaling the musty scent of the old metal. The cold, damp air settled uncomfortably on his arms and face. Finally, he thought. Someone was here. He carefully approached the door, listening for any sounds.

He yanked the door open and stared right into the startled face of the tall man from the warehouse. This time he wasn't running, though. John Egan’s shock didn’t last, and Mulder’s sudden appearance propelled him into action, his hand jerking to the back of his pants, groping for his gun.

Mulder made a split-second decision, jumped forward, and tackled the taller man. Egan grunted in surprise when he was thrown to the floor.

“Freeze! Federal agent!” Mulder shouted, pressing with full force on the other man’s arms to prevent him from moving. His captive, however, wasn't deterred in the slightest and kept fighting. Mulder grunted with effort, as Egan tried to squirm out from under him, and pushed his entire body weight down on his opponent. John moaned in pain, but he had no choice but to stop resisting or risk breaking his arms. Mulder instantly pulled his handcuffs from his belt and shackled the man to the desk in the center of the large office.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mulder panted. “I told you to stop moving! And if I find out you hurt her, this will be just the beginning,” he said forcefully, gritting his teeth. “Now, where is she?”

Egan didn’t respond.

Mulder leaned closer, his grip tight on the back of the mobsters’ shirt, their faces only inches apart. “I said, ‘Where is she!’,” Mulder yelled in the other man’s face and shoved him down onto the hard concrete floor, his shackled wrist bending up at an awkward angle.

John yelped in agony and nodded in the direction of the other door, his teeth tightly clenched. “She’s in the basement. Through that door, down the stairs, and through the first door.”

Mulder didn’t waste any time. He jumped up and ran down the stairs to the basement.

He came to a halt in front of a fire protection door and stopped to listen for any sounds. It was deathly silent in the small hallway. The key was sticking inside the lock, and Mulder unlocked the door and pulled it open.

The room appeared empty except for an old mattress lying on the floor in the back. Mulder squinted, trying to make out anything in the dark room. Just then, the heavy clouds outside parted and a beam of moonlight shone into the small basement window, casting a silvery glow over the room. There was a lump on the mattress, but he couldn’t make out any details.

He slowly moved closer, realizing it was a person. “Scully?” he called softly. “Scully, is that you?”

The lump moved and turned, and Mulder let out a sigh. It was her! He took two quick steps towards her and kneeled by her side.

With a metallic bang, the door slammed shut behind him. Mulder whirled around and ran back to it, twisting the handle.

“Locked! Dammit!” he slapped the metal with his hand. “Stupid. I fell right for his trap,” he leaned his forehead against the steel and took a deep breath, closing his eyes in frustration.

*****

Scully tried to focus on Mulder standing by the door. His outline swirled and came in and out of focus. Warily, she put her head back down on the mattress and closed her eyes. Another hallucination, she thought. “Mulder, are you close to finding me?” she murmured, more to herself than to the apparition in her cell. “I think you need to hurry. I don't know what he's injecting me with, but the next dose might be too much.”

Mulder raised his head and hurried over to her. He dropped to his knees next to her again and brushed a lock of her hair off of her face. “Scully? It's me. Are you okay?”

Scully smiled without opening her eyes. She rather enjoyed these hallucinations. They weren’t as good as the real thing, of course, but it all felt real enough. “I'm ok, Mulder. But I need your help. And you need to hurry. I want to get out of here.”

Mulder gave her a confused look. “Scully? Can you open your eyes?”

Scully groaned softly, turned her head in his direction, and slowly opened her eyes. Her fantasy Mulder was backlit by moonlight, his edges blurry.

Mulder sighed. “You're drugged. And I got us trapped,” he said warily. “I'm here, Scully. I need you to hold on a bit longer, though, okay?”

Scully tried to focus. “Are you really with me?” she asked, squinting. “Were you also here before? I saw you! Mulder, we need to get out of here! He drugged me!”

Mulder watched her with a concerned look. “No. It’s alright, I’m really here now.” He reached for her hand and entwined their fingers. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

“He completely surprised me, Mulder,” Scully slurred, closing her eyes and putting her head down on the mattress again. “I have no idea how I could’ve let him surprise me like that.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mulder answered quietly and squeezed her fingers. “We shouldn’t have let him escape in the first place. If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine.”

Scully grunted. “Can’t you just let me blame myself for once, Mulder?” she asked indignantly, but her lips twitched in amusement. She squeezed his hand back in understanding.

“Did he hurt you, Scully?” he asked, checking anxiously in the dim light if he could make out any injuries.

Scully shook her head firmly. “No, not really. He injected me with something in the car, and the first thing I remember is waking up here. Where are we anyway?” She opened her eyes and gave looking at Mulder another try.

“It’s an old steel mill not far outside D.C., Connolly ratted everyone out and gave me the location—which reminds me, I’ve got something for you.” Mulder released her hand and put his hands behind his neck. Scully watched him curiously, trying to fight her blurry vision.

“What is it, Mulder?” she asked. He held his closed hand in front of her face and smiled.

“Okay, show me,” she demanded, grabbing his hand and opening it. “My cross!” she squealed, eagerly taking it out of his hand. She tried to put it around her neck, but her coordination was completely off.

Mulder carefully took the cross from her hands. “Here, let me. Can you turn around a bit?” he asked and fasted the chain around her neck.

Scully looked down at it and then back up to Mulder. “Thanks for returning it to me, Mulder,” she said softly, her eyes glittering in the moonlight. Thanks for looking for me, she added in her mind. And thanks for always finding me in time.

With a loud bang, the door flew open and crashed into the wall. John stood in the open door with a gun raised to Mulder's head. “Thought you'd tricked me? I'm not that stupid. I want the list. Now!” He angrily waved his gun.

“I don't have it,” Mulder said, slowly getting to his feet, and moving between the man and Scully who watched drowsily from the ground.

“Then get it! I don't care how,” Egan yelled, now waving his gun at Scully. “This bitch is drugged out of her mind and still won't tell me anything, and you're playing hard to get! You better give it to me, before anything happens.”

Mulder simply returned the man’s stare. “I can’t give you what I don’t have,” he explained calmly, raising his hands, palms up.

“Then I’d suggest you try harder and write down what you remember. And I’d try hard if I were you!” the man growled, throwing a pad and a pen in Mulder’s direction. “And don’t think I’m playing. I’ve got nothing to lose.” Mulder ducked to pick up the pen and pad, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“And while we’re at it, I assume you didn’t get here unarmed. Put your gun on the ground,” John sneered, pointing at the floor.

Mulder gritted his teeth and pulled his gun from the back of his jeans. He bent down and put it on the floor.

“Now kick it over here. Slowly! If you try to play any tricks on me, I’ll shoot her,” the man threatened, redirecting his gun to Scully who watched with heavy-lidded eyes.

Mulder kicked the gun in John’s direction and raised his hands again. “There’s no need for that. I’m not going to try anything,” he said soothingly.

Egan retrieved Mulder’s weapon, never taking his eyes off of him. He slowly stepped backward, his gun still aimed at Mulder. “I’ll be back in an hour. I suggest you come up with a list of names by then, or I guess I have to consider you useless to me. And I don’t tend to keep useless things around,” he said, his threats punctuated with the point of his gun.

John Egan backed out of the room, the door closing behind him with a bang.

***

Thank you so much for reading. You can also find this fic on AO3.

#xfiles #mulder and scully #xf fanfic #fictober23 #dana scully #fox mulder #the x files #msr #fictober event #fictober 2023 #xffictober #xffictober23 #i wrote this #Liberating the Mirage

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profoundbondfanfic · 2 years

Photo

Final day with some of the favorite fics our followers sent us. Thank you guys once again for the support and for sending us your choices.

Next week we’ll self-reblog all the reviews with the fics that were featured during this celebration. Once that’s done we’ll go back to the usual schedule. Thank you!!

PART 5:

the cheapest room in the house by biggaybenny [Explicit, 89k words]

what if instead of a very sincere and earnest love confession dean just found out cas was gay? no confession, no god-jack endgame. just post-s15 stupidity. just dean being deranged. the dean downloads grindr for cas fic

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (doomcountry) [Teen, 31k words]

Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

The Line Begins to Blur by Rosewhipped [Explicit, 128k words]

A Soulless Sam traps and attacks Castiel--Dean finds out. This story is coda until it isn't, because I realized I wanted the boys to have a happy ending. It follows season six plot/timeline for several chapters and incorporates quotes from actual episodes. Rape, rape aftermath, and recovery are explored. Eventual smut and even some fluffiness. Without a soul, Sam could see everything a little bit more clearly. Feelings no longer distracted him from goals. He was free to pursue anything without shame, guilt, or hesitation. He turned an analytical eye to all that lay before him, calmly calculating the movements and reactions of those around him to stay ahead of their thoughts and actions. He was always playing a role, acting through a scene, he had been for months and he was getting very good at it.

There Goes My Life by turningthepages [Mature, 54k words]

“It’s mine. The baby’s mine.” He never wanted to admit it, nor would he ever really forgive himself for thinking it, but at that moment, hearing those words, Dean felt like he could see all his plans for a happy future burning to ash right in front of him.

they're playing dido in the hospital gift shop by spocklee [Explicit, 16k words]

can't a guy just have a completely normal sex dream in peace without his formerly-dead best friend walking in?

Tilted Mercy by LittleAngelCassie [Explicit, 111k words]

The sins of the past never stay buried; Dean’s spent years trying to suppress the memories and nightmares that chase him relentlessly. The now 35-year-old Omega entered the BDSM lifestyle seeking penance for his crimes against humanity hoping to rectify all his wrongs through his own pain. After a particularly frightening encounter, Dean agrees to try a different approach to his self-atonement. Compassion was never in the cards until Castiel Novak showed up at his door, pushing Dean’s boundaries and forcing him to face this new reality that includes a possible future with the handsome alpha. Welcome to a new world twisting ABO and BDSM, where somewhere between retribution and redemption lies …Tilted Mercy.

Unintended by emwebb17 [Explicit, 82k words]

Castiel is a successful defense attorney beginning to doubt the integrity of the work he does. After winning a date with a firefighter named Dean at a charity auction, Cas decides that he needs to make a change in his life. He just has one more case to take care of, but his involvement has devastating consequences.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

#500 followers celebration #favorite fics #group rec #submitted rec

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wonda-ch · 1 year

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For a few days I was driving myself crazy with the idea of posting my first short scene and had almost decided against it. Then I heard posting my story would just be the cherry on top of the cake.

Well, I like cherries.

Here is my first little scene.

———

Something woolly

"What am I doing here? When you bought these animals I didn't expect that it would end with me in a stable. Although I must admit that for a stable it has already become a gem."

With a serious face, the future Countess Arendae stands between her animals and waits until the Count's gaze seeks hers.

"Choose one."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You shall choose a lamb."

As if only now noticing the animals, Daeran looks around a bit confused.

"For what?"

"For the feast."

Very slowly, realization creeps into what is just a confused look on the count's face.

"Oh no, now it dawns on me where this trip is going. I keep telling you it was just a provocative joke."

"I know that, my favorite count. After all, I hear this story every time guests are present and there's a piece of lamb on the table. So this decision shouldn't be a problem, should it? Here, hold this."

Before he can object, Daeran finds himself with a snow-white little lamb in his arms. Instinctively, his fingertips dip into the silky white wool to hold the fragile animal.

"Did we buy this walking pile of wool just so you could torture me?"

"Surely not, but it's a nice side effect"

Tishlia's serious expression gives way to a diabolical grin. She likes it too much to challenge him. Carefully tickling ucarefully until another small part of his already fragile wall collapses.

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Never."

"At what point did I miss you becoming so cruel?"

"Maybe you missed it until now, or maybe it happened when you joined forces with my parents," she replies snappishly. His guilty conscience about this fact is completely unnecessary, but it couldn't hurt here right now.

"So now I have to pass a death sentence on a lamb. Just because I actually like your parents against all odds?"

"No, you will, because I know you and I know when something else resonates in your voice when you make those provocative jokes."

She pauses for a moment, gives him time to pierce her with his wonderful eyes and enjoys every second of it. The suspicion that some wonderful moments they could experience together would never get a chance because he’d continue to hide behind the mask of an anecdote has been smoldering inside her for a long time.

She has carefully planned this moment, time for the final blow.

"You get to make a choice and just walk away again. Or you can tell me you can't. But don't hide from me." This time it's her eyes that pierce him, and as expected, he doesn't withstand them for long.

Audibly sighing, Daeran turns his gaze away and his entire attention to the small animal in his arms.

"Why do you have to be such cute little soft clouds."

Slowly, Tishlia steps closer, places her hand next to his in the soft wool, and looks lovingly at her fiancé before kissing him tenderly over the tiny sheep. When their lips part, he rests his head against her forehead as he gazes dreamily at the contented little animal.

"Very well, perhaps not all of it was a joke after all. But now you want the whole story, right?"

"Later," she replies softly "with a glass of wine, on the divan, in front of the fireplace."

"Is this the reward for the soul-crushing agony I just endured? Then I'll gladly accept it and savor it completely." The cheeky grin she loves so much returns, promising her a wonderful evening.

A hint of skepticism reappears in Daeran's eyes as he realizes what consequences this confession could have for future mandatory events with boring guests.

"You won't tell anyone?"

"Of course not. I promise." The gentle completely sincere promise makes the tension melt away from Daeran and he goes back to cuddling the lamb. Tishlia watches him for a while, completely satisfied with the outcome of her little plot.

"Tisha, could we at least keep this little cloud?"

The future countess steps back, takes a deep breath and looks at the little lamb with a shrewd shepherd's eye.

"Well. There are only six lambs. We will keep all of them, for my project the flock has to grow bigger first. What’s needed for the celebration already is well organized."

Giggling softly to herself, the shepherdess slowly walks backwards towards the gate.

"You sneaky little..."

But before Daeran can set the lamb down, his tormentor has already disappeared from the stable, laughing.

———

@dmagedgoods I can't thank you enough. For your pictures that first caught my attention. Your stories that grabbed me and showed me the way to many other great works that I have already read. And for your support from the first idea to write something myself to the first little text. Thank you💕

#Tishlia x Daeran #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #pathfinder wotr #first try #inspired by Cookie the sheep #knight commander Tishlia

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put-me-out-of-my-destiny · 1 year

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The more I think about the "Dante gets Angeloed, Lady and Trish (and to a lesser extent, Kyrie) actually get to be involved in the plot" AU, the more I realize that Lady and Trish didn't even need to be in the Qliphoth with Dante in the Prologue.

They didn't accomplish anything, they just fought Urizen - off screen - and then lost, so they could be fought as bosses later. And you don't even fight Lady and Trish, you fight two demons who are just using Lady and Trish as hosts.

They literally might as well have been left out of the game! Artemis and Cavaliere Angelo could have easily not had named hosts at all, and the plot would not have suffered for it!

And, dramatically, I think Dante facing Urizen alone at the beginning has potential. Think about it:

Dante is approached by a mysterious stranger, telling him his evil twin has been resurrected, and that he's replanted an evil bloodsucking tree in a new scheme to gain power. Dante finds the stranger familiar, but figures that deception isn't his brother's style, and anyone else wouldn't be a threat anyway, so he takes the job.

Dante arrives in his old hometown, and finds that the stranger was telling the truth, his brother is definitely here. However, he also finds that said stranger has - against Dante's wishes - involved Nero. They both fail to defeat the demon king, and Nero is dragged away from the Qliphoth by V, while Dante is captured.

Lady and Trish both receive word that Dante has been defeated. The former rallies some citizens, and later some soldiers who stayed behind after any military efforts failed, and forms a militia to slow the spread of the tree. The latter, certain that Dante is alive, ventures into the city to recover him.

Meanwhile, Nero has been training like crazy, and Nico has been perfecting her Devil Breakers. Eventually, Kyrie convinces the two of them to go to Redgrave and rendezvous with Lady. The kids are left with a friend, Kyrie brings fresh ingredients and volunteers for odd jobs around the base, Nico offers her gunsmithing services, and Nero makes his way toward the Qliphoth.

The game continues more-or-less as normal until Mission 5 because instead of an electrical knight riding a time-stopping horse, V and company encounter a knight clad in red, who goes absolutely berserk the moment he sees V. He would have killed V, if not for the intervention of a mysterious demon, who chases off the knight and flees in the opposite direction.

V and company follow the demon, and eventually find something they hadn't expected - Devil Sword Sparda. V attempts to wield it, and while he's distracted, the demon recalls the sword, revealing itself to be Trish in disguise.

A boss fight ensues, though it's clear Trish is just toying with the group. V wins - or at least satisfies Trish's curiosity - and she confronts him about his true origins. She learned from Dante's journals that Yamato can separate man from devil, and pieced together what happened. V confirms her suspicions, telling her the story of his "birth", and how he's come to regret what he's done as Vergil.

They join forces to track down the knight in red, who - as Trish suspected - turns out to be none other than Dante. Horrified to see how low his other half has gone, V resolves to free his brother. Another boss fight ensues.

Once Dante is freed, he's prepared to end V's life right then and there - he's figured out who he really is by now, and between involving Nero in this job and putting him in an Angelo, he is done playing. But Trish steps in - she knows what it is to have been on the wrong side and seek redemption.

And this is when Trish calls Dante out for rejecting help not just from Nero, but from herself. She clearly doesn't need Dante's protection, so what gives?

They take Dante back to camp, Lady repays that "this is my kind of rain" comment from DMC3, and they get him a change of clothes. Dante also finds out that Nero is making a beeline for the Qliphoth, alone, and takes off to stop him from getting himself killed.

Trish makes Dante take the Sparda - if he won't accept her help, then he can at least accept the sword. He's reluctant, he got rid of that thing for a reason, but he admits it would make things easier.

The game doesn't continue quite as normal from here, since Cavaliere Angelo doesn't exist, but it remains the case that Dante unlocks his Sin Devil Trigger and saves Nero.

Now that everyone knows how close Urizen is to reaching his goal, Lady decides it's time to take the fight to him. So, along with Trish, Nico, V, and the troops charge toward the Qliphoth. Nightmare leads the charge, possibly alongside a tank restored and modified by Nico, piloted by Lady. Kyrie, much to Nero's fury, is in the van with Nico, because it's better than leaving her alone in a demon-infested city, and Nico sure as shit isn't leaving before Nero's finished the job.

And I think the final act would proceed more-or-less as normal. Vergil is restored, they continue trying to kill each other, and Nero has to knock some sense into them. But I think Trish should play a role here too - she's the one who calls Dante out in the first place, and I think once you've been trusted with the Sparda you're basically adopted into the family. Maybe Trish beats up Dante while Nero beats up Vergil.

This is still about Nero realizing what he's really fighting for, but it's also about Dante accepting that he doesn't have to protect the human world alone. And by respecting Nero's (and Trish's) wishes by letting Vergil live, Dante accepts that they are a part of this family too and that they have a say in these matters.

#devil may cry #au #i'm not gonna tag for every character of course #negativity #criticism #quen speaking

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