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paimon-rambles · 3 years

Text

You breakdown in front of him

Characters; Xiao, Childe, Kaeya

Notes: I did these slighty different from how I normally do my hcs. These kinda got long (´ヘ｀()

It was interesting to experiment around with it and I'm kinda proud with how it turned out :)

Theres a blurb at the end of each one~!

- Xiao

You were missing him dearly

You were aware that Xiao would be leaving the inn for a while to deal with some Adepti duties. Before he left, he made you a promise that he'll return soon. What you weren't aware of was that soon wasn't going to be that soon

Weeks and a few more passed and you found yourself exploring the inn all by yourself, going to sleep by yourself and waking up to no one. It felt utterly lonely. Not to mention the stress that continued to build up within your system with worry for your boyfriend

Thankfully Verr was there to keep you reassured that Xiao was alright which eased you a bit but didn't fill that empty void. It was until one day you learned that he was returning the very next day-! You swore you were going to cry at that very moment, but alas you kept yourself composed and thanked Verr for the information.

The day came to a close and tomorrow became today. When you awoke, you kinda forgot about Xiao returning on that very day due to your sleepy state.

But you weren't ready for the surprise that would reveal itself the moment you opened your tired eyes.

There he was, standing in your room as he had just entered. His attention was fixed on something else, not noticing you had just woken. In the seconds that followed your drowsiness was gone in a snap and you were engulfed by crushing emotions at once. All the stress that had taken refuge within your troubled mind released

" Xiao!"

The call of his name caught the Adeptus off guard, bringing his attention back to the formerly sleeping figure. What he did not expect to see, however, was to see his lovers gaze distort into a sob as a choked cry left their lips

Before you could stop yourself, crystal-like tears poured from your eyes, dripping down your cheeks like rain before planting onto your shirt or blanket. You couldn't stop it, more uncontrollably sobs escaped you and soon the room was echoing in your cries

In an instant, he was rendered confused and panicked simultaneously. He doesn't know what to do either, personal comfort wasn't one of his specialties

" Y/n, why are you crying? You can tell me"

He nudges his face closer to you in a feeble attempt to calm you down. In his head, he's already speculating that you were hurt or someone hurt you. In which case he's ready to beat them up

" Did someone hurt you? What's bothering you?"

But those thoughts quickly disappear as you wrap your arms around him. Your face was pressed against his chest, you were growing increasingly shaky. A muttered sentence escaped your lips that caused the Adepti to feel an odd clenching feeling in his chest

" I- I just really miss you, Xiao! You were gone for so long, I got so worried. I'm sorry"

Why are you apologizing? Is the first thought that runs through his mind. On the outside, he's kinda just standing there as you sob but on the inside, it's a wild goose run. He's in a panic.

Xiao dislikes seeing you unhappy let alone crying, his favorite aspect of you is when you're happy. Such as your face. He loves seeing your features when you're happy. Your smile, eyes, and how they crinkle when you laugh. Seeing that aspect of you be morphed into a teary gaze causes his heart to drop. He tries all he can think of to make you feel better

Suddenly you feel a pair of firm arms embrace you.

" I'm here now. I won't leave you. I'll always be at your side through everything. Nothing can tear me away from you"

His hand is trying to comfort you by running his fingers through your h/c curls. A soothing little gesture he wishes could help make you feel better. His lips find their way to kiss you on the crown of your head.

Slowly your tears come to a stop, your face snuggling closer to him. His little attempts at soothing had done its magic. You felt your eyes closed as waves of exhaustion started to hit you again. Before you went unconscious you mumbled;

"Thank you"

Xiao starts to have a warm feeling pulsing in his chest, as you clung to him like a koala with the words you said previously ringing in his head. It was a curious feeling.

As he rested you down on the bed, placing the blanket over your form, he leaned over to press his lips to your head.

After you awake from your second slumber, Xiao is sure to stick by your side for the remainder of the day and the one following it

The next time you have a breakdown, he's sticking by your side no matter what. He helps dry your tears off and assures you that everything is going to be okay. He spends the rest of the time distracting you from it. Reminding you that you're strong and you will get through it.

" You're strong y/n, I know you'll get through this and I'll be there with you every step."

He promised to stick by your side through it all and he's not breaking it.

Xiao stumbled backward as your figure latched to him. He was rendered confused, as he struggled to comprehend the last few minutes that passed. He had just returned from a hefty mission and was greeted by the sight of his lover sobbing as their eyes landed on him.

Your arms were wrapped around him tightly as if you were afraid something was going to take him away again.

Hot uncontrollably tears continue to pour from your face, your features already puffing up from it, but that was the least of your concerns. Your focus at hand was your boyfriend. How long has it been since you last saw him? You lost count. But here he was now.

Words spilled out of your lips sheepishly, shakey forms of letters connecting to create a skewered sentence.

" I miss you so much, Xiao." The words choked out and your throat hitch as breathing became a struggle.

A pair of arms went to cradle you, it caught you off guard as you gasped. You felt a forehead lean against yours. The simple act almost spurred on more tears, he was really there.

" I'm here now, I won't leave you. I'll always be at your side through everything. Nothing can tear me away from you." He pressed a kiss to your forehead sealing his promise to you.

- Childe

It was an argument

You finish early with your commissions and head home to start dinner for you and your boyfriend. He told he had a lot of busy work today before he kissed you goodbye and so thought it be a nice surprise for your boyfriend to come to some dinner

The clock ticked down as night approached by the hour. You quickly finished cooking the meal and placed it at the table. The familiar sound of the door opening met your ears and you quickly went to greet your boyfriend

You were expecting to see your boyfriend's signature smile as he greets you. But- what you weren't ready for were the sharp eyes and irritated gaze pasted to his face. You swore his eye twitched the moment you came into his view. It was as if he was upset with you

No doubt about it, it was a long, tiring, and frustrating day at work.

You tried to greet him but you could tell he was a ticking time bomb, at any moment he would snap. You decided to keep quiet, minus the minor greetings and lay out his dinner for him. Childe said nothing in turn.

You went to grab a glass to pour him some water, but just as you went to grab the cup, your ankle gave in causing you to lose your footing momentarily. You didn't fall thankfully and got back on your feet. The same can't be said for the glass cup, it collided with the ground smashing in pieces.

That was enough to tick him off

He snapped out. Scolding you for being careless and for making a mess he'll have to clean up adding to the pile of work he already needs to stress about. He didn't hide his sharp words, each one puckered into your brain

Your feet were frozen in place. Your legs become wobbly as the room grew fuzzy. You could feel your chest growing tight as you struggled to take breaths of oxygen.

Then the tears

Childe instantly stopped the moment he saw the tears. he knew immediately that he went too far and he shouldn't have even snapped in the first place

Burning tears were falling down your face, splashing to the floor

And the guilt came crashing down on the Fatui Harbinger like Zhongli just dropped a boulder on him

" Y/n- I'm sorry I shouldn't have yelled. Please don't cry."

He would hesitate whether he should approach you or not. He wants nothing more than to pull you into a hug and apologize repeatedly

More tears were running down your cheeks, your hands crept up in a feeble attempt to cover your face from him.

" I'm sorry" you choked out full heartily believing this was your fault.

" Y/n, it's not your fault. Love, please look at me, I didn't mean what I said- I promise. Please stop crying."

Those words were successful at soothing your sobs but they didn't stop your shaky legs from wobbling so much. You felt yourself losing your footing once more and you fell to your knees

In an instant Childe was by your side, his arms going to hold you cup your cheeks, using his thumb to wipe the tears off your face. Almost by instinct, your arms went to hug him, you pressed your head against his chest your breathing becoming heavy in an attempt to stop your aggressive sniffling

Childe whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his hand rubbing circles on your back. His lips are glued to your forehead. He has so much guilt and internally he's scolding himself.

His heart clenches whenever he hears your sniffle

" Everything is going to be okay, I promise you. I'll clean up the mess, don't worry about it, love."

After more of his sweet nothings, your sniffles die away, and you're left with in a tired and exhausted state

Childe helps clean up your face, his touches incredibly gentle as if you were made out of porcelain; softly caressing your cheeks while wiping the rest of your tears away with care

He carries you to your shared bedroom where he lays you down and allows you to get your rest. In the meanwhile, he's going to be punching himself all over, regretting his actions. Your scared expression is burned in his brain and he grimaces as he remembers how he acted. He swears to himself to never act out like that again

The following day you'll wake up to your boyfriend pampering you beyond no end. He takes you to fancy dinner, on a nice stroll. He pulls out all the cards hoping you'll forgive him

Whenever you have a breakdown Childe is there to spice up your day. He promises you that everything will be alright and that things will get better. Followed by many kisses and hugs that help soothe you back to your happy self

" Everything will be okay in the end, just you wait. I'm always here to help you every step of the way. Now please stop crying love, it hides your beautiful smile."

He loves your smile, and he'll fight anyone who threatens to take that away. including himself

What even coaxed this argument in the first again?

The question lingered in the Harbinger's head. He was mentally fighting himself over it. So much guilt swirled within him as he replayed the scene that unfolded moments before. It was a simple mistake on your part, but the way Childe acted, he doubts he'll ever forgive himself for it.

He held onto the shaking feeble body of his lover. Their head was towards the ground, hiding their face from Childe but he could already envision your scared expression; tears rolling down your puffy face as you struggled to take a single intake of breath. Your throat was throbbing from sobbing uncontrollably and the sniffles and hiccups that followed after.

The ginger gently cupped your cheek, bringing your face towards him. His heart dropped seeing your glossy e/c eyes. " Love, please look at me, I didn't mean what I said, I promise. Please stop crying." His finger cradled your tears, wiping your face slowly whilst his other hand drew shapes on your back.

You leaned closer to his hand, the little gestures soothing you quite a bit. A few more tears and hiccups escaped from you, the last of your crying coming to an end. Childe felt his chest clench as the corners of your lips curled slightly.

" Let's get you cleaned up."

- Kaeya

You had a nightmare

It was getting late and you had just finished eating dinner. Your day was filled with commissions that easily left you exhausted. All you want to do now is to collapse into your bed and rest.

Your boyfriend was caught up with some commissions, promising to be home soon. Usually, you'd wait until your boyfriend comes home, but your eyes were dropping uncontrollably. And you swore if you didn't do something soon you'll pass out right there.

And so you left some extra dinner in case Kaeya came home hungry and you set off to prepare for bed.

The moment your head hits the pillow it lights out.

It felt like hours had passed, your brain was fuzzy and unable to comprehend what was happening. You were shifting in your sleep, your face morphing into one of discomfort. It was clear you were in distress.

Suddenly, you jolted awake. Your breathing was heavy as panting, you could feel your heart racing against your chest. Sweat was rolling down your forehead, and you felt your chest tighten with each passing second. No doubt you were having a nightmare. A very livid one at that

You hadn't even realized that tears rolled down your face until you went to rub your eyes. You were crying. As more seconds passed more of your panic started to rise.

A choked sob left your lips as you struggled to keep quiet, your boyfriend was still asleep beside you.

In an attempt to not wake Kaeya, you went to leave to another room where you could sob to yourself but as you went to get up you felt something grab your shoulder.

" Y/n, are you alright? Why are you crying, love?" Kaeya's tired voice muttered.

Internally you scolded yourself for waking him.

" Uh, I just need some fresh air." You semi lied

Kaeya saw right through that, and in an instant, he pulled you into a hug, and suddenly you found yourself sobbing into his shoulder. Uncontrollably tears pouring from your face, dripping down and soaking his nightshirt.

In an instant, Kaeya was trying to soothe you. A comforting hand was drawing shapes on your back, whilst the other was running through your hair very gently

" It's alright, cry it out. Everything will be okay." He whispered into your ear.

More sweet nothings followed, slowly calming you down again. Less and fewer tears fell from your glossy eyes and drowned into sniffling as the last of your crying came to an end

You snuggled closer to his chest, listening to his heardrowneas it lulled you to a calmer state. Soon you were returning to your natural self, your shakiness ceasing.

" I promise everything is going to be alright. I'm right here love, I'm not going anywhere."

You stayed like that for a while until eventually, you fell asleep in his arms. You didn't have any more nightmares

In the morning he's gonna be very affectionate and cuddly, lots of butterfly kisses, and hugs. They're coming and you can't stop them

Whenever you have a breakdown, Kaeya is quick to act, he doesn't tease instead he reassures you that everything is going to be alright. (internally he's in a panic, unsure what to do when his partner is crying) He makes sure you take breaks throughout the day and enough rest.

" It's okay to take breaks y/n. You're strong, you'll get through, I just know it."

Another boy who loves your smile, please smile for him

Sobs and sniffles escaped your lips becoming muffled by the fabric of Kaeya's shirt. Tears dripped down your puffy and red flushed face, rolling down and staining both his and your own nightclothes.

It was a nightmare that caused this. It was still fresh in your mind, every little detail prominent and defined. You squeezed your eyes shut, snuggling your face closer to his chest trying to shut it out. In an instant Kaeya arms tighten around you in an embrace.

His lips rested near your ear, sweet nothings rolling off his tongue with each sob you cried. It was comforting. His voice slowly pulled you into a calm state and with each word of affection, the less you cried.

" It's alright, cry it out. Everything will be okay." He whispered. His hand continued to draw shapes and lines on your back, his other gently cradling your head against his shoulder.

Your shakey form slowly ceased and the sound of your sniffles died away until it was just your breathing that was heard.

A sweep of drowsiness washed over you, your eyes growing heavy.

Kaeya laid you down and placed the blanket over your form before leaning to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

" Good night <3"

697 notes · View notes

angelyuji · 3 years

Note

I also love Yan!Spiderman, there will never be enough content for him ! Can I request a headcannon ? Or a blurb, whatever you prefer ? I love the amnesia trope, like the reader having long-term amnesia after an accident or whatever and yan!Spiderman swooping in, saying they have been dating for months... You may get suspicious of how flustered he gets but he knows so much about you, he can't be lying, right ? 😚

17+

cw// stalking, non-consensual picture taking, kind of kidnapping, familial neglect, car accident caused by superheroes, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, forced hugs, lying, manipulation, “gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss” energy, implied murder, peter being a crybaby to guilt trip you, idk peter being gross and pervy and being a liar, toxic relationship (kind of because you’re kinda not aware of the fact that he sucks and he’s lying)

· OMGBESTIE sorry i just absolutely ADORE the amnesia trope in yandere fics GHJKJHGF

· it’s just so perfect *chef’s kiss*

· anyway

· you got into accident that totally not caused by peter…yeah, it was totally definitely the criminal’s fault …

· but i mean, why were you driving in the middle of a villain attack anyway? oh, you had to go to work?...so??? peter didn’t give you the ok?????

· right, so he’s tossing cars and trying to bring justice (or something like that) and he saw you coming, but alas, he's too late

· you see something hurtling towards your car as you stop at a red light. you squint your eyes, “oh. ha, that’s a car…wait”

· peter was only a couple feet away when he sees the truck he threw slam against the hood of your car, crumpling the hood like it’s made of aluminum foil. time moves in slow motion as peter tries to reach you. out of reflex, peter shoots his webs to move you from impact. he can feel himself move, but his mind shuts down. when he regains consciousness, you’re in his arms, passed out, but seemingly unscathed. he feels relief, then fury. peter barely noticed when the paramedics came to move you out of his arms. he turns to the villain, his whole body shaking, and launches himself at the man.

· you end up in the hospital for a brain injury that left you in a coma and peter literally never left your side. he came every day and stayed by your side until visiting hours were over, and came into your room at night as spiderman after patrol.

· the hospital staff saw him so much that they assumed you were both in a relationship, so when you woke up at night during his patrol hours, they called him first.

· they called your parents after…weird, i know

· “how do you feel?”

· “fine, i guess. tired, surprisingly” you chuckle dryly and the doctor smiles.

· “fine is good. what’s the last thing you remember?”

· “…um….i can’t… I don’t-”

· “hey, it’s okay. take your time.” the doctor tries to be reassuring, but you feel panic bubble. what’s going on, why can’t you remember what happened? what’s happening to you? your breathing turns rough and the air feels thicker as you seem to remember less and less of what you should know. all of a sudden, two arms wrap around you and pull you into them.

· “it’s gonna be okay” they mumble into your hair as you cry into their shirt.

· peter and the doctor eventually figured out that you were missing 4 years of your life. the 4 years that you’ve lived in queens, to be exact.

· peter realizes exactly what he has to do when the doctor pulls him and your family aside to explain the situation

· (they had asked him who tf he was and he, in a panic to not be kicked out, said y’all were dating)

· he offers your family a way out, a way to not take the stress of taking care of you, by letting him take care of you

· “i love them. i can’t lose them and i won’t lose them, so please, let me take care of them”

· honestly, your family was lowkey relieved that peter offered to take care of you, not even remembering that you have never mentioned this man in any conversation (who has amnesia now??)

· peter would go into your room and tell you that you’re going home with him

· “what? what about my family?”

· “they’re okay with it. they have a lot going on and, as your boyfriend-”

· “boyfriend? i’ve never seen you before in my life?”

· “no! no, we started dating when you moved to queens!" at your blank stare, he lowers his head slightly and you see tears fall, "i wish you would remember”

· peter will pull out his pictures of you saying stuff like “then how do i have these pictures?? hmm????” and fake crying to make it seem like he was your grieving boyfriend

· he’ll be constantly mentioning the fact that he’s your boyfriend to you and to others (at some point, ur confused on whether he’s trying to convince you or trying to convince himself) “as your boyfriend’ “your boyfriend” “i love being with you and going on dates haha yk since im your bf”

· he’ll make up different stories from places he’s seen you. if he stalked you while you were walking at the park, he’ll say you both went on walks often. if you went on picnics by yourself often, he’ll say you constantly had picnic dates. had a fun day at the arcade? more like, you had fun day at the arcade with peter!

· peter’s smart, he uses these events as a way of tricking your brain into thinking that each memory you recover of these moments are just moments that are missing him, and eventually, he’ll start appearing in memories

· peter would take you to his apartment and absolutely REFUSE to let you leave, he’ll have an excuse ready to make sure you can’t leave your new home

· “the doctor said you shouldn’t move too much”

· he’ll make you sleep in the same bed as him, go on dates with him, hug and kiss him like “you used to do” with the excuse of “the doctor said you should do things that you used to do before the accident to start remembering everything”

· …riiight

· “are you coming to bed?” you lay in his bed, waiting for peter.

· “i-i sorry, yes, I-” peter stumbles on his words as he stands by the bed.

· you sit up in annoyance, “peter, you said we slept together. what’s wrong?”

· peter turns bright red, “no! nothing’s wrong! it’s nothing, i-i’m coming to bed in a sec.” you lay back down and soon you feel him crawl into bed. you turn your back to him, but peter pulls you closer to him and start leaving kisses down your back.

· “what are you doing.” you whisper into the darkness. his small touches feel foreign on your skin and your body itches to move in disgust.

· “i’m helping you sleep. uh-before, i helped you fall sleep like this, maybe this’ll help you remember” peter pushes his head into the crook of your neck and holds you closer, his fingers grazing under your shirt and feeling your stomach.

· you try to move away without panicking, “maybe, we’re moving too fast? i kinda need some spa-” you feel peter freeze.

· “do-do you not love me anymore?” you feel peter’s tears before you hear his sniffles, “i didn’t want to push you, but i just missed you so much and i thought that you were starting to remember how much you love me.” his sniffles turn to sobs and you start feeling guilty. you push your discomfort away and let yourself get pulled into his warmth.

· “no, it's fine. just don’t, you know, cry please.” you press your lips into a thin line and sigh as peter stops sniffling and hums in content.

· he’ll guilt you into doing what he wants with tears and sobs about how he misses “the old you”

· funny, considering the fact that this mf basically made up his entire relationship with you because he’s literally psychotic

· your relationship would be seemingly normal too, except that all of the friends that talked about how they’ve never met peter before your accident went missing…huh, definitely no connection there…

· but by the time they inform you of their concern, it is already months after your accident and peter would have already made you believe that you were dating

· in peter’s mind, you’re everything and more than he imagined, even though you barely know him, he knows you so well that it’s easy for him to make you believe that you’re together.

· peter would tell he’s spiderman once you’ve stopped resisting him to make sure that you won’t search up your accident and see that spiderman was involved

· the only way for you to break from peter’s grip on your mind is for him to accidently confess that he’s lied to you

· and that’ll happen, peter may be good at lying, but during a fight, he might let it slip

· “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK TO THEM.”

· “they’re my friends, peter. you can’t stop me from seeing them.” you roll your eyes when peter’s face crumples. “ugh, peter, stop with the guilt-tripping. your fake tears don’t work on me anymore.”

· peter’s face turns cold, “your friends are liars and they’ve been trying to break us up since the accident. all they say when they see me are lies.”

· you keep a straight face, “well, i know it’s a lie, so you don’t have to act like this.”

· “but-but what if you start believing them? what if you realize that you can do better than me? what if you remember everything? what if they make you break up with me? wh-” peter turns to you and sees you frozen in place. he moves towards you and pulls you into a hug, but you stay stiff.

· “what do you mean “remember”?” you whisper and peter’s eyes go wide. silence fills the room as peter says still.

· “well, shit”

182 notes · View notes

vibraniumwing · 4 years

Text

love isn’t for us.

an oliver wood x reader wherein there are certain things people can have, maybe love wasn’t for the both of you.

WARNING: angst, just angst. mentions of blood, death and swearing.

A/N: okay so this is an anonymous request from my 100-follower celebration and now we have our lovely quidditch captain, Oliver wood !! i hope you guys would love this and cry (as much as i did) when i was writing this. yeah i won’t consider this as blurb anymore.

request: “could i get a 🥳 with oliver and the sentence ‘i’m sorry we couldn’t have forever, love.’ could it also be really angsty?”

---

they say when people die, the life that person had flashes through their eyes in the mere seconds of their last breath before finally leaving the earth.

---

You and Oliver were a solid team, having grown up together, it was safe to say that the both of you were inseparable. The only time would leave his side was either during classes and/or his quidditch match and practices but aside from that? you were never out of his sight.

Some even say that you’re the only one that Oliver loves more than Quidditch; and if you know that man well enough, he’s absolutely smitten for that game.

That being said, you two got together in your fifth year and everyone swooned and finally breathed properly from waiting on the love story that you have with him.

But sadly, not all love stories have happy endings.

After the two of you graduated, you entered your to be an Auror while Oliver continued his dream of being a professional Quidditch player. The first few months of you having very different schedules went fine, the both of you adjusting your schedules for dates and cuddle nights.

Until the fights came, the throwing and smashing of whatever the both of you can grab during your heated moments. It was all going south, with the Dark Lord rising once again, you had more extensive trainings and long hours with your superiors about what’s happening. Oliver had been on his training with Puddlemere, going on tours and whatnot for the tournaments, there was just no time anymore.

It wasn’t the same anymore.

Another fight ensued from the both of you after he shrugged you off quite easily after you asked him how his day went, with him passive-aggressively answering that it was alright. You on the other hand, didn’t want to put up with his moodiness and asked him what his problem was.

“What the fuck is your problem, Oliver?!” You asked him hands slamming down the table as you stood up, eyes piercing directly into his. He scoffed and crossed him arms, rolling his eyes at you.

“My problem? Are you even sure that it’s my problem? (Y/N). Take a look into the mirror and ask yourself.” He answered, his voice slowly rising as he stood up, his nerves now getting the best of him again.

The second stage of you guys fighting ensued, you threw your chair behind as you walked in front him, “What the fuck does that even mean?! All I asked was how are your day and your ass is here being all passive-aggressive!”

“Because you can cut the bullshit, (L/N). When was the last time you even asked me that?! I know you don’t care!” His voice bellowed through the apartment. Admittedly, his voice was always loud because of him shouting during his days as a Quidditch captain but nothing prepared you for that.

Those words he said was like a knife that stabbed right through your heart and his words echoed through your mind.

“Do you really- do you really think I don’t care anymore, Oli?” You asked, voice now broken as your arms fell to your side, tears brimming your eyes. “You know how hard my training is right now, right? How hard it is to keep on fighting everyday without uncertainty if I get to go back home?” You continued, not even bothering to wipe the tears that are free-flowing to your cheeks.

Oliver was at a loss, he, himself was surprised at his own words. He stood there quietly as you continued to speak, “If that’s the case then, I’m sorry Wood, but we’re through. I can’t do this anymore.”

His heart was shattered at the sound of your voice, but he couldn’t even move. How can he even talk to you when he said such harsh things that caused you to cry? He couldn’t bear the thought.

Your sobs filled the now dead silent house as you quickly packed up your clothes, not even even bringing your other belongings as you walked out the room you both shared- or shall we say, once shared.

“Just so you know, Oliver, I never stopped caring about you, I can promise you that. I love you, Oli.”

And just like that you were gone, and he didn’t even stop you.

---

“C’mon! Hurry up, let’s go!” Oliver’s voice boomed through the air as he dashed down to Hogwarts, the flashes of green and red lights filled the once peaceful school yard as loud booms commenced from left and right of the castle.

The Second Wizarding War was already happening yet the fear of dying here wasn’t Oliver’s concern. It was you.

All he wanted to see was you be alright, to be safe and sound after all of this commences. He was dead set on finding you before the war ends, to tell you he made a mistake, to tell you that he needed you, to tell you that nothing was the same with you.

---

Fighting left and right, he couldn’t seem to find the (H/C) locks he had grown very familiar with and the panic was already eating him up inside. He ran through the Great Hall to see if you were there to no avail, he passed through multiple students who were trying to escape the wrath of the death eaters, nearly falling through the pieces of rubble that was scattered throughout the whole school just to find you

But alas, he couldn’t even see you.

He sighted a familiar ginger who he once shared a dorm with, “Percy!” He shouted, running straight to his old friend. “(Y/N)! Have you seen (Y/N)?!” His voice was strained from shouting too much, tears threatening to fall.

“I’m sorry, Wood but I haven’t sighted her just yet. I’ll tell her I’ve seen you though.” Percy answered, giving his friend a smile as he patted his shoulder. “Focus on yourself first and then find her!”

He gave the ginger a nod and ran once again, his wand flickering through as he fought, until he got cornered. He shut his eyes as one of the death eaters were nearing him when he heard a familiar voice cry out, “Stupefy!” and when he opened his eyes, the man was gone.

What replaced him was smiling you, shaking your head at him. “How stupid can you get, Wood?! What were the disarming tricks Flitwick taught us? For display?”

He laughed along with you as he slowly approached you, “(Y/N), I missed-”

Suddenly a loud boom erupted from your side, and the next thing Oliver saw was the wall crushed over once where you were standing at. The color drained from his face as he ran over to where you were, “NO! No, no no!”

His hands pushed through the rubble as students came to help him push away the big blocks, until he saw your hair and soon enough, your limp body. “(Y/N)! Hang on in there, okay? I’m almost there!”

With the amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he pushed the last big piece away and pulled you from under the wall, taking you into his arms as he ran to the Great Hall where most of the bodies lay.

He placed you down a stretcher and immediately called out for help, taking your hand in his as he placed his other hand on your hair. “Hang on in there, love. Help is almost here, okay?”

With the remaining energy you have left, you opened your eyes and stared into his brown ones, giving him a small smile as you coughed up blood. As you shut your eyes, you realized you were in your final moments.

---

“(Y/N)! Look at how high I am!” a nine-year old Oliver boasted as he zoomed through the field on his broom, his laugh reaching you from the ground. He looked down at you with a rather smug grin. “Can’t get up here, shorty?” He teased, waving his hand from up high.

You grumbled softly and marched over to the spare broom on the ground, readying yourself to fly up next to him, “I’ll show you, Oli!” as you floated off the ground, until you suddenly lost control of the broom and fell straight back down to the field.

“(Y/N)!” Oliver shouted, coming back down to the ground and rushed to your side, hand brushing through your locks as he asked, “Are you alright? Why did you even attempt that?”

You smiled at him softly and said, “I just wanted to be good as you, Oli. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“No, (Y/N). I’m sorry for not being there for you at once.”

---

“Hurry up, (L/N)! We’re almost there!” Fifteen year old Oliver’s voice resonated through the field in your backyard, running towards a tree that was set in the middle of the vast land. A big smile was on his face despite being out of breath from running too much as he watched you run towards him.

“I swear on Godric Gryffindor if this is something useless- Oh my Merlin, what on earth is this, Oli?” You suddenly asked him as you saw a blanket laid out with various treats. “Is this a date, Mr. Wood?”

“Only if you want it to be, Ms. (L/N).” He humored back, sending you a playful wink as motioned you to sit down with him. The rest of the afternoon was filled with laughter as the both of you shared stories from Hogwarts and whatever the sun could shine on.

“Before I could forget, come here.” He motioned you over to the tree as he pulled out a knife and carved his initials unto the tree. Oliver had a big smile at his work as he faced you once again, “I carved this into the tree as a sign of the promises I will be sharing to you today, (Y/N.” He started off, his cheeks now starting to flush as he spoke.

“I, Oliver Wood, promise to keep you safe from all harm. I promise to keep you happy and content throughout the days of us being together. I would always care for you and I promise to love you until my very last breath.” He finished off, the smile on his lips even larger as you took the knife to carve in your own initials, placing it by the blanket as you stared back at him.

“I, (Y/N) (L/N), promise to be your shoulder to cry on when you have those days, to be someone you can trust and put your heart into. I promise to be your person and home when the day arrives there is no one else by your side. Lastly, I promise to make you happy, to make you feel that you are cared for and that you are loved by me, for eternity.”

The scottish man had the brightest grin as he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours for a gentle kiss.

“I love you, Oli.” “I love you too, darling.”

---

“(Y/N)! Wake up!” Oliver’s voice broke your thoughts off as you stirred, your body as weak as ever. You could barely feel anything except for the pain that shot through you.

Your eyes met his once more and gave him a sad smile, “It’s time, Oli...” You croaked, tears filling in your eyes as you brought a hand up to hold his cheek, thumb caressing his skin gently as he held unto you.

He shook his head in denial, “No, baby. You have to fight, remember all the promises we shared? I know you’re not the one to break promises, right? Darling please, don’t give up. We can fix you straight up.” He rambled on, voice breaking as tears spilled out from his eyes, lips kissing your hand as he tightened his grasp, like is life depended on it.

“Of course I remember the promises, Oli.” You said weakly, feeling yourself slowly slipping away from reality, from this life. “I’m sorry that I failed in showing you that I care for you, my love.” You apologized, a sad smile forming on your lips as you felt yourself slowly slipping away from this reality, from this lifetime.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have forever, love.” You whispered, heaving in your last breath as you fell back into slumber.

“No, no, no! (Y/N)! Wake up! Wake up right now and tell me you’re just playing a cruel joke!” Oliver shouted, shaking the lifeless body of the one he loved. His body trembled as he hugged you close to his chest, face buried into your clothes as your familiar scent filled his senses, making him cry even more.

Just like that, you were gone from him again, this time there was no return.

#vea hits a hundred #this pained me so much #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood imagines #oliver wood angst

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

Silver Lining: Chapter 5

In which you and George decide to make the most of life after meeting up at the wrong place at just the right time…

w/c: 6k

a/n: Welcome to the end! This has been such a fun story to tell. I hope you've all enjoyed it! I'm so beyond grateful for all the nice comments and reblogs and asks. I've got blurbs and another series in the works, but please feel free to come talk about this one! I'm just not ready to say goodbye to these characters! ♡

taglist: @etherealallure @maria-josefin @shelbygirlsclubx @loulouloueh @clarkewithameme @haileymorelikestupid @weyheyavengers @queen-bunnyears

───※ ·❆· ※───

George was happily occupied, his silhouette comfy on the small balcony, the sun highlighting the pages of the book in his hands. You quietly tiptoed to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light, letting the glow from the window be enough while you filled up the tub and eased into the warm bath.

You felt bad, but it wasn't from the hangover.

You felt bad for ruining Aureos night. You even felt bad as you formed some sorry text, asking the guy for another hang to make up for the last one you forced to an early end.

But you felt worst of all for dragging George through the aftermath of your shitty breakup.

When this was all over, he'd go back home, back to whatever movie set or red carpet he had lined up next. And his acquaintance would be fondly remembered as a balm to your heartache. But as you tried to outrun the anguish of being cheated on, a different worry seemed to take over your world.

Now you feared you'd never get to that place again. That you'd never get to plan a future with someone. You were terrified of how badly you wanted a future, and how badly you'd miss George, no matter what happened next.

When all your worries threatened to drown you, you hurried to get cleaned up, determined to make the most of the last few days in Spain.

When you rushed out of the bathroom to find George, he was right where you remembered him to be earlier.

He gazed up at you with a hint of worry in his eye, probably because of your sudden breathless appearance in the open doorway of the balcony.

"What do you want to do today?" You asked.

"Don't we have something-"

"No, what do you want to do?" You stressed. You didn't care what you had all planned out. Nothing ever seemed to go according to your plans, anyway.

And after a little bit more convincing, you got George to lead the way. You didn't even ask where you were going. While you strolled into the city, you wondered if George even had a plan. He walked slowly and shared easy conversation. And every now and again, he'd turn an odd corner or look up and around like he'd just realized where he was.

Eventually, you ended up in a park, or a garden, or some kind of nature trail you hadn't been paying much attention. You stepped over fallen branches, swept your hand over a row of flowers as you passed, but kept your undivided attention on George as he spoke. Though the weather was perfect and the sights were new and exciting, you couldn't look away from the man at your side. You could come back to Barcelona any old time, but you hated to accept your days with George were numbered.

You wound up against the trunk of a tree, watching families and hikers stroll past while the sun shone down in spots through the treetops. You could see the trail winding down a rolling hill, and the pepperings of the city and its buildings start to pop up on the horizon. And while you accounted for your surroundings you soaked up George's voice, and listened to the things he said as if he might be gone when you woke up tomorrow.

And then you talked, and George listened, looking at you like he did. Like he'd looked at all the paintings at the Vatican. Like he really wanted to know what you were about. You tried to ignore how sad his gaze made you feel, and appreciated that you'd made such a valuable connection before all of this inevitably ended back at your hometown airport.

You brushed a fallen leaf from George's shoulder, and he grinned at you in a way that made you retract back; spooked by how you recognized the expression, how familiar sitting with him had become.

George asked if you were okay, and you quickly thought to blame your nervous demeanor for how poorly you felt about last night. How things ended with Aureo, and how you'd texted him early this morning in hopes that he'd give you a second chance.

"He texted me back, an hour ago. So I'll have to meet up with him later." You rambled, avoiding George's burning gaze.

"If you feel like you have to... then don't. But if you want..."

"Yeah. I want." You decide through a sigh, pulling your phone into view, punching out a response to Aureo that let him know our plans were on.

George remained quietly glancing toward the city on the horizon, listening to families laugh together as they drifted passed. When you finished your text, you stood to your feet to make the most of the rest of your time with George.

"Come on let's go get gelato." You extended a hand to help him up from against the tree. George smiled up at you, an expression that wasn't hard to understand. You laughed together all the way back down the trail, and into the city.

When you go there, people of all kinds were buzzing about, setting up makeshift markets and dancing to music crackling from speakers above shop windows.

George lost himself to a conversation with a street vendor about a row of old records they were selling. You left him there to cross the cobblestone with your eye on a food truck. You ordered gelato as you promised, guessing what to order for George based on your late-night debates on what the best ice cream flavors were.

You handed your card to the man behind the window, while you let the wind blow your hair back, soaking up the bright smiles on every passerby's face.

"I'm sorry, miss, this card, it's being declined." The vendor frowned as if it were his fault. He opted to try again before you had the chance to apologize yourself and suggest the same thing.

It was the only card you had, and you'd made sure it was more than equipped to handle your big trip. But alas, the vendor handed it back with a long face and you had to shell out some of the last euros you had on hand.

You reported back to George with gelato, breezed over your predicament, and moved on to giggling over a story George told about an ice cream truck-related injury. He informed you'd gotten his order perfectly right, it was a flavor he'd never pick on his own but ended up loving. All the while you ended up strolling back toward your hotel, but opted not to head in just yet. The wind had picked up a bit, and most of the beachgoers outside your resort had called it a day.

You walked along the in coming tide with George, stopping every few feet to pick up a shell or look out to the ocean as it roared in time with the wind. And for as much conversation as you'd been having, the two of you never ran out of topics to ramble over. You laughed and listened and talked about things you'd forgotten about, things you always wondered.

All topics except one. George looked at you with those eyes bluer than the ocean, something unspoken behind his gaze. At first, you thought you'd understood that look. But it'd morphed into something so complex that you couldn't figure out what the look was supposed to mean. All you knew was that every time he cast you that one certain gaze, you felt right at home. You'd gotten used to it. You expected it. You anticipated that look and feared for the day you'd never see it again.

You sent George to collect your shoes from the place you hid them under a pier, when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You stayed lingering near a bed of grass, hoping after you'd taken a beat to acknowledge all the notifications coming in, that you could go about the rest of your day.

They were all from your bank. A pit opened in your stomach when you scrolled through all your recent transactions, none of them made by you. All of them from the resort you were meant to stay at all along.

Colin had maxed out your card on room service and bar drinks and expensive film channels and God knows what else.

Before you could call your bank, you dialed in Colin's number.

"Why would you do this?" You begged to know after he greeted your call like he'd been expecting to hear from you.

Colin started in on calling you names and boasting about how his payback seemed to work. He was trying to get back at you for leaving all the canceled wedding costs in his lap. But he cheated on you. He ruined all of this. Yet, he couldn't seem to stop making your life hell. You shouted at him, begging for a truce. Pleading for your interactions to be over, to never see a trace of him again.

That's when you spotted George trekking through the sand with his of pair shoes and yours in either of his hands.

Colin made life hard and maybe he always would. George made life easy, and you were really scared that he wouldn't be around to help you see the bright side for much longer. You always figured you'd fly home and go your separate ways. But now that same thought made you want to cry.

You ended your phone call with Colin in a huff, scrambling to find every bit of composure as George approached you, wearing a look that seemed to ask what the matter was.

"God, this is so stupid." You warned, glancing up to George as he stood, ready to listen.

"Colin maxed out my bank account. Luckily our tickets home are already paid for." You let out a laugh but none of this was funny. "And it's nearly five. I promised Aureo I'd meet him round six. So I better go pull myself together."

You sucked in a breath and turned to do just that. George looked at you like there were too many things he wanted to say, but couldn't choose one from the other, so he just followed along.

___

You got ready with time to spare, putting on your best outfit, fixing your hair just right. For some reason, this date felt paramount. Like making things right with Aureo was going to help everything else fall in place, bring some kind of balance.

As you collected your bag and started to slowly make your leave, George seemed to be waiting for you in the kitchen, standing a little straighter from his slump against the counter when he noticed you enter. George looked at you with an honest open expression, stitched with a hint of worry. No, not worry, something more complex. A disgruntled, melancholic gaze you couldn't quite place. But then he just said,

"I hope you have a good time."

And it sounded like he really meant it.

"Me too." You whispered, spinning to leave. That same sinking feeling swallowed you as you marched down the hall away from George. You knew it was because you didn't really want to leave him. But you promised Aureo a good time and damn it, you needed one too.

___

Aureo was confident. He spoke like he was wishing for the things he wanted, demanding they come to life before his eyes. He wanted more. You didn't blame him for dreaming big. Everyone had their ambitions.

Aureo was beautiful, and he must have known it, with the way he flaunted his outfit, rambling about how green and grey were his best colors. You admired the way his emerald eyes bore into yours, undeniably drinking in the sight of you.

After a small introduction to the lower level of his home, you ventured to the back garden. You turned down a smoke, but leaned against the brink of his veranda while he puffed a cigarette, pointing out all the fresh veggies in the small garden he grew, like a proud parent.

And then he led you back inside, his hand traveling to the small of your back as you stepped into his cool home. You settled onto an elegantly patterned sofa as Aureo poured you both a tumbler of dark liquor before joining your side.

You kept hold of the glass in your lap, sickened even by the thought of drinking. Thank God Aureo was too busy talking to notice your disregard for the beverage. He asked your own answers too, watching your lips as you spoke. And before too long, he leaned in for a kiss.

You knew it was inevitable. You knew this was why you'd come here. So you let him kiss you, and you kissed him back, hoping the more desperately you gave in to his advances, that you would feel something. But you didn't feel what you were supposed to when kissing someone. You weren't expecting fireworks. But a warm buzz would have been nice. To make matters worse, no; to make matters absolutely inadequate, you couldn't stop thinking of George.

Had he gone out? What was he thinking? What would he say when you got back? What if he kissed you like this?

"Wait." You breathed, sitting back.

"Are you alright?" Aureo asked, watching you lean way from him.

"Actually..." You bit your lip, glancing around the well-decorated room. You realizing you couldn't stay here. When you looked back to Aureo, he actually looked sad. Not just disappointed. Actually sad. You slumped forward, searching his eyes when he brought a gentle hand to your face.

"I'm so sorry." You meant, hoping he knew you did. "But I... I think I'd better go."

Aureo took a beat to wait for you to explain why, or say anything else at all. But you didn't. You couldn't.

"Okay." He nodded acceptingly, nudging you to stand with him.

The guy called you an Uber and refused your persistent offers to pay him back. When your ride came, you and the guy you'd met days ago shared a kiss on the cheek and a whispered goodbye. And it was almost sweet enough to make you think of staying a little longer.

But still, thoughts of George burned closer to the forefront of your mind, and you kept walking down the gravel driveway. You dared to steal one last glance over your shoulder, finding Aureo leaning against his doorway, giving you a sorry wave. The sight was almost somber enough to get you to spin on your heels and make it up to him. But you just opened the Uber door.

You realized how when you'd felt like saying goodbye to George you'd only wanted to kiss him. You realized you were relieved when he didn't meet up with Renee because you were used to having him all to yourself. You realized you wanted to keep it that way. You had been trying to push theses feelings deep down, but you had absolutely nothing left to lose at this point. You'd been drunk a lot on this trip, but you'd never felt braver than right now...

When you unlocked the hotel room door, you chanted silent prayers that George would be around. If you had to wait until tomorrow, you wouldn't be able to say what you had the guts to, right now. You didn't waste a beat as you marched straight toward the halfway shut door of the room George had been occupying. A soft light shone from inside.

You halted after pushing past the door, making your presence known. George was kicked back on his bed, reading, and he didn't seem a bit surprised to see you here and now.

"Okay. I have nothing left to lose. So I'm gonna say what I have to say. I didn't hook up with Aureo. I left. Because the whole time he touched me I was only thinking of you. Maybe that's fucked up but that's just the truth."

George listened from behind the crinkled pages of "A Perfect Day For Bananafish" keeping that frighteningly calm gaze on you, while you spilled your guts.

"So... so unless I've been misreading the dozens of signs, I think it's safe to gather that you'd like to kiss me. And if that's true, you should do it. Right now." You stated in one nervous breathe, frustrated by all the lingering gazes, little touches, and thoughts that had never been acted upon.

"No," George hesitated but demanded all at once, in the fabulously complex manner of his. He shut the book in his lap and moved slowly to the edge of the bed to stand, keeping an eye on you as you went on,

"You said I was perfectly kissable! And no one has ever looked at me like you keep looking at me. Even right now." Your throat grew tight as you addressed the expression on George's face. Why was he moving to stand so close to you if he didn't want to kiss you? For the first time, you saw a faint chip in the resolve of his usual composure. George's eyes grew full as he spoke in a voice thick with feeling,

"Because I don't want to be your rebound!"

"Well, what if you weren't!" There was no need to hide the way your tears bubbled over as you gaped at him. It was the only way you could get George to understand how you really felt. How you weren't playing devil's advocate. How this wasn't your usual banter. Your heart was on the line.

"Don't talk like that-" George looked afraid, like if you said something just right three times in a row it'd appear and he'd have no choice but to give in to the spell. You had a shred of bravery left in your throat and breathed out every word you could manage before the strength fizzled away.

"George! I like you! I liked you from the moment we got on the plane. I liked you in the Sistine Chapel. I like you now, and I don't see a way out of it and I don't want a way out of it- I want you to kiss me. I want to fly back home with you because I'll still like you when we get there."

George was slack-jawed, mystified by your monologue, and as soon as the words stopped coming, the vice around your throat tightened and your tears poured out all the emotion you'd been building up, but could no longer speak. You cried into your hands, feeling sorry for how pathetic you were, and sorry for thinking up this dumb idea to invite George along in the first place.

You could hardly breathe as you felt George's strong arms wrap around you. One secured around your middle, the other across your shoulder, totally encapsulating you. As much as it was a relief to have him so near, his closeness broke your heart all the same. You cried onto his nightshirt and clung to the collar, knowing full well you would have to apologize for all this later but grateful for the compassion he chose to show now.

He didn't speak as you managed your cries, he just held on to you for dear life. When you were reduced to sniffles, George pulled away, his deep blue eyes catching yours. He didn't speak then either. He just brushed a stray tear from your cheek and searched your features as you hoped and prayed you didn't look half as pathetic as you felt.

And right when enough time had passed for you to feel like speaking up, George gently pulled you across the room. He wordlessly pushed you toward the bed back against the mess of pillows and switched out the light. He then made his way round to the other side and met you in the middle.

The usual sliver of space between you and George was forgotten, as he settled right next to you. And without saying anything, he pressed a very soft kiss to the side of your face. George's lips lingered against your temple, for a beat longer than you'd expected, and with each passing nanosecond, your heartbeat stuttered between speeding up and sinking to the floor.

When George pulled your head to rest on his shoulder and kept a warm strong hand rested at the base of your neck, you could have cried again. But you knew better than to ruin the moment, and relaxed your frame against his, drifting to sleep.

___

You woke up to the sound of crashing waves and hollers from beachgoers off in the distance. You were in a big, empty bed, delicately tucked beneath covers you never remembered reaching for. When you registered George's absence, you took a moment to recall everything that happened last night.

How Colin had taken one last petty shot at getting a rise out of you. How you tried to give in to Aureo, and how the night ended without much of a bang. How you crashed into George's room, babbling confessions, all of them falling flat at your feet even though George was kind enough to pull you close, even just for a moment.

You heaved a heavy sigh, pushing yourself from the bed that wasn't yours, and slipping into the bathroom unnoticed. You brushed your teeth, and tightened the sheer cardigan around you that was meant to cover your skimpy outfit meant for last night, that you didn't even give a damn about anymore.

You found George happily humming away in the kitchen, making breakfast with some ingredients you'd picked up from La Boqueria days before.

You planned to silently sulk across the way to your room, but George stopped you, turning from the stove like a worried mother, informing he was making the best breakfast of his life and you'd be a fool to miss out. You knew that.

"I'm not hungry."

You were embarrassed. You floated away from the kitchen to your bedroom, wondering if you should start to pack your things. You hadn't expected the trip to be perfect, but you'd hardly prepared for it to go as wrong as it had.

You gathered a handful of discarded dresses, turning to find your suitcase, when you heard George ease into the room.

"What are you doing?" He asked in a hush.

"Packing." George stepped closer, halting in front of you. He looked right at you while he took the dresses from your grasp, discarding them on the floor. Funny, you finally got him to throw your clothes somewhere behind you. He was wearing that look again, the one that made your heart speed up and the world slow down all at once.

"I shouldn't have said anything at all last night, let alone freaked out. I'm sorry." You shied away from his gaze, feeling like a little girl. George let you but slowly moved to see your face once more.

"I'm sorry. I was afraid you were just... I don't know... not thinking clearly."

"Why are you sorry? I wasn't drunk, George. I was just being honest." You look down, feeling sick about how vulnerable you'd been. You sucked in a breath as you moved away in a daze, heading toward the desk where your suitcase was nestled in the corner. You couldn't think with George looming over you with his sleep tangled hair and intense expressions.

As you traced your fingers along the grain of the desk you gazed out of the window to a palm tree that covered much of the view of the beach.

"Y/n..."

George's voice crept up the back of your spine. You turned from the desk, gripping the edge for security as George came to face you again.

How had you ended up here? Thoughts flickered into your head but flickered away when George locked his dazzling blue eyes with yours. He placed either of his hands on the side of the desk just beside where yours found real estate. George was eye level with you now and he was searching your face with his starry eyes that were closer than ever. And slow, like sunrise, he leaned in closer.

George pressed his lips against yours as slowly and sweetly as he'd kissed your temple last night. Before you could lose yourself to the feeling, you rose a hand to George's chest and held it there, so he hesitantly pulled away.

"Please don't kiss me just because I asked you too." You sighed, eyes still screwed shut. You could have done that one thousand more times, but not out of pity. When you dared to open your eyes, you found George patiently waiting to meet your gaze.

"I wanted to." George spoke, softly. "I've wanted to kiss you like that since you freaked out on the plane to Rome. I wanted to kiss you at all those museums and every time you've told a lame joke since then. And I'll still want to kiss you when we get back home. I like you, too."

George echoed your monologue from the night before, with his own twist. His voice was low and gentle but full of assuredness. His eyes stayed glued on yours while your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as he went on speaking. And when he was finished, you just stood there, gaping at him. Trying to wrap your head around his words and the action preceded them.

George looked at you in that way he did. In that way no one ever had before.

Lifting his hand toward your face, he slowly trailed a finger across your jaw, letting his thumb land on your chin. Your lips subtly parted, and George fixed his gaze on your mouth as a smirk bloomed across his. Then, he leaned in to kiss you again. But this time was very different. Your mouths opened against each other's and your fingers unlatched from their grip on the table behind you.

Your fingers curled around his neck as George let his fingers slowly creep down your sides, until they reached your hips. Without breaking the kiss, he shifted you onto the desk you leaned against, closing the gap between the two of you. It was a gesture you'd been dreaming of that was far more electric than your imagination made it out to be.

"I'm sorry it took me till now to do this." George breathed, his lips brushing against yours not daring to miss a second of contact.

"Better late than never, huh?" You grinned, nudging your nose against George and looking up into his pretty eyes.

"That's the spirit." He chuckled softly, barely finishing the sentence before his lips were on yours again. One of his hands stayed pressed against your back, assuring you were held against him, while his other tangled in your hair. George kissed you in a way that made you wonder what you'd been doing till now.

"I never dreamed you'd wanted more than wreckless fun." George spoke, as he trailed his kisses down your neck. And though you weren't too keen to stop his actions, his words held more of an impact.

You grabbed a handful of George's golden hair and pulled to make his eyes look right in yours.

"I do want to have wreckless fun. With you. For a long, long time." You confessed. No more secretly longing gazes and careful touches, hoping your multitude of feelings might have been conveyed.

"So back to London together it is then, yeah?" George picked you up from the desk with a cheeky grin.

"Just long enough to plan our next adventure." You suggested through a giggling as he tossed you onto the bed you'd been occupying.

George smiled the loveliest smile you'd ever seen as he crawled over the top of you and reached for the string that tied your coverup together.

"Shall we pick up where we left off then?" George leaned in to purr in your ear, letting his fingers trail across your thigh.

How was something so new and exciting so familiar? You decided not to think about it, and dove back in for another kiss.

___

That's how you spent the rest of the day and the entire night, never too far from right beside George. As your reality settled into the daydream scenario you never expected to come true, you found nothing much had really changed.

You'd spent this whole trip together, consulting over the best wine to order over dinner and arguing over what the best tv show of all time was. So while spending a day in bed at George's side left you starry-eyed, his company was familiar. And that was the best part of all.

You went on, making each other laugh like normal. Sharing old forgotten stories and thinking up new ones. George listened, as you whispered into the late, late night, like kids at a slumber party.

Waking up to his limbs pinning you lazily to the mattress even felt familiar, like something you should have been used to for a while now.

And reluctant as you both were to come out from under the sheets, it was your last full day in Barcelona. So after some careful consideration over breakfast coffee, you and George picked a handful of things to do from the list you'd created months in advance.

The first stop was lunch. You would miss the food in Spain most of all. You even took a few photos of the beautifully plated tapas you'd ordered and posted it to Instagram right away, using some over the top caption and everything.

After a frustrating morning chat, your bank informed you that it would be a few business days until your account was all sorted out. So, because of that and the fact that you only had a few euros left, you let George pay for lunch, who acted as if his evil plan had come to fruition. He'd hadn't stopped trying to cover bills since the first night in Rome.

Then you proceeded to muck about the city like kids on a residential trip. You went from hilltops to fountains to a couple of markets you'd been to before, marveling over all the sights and sounds of the city. You took more photos during the afternoon romp through the city than you had the whole trip. You sent some straight to Instagram and some to your mother. But mostly, you tossed your phone right back in your bag so you could turn your attention to George. To focus on the way his smile grew while he spoke, before laughing too hard to finish his sentence. To revel in the feeling of his hand holding yours. Feeling a little luckier every time he stole a kiss in quiet parts of art galleries and around city street corners.

He eventually coaxed you into a big fancy dinner you absolutely couldn't afford, taking a long way there to enjoy the last purply golden sunset in Barcelona. The sun beamed across streets, like it didn't dare go down without a fight. In between a designer clothing shop and another row of businesses covered in blossoming vines, George stalled, turning to face you.

"Stay right here." He held your shoulders in place nodding before rushing out of view. You laughed to yourself, standing in the place you'd been made to. Before you could get lost in thoughts of how lucky this trip turned out to be, George came back around the corner with two strangers in tow.

He enlisted them to take a photo of the two of you together, George explaining that the one from outside the museums in Rome wasn't enough. You handed your phone to the older gentleman George had roped into being your photographer while his wife stood looking at a map, glancing up to smile at you all every now and again. George wasn't even looking toward the camera when it came time to.

The old man took surprisingly good snapshots, you found, after thanking him for taking a minute to indulge George. He really was hard to say no to. There were four photos, each great from the start, better than the last. They featured George with one arm loosely wrapped around you, his focus on you entirely. You tried, but clearly couldn't quite look at the camera either, with the way George’s smile drew you in. They weren't quite candid, with the way George must have planned to be so engrossed by you.

"These are the best so far." You hummed, scrolling to admire them each.

"I have no idea if they're Instagram worthy or not, but I like them very much."

"Oh, Insta would eat these up." You laughed, but you really do mean it. They were perfectly rose-colored on their own, no filter needed. After tossing your phone away, you'd started your walk back up, the big fancy restaurant you'd choosen for dinner coming into view in the horizon.

"Then you should post them," George said, keeping his pace in time with yours, nearly to the doors of the last stop on your getaway. You figured you'd be sad when the night wound to an end. But something magnificent burned below the surface, a promise that this was only the beginning of better days.

"Are you sure? You wouldn't mind?" You asked cautiously. George had steered clear of social media for a reason. Posting something that so blatantly put George on display seemed sinful, especially regarding the photos in question; with the way you were attached to his hip. Posting those was a very big deal for a multitude of reasons.

"Well someone's gotta get the word out that we're a packaged deal now, and I'm not very well equipped. I could phone the paparazzi, since I'm so bloody famous and all, but I'd rather not." George boasted, climbing the steps of the big fancy restaurant with a coy grin on his pretty face.

"Wow. You really are lame." You joked, nudging his shoulder with yours as you passed through the golden entryway.

After you ordered meals, you opened your favorite application and fretted over a caption for the photos you were about to post. The photos of you and George bathed in the setting sunlight, your smiles somehow the brighter.

George helped, well, he made you laugh. And after tossing out a dozen ridiculous quips, you decided to keep all your best one-liners and let the photos speak for themselves. And on the walk back to the hotel you phoned your mother to save her from having a cow when you showed up at the airport with George still by your side.

Because it had been settled, over late-night conversation that slipped into a recurring topic during the day. George would come home with you. He kept saying something about not wanting to waste another secomd sitting far apart in the same room. He kept saying how lucky he felt to have you, how he'd always hoped the outcome of your acquaintance would blossom into something more. How he felt like he'd been waiting for you longer than he knew your name.

George rambled about his future. About some of the films, he was up for. How far away he'd be for some of them. He asked you to join him. To stay for a while, wherever he ended up. How he wanted you to be a part of his life.

You agreed without having to think too much about it. You always wanted someone to see the world with. You always wanted to greet someone at the end of long days. You couldn't see your future without George. You could hardly remember how you managed life before him, anyway.

On the plane back home, you were both too busy dreaming up your lives together to freak out when the ride rocketed into the sky. You watched the same movie and got shushed by the same businessman when your laughter got too loud.

And when you sleepily lingered at the baggage claim with your head rested on George's shoulder, nothing felt new and exciting. It felt normal and right.

And when you spotted your mother waiting for you in the pickup area, she was all smiles. You hadn't expected her to freak out, but you were a little nervous that she'd make much too big of a deal about who you were bringing home. But she looked calm, content even, when she reached out to greet you with a hug.

"Mom, this is George." You turned to the man in question, watching his ocean eyes linger on you for a beat as his grin stretched into a smile.

"I know." Your mother smiled too, then turned to him, reaching out for a hug. "I've read all about you in the papers and things." She chuckled just as George happily hugged her back.

You and George both threw your heads back in a shared bout of laughter. Your mother worried that she'd said something wrong, but you just assured her that George was even better in real life than all his charming interviews.

On the ride home, you fill her in on some of the details of your wild trip. George did too, and when he spoke you could tell your mother started to understand what you said at the airport. How George's complex expressions and soft-spoken manner weren't something you could properly capture on a morning talk show. How his presence seemed magical. How whatever you might expect him to say was never what you got, but better.

He made everything better. Even the things you couldn't seem to find the good parts of. Even the demolished bits of planning that remained of what was meant to be your honeymoon.

You found out that everything happened how it was supposed to. Even though going home to what you left behind seemed daunting and dense with negativity, there was a bright shining silver lining beaming from the smile George wore when you made him laugh over and over on the way home, together.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

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ashenburst · 3 years

Text

Far Goes The Farrago, Chapter 1 - A Sound Little Betrayal

First chapter of my WIP because I have nothing else to post. *auctioneer voice* AND HERE WE HAVE A STEAMING HOT STORY ABOUT DEMONS, MURDER, EXISTENTIALISM AND FRIENDSHIP, COMING FROM A SEASONED FANFICTION WRITER!

Consider this a psychological Fantasy, eh? The blurb should be:

It is a tale of the unknown hero or the greatest villain: he who has forgiven the devil. But long before seeing his epilogue come true, Ulrich started off as an entirely different person: a fake hero, some unfulfilled hope, tightly promised failure. His inner demons were yet to be brutalized by the outer ones. Briefly put, this is a story set in a foreign world, delving deep into supernatural activities, all of which are slowly dying and being prohibited by humans. Ulrich is an arbiter, one of those who are trained to bring out that prohibition. As many good men, he is distraught by unjust fate. To battle it and prove his good, he must resort to nefarious ways and gather a wicked company to his aid. No training could've possibly prepared him for the inhumane adventure that awaits, orchestrated by none other than the Devil himself.

Very excited to offer this chapter to you :3 more is published on Wattpad, and the best version + some additional content is on my Patreon!

We always seek greatness in others, never in ourselves. A fact so true and firm, known to Ulrich, and yet, he fled from himself.

Where to? It didn’t really matter. The goal was reverse – not to run to, but to run away.

Heaviest sentiments sought a compensation. If the mind were so busy processing them, then surely, other stimuli needed to be deafened. It was the subconscious who stilled Ulrich so; he’d been pacing, insolently small and scared in the vast crowd, and in some vacant moment of clarity, he found it, his very own hyperfixation. A critter perched on top of a stool, quaint and big. How come he hadn’t noticed it? Was it because it looked like décor – or was it because of his own disregard for… everything? He should’ve laughed.

Nevertheless, he neared. It didn’t move much, just a stare here and there, swing of the head from one side to the other. Nobody else but Ulrich seemed to pay it any attention, which provided him with some privacy, or even better, intimacy. The best kind of it at that: the one where the other party wasn’t even existent.

When meeting a future acquaintance, Ulrich knew how to behave. Do the dreaded handshake, and fortify it with a sure stare in the eye. He had no trouble doing those, despite his somewhat reserved nature. Strangely, the problem was still in him, or on him, to be exact.

Years ago, he had read, then distinctly remembered, some author’s words, lamenting about fair eyes of “unruly ice, turquoise waters hungering and withering in the cold” – and upon the reminder of his own sharp gaze, never fair, forever protruding, every reflection would be scowled at; for in there, grew a pair of icicles jabbing at the souls of the seen. He wished for a softer look, overflowing with docile colors, but alas, he could not break the ice. Perhaps others would imagine what hid beneath, as they were, easily, far less tender than Ulrich in their living.

But here? This was a perplexing community. Ignorant and invasive all the same. The overlapping presences were enough of a distress on their own.

On the other hand, the bird… the parrot? It lacked reason, therefore, of course it wouldn’t be affected. It wasn’t affected by almost anything at all, since, well, despite the commotion, it barely moved.

He stepped closer, and it didn’t react. He took yet another step, and it barely moved in its humble residence. Just a tiny, tiny, parrot step. It was nothing compared to Ulrich’s – and it placed him so near the parrot that he might as well be intruding its simplistic home.

Out of all the places on this bird to aim his interest at, he picked an unconventional one to be shot. Ulrich had the opportunity to indulge in its eyes, without noticing his own. Inside awaited a wondrous resort, ripe for his imagination to sow, his scythe that of ardent focus.

The salon and its decadence were flooded with black. Saturated crowds drowned in mute darkness. Dry luxury too suddenly dipped into those murky ponds, pleasantly distant – finally modest. With Ulrich’s anxiety at its staggering peak, the predicament was clear. It was high time the world sank.

It was a damp place, inert and peaceful. Just like all that was good, the universe could never sustain it.

In an instant, death. Ponds fluttered, wise eyes turned primitive, and Ulrich was woken up from the stare, by a stare. Beady eyes mirrored it all, for Ulrich to see: a harmless shadow of reality, where nothing could impact, nothing mattered. He was yearning to slip inside, stay inside, cocooned in reflections. It was much easier than confronting the world – and equally as impossible.

It should’ve been simple. All he had to do was close his eyes, and he’d escape. Black would overwhelm, and in it, he would find everything and anything. It was both the martyr and the cornerstone of consciousness! The provenance of dreams, the dear night’s shroud! And, and in Ulrich’s exceptional case, it was a savior, just a day old. It was black who gave him life!

Yet, this black… it was different. It noticed, it moved, but, but it stared and shivered, and – enlarged. Feathers puffed, head bobbed. Ulrich’s fascination then renamed itself: unease.

The grandiose parrot was no longer as restful. As it shook its great head, feathers in a scarce crest swayed like artificial rods, limp and long, quite – unnatural.

To make it even more terrifying, it was of morphology immense, dark like drowse, cheeks skinned red. There was a budding tongue in that twisted beak, pointed exactly at him as it opened the mouth wide –

Then screeched with a ripping pitch and opened its massive, unexpectedly massive wings.

It startled him. His heart got chased into his throat. He screeched back, and fell back, landing on something rather soft and still. As someone who had horrid experience with bumping into people, Ulrich immediately recognized his fault. He hopped away to face the victim of his fall.

And the victim, well… despite his face being largely covered with a beard, his sentiments were clear. Dour in both bearing and expression, the man had been preparing for a relentless lecture. Ulrich was in the midst of mental preparations too, ready to apologize in a plethora of sorries, but… by the looks of it, he didn’t have to. Although he barely looked at this mountain of a man, he saw, clearly, a drastic shift in expression, from utmost gloom to total glee.

And this person, this once outraged fellow, now hollered at Ulrich as if he were dearest family,

“The heart of the celebration himself! The savior of the Hartschnapps! Ernst Sondermann!”

Ulrich’s fake name resonated throughout the crowd, spoken with such vigor, such elation, it might as well come off as laughter to some faraway folk. Wonderful, how everyone took it for granted – a mere name, more of a nickname.

And it was the right one! It was not false, it was fake – and the very black that saved Ulrich also scarred his cursed pseudonym, rendered it a seething wound, something his frail soul could barely tolerate.

Now he was reminded of his misplaced fame and glory, the precursor of this entire gathering, the consequence of black. Despite the man’s happiness in tone, Ulrich perceived it as the worst scolding, and felt accordingly.

But he couldn’t show it to anyone, ruin this entire ordeal by heroically abandoning his heroism. He had to play along, and his act was poorly executed. In contrast, his shrill laugh could easily pass as a pitched sob.

What did not help was the fact he was stared at by manifold.

He said his sorry, blurted out some diminutions, and continued down the trail, somewhere off – and he knew, he delved deep into words of nonsense, and at some point, he halted, finally meeting the heavy gaze of the man. He was waiting, so, in other words, Ulrich…

Ulrich was not interrupted. He was waited for, and he was esteemed. Something otherwise appreciated, and on this instance, incredibly awkward.

“Lastly, I believe we can infer that this was a poorly woven accident,” he tried to conclude, clasping his hands together. A blink at them, then a blink back at the man – he was too uncomfortable to keep the polite stare one would expect in a conversation.

And what he got was another speech of joy and honor.

“Poorly woven yet perfect for the occasion!” This man tapped forcefully with his engraved cane, emphasizing his oncoming words. “I wouldn’t have dared to approach you by myself, mister Sondermann! Never! But fate has brought us together, and I am honored to be bestowed even with the opportunity to meet you. Indeed.”

He finished with a brisk nod and some twitch in his beard. It must’ve been a smirk, short-lived one. Ulrich had stacked some fancy words for a similar response, but was now, surprisingly, overwhelmed. The man insisted on approaching him, taking over the conversation.

All Ulrich got was a handshake and many, many words of assurance, none of them important. Some long name, he heard – why did the people of Aurun assign such dreadfully complex names? Even if Ulrich managed to remember those (a feat of its own), greater length meant more room for mistakes.

This man, he said he was… Titus Augustine Donao? Ulrich just smiled to it. It was revolting, the amount of times confusion was the cause of his smile. That was all he could do, for mister Donao took over. Suddenly, the world revolved around him, his pleasure and his reputation and his lovely newspapers. Ulrich could barely keep track of it, especially with the constant smacking of the cane against the floor, but he somehow survived. Shaking, perhaps, but he made it.

As soon as he realized the chatter was reaching its end, he felt his mood lighten, and as soon as its end came, he dashed away from the stressors, the damned rich folk, and their blatant hapless extravagance.

Looking for a proper place to hide, Ulrich retreated himself away from the lower section of the hall, almost running up the few stairs, down the pristine marble floor, to reach the bar – the spot where he would not only sit to rest, but also be left alone. No parrots to scare him, no people to condemn him with their praise.

The salon was enormous, fitting for the occasion. It took him a dangerous lot of footsteps to reach his goal. Ulrich already met the major and similarly influential people in this huge complex – he had expected them to show up. What he did not expect was a celebration of this scale, solely in his honor. There was a grand hall, in whose corner he found the parrot, and away from it, there was a bar and a secluded dining area, where, as he spotted, some fine gentlemen played cards in peace. He had no intention of joining them.

But the bar, the bar was lovely. Dim lights provided a seclusion of sorts, and as far as the line of the bar stretched, almost none sat there. Ulrich occupied the most distant stool, ordered tea. Peppermint, of course, he told the barista.

He was unnaturally overjoyed by the fact that he was alone. Nobody wanted to bother a poor duckling like him, despite being in his uniform – it couldn’t compare to the excess in aesthetic every single person showed. He didn’t stand out, and although he was embarrassed of it at first, it proved to be his salvation. He blended in with his inferiority.

He wasn’t even sure how much he wanted to be noticed by them. The wild crowd, everyone pretending to be his friend for a minute, then storming off elsewhere for a similar verbal parade. They were all the same. fake, just like him with his fame and merit.

Ulrich dropped onto the bar’s smooth, cold, so pleasantly cold surface. Brown marble. Could’ve been polished wood, but in Aurun’s fashion, it had to be marble. Cold, hard and soulless. Perfect footing for his heavy soul.

That… that mister, the last one he had met, Titus Donao, who he had fallen on… he was the last drop in Ulrich’s sullen ocean. A shameless narcissist, just like the rest of them, startling him in a startle, and then… simply, fulfilling the duty of being good.

Ulrich did not blame him. He did not blame the parrot, or anyone else. He blamed himself for allowing the fanfare to flare this long. It would be perfect, if he could just… extinguish it in peace. Make everyone forget and go home.

He could’ve done it, but he didn’t, cowardly. And he believed he deserved some escapisms, then? Despite him hiding the great truth? He deserved to dream of a better self?

No, not in the least. But that would happen! Inevitably, his career would advance, due to his “success”. He was becoming famous. He had no idea what it brought to his life, and knew it took away one thing: peace.

His tea arrived and he sipped on it. Such a lullaby for the senses.

Sadly, they picked on something… revolting. An odd gent sat by his side. Ulrich wouldn’t like to call it pessimism, but he knew this man would talk to him. Thus, he peeked, more of a precaution than curiosity, and noticed, firstly, a long face, acute and sleek in every manner. Then the clothing, plenty of browns complimenting each other to form a rather tame suit.

What attracted Ulrich’s attention the most was elsewhere. A silly hat of brown leather was slouched on this person’s head, and as if stuffed with fresh wheat, many pale strands escaped it, all unkempt, wild and independent. Even his ear was hidden underneath that mess.

Then came the side peer of yellow, a glisten like few Ulrich had encountered in his brief life. It was entrancing, but it could not last, simply because: two peers met. The discussion had to be struck.

It wasn’t something one would expect – a riveting conversation all at once, skipping the formalities and small talk, and resorting to something bigger, truthfully engaging. Somehow, fates clashed, and what Ulrich got was exactly the unexpected.

Spoken by the stranger was a mystery anyone would long for. An oddity, some romantic subtext in poetry, where the meaning had to be dug out and felt by each heart. Not in many instances in life could the heart be brought to such use, but this… this one, it necessitated wonder.

All strangers had one talent in common, that being: bizarreness. Not one person would be more qualified for a miracle than a stranger. The tool of this one was a gentle voice, and it inquired,

“It’s nice, isn’t it, this place? Doesn’t feel real.”

Neither did his statement. Ulrich took the liberty to stare. He knew he mustered one of those sorrowful faces, but he did not, by all means, feel sad – he was simply invested. Although few in number, they were the heaviest words to land on his eardrums.

“Much like a dream,” he replied with a slow nod.

A small curve appeared on the stranger’s lips – amusement, and in the very next moment a bow of the head to hide it. “If this is your dream, then your nightmares must be competing with Hell,” was how he estimated Ulrich, and he was right.

Ulrich’s brows went upwards. He was shocked, pleasantly, to find out someone could relate – not only relate, but… approach him in such a peculiar manner. Now abysmally curious, he asked, just to get him to talk, “And you would know?”

The blond did not answer for a bit. “Nobody would.” How distasteful, coming from such a captivating apparition. Ulrich was not disappointed. This event alone was, he knew, insignificant, and yet, something his memory would cradle for years.

He decided a smooth way out, a compromise, “To each his own Hell, then.” Ulrich lifted his glass both as reconciliation and a late greeting.

This man had no glass to greet back, but he managed. He acted as if he had one of air, greeted back with it and, how generously, showed a semblance of a smile. Ulrich let out the most honest laugh this eve had heard.

The stranger offered him a hand, and he accepted, albeit hesitantly. After performing the handshake above his drink, Ulrich had introduced himself – a stupid custom, as the stranger pointed out afterwards.

“Everyone knows you.” He retracted his hand from Ulrich’s formally gloved one. “But you won’t know anyone. You’ll forget us all, all of our jolly faces and names. But that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Ulrich couldn’t disagree, but the vanity, the wisdom, the straightforward mannerism of this man! It rendered him speechless, but he knew, he wanted to talk, he needed to say something so more could be told, but…

He was left without a clue. Previous agitation did not help in the least, so, not knowing what else to do, he resorted to honesty.

“You are terribly correct, sir. I am both glad and ashamed the truth resonates within you too.”

“It resonates within everyone! But they ignore it, it’s too much for their crammed hearts,” he replied with newfound vigor. He then turned on his stool, arm spread towards the people and their vain heads, to reintroduce Ulrich to the setting.

“And it’s their souls you want to protect?”

It was no disapproval. Ulrich was surprised to find pity on his pallid face.

“It’s an arbiter’s duty,” he mumbled, “and my humble wish.” Taking a sip from his tea, he listened to the blond’s retaliation.

“So, you love them? The people?”

Ulrich set the cup down. “I don’t have to love them. I just believe that… every man deserves good –”

But he was immediately cut off with, “Don’t you hear the venom in that hall? Is that where you wanted to pour your heart out? Who you wanted to shiver with and be loved by?”

What could Ulrich say? “So long good is not betrayed, I will stand by it, and I will offer it to all. It can’t do any harm.” He looked away. “And I won’t suffer either. I understand the bad sides of man. I stray from them, should they prove… dangerous. And those people, who you claim to be… venomous?” Then he too pointed at the crowd. “Perhaps all they need is an antidote.”

The blond had a shift in expression, from aggressive focus to blandness. “Then you’re better than I thought. A shame.”

He tapped his own hat and left Ulrich. No goodbye, no wave, no glance, no nothing. The stranger remained that: a stranger. Ulrich was left with a somewhat bitter tinge on his tongue.

The person left to the area where cards were played; so be it. Ulrich looked down to his tea. The aroma tempted him to calmness.

He rubbed his hands. The tea, the slight tiredness, they all seemed like a proper invite to sleep. He certainly felt so, but on the other hand… his thoughts couldn’t settle. This interaction in particular stunned him, and with every gentle sip, he would realize that, indeed, it stunned him, yet he couldn’t make out much of it.

Mere minutes passed, and an alarming scream shook his frame. Shouts of confusion followed, stomps of footsteps and chairs scraping, and forcefully, Ulrich had his attention averted towards the ruckus

He caught glimpse of cards flying around, people gathering. In the midst of it all, a man writhing on the floor. Shadowed was his spotlight by the concerned crowd, and he stole the show with an act so blatantly desperate: shrieks and tosses and turns, as if it were a matter of life or death.

The thick fence of people allowed Ulrich not to thoroughly examine the star. It was only after the imbalance that the cause of it all was revealed. The people supported him, as he slowly rose, only to reveal –

The blond stranger, his face disfigured in pain, certainly a sight unpleasant. Huffs and violent hacks fell all around him, while his curled-up form barely held its ground. His hands, he was clutching his own hands, holding them on his chest – but why? What had happened?

Pulled by natural magnetism, Ulrich abandoned his seat, hesitant to delve into this trouble… and yet, firmly affirmed that he couldn’t leave it at that. It was too strange, too unsettling, even for his senses – let alone his mind. The stranger hadn’t yet betrayed his good will, after all.

Before he managed to, however, a demand struck him in his tracks.

“A word, if you’re available, sir.”

Ulrich whipped his head around to be met with a tall woman. Hers was a magnificent mane of hair, curly and potent, much like a dark halo. It framed a stern brown face, unforgiving and cold in her grey eyes.

He had to stop and stare. Just a moment, and he got back to his senses. There was a more severe situation going on.

“This man, have you seen –”

She spoke, her voice that of trained authority, “I have. There’s nothing you can do, unless you possess supernatural means to aid.”

Ulrich was a little startled. This lady, firm in her composure and speech, she wasn’t… quite the sort he was used to. She didn’t act around and sweeten her words – no, they remained monotone and overbearing. Swallowing, he tried to shoo his heart away from his throat.

“Then… absolutely,” Ulrich murmured and offered his hand once he had his posture straightened. She squeezed it straight away, and – what the hell?! Her grip was too firm and short-lasting, and way too painful for Ulrich’s liking. He could feel his bones rub against each other!

He stared down to his hand, taken aback by pulsating pain that remained. But the woman didn’t seem to notice.

“My name is Maria Merkator,” she introduced herself, “I am Aurun’s Minister of Police Affairs. It is an honor to meet you.”

His heart leaped. He hid the borderline injured hand behind his back, folding his both hands there. After a cough, he formed the proper voice to answer. “The honor is mine,” he replied mechanically, “I suppose I needn’t introduce myself.”

“Indeed. Your actions are an introduction of their own. It is exactly because of them that I am here. If you would allow me?”

What actions? Did she know?

“Go ahead,” he whispered through his tight throat.

She gave him a curt nod. Her face remained devoid of any emotion. “I am in desperate need of men like you. Men who can deal with demons.”

The truth was avoided! Relief washed over him, but it was not absolute. Troubles were ongoing. So, demons, and him to battle them? The worst idea ever to befall the Minister, surely! He simply wasn’t fit. He would die if he were ever to even see one.

He laughed his stress out, then coughed to buy some time. In the edge of his vision, the Minister’s blank expression was seen, and on it, lips pressed in a strict line.

And after all, out of all the talented and notable arbiters in this world, why would… why would she pick –

Exactly. He garnered some much-needed poise. “I thought arbiters come to aid when summoned? I’m certain you can acquire even better people than me.” Then he peeked back at the Minister, saw her eyes tarnished and mute. To play it off coolly, he sipped his tea a little.

“They do, but largely defective. I won’t inquire why or how, but the fact stands, and our experience here confirms it,” he heard her speak.

As if Ulrich was supposed to justify them! Nevertheless, he assumed the answers. It wasn’t a matter of humbleness, more… his own lack of talent, for he knew he was one of the defective bunch, and the rest of them, they were the same, and probably even worse.

But he faked his surprise. “Defective in what sense?”

“Unqualified. Incapable of matching a street ruffian. You, on the other hand, slayed a demon.”

A violent tinge in his heart.

“It was luck,” he blurted out, dodging the lie.

“Pardon?”

He looked once at her, and saw her brow raised upwards, so cruelly. “I had more luck than brains,” he attempted.

“Don’t give your merit to fate and its pseudonyms. It was you who did it,” she disapproved.

“Not me, no.”

“Then who?”

Ulrich clenched his jaw. He was digging his way to the grave possibility; would he want to bury himself like that? He hid his mouth behind the cup of tea, as if, hesitating to drink.

“All those who had taught me?” His inner doubt made his outer statement come through as more of a question.

“You’re too humble,” she sneered.

He clenched his jaw once again, teeth scraping against each other so hard, he forced himself a cringe. Narrowing his eyes, he muttered, “I strive to be.”

“And you’re too mild-hearted for someone who has slayed a demon, mister Sondermann. It’s so nonsensical, one might say, even poetic.”

He shivered, grossly accused. The ending, the false name, it struck him as an even worse allegation! And it was the worst allegation, for it was true!

Ulrich stared at her. Indeed, she was correct. It was poetic, an egregious exaggeration, much like plenty of modern poems. And if, if the rest of the world was drowning in hyperboles, then… maybe, just maybe –

“But that’s how things are, ma’am. I apologize if this is not the man you want to see defend your city.”

He should become part of it, and vanish, a humble word among the ludicrous metaphors. Perfect destiny for him, for he failed to adapt. He had to accept; it was just.

“Maybe it is.” She paused. “Rest assured, if you have no other business, you are invited to stay and battle Aurun’s blasphemies. You’ll have your accommodation and support of the police, should the need arise.”

“I… of course, I accept.” And he smiled with all honesty.

“Excellent. Tomorrow after lunch, come to the main police station. Another capable arbiter shall be waiting for you.”

Another one?! Perfect to contrast his idiocy! To witness his foolishness! That was exactly what he deserved! He was horribly elated!

“I am looking forward to our cooperation,” he told and stretched his smile. It hurt so much.

Did she know, could she even assume what harrowed the abysses of his vibrating chest? Sprouting from inner oblivion, came a bitter thought, correspondingly as dark: he was willing to play the role of a hero, just so these people could have one. How utterly ridiculous.

She nodded, as if to confirm his sufferings. “As am I. Farewell, and good health.”

“Likewise –”

But she did not wait. She too, just like every single person in this colossal mishap, did not care. It made him desperate. The justice of the city, too, lacked a heart, it seemed. She did not understand her wallops, she did not know, just like anyone else, how much it devastated Ulrich. Except now, for the first time, he had grown awfully anxious. His heartbeat, a race.

Sadly, the tea, it couldn’t help. What was left of it, he downed quickly – at least, as fast as its heat allowed him.

He asked the barista if there was a balcony of sorts. There was one, and it was located left from the bar, down the hallway. He knew his next goal.

Tethers bound him to the chair, weight unknown and unpleasant. He struggled to rise back to his glass feet, but rushed, hurried vastly to eliminate his presence! Only one person was enough to bring him to the brink of dread, let alone the whole crowd.

He moved, at last. Hallways were narrow. Walls, spiraled all around him, threatening to collapse. It was, perhaps, between them, that he realized something was wrong with his head, that vertigo was settling in. Must’ve been the stress; he’d always been the sensitive soul, to a fault.

He took hold of his head, holding it for a few moments, as if to clasp his consciousness. Squinting his eyes, he wondered – just how far could he make it in this state? Would fate present him with another way out?

Gazing down the hallway, he wondered, if perhaps, his future was just as linear and suffocating.

Before he could continue, then, all of a sudden, a creak. He turned around to see if he was caught red-handed in his cowardice. Yet, no one was seen. His mind truly was a mess, he concluded with a huff.

More steps onwards, and he reached the semi-glass door to the balcony. Tugging it open, he was greeted by moist air and secluded darkness.

He dashed to nature’s heavenly pianissimo, away from the salon and its counterfeit music. He had been running all evening, escaping, hiding, reversely dynamic. Finally, he was awarded for his efforts, for outside, nobody awaited. Wet patterns on the marble floor informed him before stepping that the skies had been weeping thoroughly. Still were, in fact. His nostrils, no, his entire being was refreshed by their sorrow. It was so much lighter than his own.

He trod forward, accepting the breezes with arms spread wide, and attempted to reach the edge of the rain. The downpour carried solace unto him, and he yearned for more, came closer for more. Even when the raindrops landed on him, when the pitter-patter tapped gently against his uniform, he did not stop.

It had to be a physical boundary which would stop him. Clutching, clawing at the fence, he found nothing else but the cold. It gnawed back, left him numb. How sad, that the lonely numbness gave him more life than the entirety of celebration.

Before him expanded a city, and measured in avarice – it was vast. Measured in neglect, it extended even further. He could not make out its horizons; the rain and his tired eyes ensured so.

At the sight, he was reminded of the extremes it nurtured. Buildings, renovated and over a century neglected, stood hand-in-hand, comrades despite the extremes. In poverty and fertility, they did not share. Their habitants weren’t any different. Contrasts so large, Ulrich’s perception was daunted. His idea of the city – long ruined. This evening, it served as yet another absurd plague, another mystery for his incapable attention.

He remembered incisions on the walls. Cracks in his mind slid further. The poor condition invited crevices, ill thoughts, ill recaps, to destroy what was left of the mistreated construct. He needed introspection.

Closing his eyes, he could finally tend to his mind. What he found out? He was so confused. At least that was certain of one thing, and one thing only.

It was the entanglement in his own thoughts, like the endless worms that structured his brain. The start was incomprehensible, the finish fictional, and everything between those two points, only curves and turns and whirls and twirls. A patternless weaving, akin to raw wool.

Where had his mind gone to? Why was it so detached, even from his body…?

He barely felt. Humid winds nestled in his uniform. Cold torrents escaped his fingers. He cradled the air like an old friend, who knew him better than he did, because, after all –

Ulrich did not know himself.

It was a makeshift hug, desperate consolation by the fact that there is some absolute in the universe, some truth, that the fates were definite and their Strings stretched infinitely. That, perhaps, Ulrich was a part of it for a reason, that there was a reason for this torment. That his soon to be sacrifice would matter, not because he wanted to matter – because he wanted to matter to others.

There was no one else to confirm that, to confirm anything. It was almost impossible to believe alone, and he tried, he tried so hard, but it was too difficult. And so, in his loneliness, he realized he’d been hugging himself.

His senses landed in some state of anxious languor. He had never felt anything quite like it before. It was much like a dreamscape, presented through hazy ramblings of a dying mind. Through them, a stimulus was registered, so rough, so haphazardly unpleasant.

He was not alone. Someone was intruding his breakdown. A shadow at the door.

He dropped a weightless callout. “You…”

“Me?” It was familiar. Ulrich narrowed his eyes.

“Who?”

That person, standing at the entrance of the balcony, spread their arms in a surrendering manner, it appeared. “You don’t know me.”

Ulrich tilted his head a little, acknowledgment for the sake of it. He dropped the hug – he was no longer lonely. The stranger himself had arrived.

Although his talks were interesting to listen to, Ulrich hesitated to… accept him. He was interrupted in the worst moment, the height of his vulnerability, something he just could not show. That alone caused him discomfort.

He cleared his throat, raising his voice to outpower the rain. “Yeah… listen, I am in an awful mood, and unless you have something important to say, please, please try to leave me.”

But his demand did the exact opposite. The stranger neared, and Ulrich was watching every single step of his.

“What happens to be bothering you?”

What? Did he actively seek to… care? Why was he still nearing him, would he…?

“I don’t think you’d understand even if I were to explain, so…”

He would. He actually crossed the line between the dry and the rain, only to get near Ulrich, and ask, “Are you sure?”

Ulrich’s eyes widened. “Why do you care?”

“Why, isn’t that what humans do?” His expression darkened, twitching every now and then as raindrops fell onto it. “Or at least, should do. It just happens to be rare nowadays.”

True to that statement, the world revolved, and Ulrich had found only one genuine person in the entire ordeal. The only one who wouldn’t betray his good.

“Then, how are you? I’ve seen you… fall? Something happened for sure,” he cared back.

The stranger chuckled – it was a distinct sound, more of a titter. “Just a little accident, worry not. A condition, it’s hereditary.”

Falling and screaming in agony was hereditary…? Ulrich blinked in confusion, then repeated after the stranger.

The blond confirmed with a nod, then stepped closer to Ulrich, only a meter or so away. The meaning of his expression could not be discerned, not with the rain there to disfigure it.

“But you’re the heart of this party, it would be a shame to leave you unattended. Especially since you look so malapropos. Don’t worry about me,” he convinced, almost forcefully, attempting to forge eye contact with Ulrich who shied away from it. Baffled and tired beyond measure, Ulrich finally inquired,

“What do you want?”

Victory steadied his voice. “To tell you a story. Stories holler lessons, breathe lives, heal as much as they scar. I do think one would relieve you.” There was such gentleness to his words, and yet, Ulrich was unfaltering. His smudged line of thought continued the sentence with sarcasm, as always, spontaneous: nothing would relieve him except for sheer oblivion.

He remained silent, narrow-eyed and narrow-minded. The quiet was perceived as a mute yes.

“Not too long ago, an incident has occurred in Aurun. A public figure of solid reputation is involved. Maybe you’ve heard of it…?”

Ulrich waved his head no – wrong move, for it caused him dizziness. He frowned.

“A reformative essayist, your typical educated man with a… mildly, yes, troubled mind.” A nod from the speaker to confirm the speaker’s thought. “Also an owner of an esteemed bookshop. He was the cause of the scandal, the scandal being, hiding horrendous smuggled goods in his shop. Only after the entire folly did his antics surface and make sense.”

“What kind…?”

“Loud and bold and flamboyant, quite the two-faced snake, but very active in terms of society and aiding it. In private, he was… stingy, even, and oftentimes shooed people away from him, whilst keeping problematic folk around. He had some fame, here, not much,”

The stranger showed his hand, then clenched it. “Only a handful, if we were to measure it in our imagination. But he abused all of it. Influenced so many.” He looked back to Ulrich, expectant.

“So, he was just like everyone else,” Ulrich guessed.

The blond smiled widely, the first time he revealed such a smile, so radiant and loose.

“Indeed! Indeed,” he repeated in delight. “But, my point would be this. Men like him, loud and extreme about their innovations… they’re the ones who push and tug the world. But I believe it’s you, the so-called normal folk, who keep the world on its feet.”

Now, despite his lovely conclusion, it didn’t make any sense. Did Ulrich hear that well?

“Pardon, you said, normal, me?” He blinked, as if that would clear his thoughts.

“Yes. I’m sure you’re normal.” He nodded to himself. “That you are so much less than what this party has made of you.”

Ulrich had no idea what this meant. What this story was about, and why he was supposed to be… normal? Why would he even assume that? How did it even… help? Each and every line of his mental narration was interrupted by aches and blanks. “Sir, I pray that you’ll come to understand that… I’m exhausted, and I cannot begin to understand you,” he excused himself, then leaned against the fence – almost slipping and falling, almost. Another miniature heart attack to strain his assaulted nerves.

He quickly got an apology, multiple of them, actually.

“No, no, it’s fine. If anything, I enjoyed the conversation…” He was unsure of his own statement. “I haven’t quite caught your name, mister…?”

“Elior Truco.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, mister Truco.”

Reaching out to shake Elior’s hand, Ulrich expected a crushing grip, just like the one he had fallen victim to some time ago. Surprisingly, however, Elior’s hand was barely felt in his, and Ulrich was relieved to avoid yet another unpleasantry. He let out a sigh, even offered a smile. It was returned. The time had come for them to part ways on decent terms – or so he hoped.

All of a sudden, thunder roared. Ulrich twitched, almost squealed, for his heart jumped violently, and continued throbbing against his ribcage. Wouldn’t that mark a dramatic farewell?

Hands slipping from each other, a distinct tinge slithered across Ulrich’s palm, at first merely a disarray of his perception, then actual, burning pain, digging underneath his skin.

Inevitably, he stared down to his hand, and saw unfamiliar darkness on it, darker than his glove. A pool expanding and overflowing from the edges of his palm. He stared, paralyzed due to disbelief, taking in the pulsations of… of that, there, when Elior finally spoke up,

“Is that blood?”

It was only then that the realization settled and fear rose.

Ulrich looked back to Elior, immediately pleading him to dignify him with some, if any sort of clarification, all while meekly holding his bloodied, aching hand.

And he didn’t know. He looked at his own gloved hands, frantically flipping them over, running his fingers over them. His lackluster reaction only shoved more anxiety unto Ulrich, who stared at the oozing darkness, abandoning his being and pounding his senses.

Only seconds into the buffoonery, Ulrich couldn’t handle it anymore.

He yelled, asking Elior what he had done. The storm agreed, shattering the skies with lighting and its thunderous anger.

More excuses, more blabbering. Elior offered to help, murmuring, laughing oddly, uncomfortably, looking at any place other than Ulrich. He was shaking so much, Ulrich, he had no idea what to do, what was happening to him, to Elior –

“Elior!”

At long last, the blond looked up, “So, it’s a deal?”

And finally, Ulrich screamed a croaked “yes”.

And the deal would be completed. Elior took Ulrich’s hand and raised it up, high, for the raindrops to pierce it. Ulrich’s gash was subject to the brutal drumming of the storm. His eyes screwed shut, he silently endured the first wave of pain, and then, quickly, once the reality dawned upon him, he wheezed,

“What the hell are you doing?!”

The blond wasn’t fazed. He didn’t react at all. Panic began to overwhelm, begging his body to move, to seek refuge, but despite the urgency…

He couldn’t battle against it. He tried, he strained his arm, his muscles, but… they were all powerless. They didn’t listen, they couldn’t. He was estranged in his own body, caged in palpitations of pain. And panic was all over, tormenting him for reasons unknown, escapes none.

Gathering a cold glare, he pointed all of his frustrations at Elior, and then – then all of it diluted. Elior’s golden eyes shone, hawkish, with Ulrich as his sure prey. And they too, widened, glowing harshly in the evening’s gloom, melting the eternal ice of Ulrich’s spheres.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? To ache for once? To suffer?” His was a voice tenacious and righteous, assaulting Ulrich’s ears. “To finally add some trouble to your merit! Add weight to your title! You’ve always wanted this!”

But… but Ulrich just asked for help, for… for anyone to come by, to… just be good to him… it’s what he deserved? Or he wanted?

Strength was fading. But he would, with the last of his senses, offer at least one last revolt, the final kick before succumbing. “Let me go,” he begged, afraid of himself – the kick was but a worthless twitch. How come? How come he failed?

Yet another surprise. “As you wish.” Elior complied with a smile.

He swung Ulrich’s hand with much force, and carried by the inertia, Ulrich staggered and – fell, sprawling himself across the wet marble, squeaking his way through.

Another round of pain, another distant sensation, reaching him in weak waves. He closed his eyes, once again, clenching his jaw to overcome it all. Confusion, confusion was all over, blinding his logic and tearing him apart.

He barely managed to curl up. He barely… barely found some strength to even move. Where did this weakness come from? His intuition did not wage, but rescued with the irrational, and he stared at the one possible culprit with tired, so terrifyingly tired eyes.

No longer was that man a stranger. He was an enemy, and he, Elior was heard somewhere, misplaced words falling around with the rain. Only one statement was discerned.

The offering to one final dream. “You are needed, Ulrich.”

Black saved him. The veil of oncoming darkness was imperfect. In the lulling fade of his consciousness, there was but a single lesion: the most devious smile Ulrich had ever seen.

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autumnslance · 5 years

Text

Tumblr Writing Prompts

A Master post for my writing that starts here on Tumblr. The FFXIV Writes have their own Master posts (2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021), and my lore/speculation posts have their own page, so this is for blurbs, scenes, microfics, and the occasional proper story about my characters and various NPCs.

Most of these are also on my Ao3, but for Tumblr, this is a little more organized than tag diving, and rebloggable. This post is also linked in the fic writing page and my pinned post.

In roughly chronological order, with listings for what patch/expac it’s set in for spoilers if necessary. Divided by NPCs, Unnamed WoL, fics with 2 or more of my OCs, individual OC stories, ship fics, AUs, and the rare adult-only stories at the bottom. Below the cut:

NPCS:

Chin Up - Thancred and Yda chat in the Sharlayan Colony. Pre-game.

Not a Hero - A young girl encounters Ardbert. Heavensward 3.x

Never Gets Easier - Count Edmont takes a walk. Post-HW 3.3.

Sigurista - Urianger and a letter from the Arcanists. HW 3.4

Meraki - About Dragons and Dragoons; HW 3.5-ish.

Punctual - Conjurer Crew, post-Stormblood 4.0.

Random Headcanons - Scion HCs through StB 4.5.

Cid Headcanon - Led to my “After Omega” story. Post-ARR 2.0 (for this post).

Warning - Urianger’s trustworthiness is questioned. Pre-Shadowbringers 5.0.

Harsh Whisper - Estinien infiltrating the Empire with allies, ShB 5.0

Not a Savior - The Shadowkeeper. Role Quests capstone, ShB 5.0

Getting Used To - The Oracle and her Guardian, post ShB 5.2

Unnamed WoL:

Rules - For a Warrior of Light.

Fireworks - Thoughts about fireworks. WoL’s got issues.

Dust Motes - Rest after the Praetorium. Post-ARR 2.0.

Tomorrow - NOAH’s attempts to open the Crystal Tower. Post-ARR 2.5.

Shimmer - Thoughts on Revenant’s Toll. Post-ARR 2.5.

Silence - Nighttime thoughts in the Falling Snows. Post-ARR 2.5.

In Dreams -The only place to meet someone. Post-HW 3.0.

Savior - Immediate aftermath of the Final Steps of Faith. HW 3.3.

Left Behind - Partings throughout Heavensward. Through 3.5.

Trusted - Betrayal. ARR 2.5, Heavensward 3.5.

Jealousy - In the sense of guarding something. Post-HW.

Diary - Dark Knight journal entries. StB 4.0.

Crave - Why does the WoL hang with Hildibrand? StB 4.2-ish.

What Happens on the Steppe... - Telling Lyse about ‘Little Sun.’ StB 4.4.

Stars - Red Mage apprentices take a break. StB 4.4-ish.

Dusk Motes - Dustiness on the First. ShB early 5.0.

Heartbeats - Ancient memories, Shadowbringers 5.0 finale.

Seductive Kiss - Not naming names. Just a couple being a couple.

MultiMuse:

Similarities (Dark/Aeryn) - OOC Rumination on my mains.

Backstory (Dark/C’oretta) - Short blurbs on backstory moments.

Childhood Memory (Dark/C’oretta) - More backstory moments.

Gold Saucer - Blurb on the ladies’ Manderville Saucer preferences.

Family - Memories of family members.

Meeting - Dark and Aeryn meet at the Lancer’s Guild. Early ARR.

Calamity Plans - Dark/C’oretta/Aeryn discuss if another Calamity is imminent.

Sunbathing - The chocobos of Gage Acquisitions wait in the sun.

Gifts - Starlight gift reactions, nebulous Shadowbringers timeframe.

Reactions - Multi-prompts for Multiple alts.

3 AM - C’oretta calls on Dark for help.

Fashion Issues - Aeryn & Iyna have different ideas.

Year of the What? - Iyna & Aeryn, Heavensturn 2020. StB 4.5 mentions.

Escape Plan - C’oretta’s going to turn Iyna and Dark grey before their time.

Unsupervised - Aeryn regrets asking C’oretta’s help on behalf of a friend.

Convalescence - Iyna takes care of an injured-and bored-C’oretta.

C’oretta Khell:

A Long Way To Go - some backstory, from Hamon Holyfist’s PoV.

NPC: Hamon - Blurb about Hamon’s place in C’oretta’s life.

A Boy I Knew - Blurb about one of C’oretta’s casual youthful affairs.

Filthy - Violet the “piggy” is a troublemaker.

Crave - Beating bad guys is appetite-inducing. HW/StB MNK spoilers.

Walking on Ice - Literally. As a desert girl. She’s not a happy cat.

On Purpose - C’oretta is good at what she does.

Dear Future Me - Starlight silliness.

Iyna Cauld:

Simo and Tyrsis - Blurb on Iyna’s past Garlean interactions.

NPC: Fran - Blurb on Fran’s place in Iyna’s life.

Soft Prompts - General get to know responses

Nostalgia - Missing things you never want back.

Dark Autumn:

It Runs In the Family - A family legend on a lack of magic.

NPC: Cold Autumn - Blurb about Dark’s oldest brother.

Rampage - The Seventh Umbral Calamity.

Post-Traveling - Sensory prompt of returning home.

Chocobo - Bandit is also a troublemaker.

Morning - Dark is a morning person.

Formal - Certain preparations made before formal Twin Adder events.

Protector - Dark doesn’t like bullies.

Notebook - Journaling while there’s a lull in fighting, end of StB.

Rumors (Last Dragoon AU) - In a friend’s Eighth Umbral Era AU.

Shy Kiss - Starlight Celebration 2019 RP Prompt.

Long Lost - Finding an old, lost item.

Aeryn Striker:

The Other Warrior of Light - Meta inspo for Aeryn’s appearance & story.

Aeryn’s Magic - Meta on why/how magic was difficult & what changed.

seaswolchallenge May 2020 - 30 prompts, all over the timeline.

Febhyurary 2021 - 28 screenshots & blurbs, all thru the timeline.

About Kai - Blurb about one of Aeryn’s stepsiblings.

Sick - Backstory about a difficult time.

Unwell - How does Aeryn handle being sick herself?

Preparation - Backstory, about leaving home.

Dragoon’s Memory - Ser Alberic comments on knowing Aeryn

Hard Lesson - Blurb on learning/changing over time.

Wanting - Dark Knight questions. End of ARR/Early HW.

Cuddling Type - Tataru teases Aeryn about a knight. End of ARR/Early HW.

Clouds - Odd weather makes a mage uneasy.

Feather - Chocobo hunting for charity.

Garden - Just a breather.

Red - The color she wears most often.

Sanctum - Taking in the ambiance at the Sanctum of the Twelve.

Love - Contemplating religion.

Fast Learner - Lessons learned from Ilberd Feare. Through end of HW 3.5.

Blood - Thoughts during the assault on the Reach. Early StB 4.0

Gritty Eyes - Memories of a campfire shared with Gosetsu. StB 4.0.

5 Intimate Moments - Platonic times with friends, through Stormblood.

Blush - It’s easy to make Aeryn blush. Post-StB/Pre-ShB.

Heart - Talking to a departed friend. Post-ARR 2.5, thru StB.

Sanity - Shigure and Aeryn discuss Hildibrand. StB patches.

Friends - Offered support. Red Mage spoilers, StB 4.5.

Loyal and Stubborn - The scene before facing the Ascian. StB 4.55

Safe - Estinien getting Aeryn off the battlefield. StB 4.55

Notebook - Waiting for word of the Beacon. Post-StB 4.5/Pre-ShB 5.0.

Connected - A gift from Lyse to keep Aeryn’s BFF close. StB 4.5/ShB 5.0.

Comfort Food - Aeryn and Alisaie discuss food. ShB 5.0

Memory - Another’s memory is her nightmare. Ardbert listens. ShB 5.0.

Seven Devils - A brief alternate take on the battle for Eulmore. ShB 5.0

Waiting - Aeryn maintains an old tradition through the night. ShB 5.0 end.

Omelets - Aeryn vs F’lhaminn and late night snacks. Sometime in ShB.

Common Arguments - Prompt; Aeryn vs her fellow Scions. Through ShB.

Dear Future Me - Post 5.1 Journal Entry.

Shippy Nonsense - Aeryn/Thancred clean relationship fics:

Romance Rambles - Blurb on Aeryn’s relationship with Haurchefant. HW.

Literary Interests - Blurb on how Thancred & Aeryn connect & spend time.

Flirtatious - A response to being flirted at. Early ARR 2.0 timeframe.

Humidity - A dance in Revenant’s Toll. ARR patches.

Sparring - Tensions run high ‘twixt Aeryn and Thancred. HW 3.2.

Flowers - A gift left in a locked room. Sometime during HW patches.

Make it Better - Important talk night before Ala Mhigo. End of StB 4.0

Betting Pool - Everyone has noticed. StB 4.4.

Description - Young Minfilia asks Thancred about Aeryn. Pre/Early ShB 5.0

Market Conversation - Thancred and Emet-Selch have a chat. ShB 5.0

When the Time Comes - Aeryn asks a favor of Thancred. ShB 5.0

No Defense - Forgetful Aeryn influenced by C’oretta. Sometime in ShB.

2 AM - Trouble sleeping before calling the final element with Eden. ShB 5.2

What If? - AU Scenarios:

Bad End Iyna | Bad End Dark | Bad End Aeryn | Bad End C’oretta |

NOT SFW Lemons:

Plans - Iyna backstory; an affair that wasn’t all it seemed.

Afterimages - Thancred the morning after “Sparring”. HW 3.2.

Please - Aeryn & Thancred post-Throne Room Summoning. StB 4.1.

Rak’tika Rendezvous - Aeryn & Thancred post-Qitana Ravel. ShB 5.0.

Night In - Aeryn & Thancred, followup of another prompt. Sometime in ShB 5.x.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Dark Autumn #Aeryn Striker #C'oretta Khell #Iyna Cauld #Lyn Writing

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leobehl · 4 years

Text

( avan jogia, 29, he/him ) class is in session for LEO BEHL. according to the files, they’re a PHOENIX currently working as a NURSE and they’ve been at the academy for BRAND NEW HIRE/1 DAY. the psychological report says they are BLUNT and DESTRUCTIVE, but they’re also TRUSTWORTHY and LOYAL. we wish them good luck in the new school year.

hey y’all welcome to trainwreck #2

this is my heart n soul leo who i’ve never played before but alas, i’m in love anyhow.

he has a complicated history which i’m going to summarise really fast bc i’m lazy n i wanna start on plots y’know

at 5, lyanna’s (half sis) dumb demon mom killed leo’s dad and mum :c

so at 5 he was shoved into the american foster system... which we know isn’t good. additionally, demon mom also mauled leo pretty badly. she ripped his right ear off and after extensive work, it was able to be reattached but he can only hear out of one side.

so, leo grew up really fast. by the age of 10, he was still in the system and started working.

thankfully he was tall and mature because by 13 he was posing at 16 and working his ass off. he’d be out from day till night, making money and putting it aside in the bank. he kept searching for lyanna but being so young, he couldn’t go far. by the time he was 15, his fake ID said he was 18.

by 15, leo had already begun hating everyone in the world, from terrible human beings to the monsters that roamed this world. all he cared about was finding his sister.

thankfully, he did. he found lyanna and they fled as fast as they could to gujarart, the place their late father was born. they lived 9 sweet years there ( see @lyannabehl‘s intro for more of her recovery ). in this time, leo found a love for people again, he grew more comfortable with the world and things became easier. lyanna helped him as much as he helped her, it’s what he always told her and what he believes. during this, leo at the age of 15, with his fake ID, had adopted lyanna and he was legally her guardian.

death tw

unfortunately, happiness doesn’t last and demon mom found them. lyanna tried to protect leo, but mom was stronger. mom mauled leo again, this time leaving him bloody and torn up, with a huge three gashes on his chest, nicking an artery and he bled out.

fortunately for him, three days later, leo woke up amidst fire. his body felt rejuvenated and he walked out covered in soot.

end of death tw

SO! leo died for the first time at 24. then he was reborn, depressed with a million other issues. firstly he tested this theory but trying to die :( and being reborn every time. once he got the hang of it, he travelled the world viciously looking for his sister

and now he’s finally found her in arcanas and here he is !! ur resident school nurse !!

some blurbs

he’s gay as hell

he tries to wear some fiery colour in every outfit

hIP AS FUCKKK he wears the most cutting edge pieces, like is he inventing fashun yes he is thank u

loves trying out makeup and always has painted nails

loves FAUX !! fur never real.

obsessed with ice cream slushies pretty much anything cold.

breath always minty fresh bc he loves spearmint gum

wants a bf :( wants to settle down and be in love because he never has had any time for love

loves being a nurse will give u a sticker n a lollipop if ur nice

#arcanas:intro #death tw #hearing loss tw #ch. leo intro

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theonyxpath · 4 years

Link

WOW! What a weekend!

And it started with our Legendlore Kickstarter funding on Friday! Now we’re moving into Stretch Goals – so please, if you haven’t already, check it out! The link is below in the Kickstarter section!

And and, to get you started, here’s a review of the free PDF of the complete text for the book linked on the KS site: https://thetabletopalmanac.wordpress.com/2020/06/15/rpg-reviews-legendlore-manuscript-preview/

Of course, this leaves the rest of the weekend, which just happened to consist of the first-ever Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention!

What a fun time!

We really didn’t know how folks would respond, but now that the three days of panels and gaming are done, I can say that our community was in turns hilarious, supportive, giving, excited, and energized. And that energy really flowed right back into all the events and energized all of us!

I mean, we’re still tired as all get out – who’d have thought that a con I could attend from my own house would do that? – but pretty sure we’re all still feeling the love, too.

Just to pull the giving part out for a second, we are absolutely thrilled that our charity goals were blasted through sometime mid-con, and we’ll be donating over a thousand dollars to each of our excellent causes: The Bodhana Group, and the Thurgood Marshall College Fund!

Now, back to the whooped by the con part, we are and I am, so today I’m just going to pull out some impressions of the events from a bunch of us who normally would have had our Monday Meeting today – we rescheduled it for later this week.

SCENES FROM A VIRTUAL CON:

Matthew: The Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention was the first con I helped organise, and while it had its share of stresses in the setup, it came to excellent fruition due to the fantastic teamwork of everyone working hard behind the scenes and amazing engagement from viewers, panelists, players, and those who donated to our charities and took advantage of our sales on onyxpathcon.com

RichT: I started us off on Friday night with the Opening Keynote speech, and then just sort of chatted with Matt McElroy, Dixie Cochran, Eddy Webb, and Matthew Dawkins about what was coming with the con.

For me, I then rolled into my first game, I played one per day, which was the first Actual Play of Exalted Essence. It really did run both fast and smoothly, and all of the various Exalted types we were playing had their times to shine. I was able to put a different, more easy-going, pie-eating, spin on my bear-totemed Lunar who still wound up grappling with the big bad and bear-hugging them in place for Danielle’s Solar to practically one-shot the sucker!

Ian: Convention was great, despite a few hiccups. I was on two streams early on: one Friday evening and one Saturday morning, and then the rest of the con was “free.” Travis and the GG crew were all-stars. Travis couldn’t get Nightbot working for a bit so I took over the random prize drawing for a few streams. I was often juggling two different streams in different monitors to help keep dialogue going in chat. Kudos to everyone, especially those of you who worked multiple panels and games in a single day.

RichT: In fact, the panel Ian refers to on Saturday morning was the “What’s Up With Onyx Path?” panel that started off the day at 9am. This is a panel where a bunch of developers and I talk about upcoming projects for their lines, and answer questions. Eddy and I started doing them about a decade ago when it was “What’s Up With White Wolf?”, but changed the name for obvious reasons after Onyx Path appeared.

During that panel, a couple of things came up: Matthew teased that we might very well do They Came From (the Old West!, or something more flavorful that fits the genre) as the third They Came From game, and Ian talked about Trinity Continuum: Aeon Mission Statements, a book all about the organizations in the setting that aren’t the Psi-Orders. We also noticed that some folks in the chat were new to Onyx Path and what we create, so that was unexpected but welcome news!

Then, I played my second game of the con, which was a sneak preview of Scion: Demigod! Neall took us through a voyage to the Grecian Afterlife, using the Ready Made Characters from Heroes of the World and I got to play a stern Horace Farrow ala Sam Elliott, while Steffie cut up many, many things with Yukiko’s Grass-Cutter Sword. Then, another panel on Community Content and why it rocks wrapped up my Saturday.

Matthew: I didn’t encounter one instance of bad behaviour in chat or anything dubious discussed on screen in games or on panels, and I attended most that I could as a viewer, if I wasn’t an active participant.

Viewership of panels and games peaked at around 250 to 300 people at one time for a couple of the shows, and bottomed out at around 50 people. Those are good figures. Our subscriptions and follows on Twitch rocketed, with many subscriptions being gifted by viewers and even more just being purchased or acquired via Amazon Prime.

My own highlight is impossible to choose between the games and panels I ran or appeared on, though the “Create Your Best Character” panel, which I suspected would be a sleeper, turned into an excellent talk on not playing harmful stereotypes and break out of dangerous tropes.

Eddy: The convention was great for me. My scheduling was a little odd, and I ran into one minor technical issue, but otherwise it went smoothly and it seemed like people in the chat were excited and appreciative. I felt like we got to dig into topics we aren’t able to do in normal convention settings, and attendance was definitely higher than usual for panels at other shows. I also heard that people had a good time watching the games or playing in ad-hoc games all weekend. I know there were some problems on the back-end of getting this all together, but I don’t think any of our attendees noticed anything but a nice, polished experience.

RichT: Sunday started out just like Saturday, with the second “What’s Up With Onyx Path?” panel, although with a different set of developers. The big news was when Eddy ratted out that he was working on Squeaks in the Dark, the mice/rats supplement for Realms of Pugmire!

I then had my second panel on Sunday, the “Art of Onyx Path” one, where Mirthful Mike Chaney joined three of our freelance artists and I in discussing just how illustrators work for us: how they submit their work, how they are contacted, how art notes work, how artists work, and what sort of music do we listen to while doing illustrations. Lots of great questions from the audience, and a wide range of experience within the panel, made it really interesting.

RichT: Then my Sunday game was the first public playtest of They Came From Beyond the Grave! run by Matthew, and featuring Dixie’s Rose Thorne, a driven vampire hunter with attitude, and 70s hair. She teamed up with B. Dave Walters’ smoooth street investigator to blast the ever-lovin’ hell out of evil cultists, while Ian Mueller’s exorcist (sorta) shot the big bad between the eyes with Rose’s derringer, and my slightly odd professor tried to save as much weird-science lab equipment as he could. Science! We left the haunted house as the superimposed fire effect began to devour it, fortunately for all involved (except the dead 70s prog-rock star sacrificed by the cultists).

I immediately had to log into my last event, but what a special event it was! Added late in the proceedings as we had to work within a lot of people’s schedules, I was thrilled to sit down with a bunch of my old co-workers at the original White Wolf in a “Memories of WW” panel with Bill Bridges, Rich Dansky, Ethan Skemp, Mike Tinney, and my old go-to designer for graphics, Matt Milberger.

Much reminiscing occurred, interposed with questions from the chat, that pretty much focused on our time from the early 90s to the early 2000s, although we did chat a bit about the late, lamented WoD MMO, as most of us worked on that in one capacity or another. Mike talked about how he cozened us an arcade version of Dark Stalkers for our little lunchroom, and we had fond memories of the WW Blood Bowl League.

(My Children of the Khorne chaos team won the cup two seasons in a row, just sayin’).

And although I didn’t want it to end, it did, and my time at the first-ever Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention was over. Which was actually pretty good because my brain was on autopilot at that point.

Ian: Everyone on both sides of the screen seemed to have a great time, and the only real complaints I heard were that there were too many good things happening at once and people had to make a choice on which stream to watch.

Matthew: While many games had a tendency to overrun, I’d say they each ran to optimal length and didn’t cause too much disruption farther up the schedule.

RichT: Which are all good things to happen, actually, with your first online convention, so we’re going to review all the metrics we can gather ourselves and from the super folks at Gehenna Gaming, and see what we can learn from all that.

Will we do another one? We just don’t know yet, but whether we do or not, this one sure did what we wanted to do – folks who attended had a whole lot of fun! If you missed out and want to watch the games and panels, they are currently on the Onyx Path and Gehenna Gaming Twitch channels for subscribers, but will soon migrate over to the Onyx Path YouTube page for all to watch!

So, from all of us to all of you, whether you attended or didn’t, thanks for making it a real joy to walk with you exploring:

Many Worlds, One Path!

Blurbs!

Kickstarter!

The Legendlore Kickstarter funded right before we started the Virtual Con last week! A really great way to start things off! Now we’re building towards Stretch Goals: the GM’s Screen, and starting the Legendlore Companion book PDF!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/339646881/legendlore-rpg-setting-for-5th-edition-fantasy-roleplaying-0

Grab your friends and escape to another world!

You’ve found an enchanted portal — a transition point — between worlds. The portal, called a Crossing, takes you to a world you thought only existed in novels and films: a magical land where dragons roam the skies, orcs and hobgoblins terrorize weary travelers, and unicorns prance through the forest. It is a world where humans join other peoples such as elves, trolls, dwarves, changelings, and the dreaded creatures who steal the night. It is a world of fantasy — of imagination.

It is the Realm.

It is Legendlore.

Onyx Path Media!

This week: the most exciting episode of the Onyx Pathcast ever, recorded live at the Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention!

As always, this Friday’s Onyx Pathcast will be on Podbean or your favorite podcast venue! https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

Hi all!

We’ll be back next week with our usual promotion of all the excellent games on our Twitch and YouTube channels, but for now, we encourage you to do what it seems a lot of people are doing right now, and hop over to our Twitch: twitch.tv/theonyxpath

While the convention has ended, but subscribing to our Twitch channel (which you can do for free if you have Amazon Prime), you get access to all the panels and games that ran on it over the convention weekend. So, if you missed a panel or game you really wanted to watch, head on to our Twitch, subscribe, and browse our back catalogue!

Other than our content, we would like to promote a couple more games for those without Twitch:

Occultists Anonymous continue their excellent Mage: The Awakening game here:

Episode 106: Friends & Minions The cabal combats the uninvited guest summoned by an Exarchal Supernal Being. The danger of the Exarchal attention prompts further investigations away from the Supernal. https://youtu.be/YSErlwnC7Nc

Episode 107: Making Promises Songbird reaches out to the Queen of the Vampires of New York about a divine blessing. Wyrd and Atratus hatch a plan to make a car… https://youtu.be/dueYYUl0FrY

And A Bunch of Gamers have just started up a two-part extravaganza of They Came from Beneath the Sea! right here:

The Crabby Lizard from the Murkey Depths

Episode 1: In the small east coast town of Chatham Massachusetts things are easy. The soda pop shop is ready for any of the locals. The city comes together for a bake sale to help their neighbors, and everyone knows each other. All that changes when a strange electrical storm and a booming voice can be heard over the jukebox. Tonight, the strange, the horrid, the damp creatures from beyond the stars and the depths of the sea rise up to meet the people of Chatham.https://youtu.be/UwxzdwVoYQE

The Tabletop Almanac has released a lovely review of Legendlore that you’ll want to see! https://thetabletopalmanac.wordpress.com/2020/06/15/rpg-reviews-legendlore-manuscript-preview/

Please check these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games! We’d love to feature you!

Electronic Gaming!

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is awesome! (Seriously, you need to roll 100 dice for Exalted? This app has you covered.)

On Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue from which you bought it. Reviews really, really help us get folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these latest fiction books:

Our Sales Partners!

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

We’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Now, we’ve added Changeling: The Lost Second Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scion 2e books and other products are available now at Studio2: https://studio2publishing.com/blogs/new-releases/scion-second-edition-book-one-origin-now-available-at-your-local-retailer-or-online

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e at the same link! And now Scion Origin and Scion Hero and Trinity Continuum Core and Trinity Continuum: Aeon are available to order!

As always, you can find Onyx Path’s titles at DriveThruRPG.com!

On Sale This Week!

Available this Wednesday, we are just a bit embarrassed to say that we’ll be releasing on DTRPG the PDF and PoD versions of Swine and Cheese Party, Et Al., excerpts from The Complete Duke Rollo, for Trinity Continuum: Aberrant!

Also available this Wednesday on DTRPG: the Advance PDF for Quantum Entanglement the Trinity Continuum: Aeon Jumpstart!

Conventions!

Though dates for physical conventions are subject to change due to the current COVID-19 outbreak, here’s what’s left of our current list of upcoming conventions (and really, we’re just waiting for this last one to be cancelled even though it’s Nov/Dec). Instead, keep an eye out here for more virtual conventions we’re going to be involved with:

PAX Unplugged: https://unplugged.paxsite.com/

And now, the new project status updates!

Development Status from Eddy Webb! (Projects in bold have changed status since last week.):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep.)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Adversaries of the Righteous (Exalted 3rd Edition)

The Clades Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

The Devoted Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

Saints and Monsters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Anima

CtL 2e Novella Collection: Hollow Courts (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

M20 Technocracy Operative’s Dossier (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

Redlines

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Hundred Devil’s Night Parade (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Novas Worldwide (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Exalted Essence Edition (Exalted 3rd Edition)

M20 Rich Bastard’s Guide To Magick (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

V5 Children of the Blood (was The Faithful Undead) (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

V5 Forbidden Religions (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Wild Hunt (Scion 2nd Edition)

Second Draft

Many-Faced Strangers – Lunars Companion (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Dearly Bleak – Novella (Deviant: The Renegades)

Mission Statements (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Contagion Chronicle Ready-Made Characters (Chronicles of Darkness)

Under Alien Suns (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

V5 Trails of Ash and Bone (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Adventure! core (Trinity Continuum: Adventure!)

Dead Man’s Rust (Scarred Lands)

Development

TC: Aberrant Reference Screen (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Contagion Chronicle: Global Outbreaks (Chronicles of Darkness)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

N!ternational Wrestling Entertainment (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Assassins (Trinity Continuum Core)

Manuscript Approval

Crucible of Legends (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Post-Approval Development

Editing

Lunars Novella (Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Player’s Guide to the Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Contagion Chronicle Jumpstart (Chronicles of Darkness)

TC: Aberrant Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

LARP Rules (Scion 2nd Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

The Book of Lasting Death (Mummy: The Curse 2e)

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (They Came From!)

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Post-Editing Development

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

W20 Shattered Dreams Gift Cards (Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Hunter: The Vigil 2e core (Hunter: The Vigil 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

Pirates of Pugmire KS-Added Adventure (Realms of Pugmire)

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Terra Firma (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Indexing

Art Direction from Mike Chaney!

In Art Direction

Scion Titanomachy – Art coming in.

Tales of Aquatic Terror

WoD Ghost Hunters (KS) – Prepping KS assets.

Aberrant – AD’d. First new comic in.

Hunter: The Vigil 2e

Mummy 2

Deviant – Dividing up among current artists.

Legendlore – KS running.

Technocracy Reloaded (KS)

Cults of the Blood God – Rolling along.

Scion: Dragon (KS) – Waiting on art notes.

Masks of the Mythos (KS) – Some tweaking to art notes and hiring artists.

Scion: Demigod (KS) – Tweaking art notes, hiring artists. Splats in progress.

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (KS) – Finals coming in.

TC: Adventure! (KS) – Cover art finishing.

In Layout

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad

Vigil Watch

TC Aeon Terra Firma

V5 Let the Streets Run Red

Pugmire Adventure

Proofing

Trinity Aeon Jumpstart – New artist taking care of finishing missing art.

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate – Finishing Backer PDF errata.

Contagion Chronicle – Going to WW for approval this week.

Cavaliers of Mars: City of the Towered Tombs

Magic Item Decks (Scarred Lands)

Yugman’s Guide Support Decks (Scarred Lands)

Dark Eras 2 Screen and booklet

At Press

Scion Companion – Shutting down errata.

TCFBTS Heroic Land Dwellers – Prepping PoD files.

TCFBTS Screen and Booklet – Files at press.

They Came from Beneath the Sea! – Files at press.

Creature Collection 5e – PoD files uploaded. Traditional files sent to printer.

Pirates of Pugmire – Files at press. Prepping files for PoD.

Pirates of Pugmire Screen – Files at press.

Duke Rollo Aberrant Book: Swine & Cheese Party – PDf and PoD versions on sale Wednesday on DTRPG.

Pugmire Buried Bones – Gathering errata.

Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition Dark Eras Compilation – Gathering errata.

Today’s Reason to Celebrate!

Today is feet up and dozing after the busy, busy, Virtual Con and celebrating its success!

#Onyx Path Publishing

0 notes

wishingforatypewriter · 5 years

Note

i don't know if you are taking requests, but if you are- then could you make a fluffy post (drabble, blurb, fic i don't know lol) of maria and raiden? their relationship is my favourite in 119th generation. also, i love your writing! thank youuuu

Thank you so much for the request. This one takes place around the time when they first met, shortly after The Fated Encounter.

As a son of the Nakiri family, Yukihira Raiden knew well the feeling of being watched — of people knowing who you are before you’ve even met them. He got that feeling each time he stepped into the Aldini household; it was embedded in Isabella’s probing glances and Mari’s parents’ stilted smiles.

If he had been even slightly less fascinated by Maria Aldini, he probably would have avoided the modest, tile roofed house for the rest of his days — especially considering that he had left home in order to travel the world in anonymity.

But alas, there he was in the sitting room with a cup of Megumi-san’s cold barley tea, waiting for Maria to come downstairs.

“Where did you say you were from again?” the cousin, Isabella, asked him with a scowl she didn’t bother trying to disguise.

“Tokyo,” he said, not for the first time. “By way of California.”

She made a small, indifferent sound and squinted, trying to determine whether she recognized him from one of the wine country galas or Tokyo charity events she frequented as a child.

“And you know of Totsuki because?” she prompted.

“My family’s in the restaurant business,” Raiden replied, confident in the fact that he appeared much calmer than he felt. He always got the sense that this girl was two well placed questions away from figuring out exactly who he was.

“That bracelet,” Isabella said after a pause, her sharp gaze falling squarely on the handmade leather band on his left wrist. “Where’d you get it from?”

Shit. Make that one question.

Raiden had worn the old leather band — perhaps the only surviving specimen from Akane’s jewelry making phase — for so long it may as well have fused together with his skin.

“It was a while back,” he said, this time sounding more evasive than he meant to. “A gift.”

“I’ve only seen that pattern one other place, pretty boy,” Isabella said. And if Maria hadn’t descended the stairs in that moment, pale blue sundress billowing around her, she would have said it was in one of her best friend’s sketchbooks.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Mari said, smiling at him. “Closing up the gelato stand took a bit longer than normal.”

“No worries,” he told her, returning the grin. Then they shared a short peck that made her cousin roll her eyes and head back up to her bedroom. “Ready to go?”

Soon they were in lockstep, strolling along the river Arno, their fingers intertwined.

“So what were you and Bella talking about?” she asked after a spell.

“Literally nothing,” he replied. “Although I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “That’s normal. She hates everyone but her mother and Hayama-san.”

This got a chuckle out of Raiden, and he wondered how Akane — reserved and daydreamy as she’s always been — ended up with a best friend like that. “You two are like day and night.”

“And which am I?” she asked, her blue eyes alight with challenge.

“Easy. Night. You’re all stars and moonlight.”

Maria flushed profoundly after this, glancing down at her sandals. “You’ve probably said that to a girl in every city from here to Tokyo,” she replied after she’d recovered some.

“Even if I had, it’s never been true before.”

At this point Maria stopped walking, leaned against the stone bridge wall and waited for him to kiss her again.

When they came up for air, his hand pressed against the small of her back and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, Raiden felt compelled to tell her everything — wished he had done so from the moment he met her.

Maria Aldini did not seem the type to brook any dishonesty. She probably hated it even more than she did the culinary bourgeoisie. He’d lose her for certain the moment she learned who his parents were.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes to press a last chaste peck against his lips.

“I’ll miss you.”

“Stay,” she told him, and of course he felt compelled to obey her. He’d cancel one train to Milan and then another, departing only after she returned to Japan to see her grandmother.

And only then would it become transparent to him how fucked he actually was.

#shokugeki no soma #soueri #sorina #takumegu #takumi x megumi #maria aldini #yukihira raiden #119th generation #portraits of 119 #the fated encounter

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joeys-piano · 5 years

Text

A Matter of Interpretation

I was jotting down a few blurbs into the miscellaneous section of my Kitsune & Seer outline, and this was funny and relatable enough for me to turn into a mini-ficlet. The idea of a drunk kitsune!Dazai going through his messy thought processes on the nature of his relationship with Oda cracked me up.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was common knowledge, rather than fact, that kitsune had an opinion on everything. Just about anyone that knew Dazai could attest for this and if prompted, would stand and bear their testimony to the public. (Perhaps, they would even take the ax for the honesty, but that’s a different story.)

Without fail, an opinion would slip from the kitsune’s tongue as if he had nothing better to do on a lazy afternoon. Sake was better drunk during a New Moon, rather than a Full Moon. The best sake was brewed closer to the sea, rather than high in the mountains. (An opinion that a certain flock of tengu would never forgive the kitsune for!) Sake tasted better after a meal, rather than before, and the best was meant to be served first before one was blasted on the alcohol. As of now, while typing this out, most of Dazai’s opinions revolved around sake. No youkai would deny that the drink had been brought to the earth by the gods, and anyone that knew Dazai would know that sake was his one and only weakness. At least, that was common knowledge until he met Oda Sakunosuke.

There was no need to elaborate on how they met. It involved a public execution that failed! (Wasn’t that how most people met each other, nowadays?) At his fourth or tenth bottle of sake, with a flush nestled behind his ears, Dazai steadied himself as he stared at his unfinished cup. It was one thing to understand someone, but another to look into a mirror and have that mirror know the minutiae of one’s flaws. Staring back at Dazai was not himself, despite the resemblance and the thick flush of red that sprouted over his nose. Staring back at him was neither a kitsune or a man, but someone who didn’t have the courage to lift a few words from the silence of their heart.

If someone were to ask him what the nature of his relationship with Oda was, Dazai wouldn’t know how to respond. For a kitsune who was clever enough to always know what to say, to see him stunned and in silence was a strange image. Oh, Dazai would blink and flutter his eyelashes. Not to create a diversion, but more as a reaction to the stunned silence he was experiencing, himself. All of a sudden, his throat was parched. No sake in the world could satiate his thirst, but an answer. He needed to answer if he wanted to experience the pleasures of this world again. However, at the same time, Dazai wouldn’t mind giving up the pleasures of this world if he could keep the answer to himself.

To refer to Oda as “His Friend” left a strange taste on Dazai’s tongue. Not as strange as the taste of water when he clearly asked for sake, but strange enough to lift the corners of his mouth into what looked like a half-smile. The casualness of such a word was too light-hearted to describe what was going on between Oda and him. All the while, Dazai drained his cup before a new splash of sake trickled from the edge of a bottle. The familiarity of the taste gave him some confidence as he murmured, more to himself rather than to anyone else, that “Friend” could hardly describe two individuals who’ve risked life, limb, and sanity to keep the other alive. The word was far too simple to describe two, lonely souls who had company in the silence in one another’s hearts. If that was the case, what word was more appropriate?

Alas, Dazai couldn’t say as he tipped back what felt like his hundredth cup of sake. His drink nearly spilled, nearly stained the pinks of his kimono and nearly perfected the image of his unfettered mind. Bits of sake dribbled from the edge of his lips. Perhaps, he had drunk too much tonight. He kept himself together, despite shattering into a thousand pieces inside. The only remnant of the damage was the half-hearted smile that never really reached his eyes when he finished his drank, again, and apologized.

To refer to Oda as a “Colleague” or “Associate” seemed too formal, too distant, and too inappropriate after everything they’ve been through. That much, Dazai knew to be true. Had they not shared the faults in their stars to one another and found solace in the other’s heart? Had they not found their nourishment by the mere sight of the other when food nor drink could satiate the growl when they were torn apart? Dazai toasted and drank to each of his responses. “Yes” to the first, “Yes” to the second, but “No” to the words that left a bland taste on his tongue. If those words were dishes, he’d rather ignore and push them off his plate.

“Acquaintance” wasn’t any better for it spoke of a familiarity that didn’t exist. “Companion” was worse for it could be uttered from between one’s teeth in begrudging politeness. So fortunately or unfortunately, “Friend” would have to do. No matter how foreign it was to Dazai’s vocabulary, it was the only word that made sense when he thought about Oda. At least, it was the only word until the man taught him a new one.

It wasn’t uncommon to see Dazai, stumbling back into Oda’s arms after a long night of drinking. Where he’d rest his weary head over the man’s heart and count a hundred heartbeats to remind himself that Oda was still alive. The routine didn’t bat an eyelash from Oda, and he’d breathe a familiar sigh and embrace Dazai as if he had never left. Usually, Dazai would hug him back and mumble how he felt like a kyuubi tonight, despite only having four-tails. He’d mumble that he was no closer to understanding humanity, but close enough to swindle it of every coin in its pocket. And usually, Oda would play along and agree, already boiling some hot water for tomorrow when a hangover finally settled in.

But tonight, at least for tonight, Dazai didn’t want a routine. He wanted an answer.

“What are we?” Half of seeming clever was keeping his mouth shut at all the right times, but this was not one of those times. Dazai didn’t need to be clever, he simply needed to be honest. After all, Oda was quite fluent in honesty and he must’ve heard the slip to a new language when those innocent words trailed from the edge of Dazai’s tongue. If there was one person that knew who they were, it was Oda.

Just as how the man would never lie to the kitsune, there was no need for him to even do so. That much, Dazai knew to be true as he listened closely to Oda’s heart. The rhythm never changed, even after Oda spoke.

“Partners.” There was an ungodly amount of honesty behind that simple word. “Thanks to you,” Oda murmured into the strands of Dazai’s hair because he couldn’t reach to the kitsune’s ears, “whenever I find myself near the end of a tunnel and see the light flickering in, I realize that the light feels more like a torch that I’ve been carrying all along.”

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #oda sakunosuke #dazai osamu #odazai #bsd ficlet #kitsune & seer

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jojosthetic-boogaloo · 5 years

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Good morning, lovely! (This is jojo-blurbs' main here to send you a request!) I'd like to request a matchup, please (M!). Characters from any part from 1-5 are fine, and I am a tremendous Stand lover, so you are more than welcome to include a Stand in my request~ I'm a straight female who likes to read and write, draw, and listen to music (older stuff mostly, anything from the 80's I absolutely love.) (1)

“

I love you immensely for letting me go ham with Stand matchup for the first time hhhhh yes! I took a bit more time with yours because I was so indecisive on who would I end up choosing, for I had a few contestants high up in the ranks.

Alas! Here’s your matchup with an extra dip of Stand!

Fanart used made by: @baie-moeg

Josuke and Crazy Diamond!

Have you ever seen both a stand user and their stand make the same exact idiotic, love struck face upon seeing someone? Well now you have!

Josuke met you in a cafe he was working in for the summer, to earn some sweet dough yo. He did not expect, at all, to meet the biggest crush of the century while he scrubbed clean some used cups behind the counter.

You were quiet, your mannerisms gentle and adorable, he loved it, he was struck hard by Cupid the moment he saw you set foot into his workplace.

He saw, delighted and with the most old style Grease pose he could gather up to seem cool in front of you, how you started chuckling quietly when you got close to the order bar. You looked at him, feeling a slight blush rise to your cheeks upon seeing such a handsome guy getting your order and smiling so gleefully at you. You had to take mental note to come more often to this cafe.

He looked at you with a most comedic, classic flirtatious smile and a raised eyebrow. “What’s so funny, beautiful?” He asked, clearly not used to speaking this way due to the slight pink staining his cheeks now. You raised an eyebrow at his utterance and answered. “I just found it funny that, right the moment I come in, they’re playing Take on Me.” He beamed at that; he was the one in charge of playing the store’s music that day!

“I’m glad you do miss! Yours truly chose the playlist today.” He cooed, his posture now turning more relaxed, resting his elbows on the counter to hold his head with his palms under his chin, the silly smile still not leaving his lips. You noticed he must have had taken some interest in you, which made you snicker in both amusement and giddiness. “Well, you’ve got great music taste, handsome.” You retorted, making him chuckle and promptly steady his posture, ready to take your order with two quick claps and a pat to the small apron on his waist.

He took your order while exchanging flirty, stolen glances at you, which you returned almost equally playful. When your order was done, he gave you what you’d ordered for takeaway, noticing he’d scribbled with a black sharpie both his name and a number with X’s and O’s on the brown paper bag.

You directed a tiny smile at him as you waved goodbye, noticing he waved back and quickly brought his hand to his ear in a phone gesture, wigglin it gently and mouthing “Call me!”

You did call! It took great mental effort but you did it! And oh, were you glad you did. He answered almost immediately with a “Yes?? Are you my pretty cafe angel?” You were about to sink into the ground by those words, how cheesy could he be...

Upon exchanging a few words regarding a meeting soon for a date, mostly on his part, noticing he was the chatty, bubbly type; you hung up. You didn’t know he’d be set on conquering your heart by all means! Nor did you know he was a stand user until your first date.

When you met, he was waiting for you at the square’s fountain, casually sitting on the fountain while nervously playing with his phone in his hands. When he spot you, he wanted to spring up so fast from his seat he was about to fall back onto the water. Imagine your surprise when you saw a pinkish humanoid figure appear out of thin air and hold him back up. The man’s strange savior turning to look at you and give you what you interpreted as a clumsy smile before disappearing again.

Josuke was a bit troubled. You could see Crazy Diamond? Were his chances with you be ruined now that you saw his stand? Well, picture his face when you mentioned how kind of the stand it was to help you up with such a trivial thing as falling into a fountain. You weren’t afraid? This was a first.

You enjoyed a wonderful, casual stroll around the city, walking aimlessly through the rural streets and chatting about whatever the topic shifted to. You both liked the same music, you shared your love for certain shows, and you even introduced him to some of your favorite books! He was set on changing his ways and start on reading those asap to impress you.

He loved the way your face lit up when talking about your interests, giving you an almost dumbfounded smile while nodding like an idiot. You sometimes even doubted he was listening, but he looked so invested and focused on you speaking you quickly shook away your small insecurity.

Sometimes, when you kept meeting up other days for dates, you noticed he’d started to let his stand linger around for longer; the intense yet very gentle gaze of it on you making you curious as to ask about them. “What’s the name of the big guy, Jo?”

Josuke seemed to ponder for a bit before muttering an almost too quiet “Uhm... Crazy Diamond.” He and Crazy were both surprised upon your cute giggling in response and your following words. “Well, isn’t this one lovely and cute music reference manifestation.” Josuke laughed and felt his body ache with relief as he did, immensely thankful you liked his stand. Crazy Diamond looked at you with a cute grin, before it sneakily closed in and, without Josuke being able to help it; gave you a gentle hug while nuzzling its face against yours, feeling your cheek rub around in circles with the surprisingly warm being’s.

You didn’t mind, if anything, you found it endearing, tentatively placing one hand on the stand’s other cheek and squeezing lightly against yours. It seemed to really like that, for it seemed to let go of you and turn to Josuke while doing a heart sign with it’s hands over his chest, turning to you once more and guiding his “heart” hands to your own chest.

Josuke panicked because his stand was acting mostly on behalf of his own feelings. But relaxed once he saw you laugh and pat Crazy’s hands tenderly while giving it back a heart shaped hand gesture.

Days went by, and finally, one day, Josuke decided he had to come straight with his feelings and tell you all about it. He’d tried his best to style perfectly his pompadour that day, dressing as best as he could and even wearing his newest designer shoes. When he knocked on your door, quickly held open for him with you right there, he did not expect to find the bouquet behind his back snatched by his own stand, who offered it to you with a cute smile on it’s face. While he seemed to struggle with how to react for a second, and while you took the flowers from Crazy with a smile, he said it, almost a bit too loud. “I-I want you to go out with me, Y/N! ... If you want to, of course.”

Of course you wanted to! You left the bouquet on the side before leaping into his arms, feeling how you were now held tightly between Josuke’s gentle embrace and Crazy Diamond’s slightly stronger one. Josuke was overcome with joy and couldn’t hold back an excited “Hell yeah!”.

When already dating, Josuke liked to hold you close from behind when standing in lines, be it in the supermarket, the amusement park, the cinema, or just at home when you stood up to do anything. More than once earning an annoyed whine from you since he wouldn’t let you move properly. You loved this gesture though, he just liked to feel you close.

Get ready for countless evenings where you’ll blast out 80′s bangers in his living room and he’ll drag you around, spin you and move you up and about with him as he had the time of his life dancing along. Laughter filled the house, and Tomoko was more than happy to hear you both enjoy yourselves, giving you your space as she quietly left the nights you stayed over.

Speaking of Tomoko, she adores you! Be prepared for motherly spoiling from her, from baking and cooking for you to take home for the next day to buying you new clothes every now and then when she went to the mall once she’d learnt better about your tastes.

Josuke thought it was embarrassing that his mom and his stand liked to pamper you so much, the first with her motherly shenanigans and the later with constant lingering around you, be it peeping over your shoulder into your sketchbooks, gently massaging your shoulders when you read. Damn it, his stand was almost taking his place when he did that!

You assured him with kisses and gentle smiles that it was not the case, for you loved him very, very much. More than anything, you dared say, which made the man melt and drop his face into your lap, letting you run your hand along his broad back to help him recover.

Maybe you didn’t know, but Josuke had it very clear. “She’s the one, and I’m going to keep her happy for as long as I’m possibly allowed to.” He thought to himself, quite often.

Hope this was okay dear! If you wanted more stand moments, or Josuke for a fact, do tell me! I’ll comply asap!

#thefrozencoelacanth #moodboard matchup #matchup #jojosthetic-boogaloo #josuke higashikata #tomoko higashikata #crazy diamond #stand matchup

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