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dercolaris · 3 years

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The Puppet Show

Fandom: Resident Evil Village

Characters: Donna Beneviento, Salvatore Moerau, Angie, The Duke

Relationship: Donna Beneviento & Salvatore Moreau (Friendship)

Genre: Friendship, Hurt and Comfort

Word length: 2269

Warnings: No warnings

Status: Complete

Short summary: Salvatore Moreau often roams the village at night. One evening, he meets Donna Beneviento and her doll Angie.

Have fun!

The moon was unusually bright in the black sky, shrouding the forgotten village in an almost mystical glow. Salvatore blinked a little bit, looking up at the twinkling stars with the greatest effort. It was an extremely rare sight. The Lord smiled dreamily and lost himself for a moment in his own world of unfulfilled wishes and hopes of a simple man. A strong tug in his stomach made the doctor flinch. Less than ten seconds later, the black-haired man vomited a gush of green stomach acid across the muddy ground. Salvatore wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at his grotesque reflection in the resulting puddle. He grunted softly. What had the parasite made of him? The man clenched his crooked teeth as best he could and averted his eyes from the horrific sight in the liquid. He walked on through the village, constantly trying not to be discovered by the surviving residents. They would just laugh at him again or scare him away angrily. The doctor still hadn't come close to gaining the respect that the other counts had practically inherited. Despite the fact, Alcina and Karl in particular regularly complained about the lack of obedience of the common people. Incomprehensible. Salvatore snorted angrily. The arrogance of the two families often left the black-haired man speechless. None of them seemed to remember that they too were once part of the community and that their high position was achieved solely through their hard working ancestors. The man dragged himself through the night, occasionally throwing curious glances into the surrounding houses. He knew exactly where the living villagers were hiding in the darkness. They mostly sat with their heads bowed at the sparsely set dining tables and prayed together to a god who no longer existed. They became less every day. One after another was dragged away by the horde of wild lycans. Salvatore trudged to one of the boarded-up windows and peered through a crack into the interior of the house. A couple he knew from the old days sat at a broken door in the completely demolished kitchen. The woman's head was on the shoulder of the presumably sleeping or slowly dying husband, their hands tightly clasped together. She silently cried a few tears into her partner's dirty clothes. The Lord felt his heart grow unexpectedly heavy in his chest.

He had sincere pity for these people and sometimes wished that there could be some other way than to shamelessly exploit them for the ongoing experiments with the parasite. Mother Miranda had, of course, explained the necessity to him several times, but a little bit of doubt remained in his good soul. He stepped away from the window as quietly as possible and continued on his way. As is so often the case, Salvatore did not alert the lycans on patrol. These people deserved at least one night's rest in intimate togetherness. The doctor passed the ceremony area and took the opportunity to greet the obese trader. The merchant grinned contentedly and called happily to the walking Lord: “Good evening, Lord Salvatore. Where are you going right now? It's extremely rare to see you out here in the cold.” The black-haired man chuckled a little. He scratched his flaky skin and replied calmly: "You know that the villagers don't particularly like me, Duke. So for better or worse I'll have to postpone my walks into the nights if I want some peace and quiet.” The overweight man laughed out loud at this remark and took a drag on his stinking cigar. The Duke nodded in false understanding. Fortunately, he was extremely well disposed towards the black-haired man and saved himself derogatory comments about his appearance. Probably just out of sheer greed for money. As long as the customers paid reliably, it didn't matter what they actually looked like in the end. The trader replied in a good mood: “Absolutely understandable, Salvatore. I wish you a nice walk and you know where to find me if you should need something.” With these words, the Duke turned back to his favourite pastime. He bit the fragrant chicken leg in his bloated hand and tore out a piece of the tender meat, chewing contentedly on his late supper. The Lord gave him a short wave and strolled on through the unusually bright night.

At least one person who voluntarily exchanged a word with him. Salvatore finally reached the small river on the edge of the village. The silence of the place made the surroundings seem almost peaceful. How deceptive. He was just about to sit down by the clean water for a while and enjoy the moment of peace when he saw a figure wrapped in black on the jetty. The doctor was clearly surprised. He stepped cautiously closer, quickly spotted the little doll on the slippery wood. Her white dress moved in the light wind of the mountains and gave the false impression that it might be a lively little girl. Her owner, however, did not move at all, at that moment she appeared more lifeless than any of her impressive creations. Donna was a gifted and extremely talented doll maker, but her love for the little girls made of wood was clearly going too far. In general she was a very difficult person, which actually wasn't the poor woman's fault. Mother Miranda had told him in a secret conversation that the lonely Countess on the jetty was not really able to interact with the environment due to some mental illness and had been in compulsive self-isolation for years. The unexpected death of her parents had probably completely driven her insane at the time, so that Donna escaped into her own little world. Salvatore smiled sadly at the thought and slowly trotted towards the hooded doll maker. She apparently did not react to his approach, but the doll suddenly turned to him. The doctor stumped heavily onto the jetty and greeted them in a friendly manner: “Ms. Beneviento. What a pleasant surprise. I am probably not the only lost soul who wanders around the village at night."

The woman didn't move, but the wooden figure clattered slowly towards him. A female, squeaking voice came from the doll's mouth: "We don't like the other villagers, Moreau." The black-haired man giggled at this statement and nodded cautiously. He came to stand next to the Countess, panting, sucking air almost helplessly into his no longer properly functioning lungs. It was always a torture to move with this disfigured body. The man coughed lightly and calmly replied: “I really can't blame you for that. I feel the same way, Angie.” The doll began to giggle at the direct address, her mouth falling wildly open and closed again. She circled his massive figure and then returned to her owner. The wooden figure hopped onto the Countess's lap. This still sat like a pillar of salt on a large stone on the pier. Salvatore fell silent for a brief moment. How do you have an appropriate conversation with a mentally ill woman? He frowned, slightly puzzling. After a while the doctor asked hesitantly: “For once, may I keep you company for a while? I am now more than tired of the constant loneliness of my existence and miss interpersonal conversations.” The doll looked at its owner, who still did not move. They somehow seemed to be engaged in some kind of silent conversation. Finally, Angie turned back to the visitor and answered in a childlike voice: “If you can help me collect some materials, you are welcome to stay with us. Donna is also happy, even if she just can't really show it right now." The addressee perked up his ears. Salvatore smiled happily and nodded eagerly. He scratched his deformed chin and inquired curiously: “With pleasure. You said materials, yes? What exactly are you looking for here on the river bed?” Angie laughed triumphantly and slid elegantly from the silent doll maker's lap. She pointed with her woody fingers at a small basket at the end of the dock. The black-haired man looked inside and saw a multitude of elongated plants.

The doll suddenly appeared next to him and began to explain eagerly: “We mainly need reeds, because Donna wants to carve a new friend for our family tomorrow. She would like to make her an own basket out of the plant.” The doctor smiled a little and nodded in the affirmative. The wooden figure laughed overjoyed, then pointed to the bank with the wild reeds. Salvatore looked at the doll for a while, then carefully picked it up in his slippery arms and approached the wet stones of the embankment. His fingers gripped the first pipes, carefully trying to snap them off. The webbed feet made this undertaking more difficult than necessary. Angie herself helped the Lord by keeping the plants that he had already collected in her tiny hands and commented every now and then about the very good quality of the reeds. The black-haired man listened to the child's voice. He was really impressed. This rare company was giving him an incredibly well feeling in his heart. It filled the man with a long-forgotten ease that had long been lost due to his mutation. He snapped off another plant and mumbled softly to the doll, which had meanwhile sat on his back: “How many should we still take, Angie? I am not familiar with the art of braiding and I have to rely on your experience.” The wooden figure giggled mischievously and looked into its own little hand. She counted the reeds between her fingers, then seemed to consider. After a while she called out, louder than planned: "Two more and we've had enough, Moreau." The man chuckled and leaned back toward the plants. He said with amusement: "Well, if you say so, it will be true. I will get them for you." He took the desired number of reed and broke them with a bit of difficulty. In the end he handed the doll his harvest. She gratefully accepted the reeds. Together they returned to the doll maker, who actually lifted her head slightly this time.

The black mourning veil hid her face as usual, but Salvatore thought he had seen a small smile under the hood. Angie hurriedly hopped down from his hump and proudly presented her harvest to her owner: “Look, Donna! Is that enough? Yes, it is surely enough. We can use it to weave a beautiful basket for our new friend!” The Countess said nothing, just remained silent and motionless on the stone. The doctor rubbed his rough hands. This woman was really mysterious. Nevertheless, he had the feeling that she did not meet him with rejection, as it usually happened in his case. The black-haired man suddenly felt the pressure in his stomach again. He took a few deep breaths. Now was clearly the wrong time to vomit acid in front of a very kind lady. Salvatore successfully fought the nausea and spoke slowly: “You certainly want to weave the basket at home, don't you Ms. Beneviento? I can escort you back if you wish. The sun should come up in about an hour and I would like to make sure that you arrive safely at home.” Her head moved a little again. Despite this slight movement, the lively doll at his feet replied again: “Would you really do that, Moreau? How attentive! Donna would appreciate it very much. Come on, let's go home before they see us. I don't want to meet these annoying villagers.” The doctor held out his hand to the woman on the stone. Ignoring the help, she got up herself, then bent down to take Angie carefully in her arms. She walked leisurely up the path. Salvatore bowed his head a little disappointed. Perhaps she found him too repulsive after all and didn't appreciate his presence. Before he could think about it any further, he felt the doll maker's gaze on him. She had turned slightly to him. "Are you finally coming, Moreau?" Asked the doll with an almost mad laugh. This question literally made the Lord's eyes shine. He released himself from his rigidity and trotted quickly after the woman. Together they hiked to the house of the Benevientos. When he got to the front door, Salvatore came to a stop, panting heavily. This whole walk was more exhausting for him than he thought.

The doll maker opened the locked door with an ornate key and turned to her companion. Angie had meanwhile jumped off her arms and run into the house, talking loudly to the other dolls. The man smiled sheepishly and spoke politely: “Thank you very much for your precious time, Ms. Beneviento. Perhaps you can come and see me in my private property one day. I have an old television at home and I know some very good movies that you might also like. You can think about it, Ms. Beneviento.” Suddenly, the Countess became very stiff. As if in slow motion, her arms were raised and she took the veil from her head, showing her beautiful, pale face. A sprawling organism pulsed on her forehead to the beat of her heart. A smile crept onto her thin lips when she replied very quietly: "Donna." Salvatore forgot to breathe briefly. The Countess slowly raised her right hand and held it out to her companion. He carefully took her hand in his, lowered his head slightly and breathed a kiss on the back of the fragile hand. Salvatore replied happily: "Of course, Donna."

#Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil Village #Donna Beneviento #Salvatore Moreau #Moreau #Beneviento #Donna #Salvatore #Friendship #Angie #Doll Maker

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im-the-punk-who · 3 years

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I saw your post on dogs with anxiety. As a professional, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind sharing a list of behaviors in dogs that may be attributed to anxiety and how to tell if it's anxiety or personality. Do you know any of the behaviors in cats that mean the same? You don't have to answer, you provided great examples in your post, I was just wondering what more I could learn without the uncertainty of truthfulness provided by Google. Thanks!

Hey! So yes I can absolutely list behaviors I look for when I'm assessing if a dog has anxiety(and I can go into cats a bit from foster/rescue experience but I haven't been 'trained' on them so it's much more circumstantial).

The short answer is that if your dog seems anxious, that's not a feature it's a bug and you should address it. Even if it seems like it's just their personality - that usually means they're an anxious dog and need help, not that the behavior should be ignored or can't be changed.

Also, I approach dog training from a 'dog problem' perspective rather than a 'people problem' perspective. I am not focused on if the behavior being exhibited is a behavioral problem *for the owner* - I am focused on what that behavior tells me about the dog's emotional state.

But first! Two disclaimers:

1) 100% of dogs will show some of these behaviors in varying degrees. Just because your dog does one or two things on this list at a low degree doesn't mean they're about to have a breakdown. If you think your dog might be anxious enough to need training based on this list, consult a trainer in person. While I am a dog trainer, this isn't meant to be a self-diagnosis thing. Lay-people are notoriously bad at determining how bad dog anxiety is, and a trained professional may very well pick up on things you aren't seeing or be able to explain what's going on.

2) You'll notice some of these things are behaviors people commonly think are 'play' or 'affection' or 'the dog being high energy' or 'because of the breed' - and yes! Yes. My whole point in most of my other posts has been that we have desensitized ourselves to just how anxious our dogs are, right up until they bite someone. Again, if you see a dog exhibiting a number of these behaviors, the best thing is to consult a trainer - in person! <3

Also, below a cut bc this is just ridiculously long

So! there is sort of a hierarchy of dog behaviors. First are the lowest levels of behavioral problems. These are the ones that most dogs exhibit in one form or another. Just like all people exhibit anxiety sometimes, so do all dogs and it's really to what extent those behaviors tell us about quality of life rather than their simple presence. The second level is more acute behaviors - these are ones that may or may not require training but you should absolutely note if you see your dog displaying them. Third category is dogs who have already gone way past what we would consider a 'normal' threshhold for behavior. If your dog is doing these things you need a professional. Full Stop.

For lower level behaviors what I might do is take stock of how many and how intense behaviors are. If your dog is showing, say, 1-2 low level behaviors constantly I might recommend seeing a trainer but wouldn't push it, but if they're showing 1-2 mid level behaviors as well, or like the whole list of low level behaviors, I would absolutely recommend talking to a trainer.

Low level behaviors commonly associated with anxiety:

- 'Stickiness', needy/pushy behavior(dogs who follow you from room to room or climb on you, invade your personal space habitually) - Mouthiness (they consistently go for your hands/arms instead of a toy when playing, or like to chew/lick people habitually) - Putting paws on people/lacking boundaries (like, if your dog wants you to play with it, and puts their paws on you to let you know, or if your dog consistently wants to sit on you) - Taking high value items and running away with them (low level resource guarding), or turning away from you with a high value item/growling/freezing - Being unable to settle (mild pacing, moves from room to room often, rarely sleeps deeply) - the LACK of deep sleep (you rarely see your dog 'dreaming') - Mild leash pulling - 'Snapping' food up rather than taking it gently - Lip-licking, continuous panting, 'freezing' at stimulus - Whining - Moderate vocalizations (barking, howling, etc) Mid-level Anxiety:

- Habitually jumping on people - Rushing at people or through doors/openings - Consistent pulling on leash - Reactive barking (at cars, bikes, other dogs, people, etc) - Uncontrollable 'Zoomie' behavior (will not stop if asked, may bump into people or other dogs) - Compulsive behaviors (digging, chewing, licking, drinking all the water in a bowl, etc) - Pacing/needing a high level of exercise every day, or immediately getting up if you move - Destructive behavior (rips up every toy they're given, chews shoes or other items consistently) - Resource guarding (bears teeth, snaps but doesn't make contact, takes items and hides them habitually) - Hard biting/inappropriate strength while playing, or entering a fight they don't have a part in Starting fights with other dogs over minor infractions (has my toy, was in my way, stepped on me while I was sleeping) - Inability/Unwillingness to take food (yes, this means if your dog is a habitual ‘picky eater’ that can be a symptom of anxiety. I said what I said.)

High-Level Anxiety:

- Overt aggression (lip-snarling while barking, 'hard' barking, biting, pinning, etc) - Starting fights with other dogs who are not interacting with them(going across a room to start a fight, immediately starting a fight upon eye-sight, etc) - hard pulling on leash/darting on leash - Compulsive behavior to the point of self injury - Intense resource guarding to the point it is a danger to interact with them - ‘Starvation’ or lack of ability to eat consistently

Also, because this tends to be really helpful for people, here's a small, non-exhaustive list of dog body-language signals that I look for when I'm assessing a dog's anxiety level:

- 'Looseness' - is the dog's back bending as it moves or is it tense along its topline. This is the number one thing I look for. If a dog has a tight topline, something is bothering them and usually, this is the clearest and most common indicator a dog will give. - Tail level - tucked, low, level, high - Ear level - floppy, back, neutral, forward, uneven, pointed) - Lips - Tight, loose, 'smiling', closed - Body balance (are they leaning forward, neutral, or leaning back/away from the stimulus) - Tail wagging if concentrated from mid to top of the tail (base stiff) (YES this can be a sign the dog is anxious NO it is not just because they're happy) - Presence of 'calming signals' - whole body shaking(wet dog shake), sighing, yawning, stretching - Body position (laying down, belly up, freezing in place, crouching/tucking, etc) - Eyes (hard, soft, wall eye, wide, fixed, moving, staring)

And finally, I do wanna plug the guy who taught me a lot of what I know because he is GREAT and his website has some really cool articles and podcasts - and I can actually recommend his youtube channel as well because most of it is just 'this is why we do what we do' rather than how-tos.

https://www.markmccabe.com/ https://www.markmccabe.com/blog/ (I particularly recommend What do Grade Schools and Mountains have to do with dog training? and Is your dog an optimist?) Youtube channel And now cats! So, cats at their core are similar, but their behaviors will differ slightly. Also again I'll reiterate that while I've had cats all my life and have worked with them extensively I have not received any formal training. So, where a lot of dog behaviors are focused on the person, cat behaviors will often be focused on their environment or other animals. Because we don’t train cats that ‘human means things happen’ they are less likely to connect a human with their unfulfilled need. (So, instead of a dog feeling anxious and going ‘must find/interact with/annoy human’, a cat will feel anxious and go ‘how can I fuck something up. anything it doesnt matter it just has to be something someone loves’). Low level behaviors - ‘sudden’ activity/reactive to loud noises (if you get up and they do, if they consistently hide at a certain noise, etc) - consistently pushing things off surfaces or other ‘attention seeking’ behaviors - ‘Scarfing’ food or eating and then vomitting - Stalking or consistent following of you or other animals

Mid-level behaviors

- Litter box guarding (will 'wait' outside the box while another cat is using it and may start a fight - agitation when being pet or touched - loss of appetite - anti-social behavior(hiding, hissing, etc) - swatting with claws extended - ‘Pouncing’ or stalking behavior that may escalate

High level behaviors

- Starting fights with animals who are not interacting with them - Peeing/pooping outside the litter box - Biting and breaking skin - unprovoked attacks that cause injury

As with dogs, one or two of these things doesn’t mean 100% your cat has an anxiety problem, but these are all indicators that something might be causing your cat stress and that should be addressed.

#dogs #dog training #milo answers #again please whilst i am a professional please do not use this to diagnose your dog with anxiety and if you DO think your dog has anxiety #for the love of god please talk to a trainer about it

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

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Anchor in the Waves- Chapter 1

Summary: Finan is a slave, forced to row ceaselessly. Betrayed by those he trusted. He believes this will be the end of his life, salt water caking him and an shackle on his ankle. Yet Fate has other plans. When he arrives in Islond for the winter, he meets her. A kindred spirit. Soon they both realize how they need the other. Can they save one another? Or will the waves and whips tear them apart?

Guys! I’m so excited to share this. I’ve always been curious about Uhtred and Finan’s time as slaves and what they endured. So of course my mind decides to run with it.

Note- in the beginning Finan knows Uhtred as Osbert so in the first two chapters, I use Osbert to identify him. Also- Islond=Iceland, Irland=Ireland

I have everything already written so as I finish editing it, I will post. There are four chapters total.

Warnings: There are mentions of beatings, starvation, inhumane conditions, slavery. Nothing graphic though. If you can watch TLK, you’ll be fine.

Irish translations are via google. The translations are in italics.

Tag list: @happyveday @evelynshelby

Days and nights blurred together, one morphing into the next. The only things he knew anymore was the constant taste of salt water, the shackle around his ankle and the unending pain in his body from rowing.

Always rowing.

Finan was unsure how long he had been a slave now. Was it a month? Maybe two? Even more? Time felt meaningless now. All he knew was when he had been sold, bound and blind-folded by those he once trusted, it had been late summer. Now the ship he found himself bound to, was making its final voyage to Islond. There it would reside until the harsh winter ended and the Nordsæ was safe once again. Or however safe the sea could be.

When his feet finally touched dry land, tears welled in his eyes. Never before did he believe the feeling of solid ground could be so comforting. Although he did not have long to enjoy the sensation.

"Move, slave!" The Dane called Hakka yelled, shoving him forward.

Weak from lack of food and constant rowing, he stumbled against the slave in front of him, both barely able to right themselves before sprawling onto the hard ground.

As he stood back up, he scanned around the small village quickly. It looked like the other slaves and himself were being marched towards the large, wooden barns. There were several other buildings about- a large hall, a few smaller cottages and some others that he was unable to guess their purpose from a glance. A few local men and women came out of the buildings, calling greetings to the Danes...to the slavers, while completely ignoring the weakened slaves being driven forward by beatings and sharp words.

Next to, what he guessed was the main hall, stood a young woman in a thin, dirty dress and barefoot. Her dark brown hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. A wooden bucket held in her hands. For the briefest of moments their gazes met…

...then he tripped, just catching himself in time.

"Keep moving, worthless dogs!" Hakka roughly shoved Finan this time, knocking him to the ground. "Get up, slave!"

"Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú!" He yelled back. It was futile to fight back right now, he knew that. Maybe once he had the strength and stamina to fight the slaver without worry, but that was before he had been beaten, starved and forced to row without reprieve. It was foolish to fight back. Despite that, he was sick of being cowed constantly. For a brief moment he wanted to remember who he used to be. (May the Devil choke you!)

That act of defiance earned him a single strike with the whip in punishment. His back burned, but he gritted his teeth and managed to push himself back on his feet to follow the other slaves. He refused to give that bastard the satisfaction of seeing him knocked down for long.

He and his fellow slaves were separated into small groups and distributed between the two barns. Moving slowly, he huddled against the wall, arms wrapped around his torso to preserve what warmth he could. There were gaps between the wooden slats of the walls. With nothing else to do, Finan watched those moving around the small village. The slavers, he recognized, headed straight for the main hall as soon as all the slaves were locked up in the barns. Most likely to drink and celebrate a successful voyage.

He hoped they choked on their ale.

As Finan watched, he noticed her again. It seemed she had been walking through the village, the bucket no longer in hand. As the slavers neared her on their way to the main hall, she stopped, hands clasped in front of her and face pointed down in submission. It caused him to wonder if she was a slave also.

There were no shackles on her, nothing to overtly demonstrate if she was a slave. Her dress was dirty and ragged, clearly something no one took pride in. Finan found himself eyeing her though. She was pretty, he could tell, even from afar. Although she appeared thin, as if meals were deemed optional for her.

The one who owned the slave ship, Master Sverri, stopped in front of her while the others continued by. He said something to her, causing her to shake her head. With a nod, his hand brushed her braid over her shoulder in an almost affection gesture before following the others to the main hall.

Once Master Sverri was out of sight, she shuddered and pulled her braid over her shoulder before continuing on her path.

Finan watched her until she vanished from view then closed his eyes, hoping blessed sleep would find him soon.

Or death.

*****

Stupid. So stupid. If she got caught, a beating would surely follow.

Yet her feet kept moving.

Quietly, she crept along the line of buildings, staying in the shadows from the moon above. The Master and his wife retired to their room hours ago. The other Danes were either in their own homes or passed out drunk in the main hall. There should be no one outside. No one to witness her breaking a direct command.

She hoped.

The ship slaves had been separated into four groups, two groups to a barn. Last year the Master built specific pens to hold the slaves in, keeping only a maximum of five in a pen. In the prior years, the Master usually housed all the ship slaves together in one large pen. Though after the fire last year, he learned his lesson.

The barn containing the pigs and two of the groups was the more pitiful of the two barns. The other barn held a few horses the Master prized. Silently, she crept along the outer edge, keeping eyes and ears alert to any sounds. A couple times she froze at the sudden noise of shuffling or coughing, scared it was one of the Master's men out walking. Thankfully it was not.

Through the slats, she could see the shapes of the ship slaves inside one of the pens. Hopefully she found the right one. She thought she saw him being led here but it was only a glimpse she had been able to catch. If her attention was noticed lingering on him, questions would be asked by the Master's wife.

"Dia dhuit? An bhfuil tú anseo?" She whispered, praying silently in her head this was not a mistake. (Hello? Are you here?)

There was no response besides another bout of coughing inside from the pen. It was impossible to see in the gloom on the barn, especially with the moon to her back.

"Dia dhuit? Éireannach?" She tried again, telling herself if he did not respond, she must leave. She could not afford to get caught here. Her death surely would follow because of what she clutched in her hand. (Hello? Irishman?)

Then a hoarse voice whispered back. "Sea?" A form shuffled over to where she crouched at the far corner. (Yes?)

"Go tapa, tóg seo." She lowered her voice even more, barely above a whisper. She hoped the other ship slaves were sleeping or not paying attention. A sudden fear of being seen and caught threatened to suffocate her. Hurriedly, she slipped the hard biscuit through the gap in the slats into his hand. Soon as he caught it, she turned on her heel and dashed away, not waiting to hear his response. Her fear of being caught outweighed her need to hear gratitude. (Quick, take this.)

Why she felt the compulsive need to share part of her dinner with the stranger, she honestly was unsure. When he had sworn earlier that day, shock had rooted her feet to the spot she stood. It had been over a year since she had heard her mother language. The sound brought a small hint of warmth to her soul, to hear the language she so desperately missed. Even if it was a curse thrown at the Danes that would make her mother blush. Perhaps this was her small way of thanking him for a reminder that Irland was still out there. Even if she had been stolen from it.

Now she had to return to her blanket on the floor and hope no one noticed her absence.

*****

Not until several days later, did she manage to sneak out again. Winter's cold drew closer every day. Already a layer of frost coated the ground every morning. Snow would soon follow.

At the far corner of the barn, the forest behind her and the moon above, she crouched once again, voice barely above a whisper. "Éireannach?" (Irishman?)

A form moved on the other side of the slats and his voice immediately whispered back, as if he had been waiting for her. "An Gaeilge thú?" (You are Irish?)

"Sea. Seo." She passed him a strip of dried meat this time. (Yes. Here.)

Before she could flee, he spoke again. "Cén chaoi a raibh a fhios agat gur Éireannach mé?" (How did you know I am Irish?)

"Mhallaigh tú an lá a tháinig tú." (You cursed the day you arrived.)

He softly chuckled at that, the sound pleasing to her. "Aye, ní mo nóiméad is fearr." (Not my finest moment.)

A smile graced her face, surprising her. It felt so long since anything made her want to smile. Part of her wanted to linger, to hear him speak their native tongue and perhaps smile once more. For a short time, to pretend she was not a slave without a future. She enjoyed the sound of his voice, the beloved Irish accent and the strange underlying charm in it and his words. Yet she needed to get back though. She could not afford to get caught. "Tá orm imeacht." (I must go.)

In the darkness, she crept back to the main hall. Surprising her was the small smile that remained on her lips as she moved in the shadows, due to the thought of him and his last statement. She found herself wanting to see him again.

Stupid. So stupid.

*****

He swore she was an angel to bring him hope.

The cold seeped through the gaps in the slats, causing him to shiver all night. Most of the men stayed huddled together, to share what warmth they could, even if it was futile. Except he stayed in that far back corner of the small pen, where she would appear on the other side, cast in moonlight and with a gift for him. Only twice now she had come to him. The first time he was so shocked by her sudden appearance and the shoving food in his hand, his mind ignored her in order to devour the biscuit. He had not been fed properly in at least two days. This last time he tried to be more grateful and talk to her. Like a skittish deer sensing danger, she tore away sooner than he hoped.

"An bhfuil tú ann?" She softly asked, her form barely visible in the dark. (Are you there?)

Slowly, he turned his head and body, in a vain attempt to be closer to her but also to block the others from seeing their exchange. It was selfish but the pains in one's belly can drown out the sounds of one's morals.

"Aye."

This time another hard biscuit landed in his hand but he did not complain. Food was food. Before she could disappear, he whispered a question, hoping she would stay just a few more moments. "Cad is ainm duit?" (What is your name?)

She sharply inhaled, unmoving; but after a moment her dulcet voice came out in a rushed hush. "Aine."

"Aine." He repeated her name, tasting it on his tongue like a fine ale. "Is mise Finan." (I am Finan.)

"Finan, tá brón orm go bhfuil tú anseo." (Finan, I am sorry you are here.)

Her comment surprised him but it was the sadness in her voice that made him take note. As if she knew something he was not privy to. He had not heard her wander off yet so he ventured another question. "An sclábhaí tú anseo?" (Are you a slave here?)

He half expected her to run and never return, for how easily frightened she seemed. Then again, why should she waste her time with him? Coming out in the cold and darkness, risking herself to bring him food, it lacked sense. He watched her during the day, when she moved about the small village doing her chores, he assumed. There was not much else for him to do, except shiver and listen to his stomach complain. The other slaves barely spoke, all too focused on their own pain and cold. There was one Finan doubted would survive the winter.

A soft sigh from the other side of the slats told him she remained. "Ba bhronntanas mé ón Máistir Sverri dá bhean chéile." (I was a gift from Master Sverri to his wife.)

"Tá brón orm." (I am sorry.)

"Tá orm imeacht." (I must go.)

"Fan!" Even to his own ears, he sounded desperate, it did not matter though. He wished there was a way to show her what her gifts of food and companionship meant to him. He could only guess she risked much to come to him like this. Yet he had nothing to offer, nothing to give besides his words, and even they he deemed meaningless yet still he gave them. "Go raibh maith agat, Aine." (Wait! // Thank you, Aine.)

"Slán." And with that, he could hear her nearly silent footsteps as she raced away from him. Back to the main hall, back to her own world which felt so far from his own. Even if it resided just across the village from him. (Goodbye.)

Quickly, he ate the biscuit, licking his fingers once it was gone to prolong the stale taste. After, he slipped his arms inside of his tunic and hugged them close to his body. With no clear understanding of time besides the rising and setting of the sun, he wondered when spring would come. First, he had to survive winter. With no blankets or warm clothing and lacking proper nutrition, he worried he might not see spring. Even if Aine continued to visit him and lift his spirits for a minute with her kindness. It might not be enough.

The next day snow fell.

*****

Months passed and the snow slowly began to melt. The sun once again brought warmth with it and the ground began to awaken from her deep slumber.

Master Sverri now prepared to sail the seas once again.

He forced the ship slaves to go into the forest and fell trees for repairs needed on his ship. It was while the slaves were going to and from the forest that Aine was able to actually see Finan, more than just a voice and brief glimpses through the barn slats. His hair and beard unruly, his clothes stained and disgusting. Yet sometimes when their eyes met while in passing, there was a spark in them that reminded her...life still filled their lungs and coursed through their veins. In those quick looks, a silent message bonded them- no longer were they alone, they had a kindred spirit in one another.

She stood in the main hall, stoking the large fire in the center. After, she needed to go to the river and get water. The soup for tonight's dinner needed to be started. Gunnhild, Sverri's wife, helped prepare it. She was a strict woman, and if Aine was late to bring the water, the slave usually was forced to forgo her own dinner in punishment for making others wait.

"Girl, refill my cup." Master Sverri commanded, sitting at a long table. A piece of parchment in front of him, and a furrow between his brows as he stared at it. Occasionally, he would make marks on it or curse under breath. He had been sitting there for the past several minutes, slowly drinking his ale and staring at the parchment but had paid no mind to her as she completed chores.

Immediately, she rose from the side of the fire to grab the pitcher of ale from the kitchen and bring it back with her. Without a word, she poured the liquid, extra careful to not spill on the parchment. Even if she was not sure what it was for, it looked important. A harsh punishment would surely follow if she damaged it in any way.

It was when she was mid-pour that she felt his hand slip behind her to caress her waist and glide downward.

She stiffened but continued pouring, unable to escape his wandering hand. Over the past weeks his touches had become more common and bold. Nothing to cause her to fear him, he had never hit or beat her unlike his wife. Yet she knew what those touches meant, how his gaze slid over her body like oil sometimes. It had not gone unnoticed by her or others that if Master Sverri's men tried to touch her, he harshly rebuked them.

The door to the hall opened and in walked one of his men.

"What?" Master Sverri growled; his hand remained on her arse.

The man, Magnus, stepped closer. The dragon tattoo on his bald head always frightened her, but not as much as his leering gaze or hand quick to deliver slaps when the Master was not looking. "The ship slaves are returned for the day. After tomorrow we will have enough wood to repair the hull."

"Good." When Magnus did not leave, Master Sverri raised his eyebrows then waved his hand to indicate his man should speak.

"The men grow bored. More slaves survived the winter than expected. Harald said we should let some fight. Make it a sacrifice for safe seas this year."

"Mmm." Master Sverri removed his hand from Aine, using it to rub the side of his face where his tattoo was and down through his beard.

She took this as her cue to leave. Swiftly, she made her way back towards the kitchen, but not before leaving the jug of ale on the table so the Master would have no need for her to refill his cup. Just inside the door of the kitchen, she paused to listen to his answer.

"After supper tonight. Tell the slaves that the winner will be able to eat the leftovers from our supper. That will make them fight harder. Once the fight is over, we will sacrifice the winner. We can spare two slaves. It will be easy to get more from Yunis. That should bring enough entertainment for now."

Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to alert the Master with how loud it was. All she could think of was Finan fighting in hopes of getting food then instead being killed, all because of others' boredom.

She must warn him.

Ignoring the others in the kitchen, she snatched her water bucket and dashed out. She hoped it only looked like she feared the wrath of Gunnhild and left to get water like every day. When in reality, she was terrified for her friend.

"Finan." She hissed harshly, kneeling at the back corner where they always met. The forms of the men in the pen could be seen so she knew he had to be in there. Her fear for his life outweighed her rationale to be discreet. The other slaves would certainly question why she was here and why Finan was so familiar with her. Truthfully, she feared one of them would inform the Danes about her visits in hopes of a reward. Yet her secret visits continued. Stupid. So stupid.

"Aine?" He whispered back, confusion evident.

"Tá troid le bheith ann anocht i measc beirt de na sclábhaithe long. Déarfaidh siad go bhfaigheann an buaiteoir ithe. Ná iarr troid. Gheobhaidh an bheirt bás. Íobairtfear an buaiteoir. Le do thoil, Finan. Geall nach dtroidfidh tú." (There is to be a fight tonight amongst two of the ship slaves. They will say the winner gets to eat. Do not ask to fight. Both will die. The winner will be sacrificed. Please, Finan. Promise you will not fight.)

His hand reached through the small hole he had made under the slats, gripping hers tightly. "Geallaim, Aine." (I promise, Aine.)

"Go raibh maith agat. Tiocfaidh mé anocht." (Thank you. I will come tonight.)

With that she released his hand and ran towards the river. In one hand she held the handle for the empty bucket. The other one, the one Finan had held, she fisted against her chest, trying desperately to retain the warmth of his touch just a little longer. Even if it was only in her mind.

He had surprised her by knocking away a rotten part of one of the slats, creating a hole just big enough to slip his hand out of but small enough to not get noticed and need to be fixed. It had made passing the food through easier- what she thought the purpose of the hole was for.

Yet that quickly became a secondary notion.

Something shifted between them the first time he grabbed her hand, grasping it gently, as he peered at her as best as he could through the slats where he sat. She had been startled but not frightened. He never once gave her meaning to be frightened of him. If anything, he became a pillar of strength for her. His hand had been shaking slightly from the cold. Without a conscious thought, she cupped his hand between her own and rubbed them together, trying to warm it up even a little. He had teased that there was no need for a fire when a beautiful woman was there to keep him warm.

She snorted and told him to shut his mouth, trying to deflect his teasing. The blush heating her cheeks told the real story of how his words affected her.

Every time after, when she managed to sneak away and bring him food, they held one another's hand while they talked. It was only a few minutes, she feared staying longer and being caught, but she found herself looking forward to it….and missing his touch throughout the day.

Spring was coming though. Soon Master Sverri would leave and the ship slaves with him. Many of those slaves never returned.

Was it selfish of her to hope Finan survived? That she might see him once again, even with the torment he would undeniably endure. Was it selfish?

*****

She clutched his hand tightly between her own, as if that alone would save them. For a long time neither spoke. Words not enough. They held onto each other, a physical representation of the anchor they provided for one another these past months.

Tomorrow he would board the ship and sail away. She doubted she would ever see him again.

"Aine." He breathed out her name, an almost sweet caress in how he said it. "Tú ... tá tú láidir. Mairfidh tú seo." (You...you are strong. You will survive this.)

Tears slipped down her cheeks but she refused to let go of his hand to wipe them away. Instead she pressed her forehead against the slats. If anyone saw her, it would look like she was praying, hands before her, head bowed while on her knees. Yet none of her prayers had been answered for years, so she no longer uttered them.

An almost indistinguishable pressure alerted her that he had pressed his forehead to hers. Something they had never done before. It felt strangely intimate, even though the slats separated them. If she opened her eyes, she could almost see their frosted breaths interweaving, blending into the air around them as one.

"Tá mé ag dul a chailleann tú." She finally murmured, fear making her voice hitch. (I am going to miss you.)

"Agus mise tú." (And I you.)

She needed to walk away, the longer she stayed the more likely she was to get caught. Yet she could not pull herself away. Not now. Not on the eve of their lives being torn from one another.

"Ná bíodh imní ort faoi mo chinniúint. Is é toil Dé anois é. Dírigh ort féin." (Do not worry about my fate. Its God's will now. Focus on yourself.)

"Is fear maith thú, Finan. Tá mé ... tá áthas orm aithne a chur ort." (You are a good man, Finan. I am... I am glad to know you.)

A sound between a chuckle and a sob passed his lips. He inhaled a harsh breath before whispering. "Is dóigh liom go bhfuil easpa ionchais ar fhir. B’fhéidir go gcaithfí é sin a leigheas." (I feel your expectations of men are lacking. Might need to remedy that.)

She gave a quiet laugh but said no more.

They stayed that way for another few minutes, sharing what strength they had between them. For when the sun rose, both of them would no longer feel whole. The whips and the waves to tear them apart.

"Tá rud éigin agam duit." She claimed one of her hands to pull some strips of fabric under her breast-band, where she had stuffed them earlier. She placed them in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "Tá sé do so lámha. Déan iad a fhilleadh timpeall do phalms. B’fhéidir go gcabhróidh sé beagáinín le…" She trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to think about or remind him of what was to come. (I have something for you. // It's for your hands. Wrap them round your palms. It might help a little with…)

"Go raibh maith agat, Aine, go fírinneach." (Thank you, Aine, truly.)

"Slán, Finan." (Good bye, Finan.)

"Slán, a stòr." (Good bye, my treasure)

With one final squeeze of their hands, she rose and walked away. Finally, she wiped the tears from her face, only for them to be replaced by fresh ones.

The night and future had never seemed so dark before.

*****

Finan leaned back against the side of the ship, watching the man who sat in front of him comfort his friend. He could see Osbert whispering something to Halig, trying to calm him down, to not draw further attention to himself. His wailing for land had drawn notice and would have been his cause for a whipping if Osbert had not covered him with his own body.

There was something, a secret they kept close to their chests. Halig, though, his strength was failing, both strength of mind and body. He was lucky though, Osbert was always there to encourage him.

Looking away from them, his thumbs gently rubbed against the cloth protecting the palms of his hands. If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember her in the moonlight, her hands holding his own, silent tears running down her cheeks.

What she would never know was after she left, he had to stick his fist against his mouth to muffle his own sobs.

He had sworn earlier that day to Osbert that he would kill the slaver Hakka for he was a right bastard that enjoyed inflicting torment. In his own mind, he also made a promise to himself. If he managed to get free, he would save her. Somehow, he would rescue her from her own captivity.

He glanced over as Osbert leaned back against the side of the ship, eyes closed, bottom lip trembling. Silently, he reached over and placed a hand on Osbert's shoulder for a long second before retracting it.

Osbert had spoken of escape often, under the cover of darkness and the stars above. Once they returned to Islond, there had to be a way he insisted. Finan was unsure but the raging fire that burned in Osbert's blue eyes was enough for him to quickly agree. If there was anyone bound to figure out a way, it was this man.

"Back to work, slaves!" Hakka screamed, readying his whip for any man that did not move fast enough. "Pull! Pull!"

Finan closed his eyes for a brief moment as he placed his hands back on the oar. This would not be his fate.

This would not be his end.

Or hers.

#The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom fanfic #finan the last kingdom #finan x ofc #finan the agile #uhtred ragnarson #slavery #mz writes

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tenderlyrenjun · 3 years

Text

[spring and winter]

Your favorite time, or one of, to stare at Renjun is when nature falls by his sides (him below you is a comparably pretty sight). He just has this magnetism about himself, even without his compulsion ability, though you assume that it does nothing but aid the mysticism. And the very first time when you met him, peach blossoms began flowering into his hair. Your Mom held a springtime viewing party to watch the petals’ initial bloom on the first day, but you missed it. Since then, you have continued missing the first bloom of spring - which is saying something, considering that a few millennia have passed.

“Hurry, Handong!” you shout over your shoulder, carelessly adding an honorific after your older sister’s name as an after thought. You brush past a handmaiden carrying soul, and she spills a few drops on your tunic and sash, clutching the clattering tray tightly above her abdomen. The gravel you cut through spins under your feet, causing you to stumble, briefly, into the wet cement being assembled for the Third Consort’s new spa house. You regain footing and fix your ties, acting as if nothing happened, then look for your sister. She is still catching up. “We’ll miss it!”

This path is meant to be a shortcut into the east garden, crossing through the courtyard rather than walking along the smooth concrete pathways, yet Handong almost takes an equal (re: slow) amount of time. You stop running to see why she takes so long, shaking your arms to a halt. And your chest almost heaves breathlessly when you see her: she is barely adjusting the beads on her hairpins.

“Why are you going through there?” Handong scolds, shaking her head. A pearl falls out of place, making you roll your eyes. You cross back to the cement and grab her hand, dragging her through the loose stone paths. Your half-brother returned earlier this week with new shoes from his expeditions in the South - shoes that are suitable for play and running around, yet Handong seems to insist on her straw slippers, which easily get pebbles stuck between the blades. Both of you ignore each other’s complaints and she ultimately complies with the way you sweep her into the viewing party, guests stopping to stare at your wrinkled states.

Handong tries to calm your robes before hers, but you dive under a tree branch to catch a peach bud before it falls on the ground. The winds are strong today, you notice, cautiously turning over one of the damaged leaves. It is late in the afternoon, according to the skies, yet the temperature reverts back to winter and you shiver, when another breeze brushes through your hair. You have not cut it since your last birthday ceremony, which is another reason why Handong keeps trailing after you, constantly fixing your image, especially around the nobles.

A gong goes off in the far corner, and you spin around to hear it better, already knowing that your Mother is going to make an announcement about the impending blooming - it will start in seconds, so the speech will be brief. You hear something about good fortune and prosperity, but everything washes away when you drop the peach bud. Its frosted cover was too much to hold, so you let it melt through your fingers. Unfortunately, it rolls down the small hill that the trees are built upon, bouncing into the son of your father’s associate. He looks down, dubiously turning his head, scanning a quarter circle to his left. You are torn over whether to want to see his full face; his eyes, or at least the one you can see, are perfectly shaped, like a phoenix’s, his lashes curtained over the pretty brown irises. And his nose is gorgeous too, charming and strong. The temptation to see him shrouds Handong, and you slowly step away from her, captivated by this mysterious stranger. Sure, you know that your father often has ministers, princes, officials, high ranking people stay at the estate, their families too, occasionally, but you never entertain them like one of your older siblings. Now, you wish you did, or at least, you wish that you talked to your sisters more so that you know who he is. The stranger picks up your peach bud with his robe’s sleeve - smart - and turns it over with his fingers. He touches the frosted leaves first then cracks it open a little bit more. You giggle when someone at the front screams at the tree, broadcasting its bloom, because he jumps, crossing his hand over his heart. His smaller friend, slightly younger, laughs at him too, making the ambience less formal than you felt.

You reach him just as everyone turns around. He is mid-laugh, throwing back his head into the newest breeze. And that is when Nature picks up - the sun overshadowing the skies with a soft orange hue, the winds rough housing amidst relaxed petals. One lands on his shoulder, then immediately falls to the ground as he casts his eyes on top of the tree, craning his neck taller than his own height. You follow his gaze circling over the horizon of headpieces and robes until finding the opened flowers and pinkening fruits.

“Wow,” he breathes. His next statements is so awe-stricken that you look at him again, visibly curious as to what he has to say. He meets your eye, blinking slowly, and you match his speed, not wanting to miss his beat. “It’s beautiful.” You’re beautiful.

“Yes,” you agree, and bow your head slightly, more timidly than you had been earlier, suddenly conforming to traditional respects. You peek above, through your lashes, feeling a few petals join your aquamarines. He holds out his hand, waving the formalities, and you stand straighter, making no moves to point at the main event. “It is.” You are, too.

Renjun holds up the fallen bud, within his fingers, looking from it to you, lingering more on your face. “Is this yours?” You nod slowly, anticipatorily. He grabs your wrist gently, bringing your palm Heavens-facing, between your bodies. You unravel the nervous fist, and he places the flower back in your hand. “Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t,” you swear impulsively.

“Don’t lose it,” he repeats, curling your hand into another cage for the seed, like reburying it for a new spring. “Or I will have to bring you a new one.”

“Your presence sounds like a gift. What do I get for keeping this safe?”

“Must all things need gain?”

You tilt your head to the side, your smile incapable of settling down. “Only when it is enjoyed.”

“And my presence is enjoyed?” he asks, eyebrows raised. His companion stares between the two of you, amused but rolling his eyes. You neglect it though, completely forgetting about any other person, behaving as if your father handpicked you to entertain this guest. “Is my presence enjoyed?” he repeats, hearing nothing (but seeing everything). You nod your head, hesitantly, only becoming more enthusiastic after his tension increases. “Well, then, I will have to bring you more peaches.”

Renjun’s favorite time to look at you occurred after that moment in the spring, but it precedes yours by one season: winter. He no longer sees the first snowfall of the year, barely catching the reflection in your eye, if he is lucky, when you extend your hands to catch raining snowflakes. However, unlike you, he actively tries to view the first snowfall, purposefully sitting on a porch or stairs, always with the same small cup warmed by tea. The original time that he missed the precipitation, he had just returned from the matchmaker’s manor with your half-brother. He strained a small kettle of tea, then went to sit outside, at a small table set up by a servant.

Renjun stirs a small lemon slice as he reclines into a wooden chair. He hovers a hand above the metal fire pit, spreading warmth through his fingers before transferring it into a blanket that he lays across his lap. During his stay at your family’s main estate, over the last year, he has seen snow exclusively fall during the winter. And although the previous season does not indicate its next’s behavior, he fell into a routine that loves the outdoors.

You enjoy it too, he reminisces fondly, a smile on his face as he recalls this morning when you met him at the Western Bridge just to hear the whistling of a monal. It was a good way - the best way - to begin his morning, laughing when you (poorly) tried to recreate the songs. Your siblings are far better musicians than you, yet he always prefers to hear your voice; it does not matter whether you speak or sing, everything he feels so deeply for.

As he finishes a cup, wondering why the sky has still not given him his request, you run through the gates adjacent from his room, exhaling boisterously and inhaling shakily, to keep laughing with your sisters. Renjun relinquishes his cup to the cold, leaving it on the table to go see all the noise you make.

“Shh, shh,” Handong giggles. It is a rare sight to see your older sister break the rules with you; he figures that she must be drunk but her cheeks are not twinged by alcohol, nor does she sway so easily in the air. Although, the mask of night is worn on all your faces, and Renjun desperately wishes to see yours.

You swing a picnic basket by your side, one of your sisters mirroring you on the side of your interlocked arms. He feels a bit deviant, creepy. His position makes it look like he hides behind a tree, spying on you lot, and he does not do much to alleviate that assumption, crouching smaller and closer as you begin to speak:

“Ah, Mother should have a viewing party for the snowfall tomorrow morning. It would be fun to run, fun to play -”

“In the cold?” Feifei scoffs, draping herself behind Handong’s robes.

“It would be pretty to see the snow in the morning light,” Xiaoyun comments beside you, giving an argument that you nod at your sister.

You break out of her grip, dropping the basked on the freshly dewy grass to spin around outside, picking up your robes so that your feet can roam freely. Your arms stick out, as if expecting to catch snow. Seeing nothing fall, you tilt your head back to your amused sisters. “What? It’s fun! I’m excited for winter. Winter means the solstice; solstice means a break from studying; a break from studying means festivals; festivals mean -”

“That you get to spend time with a certain chancellor's son?” Handon interrupts. Your face tightens as your sisters ‘ooh’ and giggle knowingly, and Renjun wonders if he shall hear more or speak at this - surely, by now you must know where his room is located; you spend enough time walking around the compound with him to know it. But you never budge, just enduring the teasing as your sisters get closer, shaking your shoulders into reality. He hopes that you know he likes you too, likes you more and more everyday in fact.

“I heard that he went to the matchmaker’s house this afternoon.”

You push Handong’s shoulder, as a stop it gesture, though the half-embarrassed smile on your face says that this is all in jest, that you might appreciate the validation, even if it comes from your sister, not him.

Renjun takes a step forward, beyond the tree, intending to make himself known, but one of your sisters interrupt him.

“Look!”

Her voice is neither malicious nor suspicious, so he keeps his eyes focused on you, subconsciously walking backward when you spin around to look at her. Anything Renjun might have said or thought gets choked by his brain, tongue twisting so tightly that he drops his jaw. He watches your hair twirl with you, the top catching a crown of snow. Wow. Perhaps, if the matchmaker grants his proposal, his first gift to you will be a real crown. Renjun thinks this may be a dream, because he can almost hear a fleet of flutes accompany your excited laughter as you run into the circle formed by your sisters.

Renjun smiles widely, quietly tapping a couple times on the tree. His eyes capture the second layer of snow on the ground, then dare to glance at you one last time before retiring to his room. You catch him, in that moment, when he leans suavely on his arm for support, just staring, fondly. He waves a little bit and you do too, raising your hand slightly until he retires, walking backwards to burn this instant in his memory. You break the gaze first, Handong excitedly whispering something that Renjun cannot hear. He stays a second longer, trying to hear what has you screeching with giggles. You are loud, but he hopes to keep you that way, intending to make you as equally happy for as long as you will let him.

#nct #nct renjun #renjun #renjun x reader #renjun imagines #nct imagines #nct blurbs #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream timestamps #nct timestamps #renjun fluff #renjun drabbles #nct fanfic #renjun timestamps

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

5 times Logan helped his partners get their shit together +1 time they returned the favor

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854292

MasterPost

relationships: Logan-Centric DLAMPR (platonic creativitwins)

warnings: Remus-typical conversation topics (Teeth circa 2007, puke, crushing vids), food mention, minor injury and blood, panic attacks (kinda?), overworking, bad self-care habits, fluffy fluffy fluff.

Feedback Is Welcomed!

1- Deceit

Deceit paced about his new room, picking up and moving large boxes in repetition and yet refusing to begin unpacking. He assumed his most comfortable form with all of his arms out, as he would usually in his old room. The others had assured him that they didn’t find it disconcerting, but even just being on this side of the mindscape made him self-conscious. He moved another box compulsively.

It had been a month and a half since Deceit and Remus had finally been “accepted”, and it still felt surreal. Everyday he felt another barrier crumble with his new… partners? That was also odd to think about. He was constantly replaying the scene of Patton in front of him, after they’d steadily built a rapport, absolutely distraught with remorse. Taking his hand. Letting him and Remus into the life the others had built.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how steady the progress was. He’d been dating Remus for ages, and of course there was the half-year ago that Virgil started speaking to him again. He’d never been on particularly bad terms with Logan and Roman… Perhaps it was merely an inevitability he hadn’t recognized, or more likely refused to wish for.

And yeah, he'd taken his sweet time switching over. He’d “moved in” weeks ago, but hadn’t yet had the will to unpack. Everytime he started, he stopped, the feeling that he didn’t have the right to claim the space. Because he had to keep it in his head that it could all be taken away, even after he continued to be assured by his partners otherwise. But he was here now. He was here, and he was seen, his input listened to, he had the focus he’d been vying for finally. It was terrifying.

The conscious, of which previously Deceit had only had occasional glimpses when he visited, was just plain exposing. The snake wondered how Virgil of all people could have handled this living here when he moved, and then cringed at the thought. It spoke to how bad things were before, he supposed. Anything is better than living in the unconscious. It… didn’t bring out the best in anyone.

Deceit shook his head. It was the past, they'd all agreed. Things had changed, were changing.

Looking down, Dee realized a pair of his hands had been carefully shredding the cardboard lip of one of his boxes into neat little strips. Fuck. So much for reusing that one. He exhaled deeply, tipping his head back as though to clear it like an Etch-A-Sketch. He let his eyes lay closed for a moment before the sound of his opened door creaking wider broke the silence.

"Deceit? Are you quite alright?"

Deceit spun around to see who had spoken. Logan stood in the half open doorway, hands folded in front of himself and head tilted a bit in confusion. Deceit did not find that expression cute on him, not at all.

"I'm just peachy, and you?" The side lied with a sharp-toothed grin. Logan frowned a bit, and yeah, Deceit hadn't expected him to believe that, but call it a force of habit.

"Falsehood. You have been staring into space for approximately five minutes. Do you require assistance unpacking?" Logan nodded to the mass of boxes. Deceit crossed a few of his arms.

"This conversation is obviously best had with you standing in my doorway like the absolute worst doorstop," He said dryly, "Why are you here?"

Logan seemed confused, hesitant before stepping fully inside. He looked around at the barren room quickly, probably noting that the only things in there other than the boxes were the bed, bookshelf, and desk.

"I wanted to see how you were adjusting. I presume not well, given that your room has not changed since you first moved in over a month ago."

"You presume wrong."

"No, I don’t."

"No," Deceit smirked, showing gleaming white fangs, "you don't."

Logan nodded, and dropped the pretense of hesitance and took to opening and unpacking a box filled with philosophy books. To his credit, Deceit resisted the urge to snap at him and just accept the help. Character Development, he thought to himself with amusement, as the other began arranging the tomes on the expansive bookshelf.

"Would you like them arranged by the author's last name or by subject matter?" Logan asked, without looking back at Deceit.

Deceit wondered if the helpfulness was another perk of the conscious. He then wondered if that was just one of the many nice things about Logan specifically. Then he stopped wondering because he remembered that questions usually needed answers.

"Um, just last name is fine."

A few minutes passed in relative silence, Logan occasionally asking about some of Deceit's numerous psychology books as he moved on to the next box. It was nice to be around someone who didn't groan and walk away when he shared his thoughts on such subjects, not that he didn’t understand why most others did that.

When it began to feel awkward just leaning against the wall while someone else did all his unpacking, Deceit began to empty boxes into the closet (Literally. He upended boxes of clothing before grabbing three or four at a time and arranging them on hangers). Logan, finished with the books, glanced over at Dee with a curious look.

"So. How are you feeling?" Logan asked, and Deceit could tell he wasn’t used to willingly asking questions like that. He wasn’t sure if he appreciated the concern or was annoyed yet.

"I thought feelings weren't your department, Teach?"

"I'm being serious." There was a beat. Deceit sucked in a breath, regretful for his instinctive bitchiness. He turned away from Logan and started organizing the sizable portion of his wardrobe made of cloaks. Hesitantly, and with an amount of secrecy remaining, Deceit spoke.

"Well, it's… good to be out of the dark, so to speak. Honestly, I'm still sort of reeling…" Since when did not lying get so hard?

"But?"

Deceit paused again, finished with the clothes and taking a moment to fidget uncertainly. He spun around to set up his decorative houseplants, sighing.

"I feel exposed," Deceit said suddenly. Logan looked up from where he was organizing various items, tilting his head in that cute, confused expression he was prone to. Except not cute, because Deceit was not weak to such frivolous feelings at all.

"That’s absurd, You wear the most clothing out of any of us, down to the gloves-"

"Not literally, Amelia Bedelia," He snapped, twirling a heat lamp between a few of his hands. "I mean in a mental sense. You must know what I’m talking about, it's like being monitored."

Logan seemed thoughtful, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. Deceit placed the lamp on a bedside table (lest he smash it against his wall while he gestured, which wasn’t unlikely), and sat beside him.

"I would liken it more to being at the ready for consultation; being at attention. You are here because you have something to contribute that could be crucial to solving a problem. You will get used to it, you’ll probably even appreciate it at some point. For now, though, you would benefit from distractions. I would recommend spending time in the Commons. With Us." Logan smiled softly for a moment, "Around all the others, things seem to get easier. For me, at least."

Deceit stared at him, surprised at the tenderness with which Logan spoke. Looking around, the side noticed that the new room- his room- was now full of all his belongings. The boxes were piled up in the corner, and with a snap they popped away to nothingness. In fact, he could probably have just unpacked with a snap. Logan obviously knew that, too, but he still did it by hand.

Huh.

"Well, it appears you're all settled now. I should go, before your room begins to take on its effects, like ours do." Logan said, standing abruptly. Deceit noticed that he looked rather sheepish, and then realized that he hadn't spoken since Logan's small speech.

"Yes, uh- it appears that way. Thank you, by the way, for… helping me unpack."

"It was my pleasure." Logan said with a small smile. All of his smiles were small, a bit reserved, but so surprisingly warm. A lot of things about him were like that, Deceit thought. Including the way he gave the snake a quick peck on the cheek before righting himself again, looking unaffected save for the small pink tinge to his countenance.

“Disgusting,” Deceit said, a smirk on his face.

Logan nodded a bit to himself, looking over his shoulder before he left.

"I'll see you soon." It wasn't a question. And with that, Logan closed the door and was gone.

Deceit sighed, not a tad dreamily at all, thank you very much.

He supposed that living here wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

2- Patton

Patton flitted about the kitchen with ease, humming a little tune and batting his fingers along the counter-tops as he prepared dinner. The first dinner that he'd officially serve for his whole, recently expanded family. He didn’t notice it at first, figuring that over the time they’d grown closer they must have all eaten together, before it hit him just how different all their schedule’s were; it wasn’t often that dinner included all of them before either. Breakfast, sure, but breakfast was easy- there were no stakes!

He was being silly, he knew that. It was just dinner, nothing special. It wasn't even like making more food was hard, given that Pat could conjure ingredients at will (and they hardly needed to eat, anyway), but it felt monumental. This had to be perfect, this meal had to embody all the remorse the fatherly side felt for his treatment of the others. They could swear up and down that they’d moved on, and he wanted to move on, but he couldn’t quite believe it. Not yet. He couldn’t let himself have it that easy. They were his family now, they had to know just how much he loved them after everything.

Patton slumped against a counter, pulling his hands down his face. Why were things so stressful? There was a time when it was all simple and easy- he was sure of it. Why couldn’t things just be okay after they all agreed it would be, why did he still have to feel like-

Someone cleared their throat behind him.

Patton spun around quickly, putting on a smile.

“Logan!” Patton exclaimed, “I’m a little busy right now, Kiddo. How can I help ya?”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I am not the one in need of help, Patton."

"What do you mean, honey? Is somebody hurt?" Pat asked with a gasp. Logan only smiled a bit, an odd and uncomfortable kind of smile that made Patton feel suddenly guilty.

"No, nothing like that.” Logan assured him, “Do you want any- I mean, I am feeling rather restless. Would you mind if I assisted in tonight's dinner preparations?"

"Oh!" Patton seemed caught off guard, but quickly recovered, "Of course!" Relief laced his voice.

It was only after Logan got started carefully cutting bell peppers that Patton realized what had happened. He glanced over at the taller side, feeling a sudden and intense surge of appreciation for the help (and maybe a bit of embarrassment at how he hadn’t caught on to the obvious front immediately). It wasn't out of the ordinary; all of Patton's emotions were intense, especially those he felt for his partners.

Patton realized he'd been staring when Logan looked over at him, cocking his head to the side.

"What's on your mind, dear?"

Patton leaned against the counter, shoulders slumping. Logan was almost as impossible to lie to as Deceit.

"Oh, I'm just a bit nervous, Lo."

"That's understandable."

"Is it?"

"Of course. You're putting a lot of pressure on yourself because this is the first time that all six of us are having dinner together as part of… This," Logan gestured between himself and Patton, and then more generally around the room, "You want it to be perfect. But, you know that perfection is unattainable, darling."

Patton felt immediately flustered at the accurate summary. This man could read him like a book.

Logan quickly washed and dried his hands as he finished with the peppers, coming to stand in front of Patton. Instinctively, the emotional side leaned into him.

"You're right, as usual." He admitted into Logan's shoulder. Logan chuckled lightly, fastening his arms around Patton's waist.

"You know how much I love to hear that."

Patton grinned and giggled against Logan’s collarbone, his mood lifting considerably.

"Mhm!"

"We should probably get back to work, though, if you’re ready." Logan reminded gently after a moment, slipping his arms down to entwine his fingers with Patton's.

"Yeah, good idea."

They worked together in comfortable silence for a while, movements well-practiced and precise. Shifting to the side as the other reached to get an ingredient, ducking down as a pot was carried over head, as they worked in tandem for the millionth time.. Well, the figurative millionth, as Logan would specify.

The two were waiting now, as the food cooked. It was Logan that spoke first.

"Oh, and for what it's worth, Pat?"

"Hm?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You certainly shouldn't worry about the others judging your food, because I'm sure that Remus' standards at the very least aren't particularly high. As the kids would say," he pushed his glasses up on his nose, smirking, "That Gremlin man has trash taste."

Patton couldn’t help it, he launched into a giggling fit at Logan’s use of, as Virgil would say, ``Tumblr Talk”. He couldn’t even get it together to scold Logan for the insult. When he finally calmed down, he looked up to find a very proud looking Logan. Patton smiled as wide as he could, brighter than the sun, and wrapped his arms around Logan again.

“Thank you,” Spoken as quietly as Patton could manage, with tremendous weight behind it.

3- Roman

He didn’t notice it at first; the splintering of the glass casing surrounding the dark ink, the cracks forming in his ornate and elaborately decorated pen. Roman had to keep working, he’d gotten into a groove and he knew that this time he could get the story right, if only his damned hand could move as fast as his thoughts. If he stopped, it could be weeks before he found the motivation to work like this again. He lingered a second too long between sentences, and immediately a blotch of void-black liquid pooled on the paper. The creative side growled,clenching his fist in frustration.

And the pen shattered.

Roman cursed loudly, pulling his hand away to hold it over the wastebasket by his desk (Which was already filled to the brim with discarded and crumpled drafts). Needle-sharp shards of glass had embedded themselves in his hand, the blood flowing around them barely visible through the dark ink. Roman’s breath shook as he hazarded a glance at his papers. They were soaked through with ink and blood, completely unsalvageable.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuck.” The side chanted, feeling tears of frustration and pain prick at the corners of his eyes. Hours of work, all wasted. He began frantically knocking the remnants of the pen and ruined papers into the overflowing wastebasket with his uninjured hand, cradling the other close to his chest. Alas, the papers below it were already botched up as well. Nothing remained of his efforts. A sound akin to a growl-sob escaped his throat.

And then footsteps stopped right outside of his door, and his breath hitched.

“Roman?” The door was pushed gingerly open, revealing a very concerned looking Logan.

“What’s up, specs?” He said, feigning a superior smile. Roman tried to hide his obviously injured hand. There wasn’t a chance he was telling Logan, of all people, what had happened. After all, he was the side to insist that Roman take more breaks, as though it wouldn’t mess up his flow entirely. Yeah, he did not want to deal with the incessant reminder that Logan ‘told him so’.

But Logan already had That Look on his face. That studying, prying look that got under Roman’s skin and saw through him with perfect clarity. It was as annoying as it was hot.

“Roman, let me see your hand."

Roman held out his undamaged hand and smirked.

“What’cha looking for, Microsoft Nerd?”

“You’ve used that nickname before," Logan walked into the room, stopping mere inches from Roman. "Show me your hand.”

Roman grumbled, tossing out his arm with more force and flair than necessary. Logan deftly caught his wrist and held it in place, careful not to press against the injured areas as he scrutinized the appendage. He sighed, locking eyes with Roman and wearing that "I’m not mad I’m just disappointed/concerned" look. That meant trouble. Wordlessly, Logan took Roman’s uninjured hand in his and led the trait over to the bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the ornate tub that fills half the room. The side then arranged an array of first aid items on the counter around the sink, including a harsh-looking disinfected that Roman winced at the sight of.

“So.” Roman muttered, kicking his legs.

“So?” Logan replied, sterilizing a pair of tweezers. Roman groaned, throwing his head back melodramatically.

“Aren’t you gonna lecture me, Bill Gay-tes? You're being weirdly quiet."

"So you admit you need to be lectured for something?"

Roman scoffed in offense, "Well, I just meant- You're always going on about something that I did, even if I was just-" Roman cut himself off with a sharp hiss of pain as Logan began picking the glass out of his hand with the tweezers, methodical as always.

"Apologies, this is going to hurt."

"Yeah, thanks for the forewarning- fuck!"

Logan made short work of the shards of glass, pausing to examine the rest of the medical supplies.

"I think you already know what I'm going to say, Roman." He answered, finally.

"You're gonna say it anyway though, huh, Dweeb?"

"Yes, as it clearly bears repeating." Logan had now moved on to cleaning and wrapping Roman's hand with immense care, "You are overworking yourself, Roman. You need to take a break. You’re going to hurt yourself… again.

“I can… understand how it feels when you get the figurative ball rolling on a project. But your health is more important than whatever it is that you are working on. You can’t keep doing this, I- I’m worried about you.” He hid his eyes as he focused on bandaging Roman’s hand, drawing in a deep breath. “Now, I suggest we give you a change of scenery before you drive yourself mad.”

Roman was pulled to his feet, suddenly nose to nose with Logan (who looked, now that he could see his face, much more distressed). Roman reached up tentatively and he realized with a jolt of embarrassment that he was crying, just a little. He pressed his hands to his face. The bandaged one smarted a little, though it was much less painful than before. He knew that Logan was right, but he desperately needed to restart the story he had completely destroyed. The thought of starting over was impossibly daunting in the emotional state he was in, but he couldn’t dream of putting it off, either. But, then again…

“Fine. I suppose I could part with my work for a few minutes; my writing hand needs time to recover, after all.” Roman dried his tears, but still stubbornly refused eye-contact.

Logan smiled, knowing full well that they were all ambidextrous.

“Would you like to point out the various plot holes in The Princess and The Frog with me?”

“Oh, you know me too well.”

4- Remus

The common room was unusually empty. There was no Patton skipping around the kitchen cooking, or cozied up watching Parks and Rec on the TV. There was no Roman twirling and singing loudly while tidying, or ‘looking for inspiration’. There weren’t even any signs of Virgil or Deceit curled up in their chairs, listening to music while drawing and reading dusty old moral philosophy books, respectively. There was, however, a Logan entering stage left.

Remus glanced over at him quickly, and then bit his tongue. Literally. He was curled up in a tight little ball in one corner of the couch, mindlessly gouging deep slashes into its arm with his clawed fingers. He fitfully acknowledged Logan’s presence with a nod as the bespectacled side surveyed his surroundings. The energy of the common spaces was always neutral- it had to be- but Remus could feel the air around him tremble with excitement, hysteria, and millions of rushing thoughts and feelings as the power of his aura pushed outwards unnaturally. Internally, he fought to keep it all in, simultaneously dreading being alone and being around someone he’d inevitably upset.

“Have you heard of crushing videos? That’s when someone puts small animals on a glass table- Oh! with a camera underneath, of course- and they’re wearing big heels and- and can you guess what they do?” Remus blurted, giving a somewhat manic grin to Logan. The trait seemed to have finished assessing the situation and took a seat beside Remus, turning to face him. Well, that was unexpected.

“Yes, quite awful. Although, they’re usually quite hard to find.” Logan added without hesitation, or seemingly any concern. Remus almost felt relieved, before his brain immediately discarded the subject as soon as Logan tried to engage with it and scrambled to find something new. Something worse.

“Have you seen the movie Teeth, circa 2007?”

“Yes, I found it highly unrealistic. It had quite a satisfying- if a bit twisted- ending.”

Well, there goes that topic.

"What do you think it would be like to vomit and then have to re-eat it?" Surely that would cross a line. Fuck, why was he like this?

"Unpleasant, most likely." Logan wrinkled his nose slightly, but made no move to further the distance between himself and Remus. "The acidity would damage the enamel on your teeth, of course. Which is also why you shouldn't drink excessive amounts of lemon juice."

"Why are you still here?" Remus snapped, the words coming out harsher than intended. Logan blinked at him in surprise.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" Remus cried. He lurched across the couch, before pulling himself back (he'd been trying very hard to respect personal space; he hardly wanted to upset his new partners, if it could at all be avoided). “But, it doesn't make any sense. You should be upset, you should have already wanted to leave- fuck, I just keep- I make people uncomfortable. It’s what I do.”

Logan glanced around the room and nodded.

“I figured that's why it's so empty. It is odd how your powers are affecting the common space. The others can be… easily stressed.”

"It's not their fault! It's. It's me. But I didn't mean to!" Remus felt himself clawing the couch again, remembering how the room had emptied. Concerned looks shot towards him, because of course everyone could feel the room changing in a way it never should. They were trying to talk to him, help him, but the second he tried to speak out tumbled a disgusting stream of consciousness. As he was listing the crimes of Albert Fish, finally even Patton left, looking shaky and worried and apologizing quickly. Pat had spoken rapidly, much like Remus, and wow, had it really gotten that bad in here? Remus couldn't quite believe the apology, couldn't rid himself of the thought that if he didn't shove them away, they'd only keep pretending to be happy he was there. He couldn't stop.

“Of course, it’s hardly anyone's fault. You clearly have a lot on your mind.” That managed to break Remus away from the spiraling thoughts (at least temporarily).

"I guess so," He muttered, eyes downcast, "It's probably because I know I shouldn't be here. I feel it deep down, like a throbbing, oozing, pus-filled wound. I thought-" he broke off, for once unwilling to speak his mind as tears blurred his vision.

"What do you think?" Logan prompted politely.

"I thought that maybe, if everyone kept telling me that I could change, eventually I would." Remus was staring intently at the ground, tears spilling down his face. "But I'm just the same. I'm not- I'm not good like the rest of you! Dee and Virge got to be better, but I'm still… Wrong." He was desperately trying to keep the tremors out of his voice, but he was painfully aware of every waver and crack in his voice as he spoke.

Without a moment's thought, an arm looped around Remus' waist and pulled him closer. Remus pressed against the other’s side instinctively, hands curling in the fabric of his shirt (careful not to tear it, of course). His words must have really struck a chord to elicit such a physical response from Logan of all people, something that was both worrying and weirdly comforting.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, cuddled together in the corner of the couch. After a while, the energy in the common room returned to its usual neutrality. When Logan finally broke the silence, Remus could hear him trying to keep the shake from his voice.

"Just so you know, we would not have invited you into this relationship if we expected you to be a different person. At least, that's the case for myself, though I’m sure the others would agree. You are here because you’re wanted here, Remus."

Remus grinned, exposing stained fangs. He looked more tired than his usual self, but the mischievous sparkle had returned to his eyes.

"Love you too, you Sexy Pocket Square."

“Thank you?”

5- Virgil

Virgil pulled his headphones on, sinking into the music of Pierce The Veil. It was uncomfortably loud in his ears, but he didn’t mind much. He was tense, that was obvious. Every few minutes, he felt himself relax just a bit, but there was always just a little more tension in him, like there was one taut muscle he just couldn’t pinpoint and pull loose. Virgil let his eyes fall closed for just a moment, breathing deeply. 4-7-8, 4-7-8.

Yeah, no, that was not helping. Virgil’s eyes popped back open and he slid one of the headphones behind his ear, breaking the immersion but maintaining awareness. He pressed his back to the wall harder, eyes darting around the room. Nothing was wrong, which was exactly why everything was wrong. Everything was just a little off, just a little strange and bad, and the anxious side had no idea what it was that caused the wrongness.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true; It was just commonplace anxiety. Which, in Virgil’s opinion, made it all the more distressing. He knew it wasn’t going away, not when he tried to make it. It would stop when it stopped, or didn’t, with Virgil helpless to control it. He took off his headphones. He put them back on. Off, on, off, on. Eyes closed, eyes open, eyes closed, eyes open. Nothing worked. He gingerly placed a hand over his chest, feeling the intense pounding of his heart. With a deep, shuddering breath, Virgil drew himself to his feet to go make some tea. Tea was good, safe, easy, understandable. He could make tea.

The anxious side wobbled on his feet, feeling dizzy and unfocused, as though reality was slipping through his fingers like frigid water. Another breath followed by a shudder and gently opened the door and walked slowly down the mindscape stairs. Had he always walked like this? Was that how he was supposed to move his arms? There was no way the stairs were always this steep.

Entering the kitchen, it took Virgil five full minutes to gather the energy to remember where the tea was. It took another eight to set up the mug and put on the kettle, stare at the kettle for a while, and realize it wasn’t turned on. Finally, determining that the water was in fact boiling, Virgil hopped up onto the counter to wait, sitting criss-cross.

A few more minutes passed, and Virgil began to notice that the silence was the very purposeful kind; the kind of quiet that was achieved by another presence deliberately being as silent as possible. He finally managed to focus his eyes on the table, at which sat one very confused looking Logan.

“When did you get here?” Virgil asked, internally cringing at the way his voice felt in his ears.

“Well, that can’t be good,” Logan replied, tipping his head to the side, “Are you alright?”

Fuck, he was right. Virgil was getting everything just a little wrong, of course Logan noticed it! Like hell he’d admit it, though. This had happened before, he could manage this on his own.

“I’m fine.” Virgil lied, catching the kettle as it began to shriek and pouring his tea.

“That’s funny,” Logan mused, looking back to his book, “I could have sworn you represented Anxiety, not Deceit.”

“Ha Ha.”

Virgil was spacing out again as the tea steeped, but it seemed Logan wasn't ready to drop the conversation. He snapped his book shut and he made his way across the room to stand in front of Virgil, keeping a respectful distance. The side’s hands were at his hips, his expression vaguely appraising. After a minute, Virgil began to squirm under the steady gaze.

“What?"

“You are extremely anxious.”

“No shit, L, what do you think I do here?”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Virgil immediately felt guilty for his biting tone.

“Maybe… I’m a little more on edge than usual.” Virgil admitted sheepishly, hopping off the counter to finish preparing the freshly brewed tea. Logan just hummed, staying quiet. An offering.

“I have no idea why, though,” The trait continued, picking at the frayed edge of his hoodie, “Everything feels wrong, and I don’t even know why.” Virgil's inability to articulate the feeling chewed at him, making him curl his toes in his shoes.

From behind, Logan gave an intake of breath as though to speak before cutting himself off. Virgil figured this was another prompt to vent, and hesitantly continued.

“So… I’m just trying to find some way to calm down? But everything I do just makes it worse. And it’s not new or anything, I just… it’s the kinda thing you don’t get used to, ya know? It comes out of nowhere and just fucks up my whole day. It’s like, I dunno- coming home and everything in your house is shifted one inch to the left, or whatever. It’s surreal, I guess.” Virgil sighed, pushing his violet bangs out of his eyes and leaning back against the counter. He took an experimental sip of tea and found it just cooled enough to endure. Something in his chest settled a little. A bit of normalcy crept it's way back into his vision.

Logan leaned next to him silently, looking to Virgil for permission before entwining their hands. Virgil drank his tea and let himself breathe for a moment. There was still a slight shake to his movements, but his heart had slowed and his head cleared a little. A small smile crossed his lips.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Starlight.” Logan replied, ducking his head to hide his satisfied smile.

And the world felt a little more right.

Logan slid his glasses off his face, closing his eyes and groaning. He pushed his fingers against his eyelids and watched the dizzying bursts of color that kaleidoscoped across the darkness. He let his shoulders fall. He let himself stay like that for a few minutes, as though the insignificant little break could compare to a full night’s rest. Unsurprisingly, it only served to tire him more.

His glasses fell back into place and his hands resumed their positions at the sleek keyboard. Logan’s fingers hovered just above the keys, staring blankly at the spreadsheets laid out before him. His eyes glanced across the words uncomprehendingly. For a moment, he had the ridiculous thought that he had, in fact, never known how to read in the first place. The confusion was quickly replaced by a wave of frustration at his very humanoid need for sleep, which was then followed by an overwhelming surge exhaustion. It was the kind of tired that sunk down into your bones and made all of your limbs weigh as much as lead. Figuratively, of course.

Logan didn’t realize he was drifting off, head in hand, until a sharp knocking on his door startled him awake. He took a moment to push his hair back before calling out.

“Who is it?”

“Tis I, the handsome and valiant- Ow!" The drawling voice was cut off by a dull thudding sound.

"Take it down a notch, Ssshakessspeare," a second voice hissed in a poorly contained whisper, "Thisss iss ssssserious, you extra bitch."

Logan sighed, torn between feeling annoyed or feeling endeared. He stood and opened his door to find Roman and Deceit, standing side by side in the darkened hallway. Roman's hands were on his hips and his expression was challenging, while Deceit had all of his arms folded behind his back with a tired, exasperated smile. Logan felt guilt welling up in his chest, and quickly fought to suppress it.

“Can I help you? I'm very busy at the moment. there's some work I ought’ve finished last week that’s been stressing me.”

Deceit quirked a brow at that, a chuckle creeping into his words:

"Oh, it's obvious that you're stressed, Honey, you just uttered four consecutive contractions."

Logan felt his face heat, prompting another, rather derisive laugh from Deceit. The logical trait cleared his throat.

“I really need to be getting back to work.”

“Aha!” Roman exclaimed, louder than necessary, “Hippocrates!”

“Hypocrite, my love.” Deceit corrected.

“Hypocrite!”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing an argument brewing. He really did not have the time, or the energy, to fight. In fact, Logan noticed he was leaning fairly heavily on the framework for support.

“What’re- What are you talking about?”

“I believe he’s talking about the fact that you recently delivered a few heartfelt lectures on the dangers of bad self care habits to some particularly grateful sides, and now they’re here to return the favor,” Deceit’s smirk widened in that infuriating way of his as he spoke, “You hypocrite.”

With a sigh, Logan righted himself and offered the two a half-hearted glare.

"I don't suppose you would leave if I just promised to go to bed when you left?"

"Not a chance!" Roman called in unison with Deceit murmuring "I know when you're lying, love."

After offering a few feeble arguments about the importance of his work to the creative process, Logan let the two loop and arm each around his waist and usher him down the hallway. If they insisted on holding him hostage for an hour or so, then fine. He could slip away when they inevitably got distracted and return to his work and totally not pass out at his desk.

"We're back, my Loves! Oh, and Remus, I guess." Roman exclaimed, a bit louder than Logan's liking. The latter inspected the scene before him with a mixture of appreciation, affection, and immense frustration. Remus was balanced precariously on the arm of the couch, grinning up at them and- miraculously- fully clothed. Beside him was Virgil, curled into one corner of the couch with his arms looped around Remus' waist to keep him from falling over. He wore a sleepy smile as he looked at Logan (whose reserve was already crumbling). Even worse (better?), just returning into the room with a tray full of various cups of tea, coffee, and hot chocolate, was Patton. He turned to give Logan a smile brighter than the sun upon noticing him (figuratively).

"Heya! Cookies are almost ready,” He greeted, beginning to hand out the beverages. Roman and Deceit took their places in the steadily building cuddle pile, but Logan remained stiffly where he was.

“What are all of you doing?”

“We’re holding you hostage and watching nature documentaries until you fall asleep, because we love you,” Virgil explained, “Bitch.” he added for good measure.

Remus toppled off the arm of the couch into the others, opening his arms invitingly.

“If you don’t come lie down with us on this couch right now there will be blood, and tears.”

Logan took a tentative step forward. And another.

He supposed the schedule could come a bit late this week.

333 notes · View notes

violet-knox · 4 years

Text

Prove Me Wrong

Year 7 - Chapter 60

Summary: Tired of the way he hunches over when he reads, you take it upon yourself to help him correct his posture.

Word count: 2335

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

(Y/E/C) = Your eye colour

“Shh!” There was no point in trying, Severus knew that. The second you set your mind to something, he knew you wouldn’t let up until you got your way, especially when it involved him. Yet that small feeling of hope for compliance still pushed him to shush you as he sat there in the depths of the library, doing his best to ignore your consistent annoyance and focus on the words in front of him instead.

“Severus come on!” you said, trying your best not to raise your voice too high, knowing the attention you’d get in the library with everyone studying for their mid-year exams. Scouting your chair closer to him, you reached over to try and pull the book attached to his nose away from him. He had a death like grasp on it, as if letting it go would bring about the end of days, but that wasn’t about to stop you from trying. Raising yourself off the seat enough to gain a little more strength, you held onto the book tightly and slid into his lap, surprising him with a soft kiss on the cheek. Your unexpected move had the exact effect you were looking for and you finally felt his grip falter enough to let you snatch away that damn book. The moment you’d thrown it off to the side of the table, you’d crashed your lips into his, smiling as you surprised the urge to laugh.

“(Y/N)!” Severus had shifted that death grip from his book to your arms, pulling you away as soon as he felt your lips against his. “Are you mad?!”

He felt his cheeks burn red as he looked down the hall, praying no one would turn the corner and invade his time with you. Over the years, Potter had gifted him the compulsive need to hold onto what he loves as well as the agonizing desire to constantly look over his shoulder, so naturally, he was at times overly protective of you, hoping that limiting your public displays of affection would guard and protect your love. It was bad enough you had to endure secondhand harassment when you became friends and he could only imagine how much worse it would get if you got caught by Potter or one of his friends snogging in public.

“Try them on and I’ll stop!” you said, offering him the pair of reading glasses you’d picked up during your stay at Diagon Alley despite him urging you against it. Denial was all it was, but as soon as he took your advice, he’d know you were right and use them as he should.

Severus eyed you as he weighed his options, though judging by that smile on your face, he could tell that stubborn side of you wasn’t going to let this go until he gave in. His choices were quite limited and even he could admit when he was defeated. Slowly letting his wrist drop, he opened up his palm and motioned for you to hand him those vile things, already dreading how ridiculous he’d look wearing them.

“I try them on, and you never bring it up again, right? You’ll stop this... foolishness?” He asked, gesturing to your current sitting position, as he held the right arm of the glasses between his thumb and index finger. The way he looked at the glasses in his hands, the tone in his voice, it was as if he was about to risk his life by trying them on. Smiling, you subtly nodded your head in encouragement, holding his gaze for a moment before watching him slowly slide the glasses on.

You bit your lip in excitement, unable to hold back your growing smile as you waited for those curtains he always kept in his face to pull back. Time taunted you as the moment slowed enough to test your patience. But you did your best to stay composed though it took all your willpower not to lift up his chin yourself and ask him if the glasses helped his sight as you’d intended it to.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, his eyes met yours and you could hardly keep yourself from jumping in glee. The thin black frames complimented his eyes and the square like shape fit so well with his narrow face. Considering his lack of cooperation when you’d dragged him into that shop at Diagon Alley, you’d done a rather good job picking something out for him.

“Well?” You asked with elation spilling out of your throat. “Do they help?”

You dragged over the book you’d previously thrown on the table and opened it to a random page, practically shoving it into his chest for him to read. Severus let out a small huff of air when the hard edges of the book hit his ribcage. Shaking his head at your inability to contain that growing ball of pure enjoyment inside of you, he looked down at the book in the hopes of getting this over with sooner rather than later. He was counting on your promise to drop this subject the second he proved you wrong. But as he looked down at the pages, the words suddenly became too blurry to read as he held it close to his face, he realized there was just one flaw in his plan; those atrocious spectacles you’d handed him actually bloody worked. In disbelief, he slowly started pushing the book back, the words becoming clearer the further they got.

Clearing his throat, he looked away, feeling a little embarrassed at all the push back he gave you over those damn things. They actually worked, just like you’d claimed yet he had to put his own pride fist and reject your persistence, brushing it off as insolence instead. But what was he supposed to do? Wear glasses and give Potter more reasons to make fun of him? Surely these bloody things looked ridiculous on him. Everything he wore always did.

“They do don’t they!” You said, ecstatic to see the look on his face when he pushed the book back and straightened his back. Severus turned back towards you and squinted. Your features seemed sharper somehow. The (Y/E/C) in your eyes brighter than usual. Removing those wretched glasses, he looked down at them, trying to imagine what he’d looked like with them on.

“Yes,” he mumbled through gritted teeth, giving you the victory you knew you’d earned. Giggling, you tossed your arms around his neck, resting them on his shoulder and hugged him in delight.

“I told you didn’t I! At least now you can read without completely wrecking your posture,” you said joyously. There were no words to describe the joy you felt to hear you’d managed to help Severus with a problem you knew he’d been denying for a while now. No matter how hard you tried, or how much you insisted, he could never seem to even consider the mere possibility that he may need reading glasses.

But through your delightfulness, lay a small bit of worry when you saw the way he was looking at the pair you’d picked up for him; like they’d been a curse forced on him to endure for the rest of his life. Your heart began to sink as you hooked a finger under his chin and lifted it to see the sadness hidden behind his eyes, worried he wasn’t a fan of the style you’d picked out.

“(Y/N), I can’t wear these,” he whispered, his tone carrying nothing more than utter disappointment. He knew all you wanted was to help him, that you could look past the hideous clothing he’d previously worn, the pants that were too short for his long legs, the stringy hair he could never seem to keep clean for more than three hours. But he still couldn't help but think that one of these days, it would all be too much for you and he’d find you abandoning him, pushing him away just like everyone else he'd surrounded himself with.

“Why not?” you asked. He could hear the drop in your spirit form the tone in your voice. He hesitated, his eyes avoiding yours out of something that felt like a cross between guilt, shame and regret. Whatever it was, it had Severus holding back. He didn’t want to disappoint you further when he’d already brought down your mood. In fact, the longer he sat here in his own sorrow, the more he realized how absolutely absurd his excuse really was.

“Because I look ridiculous with them on,” he whispered before meeting your gaze once again, waiting for whatever reaction you were about to give him. In actuality, what was truly ridiculous was his lack of trust in you. How long have you both known each other, yet he still doubted your support for him and against better judgment, his mind had led him down thoughts of nonexistent humiliation and laughter.

“How in Merlin’s name would you know that Severus?” And of course, your true response had proven him completely wrong. You didn’t laugh at him, you weren’t upset with him. You were simply sympathetic for his concerns as you always were. Severus felt the light brush of your fingers against his palms and looked down to see your fingers gently taking the glasses from him and slowly placing them back on. He closed his eyes as they settled into place over his hooked nose, your fingers lingering in his hair before he felt them running along his hairline. He opened his eyes to see your bright smile and admired eyes. “I think you look dashing.”

Severus didn’t fight the smirk that made its way across his face. He was proud of the love he had for you and wanted to cherish every flutter he could get when you spoke to him like that to remind himself of how lucky he was to have you in his life. But when you leaned in closer, your hands resting on his chest, your head tilted, he couldn’t help the compulsive need to hide your love from those who could destroy it rise in his chest, his hands instinctively grabbing your arms and pushing you back.

“You promised you’d stop!”

“Fine,” you said casually and removed yourself from his lap, sitting yourself back in your own chair. You never understood why Severus was so adamant on keeping your relationship a secret, unable to even risk a small kiss in the corner of the library. Still, you respected his wishes and, in all honesty, you kind of enjoyed that protective side of his. But would it kill him to let you help him for once? That’s all you’d wanted to do when you bought those glasses and now that you knew they actually helped, how could you just stand by and let some silly insecurity he’d suddenly made up stand in his way? “Sev, please wear them. Just when you’re reading, that’s all I ask.”

“You realize I spend most of my time reading if I’m not with you.” Severus said as he removed his glasses and went to take your hand in his. He let his thumb gently run over your knuckles, smiling to himself as he thought about your adamancy. No one had ever cared for him as much as you had, not his mother, not any of his Professors and certainly not Lily. Merlin only knew what he’d done to deserve your care though it clearly didn’t come without certain repercussions. The moment he’d looked back up at you, that sweet pleading look on your face, your wide eyes, slightly pouted lower lips and furrowed brows, he felt his heart melt as it always had when you looked at him like that. “Fine.”

Your lips immediately stretched into a content smile as you watched him put the glasses back on.

“Happy?” He asked. You rolled your eyes at that sarcastic tone in his voice and watched him settle back into place, flipping through the pages to find the spot he’d left off. You knew how much he hated being stared at, but you couldn’t help your eyes linger. He was finally reading with the book away from his face, his back straightened against his chair and his hair resting on his shoulders as it should be. Peeling your gaze away from him, you went back to your own textbook, dragging over your scrolls and quill to continue working on your paper.

Change wasn’t always easy for Severus, especially when it came to his own persona, so you were not only grateful for the willingness you saw him give today, you were completely and utterly touched by his faith in you. Your heart fluttered at the thought of him stepping out of his comfort zone for you and as much as you loved him for that, you just couldn’t help the joy at the thought of him finally keeping his books levelled at a reasonable position when you read in his arms. As much as you enjoyed reading with him, it got a little tedious each time he’d bring the book up to his nose when he was having a particularly hard time reading.

“Hello,” said a familiar smooth voice. You looked up to see Connor placing his bag on your table, Severus seemingly just as startled as you. His hair had fallen over his face, his hands shooting up to remove his glasses as he turned away from your Ravenclaw friend.

“Hello Connor,” you said, greeting him as he settled into a seat across from you. Your eyes turned back to Severus and you saw a small glimpse of his flushed face behind his black curtains. He was embarrassed! Even after he’d agreed to wear those glasses, he still couldn’t get over the ludicrous idea of their hideousness. At least you’d made some sort of progress today and perhaps, with time, Severus would come to see the beauty hidden behind his insecurities as you did.

Next Chapter

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 12)

It isn’t that Seukhyun is a bad man. It isn’t that he constantly unwittingly belittles her. In fact, he hasn’t unknowingly spoken ill of her since their first unfortunate date. She stoops down and buries another turnip seed. Granted she isn’t sure if she is actually supposed to be planting them or if Ojihara had different seeds in mind for the winter season. She doesn’t entirely know what she is supposed to be doing with the garden now that the harvest is over.

More often than not she finds herself simply standing in the empty field, staring off into the sunrise. More often than not she finds herself thinking about the several dates Seukyun has dragged her off on this week. They truly hadn’t been unpleasant but she hasn’t felt any less awkward than the first one.

She jabs her small shovel into the dirt, stands up, and wipes her forehead. She shivers, it will be her first winter in the Earth Kingdom and she can’t imagine that it will be as merciful and pleasant as a Fire Nation winter. She isn’t sure that she is entirely ready for her first encounter with snow.

“I know that you enjoy working your until you can barely stand but your gonna have to get used to having some free time.” Seukhyun laughs.

She tilts her head.

“Put the shovel away, we don’t plant before winter, nothing is going to grow. Nothing that our farm produces, anyways.”

Azula flushes. “Right, yes, I was just practicing my planting skill for next year.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes.

“Caihong said that Ojihara begins planting turnips early.”

He laughs, “Caihong likes messing with people when she isn’t getting enough attention.”

Azula’s cheeks grow doubly red. To let herself be fooled by a child… How as she allowed her guard to drop so startlingly low. By Agni, that child is in for a stern discussion the next time the cross paths.

“It’s fine.” He pats between her shoulder blades. “You’re new to farming.”

“It’s so simple. I should know…”

“Farming isn’t as basic as it seems, you have to know the weather, know your crops and the seeds, it’s all very precise.”

“Dad! Gran’pa wants ta talk ta you.”

“I’ll head inside then.” He turns back to Azula, smiles at her, and wipes a smear of dirt off of her cheek. “I’ll get my old man to let you use our bathhouse before we go out tonight.”

And that’s just it, it occurs to her, she has to make herself all pretty for him. Perfect. She hasn’t felt that sort of pressure since leaving the palace. She doesn’t feel the compulsion with Hajime. But of course not, Hajime is a friend, not a lover. Hajime is… He’s Hajime.

And yet speaking to him on the bridge, it was easy. Comfortable. She swallows. She would rather not think of that.

“You told me that Ojihara plants turnip seeds in the winter.”

Caihong nods. “Mmhm, I did”

“Why?”

The girl fixes her with a gap-toothed and cheeky little grin. “‘Cause I thou’d it’d be funny.”

“I stole a turnip for you…”

.oOo.

It is nice to smell of soap and flora instead of sweat and work. Nice to have her hair not disheveled. Nice to have a slight touch of makeup on her skin. If only she felt so well groomed and secure on the inside. If only, getting prettied up had any worth at all. If only it didn’t make her feel so ugly.

She stares at her reflection on the surface of her cup. Suddenly she feels as though she has changed very little. That everything thus far has been for naught. She is still vile of heart and sick of head. She has only put distance between herself and who she had been. But it will come back for her. She knows that it will. It always does.

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” Seukhyun asks?

She supposes that she isn’t. She is certain that it isn’t normal to see evil in re-attaining good hygiene, to feel a sort of disconnect when her face is painted in a certain way. She thinks that she will avoid makeup and styling from here on out.

“I’m alright.”

He crinkles his brows, “you look upset.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

He sighs. “Do you really want to be here?”

Her heart clenches. “I...yes, Wu Jing is comfortable.”

“No. Do you really want to be here,” he gestures about the restaurant, “with me.”

She picks up her cup and empties it. She doesn’t not want to be here. She isn’t sure that she’d have anywhere else to be. And she wonders if she ought to move along, onto the next village as she should have done weeks ago. She used to have goals. Used to at least be able to pretend that this journey had a point. Somewhere along her path she has strayed. All she sees is stagnation.

“Yes. I think.”

“Rikka, I need you to know.” He says almost desperately. “I need to know if this means anything or if…”

“You’re just wasting your time?”

“I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”

“There’s only one way to phrase it.” Azula replies. “I want to be here.” But she isn’t sure if she should be here.

“But…”

She says nothing. He doesn’t leave her with time to think of something worth saying, something that could accurately convey just what she feels without revealing too much. He rakes his hand through his hairline. “I like you, Rikka. But you're always so...guarded.”

She can’t contest it.

“I can’t tell if you feel the same way about me. You weren’t as tense when we were just plucking turnips together.”

“Plucking turnips and talking is easier.” It feels natural.

“Have you ever been on a date? Before me, I mean?”

She shakes her head. She doesn’t have anything to compare these dates to. “Is it supposed to be--”

“This awkward?” He asks. “Maybe on the first one.” He adds a laugh. “But I thought that you would have gotten used to it by now.”

She knows that she should have. “Do you think that some people are incapable of love?”

He flinches and stumbles over his words, babbling but not truly saying anything until finally stumbling, “I think that some people haven’t found another person that they fit with yet.”

“I like you Seukhyun.”

“But do you love me?”

She doesn’t know how. She is certain that she doesn’t.

.oOo.

She is surprised to still be in Ojihara’s good graces, likely because Seukhyun hasn’t yet complained about their failed romance. Though she wouldn’t call it that, it had been too brief and too forced. Probably too sudden from the start. Really she had no business trying at all.

“What am I doing?” She rubs her face.

“Your laundry.” Hajime replies.

Azula sighs. “I’m not talking about what I’m doing right now I’m talking about…” she supposes she is talking about what she is doing right now. Truly, what point is there in lingering here, performing mundane tasks like doing laundry. “I think that I should leave.”

“Did something happen between you and Seuk? If Ojihara is evicting you, you can stay with Atsu and I.”

“I’m not being evicted.” Yet. “I’ve simply been here for too long.”

Hajime chuckles. “I forgot that you’re a wanderer.”

She crosses her arms.

“If you think that leaving is good for you, then do what you need to do.”

She nods. “Atsu will get over it right?”

“Hmm?”

“When I’m gone. Atsu will get over it?”

“He’s a resilient kid.” Hajime sighs. “He’s dealt with loss before, I think that he’ll be alright.”

“And you?”

He laughs, “just join me for dinner once before you go, okay?”

He has been well to her. She supposes that she owes him at least that much.

.oOo.

“Sorry that it isn’t anything fancy.” He says as she looks over the meal he has prepared. Truth be told, she had been expecting a night out with a more lavish atmosphere rather than a home cooked meal had over a few candles. She supposes that Seukhyun has been spoiling her. And how strange it is to call something as simple as Seukhyun’s dinner dates, spoiling.

“I don’t mind.”

“That’s a relief.” He forces a chuckle.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess that it’s just that Seukyun...he’s charming and clever and his old man is the richest man in Wu-Jing. And all I have is this. This small shack, just enough to get food and clothes, and just enough left over to get Atsu some new toys every once in a while.”

“This is fine.” She has grown used to much less. “It’s comfortable.” Very comfortable, there is nothing around to tempt her back to the palace and its alluring luxurious. Nothing to flash reminders of her past in her face. “What is this anyways.” She gestures to the bowl.

“It’s cabbage stew. Atsu has been begging me for cabbage stew.”

“What kind of child begs for vegetables?” The deprived sort, she answers for herself. The sort who was always expected to stay away from sweets until the desire for it was replaced with guilt for eating them…

“The kind that was told that vegetables will give him plant bending powers.” Hajime winks. “If he asks, tell him that eating sunflower seeds makes fire benders stronger.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you don’t like cabbage, I can make us something else.”

“Cabbage stew is fine.”

He takes his seat, “you seem quieter than usual tonight.”

She shrugs.

“What’s going on, Rikka?”

That she isn’t Rikka at all. That she can never truly be Rikka no matter how fervently she pines to be. That she will always be Azula. No matter what she does, Azula will always be there. And Azula will only complicate and dismantle Hajime’s cozy lifestyle.

“I think that I’ve just stayed here for longer than I should have.” She replies. And now she is hesitant to let it go.

“Why’s that?”

“Sooner or later it’s going to catch up and when it does, it’s going to get me and it’s going to take you down with it.”

“What is?”

“You don’t know me Hajime. You don’t know what I am…”

“I know that you have a past.” He replies. “And that if you want to talk more about it, I’ll listen, no judging.”

No judging… But how can he say that when he doesn’t know just how much he will have to downplay and fight to justify? “I don’t want to talk about it.” She just wants one person who cares for her without feeling as though she is a volcano waiting to erupt.

He nods. “That’s alright.” He frowns and likely that’s the end of it. All the better, it will make it easier for her to leave when he admits that it isn’t alright and that he’d be better off with someone who has less mystery, less baggage.

“I think that I should go now.”

“Do you want to say goodbye to Atsu?”

She shakes her head. That would make things tripley hard. “He’s trying to sleep.”

“Right.” Hajime stuffs his hands into his pockets and wanders with her towards the door. “Can I…? Can I tell you something before you leave?”

Her stomach sinks. She thinks that she already knows what’s coming. “Is it going to make this more difficult?”

“Yeah, probably.” He admits.

And maybe that’s exactly what she’s looking for. Something, some profound reason to stay. Something to keep her tethered… “I like you, Rikka.”

“Clearly.”

He shakes his head and gives a sad chuckle, “you really are awful with people.” He brushes her hair back just as he had done on the bridge. But this time he takes her hand and kisses her cheek.

She bites the inside of her cheek just hard enough to taste blood. Just hard enough to swallow her emotions and keep her eyes from getting misty. “Good history or bad history, I’d like you to stick around and share it with me one day.”

He truly isn’t making this easy at all. She wishes that she has retained just enough apathy to leave.

“Will you come back?”

“What?”

“After you go…” he gestures vaguely “do whatever you’re going to do, will you come back and tell me how it went. Atsu will probably want to hear every detail.”

She looks towards her feet and runs a hand through her hair. She is a wanderer. She can’t afford to be tethered and yet…”no.”

“No?”

She sighs, “there won’t be a story to tell.” She replies. “I’ve just decided not to leave.” He probably thinks her to be annoyingly fickle. She waits for a wash of relief to overtake her. For that tell-tale rush of certainty, the one she gets every time she makes a decision that she knows is correct. It doesn’t come. Agni she is so lost…

He takes her hand, she doesn’t think that she has seen anyone look so relieved and joyful. “Thank the spirits for that!” He squeezes her hand. And there it is, if only slightly. A small little wave of reassurance.

The current is just strong enough to pull her closer to him. Just close enough for her lips to hover over his. Where she hesitates, he fills in the blanks. He pulls her that much closer, his forehead touches hers and then his lips brush her lips.

She closes her eyes. He tastes like hope and like cabbage stew. He feels like a chance, a beginning.

“Ewwwww, dad! You guys are gross!”

That night she learns what it is to love.

.oOo.

The days keep her rather busy, mercifully so. Between an official welcome home ceremony and several council meetings, her mind is kept well away from the trickier things. From Sokka and his well-meant words.

She lets herself slink back into petty delights; absurdly luxurious silk robes, a full face of makeup, and an immoderate amount of pampering. She closes her eyes, clasps her hands over her belly, and leans back into the chair as one of several servants massages richly scented fire lily shampoo into her hair. Another lifts her hand and scrubs it with lotion while another still files her nails.

Old habits. She is falling back on old habits. In a way it is a comfort, at least now she can prove that she hasn’t changed that significantly. That she isn’t worth giving a second chance. That she isn’t worth befriending.

And yet the tribesman still marches right up to her as brazenly as before. But of course; it isn’t about a face full of makeup or a few days of overindulgent spoiling, she has to sell it. “What do you want?” She asks stiffly, without so much as opening her eyes.

“You’re grumpy today.” He laughs.

“What do you want?” She repeats, with significantly less bite.

“I get it.” He says, “we had a deep conversation and things got...fluffy so now you have to act tough. Zuko does the same thing.”

She quirks a brow, “you’re going for the low jabs today.” She sees a flood of relief fill his eyes. He nudges her. The servant scoffs while Azula rolls her eyes. Sokka mumbles an apology as the servant sighs and begins scrubbing the stray line of polish off of Azula’s finger. “Low jabs aren’t enough, you have to ruin my manicure too?”

He half smiles. “So being on the road has given you a sense of humor!”

“I had a sense of humor before?”

“A bad one.”

“It was fine before.” The servant puts her hand back in place and reaches for the other. She holds it up and inspects their handiwork. “Now, don’t make me ask a third time. What do you want, Sokka?”

.oOo.

He is fairly certain that she doesn’t mean to sound so startling this time, but her drawl is just low and slow enough to be so. He thinks that it doesn’t even register to her. She lays her head back and closes her eyes once more with a small yawn.

Sokka takes a deep breath. He supposes that now is as good a time as any. “I was hoping that we could go...do an activity together.” He could slap himself. He really needs to find something else to fall back on when he doesn’t know what he wants to say.

“Sure Sokka. You let me know when you figure out what that activity is and I suppose we can do it.”

He blinks, “really?”

She nods.

He grins, “great! Uh there was this theater show that I wanted to see.”

“It better not be one of those war reenactments. I’d rather not see my misfortunes played for laughs.”

He rubs the back of his head. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to see that either.” He cringes as the memories of the Ember Island Players flood back in. “It’s actually a Fire Nation retelling of Cave Of The Two Lovers.”

Azula crinkles her nose. “Your taste in theater is terrible.”

He deflates.

“But I suppose that it beats another awkward dinner where Zuko treats me like I’m delicate and unstable.”

“Good!” He exclaims. “I mean good that you still want to go, not that Zuko…” He flushes.

“I know what you meant, Sokka.” She replies softly.

He finds himself nervously rubbing the back of his head again. He wonders how it is that she is still so cool and collected while he is a blundering mess despite having declared that she no good with socializing. He thinks that it is actually coming quite easily to her, even if she doesn’t realize it. And maybe that’s exactly why he is itching so furiously to get close to her, to figure out exactly what changed her so much.

“Do you have somewhere else to be or are you just going to stand there and watch them pamper me?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t have anywhere to be until tonight.”

“Of course you don’t.” The serving girl sets another perfectly groomed hand back in position. Azula turns her head to look at him. “You might as well have a seat then.”

“Is this going to take a while.”

“That depends, which theater are we going to?”

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m not in the Earth Kingdom anymore; higher end theatres require more makeup and styling.”

“Is anything really required when you’re the princess?” He asks. “What do you want to do?”

“It’s what I don’t want to do, Sokka. I already speak like an Earth Kingdom peasant, I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

.oOo.

She doesn’t want to make a fool of herself and she also doesn’t want to lose the self that she has worked so hard to find. But, Agni, how easy being back home makes it. Yet, it would be easier to avoid replacing Hajime if she made herself as unlikable as she had been…

“You won’t make a fool of yourself. And if you do, I’ll be there to make a bigger fool of myself and then they won’t even pay attention to you.”

But he is making it terribly difficult to do so--her heart seizes and she bites the inside of her cheek.

“And besides, everyone will be watching the show, not you.”

“Sokka, I am the show.”

She has never heard him laugh so hard. A full and booming belly laugh. “Not everything is about you.”

She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms as her cheeks color themselves a faint pink. “I’ve only just come home, not even a month ago, I’m going to draw looks. It only takes a short look to…”

“To what? Decide that you’re backwater street trash now?” He pauses. “Believe it or not, things have changed here too. Most people have been nice to you, remember?”

She rubs her lips together. “I’m used to...”

His face softens, trading his jesting demeanor for something more sympathetic. “Having to be perfect for everyone?”

“It wasn’t like that in the Earth Kingdom.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that here either. Unless you want it to be.”

She doesn’t.

“We’re going to the Phoenix Claw theater. How much beautifying does that require?”

She sighs. “The highest degree of it.”

“I’ll get something to read while I wait.”

He makes it to the door before she finally makes up her mind. She supposes that it will be fun to tell him that he wandered all the way down the hall and up the stairs and then back again for no reason.

“Do you want us to bring your fuller makeup collection.”

She shakes her head. “A touch of it will do just fine.” She’ll let her natural beauty do the rest of the work. She inhales deeply, Agni does she hope that she won’t come to regret it.

.oOo.

She is tense almost the whole time. Tense and, admittedly, underdressed. He might have underestimated just how opulent this theater was going to be. And now they are standing out because they don’t stand out. And admittedly, even he feels flustered. He can only imagine how awkward Azula feels.

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “I didn’t realize that it would be this fancy.”

Azula shrugs. “I’ve been here before.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. “Nevermind. You tried to.”

“Yes.” She agrees.

As they take their seats, he can’t help but feel like he has blown it. Blown whatever relationship they have built. And all because...because what? He tried to push her to be herself. To do what made her comfortable. But she isn’t comfortable at all. She shifts in her seat. With ten minutes to show time, most people do gander at her and he isn’t sure if all of their gawking is born of starstrickeness.

They whisper too, just loud enough for him, every now and again, to catch an, “is she alright?” Or an, “I thought that she had been given her status back.”

“I think that you look perfect.” He smiles.

“Thanks.” She murmurs.

Every so often he hears someone quietly ponder about how they wish that they could be brave enough to come to the theater dressed so informally. Or about how simplicity has more tact. He isn’t sure that Azula hears those musings. He is certain that she is deeply into blocking most everything out.

It is a relief when the candles are snuffed and the curtains rise. He finds himself watching her more than the show. Watching her expression, seeing the stress leave it for a brief time. She catches him more than once.

The curtains fall and the candles are re-lit. She wastes no time, “I’m not the show?”

“You were for me.”

“You aren’t smooth, Sokka.” She folds her arms. This time he can’t tell at all whether she is joking or not. Is isn’t brazen enough to ask. Not as brazen as the people around them; intermission is a steady flow of bolder mutterings. “So that’s what an extended stay in the Earth Kingdom does to a person” and “such a shame.” He feels her hand grip his. And very tightly. He thinks that she might not even be aware that she is doing it. She is anxious enough, he doesn't point it out, doesn’t jerk away.

“Follow me.” She says.

He doesn’t protest, intentions be damned, he has definitely messed up.

But she doesn’t lead him to the door. She leads him to the stage.

.oOo.

There was something so exhilarating, about it. About striding down the aisles and climbing onto the stage.

“Azula what are you…?”

“Just get up here.” She holds her hand out and pulls him on stage with her.

It is a compulsion, more than anything else. An impulse.

“Introduce us.”

“What?”

“Introduce us, Sokka.”

His face is redder than the curtains behind them. He clears his throat, “uh...flameo hotmen...and hotwomen.”

She chuckles. “Louder, Sokka.”

He clears his throat once more and repeats himself.

“They can’t hear you. You have to do it like this.” She pauses and with as much more bravado than she actually feels calls out, “flameo hotmen and women!” Her voice carries about the theater. She feels almost as though she is at one of her father’s war meetings, all eyes on her. All ears. Watching, waiting, hooked on her every word. “I am your princess and this is my… I don’t know what he is…”

“Your friend?” He suggests.

“This is my,” she hesitates, “friend, Sokka. And, since you’ve all been staring at us anyways, we’ll be performing the rest of the show!” Her voice resounds around the room, throwing her own impromptu foolishness back at her.

It is stupid. It is humiliating. It is liberating.

.oOo.

His face is still burning well into their quiet walk home. And he isn’t sure which bit leaves him feeling the most fluttery; the botching of the script, the exaggerated yet propless gestures, or that she had…

He still tastes her lipstick on his lips. He must say, she is a phenomenal thespian. And she had done her first show in front of a full house at Capital City’s most extravagant, esteemed theater.

“Not bad for first time actors.” He forces a laugh.

She shrugs. “It is my show. Everything is about me.”

“Only because you made it about you.” He points out.

Her walking comes to a halt. “Did I?”

“Well, you took the background role you were hired for and cast yourself in the starring role.”

“Perhaps I did.”

“Why?”

She shrugs again and continues her stride.

“Why?” He insists.

“Maybe I’m tired of pretending.”

She isn't looking at him, but he looks away to conceal his grin anyhow.

.oOo.

“Maybe I don’t want to hide anymore.” She adds quietly. It is so tiresome to continuously refine herself. To suppress aspects of herself. To present an immaculate and polished version of her when the real her has been beaten and worn and reshaped into something else entirely. Something more pleasant. She doesn’t think that she was ever truly the elegant sort. Not by nature.

“Sorry, this was such a disaster. It was supposed to be a relaxing night.” Sokka laments. “But I put you on the spot and made you feel upset again.”

“No, Sokka.” She gives a small titter. “It was...nice.”

“Nice?”

She nods. “I had...I had a good time.”

She doesn’t feel upset. She feels like herself. For the first time since coming home, she feels like herself.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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sunsethwa · 5 years

Text

compulsion, n;

an irrational need or irresistible urge to perform some action, often despite negative consequences

pt. 4 / ? [ prev / next / masterlist ]

A/N: We all need a little taste of demon!san, even in seonghwa fics – sidenote I changed from writing in present to past, because I seem to always do that automatically smh

Word Count: 2k

TW: angst, heights, demonic antics?

The apartment was rustic, but surprisingly bright considering who owned it – it was quite artistic actually, lots of large paintings hung up on the brick walls and furniture that looked like it belonged in the 50s. It blended together well with the modern kitchen and its glass counter tops as well as the giant flat screen in the living room.

“You demon’s have a lot of money?” You turned towards Seonghwa and raised an eyebrow, questioning. His lips stretched, revealing a grin of perfect, white teeth – then chuckled a bit.

“I’ve been around for a while; I have my ways.” He said, guardedly. You huffed and walked over to the window that was the furthest inside of the apartment. The building was one of the highest in the whole city, and you were currently on the 20th floor out of 40. It was more than high enough to spark a slight fear but being inside it didn’t bother you that much.

“One needs a place to pull back and relax you know. Being a night creature, I need to fill the passing daytime.” Seonghwa added, standing next to you with his arms crossed over his chest. You turned your face towards him, wanting to start questioning him again, but something prohibited you from doing so, as if your words were physically held back.

“Brother! You’re home! You’ll never believe what I did last night-“ A voice was heard from behind and the two of you turned at an instant. Your eyes widened at the sight of the silver haired man who had tortured you days ago. You unwillingly backed up, the back of your head hitting the window with a hard thump. Your hand instantly flew to the growing pain from the crash and you couldn’t help but crouching down to collect yourself.

“What did I say about coming here without my permission?” Seonghwa asked the silver one, his position untouched since the other entered the room. You looked up, seeing the man walk slowly towards you, picking up an apple from the fruit bowl on the coffee table along the way. He threw it back and forth in his hands a few times before taking a large bite out of it. You noticed a stripe of juice from the fruit seeping from the corner of his mouth, which he quickly wiped away with hand. His stare was placed on Seonghwa only, his brows furrowing slightly as if confused.

“But we’re brothers, aren’t we – shouldn’t we be allowed in each other’s homes? There must be some kind of code on that, don’t you think?” He said, his tone sly and low.

“San, you know I am not fond of you being here.” Seonghwa said, reminding you of the silver’s name. Neither of them moved nor spoke again for a while, and you were still frozen on the floor, scared to do anything in this moment. San suddenly turned his face towards you, his stone like expression changing into a smirk.

“What are you doing down there, honey? Get up.” He told you and you slowly arose into a standing position. A few seconds after you hear San laugh.

“Ahah! I make your pet nervous; can I borrow it?” You had failed to notice how much you were fidgeting and constantly trying to avoid San’s stare, keeping your eyes on the floor. You felt a firm hand on your shoulder, the grip so hard that you hissed.

“No, they’re not my pet. They’re a human I’m researching.” Seonghwa said coldly, pulling you with him past San towards one of the doors in the apartment. Once he shoved you through it, he closed on you before you could protest and you heard the lock being turned from the outside. In a sudden panic, you started knocking on the door, telling Seonghwa to let you out.

“I’ll be right back; I just need to take care of some things.” He said unsympathetically. You tried to protest, shouting that he couldn’t just leave you there. You heard a couple of footsteps, then nothing. Turning around, you took in the room you had been locked inside of. It was decorated nicely like the living area, except this one was filled with a single bed, a small tv, a desk and a small fridge. Curious, you checked the fridge – it was filled with enough food to last for days. Then, you noticed another door inside the room – this one opened and led to a bathroom.

“Damn, this demon surely has done this before.” You mumbled to yourself as you plopped down on the bed. There was no one you could call for help, your bag being left in the hallway as you entered the place. Right now, you were just happy that the room had a window, so it didn’t feel completely enclosed. There was no use trying to escape through it though, as the drop was straight down from there. For now, all you could do was to wait and hope Seonghwa would actually return soon as he said. You found the remote to the tv, turning it on to distract yourself from the situation. Soon, you found your eyes getting tired, suddenly falling into a deep sleep.

…

You wake up to a repeated banging noise a while later, unsure of how long you’ve been knocked out or where you were. When reality hit you, you sighed as you took in the darkness of the room, realising night-time had come. The tv had turned off by itself, so the little light illuminating the room came from the moon outside the window; except that it was flickering, covered by some kind of silhouette. The banging occurred again, making you shift, facing the source. You once again wanted to crawl into a corner because there, outside the window, was San somehow hanging onto the side of the tall building with no difficulty whatsoever. When he saw that you had noticed him, his eyes flashed to black for a second as he was smiling at you, then they returned to their normal state before he was pointing down at the window handle. You knew it was a bad idea, but you slowly walked over to the window and opened it wide. San quickly hopped in, landing right in front of you, only inches apart from your body.

“I thought you might not like being locked up like this, so I came to help you out.” He said, his smile so innocent that he almost looked naive. You tried to take a few steps back from him, but he quickly grabbed your arm.

“Or did you not want my help?” His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your skin, shivering at how warm it was. His expression was completely different now, entirely serious and almost vicious. Scared of what would happen if you declined, you swallowed and nodded quickly. His grip let go of you and his sweet smile returned. He walked up to the door and swayed his finger in front of the lock before opening the door.

“After you.” He suggested, almost bowing slightly as he held the door open for you to exit.

“If you could do that, why did you come through the window?” You asked him, making him chuckle slightly.

“Ah oh that, well, Seonghwa doesn’t exactly – allow me to open his front door from the outside, so, the window is usually my way in.” He kept on grinning playfully and wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you out of the apartment. Following you into the elevator, he pressed the button of the very top floor, making you question his intentions.

“Where are you taking me?” You questioned, feeling your insides boil in fear of this man considering his past actions.

“Well, to see how pretty the city is at night, you silly.” He said, his hand tightening around you, pulling you closer to him. You could swear that if his hands had been directly on your skin, they would have left burn marks because of how hot they were.

Once you had reached the top, San changed his grip on you, instead intertwining his fingers with yours and pulling you out onto the roof of the building. You found yourself fascinated by all the illuminating city lights, yet completely dizzy from how high up you were, causing your feet to stop at a standstill. When San noticed your halt, he quickly turned and stared at you.

“What’s the matter? You aren’t afraid of heights, are you?” He asked you with a pout. Your eyes landed on his quickly, but soon flickered away from him, not wanting to show your fear.

“Awww.” He let out, his hand returning to your waist and half pushing, half pulling you closer to the edge. Soon, you were standing right at the end of the building, only a fence barely reaching your thighs and San’s grip keeping you from falling off.

“Look, darling. Look down for me, won’t you?” His tone was sweet and gentle, and somewhat endearing, yet, you refused to shift your stare, terrified of what was below. When you didn’t obey, he grabbed the back of your shirt with his free hand and shoved your body into a 90 degree angle. You were now facing straight down, the cars on the roads below looking like mere ants from this height. Impulsively, you closed your eyes, trying to fight San’s grip and pull yourself back up, but to no use.

“I said- Look!” His voice was not gentle anymore, his words were sung almost as a growl, making him feel animalistic. You opened your eyes back up, noticing tears falling straight down as you did. Feeling your chest heaving for breath, you tried to collect yourself, but to no use.

“I’m looking, I’m looking.” You let out with sobs, praying that he wouldn’t just let go of his grip of you and push you off.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A familiar voice was heard a from the other side of the roof. Quickly, you were ripped out of San’s hands and discarded on the ground like a piece of trash. You looked up through your tear-filled eyes to see Seonghwa lift San off the ground by his collar.

“I told you that they weren’t yours to play with, didn’t I?” He said.

“Y-yes, you did.” You could see San’s face scrunching up with his words, and you found yourself wondering if the other was hurting him.

“You’ve used up all your chances now, boy. If you cross me one more time, I’ll make sure to get your bond broken.” He warned the silver one.

“That’s not your decision to make!” San exclaimed, hissing at the pain of raising his voice soon after.

“But you know I can get it done, don’t you, huh?” Seonghwa cautioned, his voice so low that you could barely hear it. San nodded as quickly as you had only 10 minutes earlier, and Seonghwa finally let him down, whereas the first escaped faster than the speed of light.

Seonghwa turned his attention towards you, his face stern, but reaching out his hand for you to take.

“I think it’s best you stay with me tonight.” He told you as you took his hand, getting back on your feet, balance still wobbly from the earlier events.

“Why?” You asked.

“Something tells me San is in a rush of bloodlust and I cannot keep you alive if you’re somewhere he can get inside.”

“You might need to put locks on your windows then.” You reminded him of how San had gotten inside in the first place.

“Consider it taken care of. Come on now.” He let go of your hand and just waved you in the direction of the elevator. You gladly followed – the company of any other demon was an upgrade from San’s – or at least that was what you hoped.

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hustlebonezzzz · 4 years

Text

We need to talk about Courage the Cowardly Dog

In what seems like a stream of relentless plagues, wildfires burn around the world, billions of desert locusts swarm and threaten African crops, and of course, COVID-19. How could we forget about COVID-19? The bright side of a world-wide pandemic is that this quarantine has provided ample time to revisit shows the shaped my childhood. When I was a kid, Courage the Cowardly Dog was my absolute favorite, hands down.

The title sequence explains the show perfectly:

“We interrupt this program to bring you… Courage the Cowardly Dog Show, starring Courage, the Cowardly Dog! Abandoned as a pup, he was found by Muriel, who lives in the middle of nowhere with her husband, Eustace Bagge! But creepy stuff happens in Nowhere. It's up to Courage to save his new home!”

And that’s it. Crazy stuff happens, and Courage is left to try and save the day. As I watch it now, I can’t ever picture a show like this being aired today. Many times I’d catch myself thinking, “They let this air??” Some of the episodes are straight-up disturbing or tear jerking

An episode that is both disturbing and tearjerking is “The Mask.” This episode tackles subjects such as same-sex relationships, domestic abuse, and sexual assault. These elements are heavily present within the episode, yet are veiled behind a funny children’s show. The veil is lifted when viewing the episode with adult eyes, and it becomes a realistic animated drama.

The beginning of the episode starts with Courage relaxing outside his home and minding his own business. Suddenly, a frightening masked individual walks onto the scene and beats Courage, all while proclaiming a hatred for dogs. This scene is hilarious as a child for the sheer slapstick humor element.

The masked figure smashes Courage with a sink because “Dogs are evil.”

We later learn that the masked individual is a cat named Kitty. Kitty hates and beats Courage because he is a dog, and she associates all dogs with an evil dog that is keeping her best friend captive in an abusive relationship. Her best friend is a bunny named Bunny, and her abusive boyfriend is called Mad Dog. Mad Dog is a thug.

Courage, being the gentle and kind soul he is, decides that the best way to get Kitty to leave him alone is to save her best friend Bunny and show that not all dogs are like Mad Dog. So, in the dead of night, Courage sneaks out and goes to the rundown industrial zone where Bunny is being held captive. A car with blaring hip-hop music comes to a screeching halt in front of a building with busted and boarded up windows. Courage watches and cowers behind another car while Mad Dog aggressively pulls Bunny out of the car. Her facial expression is empty and sad. They enter the building and Courage spies through the window. Mad Dog is upset that Bunny is visibly unhappy, and suspects that she’s thinking about her best friend, Kitty.

Although we don’t see it, Mad Dog decides to beat Bunny up for thinking about Kitty and not being happy with him. We are only left with this frame:

Bunny is shoved into a pot after being beat by Mad Dog.

As I watched this scene, I was in shock. As a kid, you just assume that he throws her around and roughs her up a bit before throwing her into a giant pot with dirt. Hell, this scene might even be funny to a child. Now, this appears to be an obvious metaphor for feeling dirty or soiled after being sexually assaulted. Bunny was not just being beat up. This episode also does a great job of showing the psychological manipulation that is a part of an abusive relationship. While yelling at Bunny, Mad Dog says “I told you to forget her! I take you from a two-bit joint and make you a class act and you want to make me second rate!” It’s incredible how Mad Dog tries to manipulate Bunny into thinking that this life is the best she could ever get as he screams at her in a dirty, run-down apartment.

The emotional manipulation only continues as Mad Dog tries to comfort her afterwards, asking why things can’t be like the good ol’ days when she still loved him. He makes it seem as if it is her fault for being clearly depressed because of this physically, sexually, and emotionally abusive relationship.

Mad Dog tries to comfort Bunny after lashing out on her for thinking about Kitty.

By the end of the episode, Courage the cowardly dog saves the day and breaks Bunny out of her prison. Kitty and Bunny are reunited and run away together by hopping on a train and never looking back.

Bunny and Kitty embrace each other after finally being reunited

So yes, this series has always maintained a creepy and provocative vibe throughout its duration, and undoubtedly has some dark themes and screwed up moments intertwined. These subverted themes only become more prevalent the older you get. You don’t notice these surreal elements as a child, and I don’t think you’re supposed to. I certainly didn’t see anything wrong with “The Mask” in my youth. Yeah, of course I felt sympathy for Kitty and Bunny, but there was a happy ending and that made it all okay for me. I saw the slapstick humor of it all, which is the kind of humor that really resonates with kids. It is a vital part of most children’s programming. Without it, this show wouldn’t be for kids, that’s for sure.

“The Mask” of course isn’t the only episode that touches on sexual abuse. In “Freaky Fred,” Muriel’s creepy barber nephew comes for a visit. Fred speaks through child-like rhymes and always ends it with how he’s been very “naaaaauuuughty.” Naughty is said in a way that is all too sexual, uncomfortable, and violating, whether you are a child or an adult. The innuendo behind the uttering of “naughty” becomes more apparent to a mature audience.

In this episode, Fred the creepy barber corners Courage in the bathroom and forcibly shaves his pink fur, all while confessing to his compulsive urges to force himself upon others and shave off their hair. He recites a poem about his first victim while doing so: “This dripping here, this droopy curl, unfold sweet memories of a girl, whose tresses, oh they’d twist and twirl, and tempt me to be… naughty.”

To put it bluntly, it seemed like this scene was mirroring sexual assault based on the dialogue and the overall mood portrayed. Fred likes to force his apparent hair shaving fetish onto anyone who is vulnerable that he can get alone. By the end of the episode, we find out that Fred was committed to a mental institution and escaped. The authorities show up to Courage’s home and take him back.

Fred’s character design alone only points to him being up to no good, and the smile never leaves his face.

Fred gazes menacingly at Courage before proceeding to forcibly shave his fur off.

If sexual abuse is on the table for this series, they certainly wouldn’t shy away from covering parental abuse. In the multiple episodes that feature Eustace’s mother, the audience comes to learn why Eustace’s character is a crotchety old man who takes joy in tormenting and scaring Courage. Throughout all of the episodes, Eustace yells “Stupid dog!” at Courage. It’s even a part of the opening title sequence. When Eustace’s mother, Ma Bagge, is introduced, we quickly notice that she is just like Eustace. She constantly yells “Stupid boy!” at Eustace and berates him at any chance she gets. For the first time ever, we feel sympathy for one of the most hated characters on the show. Eustace’s whole shtick comes from being mean and cranky. It all comes together and we see that Eustace is but a product of his mother’s emotional abuse, a cycle that we often see in the real world. Other episodes detail his painful childhood, showing that deep down, a mean and cruel old man is not who he truly is. Episodes show that throughout his entire life, he constantly tried to win the love and affection from his mother, however, she always found fault in him and he was never good enough.

Eustace presents gifts to his mother, Ma Bagge, in hopes of winning her approval.

As said previously, many of the episodes aren’t dark and twisted on the surface from a child’s point of view, but an episode that is heartbreaking whether you are a child or an adult is “Remembrance of Courage Past.” This episode details Courage’s origin story. We see that Courage once had loving dog parents that adored him. Courage’s parents take him to the vet, but in a strange turn of events, his parents are locked in a rocket and blasted into space by the sadistic veterinarian. There isn’t really any rhyme or reason, the vet is just plain evil. The vet asks to speak to the parents in private, and Courage is ushered into the waiting room. He later hears his parents crying out for help and he sees them being carried away in a net by the vet. Baby Courage follows them and sees his parents stuffed into a rocket. Baby Courage is unable to save them because the veterinarian notices that he is in the room and begins to chase him. Baby Courage escapes through a shoot that leads to an alleyway. From here, he watches the rocket blast off and waves goodbye as he cries. This is where Muriel finds him all alone and adopts him as her own.

Left: Courage’s parents cry out for help from inside the rocket.

Right: Muriel finds Courage all alone in the alley and takes him in.

Seriously, this episode is so sad. We learn that Courage wasn’t truly “abandoned as a pup.” Courage deeply fears losing his current family because of how his real parents were ripped away from him. It was a tearjerker then, and it still is now. Now, he simply can’t bear the thought of ever losing his family again. This motivates him throughout the entire series to save his family no matter what the obstacles and no matter how scared he is.

Now all of the episodes that have been covered thus far were terrifying in their own way, yet there is one episode that continues to linger in the minds of its viewers. The episode in question? “King Ramses Curse.” But why this episode?

First, a quick plot overview: Courage finds an ancient artifact in their yard. It turns out to be a cursed slab that was stolen from a museum. The police were hot on the museum robbers trail, so they ditched it in Courage’s yard. A resurrected King Ramses appears at their home to retrieve it. However, Eustace found out earlier that day that the slab is worth millions and won’t let King Ramses have it back, despite King Ramses threatening to send 3 plagues, each worse than the last.

King Ramses first tries to drown them, and for a kids show, I’ll admit that it’s pretty intense, but expected at this point. I audibly uttered “Now that’s a curse” as I rewatched. The next plague is just forcing them to listen to a really bad song, bringing the humor element back in and giving a break from the horror. Back to the horror, the last plague is a swarm of locusts that destroys everything in its path. In the end, Eustace refuses to relinquish the slab as Ramses menacingly looms over him. The episode concludes with Eustace being trapped in a sarcophagus, crying out for help. But the unfolding of these surely traumatic events isn’t what scared me as a youngin’.

So why did this episode scare so many children including myself? Simply put, the visuals.

King Ramses, was a 3D-animation overlayed on a 2D-background. Frankly, late 90s and early 2000s 3D-animation was a little creepy looking in general. The art of 3D-animation was still a work in progress. Hell, Disney and Pixar were still trying to perfect it with Toy Story.

King Ramses stands outside the home of Courage.

Courage the Cowardly Dog had a highly experimental animation style considering the time in which it aired, 1996-2002. The animators didn’t stick to only 2D-animation alone, but instead incorporated elements of live-action, claymation, and 3D-computer animation, amongst other things. The show really had a knack for mixing mediums. What made this show so generally creepy was the way the mixed mediums didn’t fit in with the familiar 2D-animation style. It was unexpected and unsettling.

Left: Example of live-action element

Middle: Example of 3D-computer animation

Right: Example of claymation featured in the show

While revisiting Courage, I can’t help but notice how this series hones in on the feeling of helplessness and life’s unpredictability. These aspects are part of why this show can be a bit traumatizing to young viewers. Yet this series still shows the value of hanging in there no matter what and doing the best you can despite the circumstances, just like Courage the cowardly dog.

At the end of the day, elements like the underlying adult themes and the visuals made Courage the Cowardly Dog stand out when it first aired, and it's a show that continues to stand out against the ever changing social landscape. Comedy and horror aren’t synonymous in most of today’s cartoons. It’s been nearly 18 years since the last episode of Courage aired, and 18 years since Cartoon Network has aired a new horror cartoon. That alone is telling. Courage the Cowardly Dog was truly a product of its time and still sparks debates today with its gloomy narratives on society. Cartoons like this are so special because there may never be anything like it again. Even the creators were surprised that they got the OK to air the show, and I’m grateful that they did.

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anorakofavalon · 5 years

Text

Another Way Chapter 3

If you haven’t, go check out Chapter 2 here.

Illusions and conjurations and restorations, healings of all the things that matter. That’s what Merlin had taught her in that time. That precious time. Months now, almost a year since that night they had made reparations over wine and whispered confessions. She had learned to make of things that were not there, or not wholly there, things that were more whole than ever before. Her heart being one such thing, in one way or another...

Morgana had learned in that time also what it meant to be struck in a perpetual wonder of things. To appreciate the glory of all that wasn’t within her grasp. She quickly came to realize, under Merlin’s instruction, that he was fond of not knowing things as much as her sister was fond of knowing everything. It was a tremendous dichotomy of truths and Morgana wasn’t sure which one to hold on to.

Despite all of her lessons with Merlin, despite helping him in the situations that came up every now and again, a large part of her did not fail to sympathize with her sister. That same side of her compelled her to attend every meeting Morgause arranged in the forest near Camelot, but the compulsion wasn’t nearly strong enough for Morgana to pay much attention to what Morgause planned or soliloquied about.

Morgana had come to notice, during the past year, that Morgause was partial to monologuing. It was an ironic little quirk, and she firmly believed she only noticed it at all because of Merlin’s influence. He was constantly making such quippy little observations. He’d make one about how much time she spends thinking of him, or some of the things he says, but he was clueless as could be in that regard. Thank the gods for small graces.

Morgana walked into the forest’s clearing. She passed the fifth tree with a notch carved into its trunk and turned right. Morgause was there, waiting.

“Hello, sister.”

“Morgause,” Morgana moved to hug her sister, and what she said as she held her close was true. “I’ve missed you.”

The sorceress agreed. “It’s been a long time.”

Morgana nodded warily, “Longer than usual. It’s been a month or two.” She pointed to the treescape around them. “Fall is rolling out now.”

Morgause offered a mysterious, mischievous smile. The sort that unsettled Morgana the most. Much as Morgana loved Morgause, her sister had a tendency to act a little erratically. Rashly, even. Her cool demeanor meant she had something up her sleeve. She did.

“I’ve been planning,” said Morgause. “And now all my time and effort will be brought to fruition, sister. Has anything changed in the castle?”

Morgana offered the truth. “Everything has been the same. Not many invasions or attacks or anything of the sort, just the dreadful routine.”

Morgause’s smile was wicked now. “Good, then they won’t be expecting the trouble that’s coming for them.”

“What trouble?”

“The type that will put us on the throne, sister. The type that will bring Uther to justice.”

The idea would have once thrilled her. Part of it did. The thought of putting Uther to justice was more appealing than anything in the entire world could have been. But being on the throne? That was trickier. But that’s what she wanted, ultimately, wasn’t it? If they were on the throne magic could be returned to Camelot.

Merlin wormed his little warlock words into her head. It’s never that simple, Morgana.

It had been one of the many discussions they shared throughout the past year on the topic. For the most part they left it aside in favor of nurturing friendship, but it was a major issue. Clearly ignoring it had led to nothing. Morgana would have to make some decisions.

Frankly, she didn’t want to.

She cleared her throat and pulled nervously at the bracelet her sister had gifted her. “What’s the plan, then? When will we be attacking?”

Morgause’s smiled widened, it was malicious now. “The plan is not the typical affair. I’ve decided it was time to innovate, sister. Don’t you think? I see it as a great way to begin our reign.”

“Innovate?”

“I think I’m spent on armies.” Morgause moved around the clearing, glancing about the trees. “It’s all so boring. Seducing kings, killing them. And then on top of that I have to manage their armies. Even the undead ones are a handful.” She stopped short. Shook her head. “No. Enough of that. We’re High Priestesses of Magic itself, Morgana. I don’t believe we’ve been using it enough.”

Morgana shook her head. “I can’t seem to follow.”

“A small force. They’ll be expecting armies and brute forces. But subversion? Sneaking? A small team for infiltration. We’ll kill the Pendragons and take down the citadel.”

Morgana’s heart beat much faster. “You have a team?”

“No, we have a team Morgana.”

Morgana offered a shaky smile. “Yes, of course… when will we be attacking?”

Morgause looked to the sky. “It’s a full moon tonight.”

It was. The moon was starting to peek through. Morgana had come to the clearing right after supper with the king. It was dusk, but not dark.

“Will we wait for the new moon?”

Morgause laughed. “A time of darkness? You always had a flair for the dramatic. We share that in common, you and I.”

She continued. “But no. We’re attacking tonight.”

Morgana’s heart dropped. She had run out of time. “Tonight?”

“I will see you at midnight, dear sister. By dawn we will be queens. We’ll be the saviors of every sorcerer in the land.”

“How will I know when to do my part? I’m not even sure what my part will be?”

“You’ll know when it’s time sister. I can’t share anything more.”

Morgana curled her fingers in frustration. She moved up to Morgause, imploring. “Don’t you trust me, Morgause?”

Morgause was astonished by the concept. She took Morgana’s fingers in her hand and said “Of course I do my darling. I trust you with my life. But the plan must succeed. It’s our only hope, you understand?”

Morgana nodded numbly. Morgause disappeared into the night with a curl of wind. The sun had set.

Morgana ran back to the castle.

~{(0)}~

“Merlin!”

She had burst right through the door to Gaius’ chambers. The old man startled from where he was, presumably pouring over a text on medicine. It was a gift Merlin had given him recently. She recalled its spine and binding. Merlin had talked to her about it for weeks.

“Ah, Lady Morgana. I did not expect you at this hour. You haven’t had a resurgence of your dreaming, have you?”

His eyebrows suggested something Morgana did very much not like him suggesting. She blushed anyways. “I came to see Merlin.”

“Now that’s a surprise.” The old bastard knew it wasn’t, and she did not appreciate being teased over it at all. “Unfortunately, it seems that Merlin is still with the Prince. He hasn’t come in yet.”

She said “I see” and left the room. Morgana was annoyed at the pace she walked at, but within the citadel she had to keep up appearances of grace. The walls had eyes.

It didn’t take too long to find Arthur and Merlin. She heard their bickering from two halls down from where she was, and they were approaching her.

“Arthur, it’s impossible to do.”

“Now, Merlin. That might be the case for your, but fortunately for me, I am not an idiot.”

“Actually, you know what your Highness? Please, by all means. I invite you to -- Morgana.”

She had basically run into them, her feet moving quicker and quicker as their half-hearted disagreement sounded around the corner. “Merlin!”

Arthur bristled at the lack of acknowledgement. “Morgana? What are you doing all the way over here?”

“I need Merlin.” Her tone was final. She had presumed Arthur’s protest at having his servant whisked away. She didn’t pay much mind at the way that Merlin flushed when she said that. She didn’t pay it much mind at all. Really.

Arthur began the slow process of forming a witty remark, but Merlin cut him off with a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. As your friend, I’m bound to express my complete confidence that you’ll live two minutes without me. Beyond that, though…”

The prince narrowed his eyes a little but broke into a grin not long after. “Don’t you know Merlin? I can live up to even a whole three hours without you by my side. As a matter of fact, I’m willing to put it to a test. You can clean the stables for a few hours tomorrow, all alone.”

Merlin groaned and began a remark that sounded suspiciously like “clotpole” before Morgana tugged at his sleeve and guided him away.

“All things considered, I think I won that one.”

She could hear the mild smile in his voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to share in the humor. Her heart trembled, uneasy.

An alcove a few corridors down proved to be a perfect spot for the sort of conversation they were going to have. Moonlight filtered in through an opening in the walls, and it illuminated Morgana’s face grimly. Light caught in the green in her eyes which were wrought with desperation.

“What’s going on Morgana? Have you had a dream?”

“It’s Morgause.”

Merlin tensed. “Did you meet with her again?”

She’d told him she hadn’t in other occasions, just to circumvent the very argument brewing in the alcove. “Yes.”

“I see.”

“Merlin…”

“You’re going to have to make a choice Morgana. You know this. I won’t force you either way, but there are forces out there that would have your choice removed.”

“Maybe they’re right?”

“You’ve never been the sort to believe in Destiny before.”

“And you’ve always been the first to believe in it.”

“Things changed over this last year Morgana.”

She looked out through the opening, staring down at the city that had adopted her with open arms. In a few hours, for better or worse it could belong to her.

“So what do you believe in Merlin?”

“I believe in you, Morgana.”

She spun around to look into his eyes, but the customary depths of blue were exchanged for flashes of gold. He had a finger to his mouth. “Shhh.” He pointed through the entrance of the alcove, beyond which stood two people. Arthur and Guinevere, exchanging soft words and chuckles. Shy and sweet. “And I believe in them,” Merlin whispered.

She looked to him once more, his eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Maybe it was hope. Whenever she was around him she could feel it too.

Morgana extinguished it. “Morgause is attacking. Tonight.”

His eyes stopped shining.

“I don’t know what to do Merlin,” she continued.

“We have to do the right thing Morgana.”

This. It was always this. “I think you and I have different definitions of what it means to do the right thing.”

“I can’t -- I won’t let you kill Uther.”

“So you’re still willing to let others suffer for--”

“You know for a fact Morgana that hasn’t happened here in a long time. We’ve been able to prevent instances like that. By working together . Don’t pretend this isn’t about something more.”

She bit at the inside of her cheek and looked away from him again. She moved on. “Morgause is attacking with a smaller force of powerful sorcerers. Their aim is to infiltrate the citadel and take control subtly.”

He nodded. Merlin looked calm, but in the small space of the alcove she could feel his legs tapping on the ground incessantly. He was itching to go plan something. He stayed. “And what is your role going to be in this, Morgana?”

“I.. I don’t know. She told me that I’d know when it was time.”

He sighed and slapped his hand against his forehead. “It never ends.” Merlin joined her in looking out the window, but only briefly. He clapped his hands together once, loudly, obnoxiously. “Right then, let’s get on with it.”

She didn’t move.

“Oh come on now. You can be dramatic later. Or actually, just it get it all out now. Deliver a monologue into the open night. I wouldn’t want you delivering any when we kick your sister’s arse.”

She glared at him, but a small smile played at her lips. “I think I’m starting to sympathize with Arthur.”

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s character growth on your part and I think you should thank me.”

She had grown to sympathize with Arthur more recently. And not just about Merlin’s infuriating remarks. She had come to see that he had the potential to be a great man.

Her smile faded into melancholy and her eyes shined, but not with any measure of hope. “I’m not sure what to do.”

Merlin took her hand. “Like I said, Morgana. I believe in you. And whatever happens... I’m grateful to have been your friend. Even if it was just for this year.”

She stared down at where their fingers touched, she felt Merlin’s magic thrumming just under the surface of his skin, pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own. The connection was golden and sparkling and all too brief.

“She’s my sister, Merlin.”

He sighed. “I know. But I have a duty. My place is by Arthur’s side-”

Morgana grabbed his arm. “Can’t something be sorted out?”

“There’s nothing to be sorted out. You know that.”

Her eyes flickered with annoyance. “Now you’re an absolutist? Aren’t you always the one saying that we can find another way Merlin?”

“That’s not-”

“Or is it just that we can only find another way if it’s your way?”

“Morgana, please.”

She scoffed in disgust. “Forget it. You’re a self-righteous ass Merlin.”

He intoned once more, calmly, maddeningly “It’s the only way.”

Morgana looked right into his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

A moment. “It must be.”

She stepped back, keeping her eyes on his. “I just want to keep us safe, Merlin. I want to give us a chance at happiness. At living a life unafraid.”

Morgana turned out into the corridor, but Merlin caught her arm. “What role will you be playing in this, Morgana?”

“I told you I don’t know, Morgause said-”

“What role do you want to play in this Morgana?”

She stared at him, tears collecting in her eyes. She swept away without answering.

~{(0)}~

There was fire and tremors and terror abound for the noble blood of Camelot. Morgause’s “silent and stealthy” attack on Camelot proved to involve a few more pyrotechnics that Merlin imagined. It was something about the citadel. Its white, tall, untarnished walls. Surely it begged for destruction from a vengeful witch. A castle so glorious surely couldn’t belong to a king with so much blood on his hands.

The attack was well-orchestrated. Arthur’s forces were stretched thin and Merlin was stretched even thinner. Despite the bountiful warning, it was a struggle to get Arthur to listen without asking too many questions, and it was even more of a struggle to assemble a group of knights as late as it was.

“Arthur!” Merlin said.

The prince heard his bellowing and ducked down without even thinking about it. He swiped at the feet of the would-be assassin.

A sorcerer turned up from around the corner, a ball of flame in his hands.

Arthur insisted “Merlin! We have to retreat into the throne room.”

Merlin’s heart dropped. “We can take him.”

The sorcerer, dressed entirely in black, let out a nasty grin and extinguished the fires that lit the corridor and darkness consumed their vision.

“Merlin?”

“I’m here!”

A fireball zoomed past him and flared out as it struck a body next to him. Merlin heard a pained scream and the sound of metal hitting the floor. “Arthur!”

He threw his hands forward and closed his eyes. He felt for a presence with his magic and felt the sorcerer approaching. Merlin was certain that he was doing something similar because he felt the figure stop short and prepare a spell.

Merlin lunged at him with a sword and struck his abdomen. His body broke the fall, but the blade was shattered by the weight and the hilt bruised one of Merlin’s ribs. Grunting in pain, he willed the torches to come alight.

“Arthur, where are you?”

Merlin stood up uneasily against a wall and made his way towards the prince. Arthur was standing up shakily. His armor was singed and his face was grimy. “My father, we have to…”

The warlock nodded and raised his friend’s arm over his shoulder, guiding him towards the throne room with the certainty that Morgause planned for them to do exactly that. He went anyways. The door was ajar, but only because Morgana and most of the remaining guards had just gone in. They were fortifying it against attacks as best they could. Merlin caught her eye from across the room.

“Arthur!” Uther said. “What happened to you?” He looked at Merlin and barked. “Explain!”

The prince answered for him. “We were defending the north corridor father. Merlin killed a sorcerer but there’s bound to be more.”

Uther swept his hand in the direction from where they came.“Close those doors! Barricade them as best you can and get in your formations.”

The room was busy with all sorts of people. It was nearly full to the brim with nobles and soldiers and the anxiety of an attack. Merlin didn’t see or hear Morgana come up by his side what with all the chatter.

“You can’t stop this alone.”

He looked at her intently. “I’m not alone.”

“I won’t stop her, Merlin. But…” Morgana busied herself helping one of the older nobles and a few servants find a place to sit. “I’ll try to minimize the damages.”

“Morgana...”

“It’s the best I can do.”

His head dropped. “I see.”

Merlin looked her in the eyes and she hurried off. He was alone for the first time in a long time.

The room shook with a tremor more ferocious than the previous one. Darkness crept in and nervous whispering ensued. Uther demanded silence and barked commands at his sorcerers. Merlin sensed for Morgana’s magic. It had become familiar now, and he did not struggle much in placing her in the room.

She stood by one of the arcades that lined the windows. Despite this, she was perfectly calm when they exploded into the room. Screaming ensued, but no sooner had it started than silence swallowed the chambers. It was a contrived quiet, the works of a sorcerer. Nobody had even heard the rest of them bombard their way through the chamber door. The only warning Merlin had was the glow of a growing flame in the distance. Morgause wanted to roast them all alive.

So much for subtle.

Merlin looked to Morgana in desperation and she gave him a slight nod. Tears had slipped down her cheek. She would only help him to an extent. He wasn’t willing to test the limits.

Dismantling the ball of fire ferociously flying its way towards the hall was an act of extreme will and Merlin struggled to make his efforts unnoticeable. The enchantment of quiet upon them served in his favor in this regard, but it was a bigger burden than it was a boon. Somebody would get hurt because the sorcerers were too quiet and too well hidden to be fought.

The flame was smothered in the air, and Merlin only just had time to cancel the silence charm before Morgause prepared another spell. Merlin kept low to the ground as the soldiers began shouting orders at each other. He couldn’t see Arthur, but he was sure the prince was somewhere in the front. Fighting, even blind.

Merlin fixed the lighting situation by summoning a floating orb into the air. It became bright enough to see that they were in a rather difficult situation. Twelve sorcerers in all, not including Morgause, had the chambers surrounded.

He would be revealing his magic today. There were very few ways for him to do anything even remotely useful without it being obvious. Part of him wanted to blame Morgana, but she was right. Despite proposing that she could choose her path, Merlin had been strong-arming her into his way of thinking. Before, he would have been comfortable with this. It was for the greater good, no? But these days Merlin respected Morgana’s autonomy more than the greater good. If this was her choice -- at least it was hers.

Now able to see where they were and who they were fighting, the knights moved into action in a flurry of yelling and the clinking of armor. He kept by Arthur’s side in the middle of things, discreetly trying to take down any sorcerers he could, or impede on their progress. Morgause was nowhere to be seen yet, but he expected her soon.

Merlin spotted a sorcerer preparing to attack the group of nobles and blasted him across the room with a flick of his wrist in his direction. Merlin did it with such vociferous conviction that the back wall was marred by a new opening into a hallway. The majority of the nobles scurried through the hole.

None of the knights saw him, but plenty of the sorcerers did. Seven remained of the original twelve, and they almost all began to converge on him. Across the room Morgana’s eyes widened and she began weaving an enchantment. Merlin abandoned the remains of his desire to hide his magic as he desperately battled against the onslaught of spells and curses.

Morgana’s enchantment proved to be among her greatests so far. Mist rolled in from nowhere and swept them up in grey. Only Merlin and the sorcerers could see one another. The knights were blinded and further immobilized by the sparking, crackling, and popping of sparks in the air. They took strange forms of creatures long since gone from the world.

This gave Merlin just enough breathing room to defend himself. He motioned at one of the sparks in the air and fanned flames into it from his hands. The spark-beast, potentially a hydra, came to life with vigor and began an assault on the assailants.

The fire beast was enough to paralyze some of the attackers, but it soon grew so large that it escaped Merlin’s control entirely. It raged across the room.

Morgana watched in horror as it moved towards the knights. She took the reins on the enchantment from across the room, guiding it towards sorcerers amassing in the corner to form a spell. She snuffed the oxygen out of the air around it. She gathered the clouds in the room and sent it their way, condensing it until it began to soak their efforts.

Merlin smiled at her, but she watched him warily. The knights began to converge on the remaining sorcerers in the corner, but one of the columns by the window toppled over Arthur and Uther’s path. They were isolated. That was no accident. That was the work of Morgana.

Rain barraged the interior of the throne room. It had begun to storm at some point, but Merlin was so caught up in himself he hadn’t noticed. He ran towards Arthur, jumping in front of him just as a bolt of lightning struck from outside. Morgause appeared in the room with a rush of wind.

The breeze of the rain was cold and sharp against his skin and his sides ached too much for him to bother breathing. He hadn’t died because a shield of shimmering energy had protected him, it had the texture, the fingerprint of Morgana’s magic -- and her indecision.

Merlin stumbled up as Morgause approached Arthur and the king and laughed with mad, almost drunken glee. Morgause was the sort to indulge herself with abandon, but Merlin had no doubts she would reserve any indulging until after Arthur and Uther’s heads were on sticks outside the castle walls. They had escaped her clutches too many times. No chances would be taken.

As he weakly leaned against a wall, Merlin wondered if he could let them escape just one more time. Arthur watched him with horror from where he stood as Merlin drew a sword, bloody at the hilt, from the ground.

“Merlin! Don’t!”

Merlin threw the sword, knowing it wouldn’t even make the halfway mark. It was more of a distraction than it was an attack. There was only one course of action now.

Merlin tapped deep into the roots of his being, reaching for a part of him that had been smothered and oppressed for as long as he could control it. He felt the heat under his skin flare up. He opened his eyes, which he was sure were blazing gold, only to find himself inside of an illusion. The world around him sounded distant and muddled, like he was listening from underwater.

Morgana was shaping the world around them to a two-fold image. In the right light, he caught glances of her fighting him with all her might. In another, he caught saw his prone figure on the ground as Morgana assaulted Morgause with a sword.

He understood one was for the benefit of Morgause, and the other was to hide his magic from Arthur and Uther.

The reality, however, was that Morgause stood five feet from him, looking down imperiously, a vision of Morgana standing by her side with an evil glint in her eye. Merlin caught his second wind and began attacking Morgause with more vigor than he had ever fought anyone. Fire and bolts of lightning struck out around the throne room, blazing energy was exchanged in flurries of blasts.

Morgause’s spells were all tremendously flashy affairs, but Merlin preferred the indirect approach mostly. He shifted the wooden floor around her, disbalancing her as best he could. The debris of glass and stone began to form into golems. Morgause’s eyes widened and her attention was shifted, momentarily, to the task of a fist of glass making its way towards her.

She let loose a scream and a radius of light emanated from her body instantly. The golems were pulverized completely and Morgana’s illusions fell apart. Merlin and Morgause stared at one another from across the throne room. Morgana stood by the window, wind blowing at her hair, darkness framing her figure.

She knew for certain that Merlin and Morgause’s confrontation was one of a final variety. There was little choice left to either of them now, and all the choices came down to her. Merlin or Morgause?

But despite Merlin’s newfound absolutism, Morgana’s thoughts tended back to his hopeful words in the Catacombs of Camelot, such a long time ago. And yet, not. The promise of another way. She fiddled with her sleeping charm in a brief flare of anxiety.

For a moment, she felt something akin to what Merlin had described as the sensation of time coming to a stop. This, she was sure, was not the work of magic.

The flickering sparks of magic Merlin had shown her that drunken winter night, the image of Freya he had conjured resounded within her. Not all magic was lethal. Not all spells need be.

Her eyes snapped towards Morgause as she toyed with her charm.

“Sister!” she shouted.

Morgause glanced at her in time to catch the sleeping bracelet she had crafted for Morgana. In a flash of light, the sleeping spell shattered itself free. Her sister’s body dropped to the ground, the bracelet nothing but pieces of charred metal.

Knights began to rush in as rain continued to pour through the opening where stained glass used to be. Uther and Arthur stared at her dumbly, but Uther was the first to begin making demands. Morgana ignored him as she made her way to her sister’s prone form. Morgause’s chest rose and fell in even breathes. Morgana sighed in relief and fell to the ground, spent.

“Sorcery!” Uther shouted. “M-”

“It was me” Merlin said, limping from his place. “I did it.”

Arthur stood up, made his way towards his friend. “Merlin. What are you doing? This is ridiculous.”

Merlin shook his head.“No Arthur. It was me.” His eyes flashed gold and the form of a dragon shimmered in front of Arthur, taking flight soon after. “I’m sorry,” he continued, “that I didn’t tell you. You’re my friend and I should have told you.”

“Guards!” Uther ordered.

Morgana’s heart dropped. Her throat constricted itself and she could barely whisper his name. “Merlin, no. Please.”

Nobody heard her, except for him.

I’m sorry, Morgana. I can’t let you live in fear of Uther. Not for my sake. His voice was clear and strong in her head.

Please she said.

Take care of the prat. Don’t let him hate me.

Merlin why are you doing this?

Because. He smiled at her from his place in the room as the guards began to converge on him and Arthur pleaded with his father to stop it. I trust you, Morgana.

Merlin stepped towards Morgause’s form, and kneeled down. He took her hand and they were gone in a flurry of wind.

Chaos broke out in the throne room as Morgana stared at the ground in disbelief. She stayed that way for some time. But Merlin spoke in her head once more, his voice soft and intimate. They faded as he went off into distances she knew not.

Talk to Gaius. He will know what you must do. In the meantime, I’ll keep your sister safe, Morgana. There’s a lesson, a hope that I gave you once. It was the most important one. I’m sorry I failed my end of it. There’s always another way.

#mergana #merlin #bbcmerlin #merlin x morgana

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thrandilf · 5 years

Text

Dauntlessly True to Himself Ch 2

The day usually started with Leon spending an unnecessary amount of time preening in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom, and the day of his archery demonstration was no different.

“I really am the best merchant around!” Leon had missed the comforting weight of light archer’s armor. It was brand new from his own shop, since his original trusted coat was destroyed when he’d been injured. Leon felt confident and at home as he adjusted the pauldron over his left shoulder and turned around to check how the calf length coat flowed with him. His right shoulder area twinged with pain and he huffed, eying his reflection in the mirror as he slung his quiver onto his back.

“Damn it- just for a day, pull it together,” he mumbled. Leon compulsively checked that his face was blemish free and that the soft amount of makeup under his eyes to disguise his occasional restless night was perfect. He’d spent even longer than usually fussing over his hair, as if he couldn’t style it in his sleep by now. His new archery coat was strikingly similar to what he used to have, except it was a lighter shade of purple iris with even more embellishments down the front of turquoise and gold, designed to guide eyes all the way from head to toe.

Valbar might not judge by appearances, expect such meticulous perfection, or even notice how Leon aimed to impress every day, but he didn’t care. His charming smile and charisma came in handy for haggling with vendors and at this point it was the one aspect of himself he hadn’t lost.

He cheerily waved at passerby on the street, a spring in his step as he imagined Valbar’s proud expression when Leon finished the course. He’d set up the course the night before himself, with targets set at varying distances ranging from fifty to eighty yards, a few angled targets, and even a set of three wrapped around a giant tree trunk to test speed, depth perception, and general reflexes. Leon could pull such a stunt in his sleep, but after the years he worried his talent was forgotten. He couldn’t disappoint Valbar in any way, shape or form.

Leon’s determination brewed inside of him, hot and potent as he and a stablehand groomed and saddled his horse. The sun was minutes from its full height in the sky as Leon rode out to the training field, proud and striking as he made a dramatic galloping entrance. He automatically scanned the small crowd of archery students and other curious knights for Valbar. He noticed the slouching hooded boy Forsyth had glared at and Luthier standing next to Valbar in the back. Leon beamed with joy at seeing Valbar, despite how skeptical Valbar looked.

He could fix that.

Leon gradually came to a halt in front of the group, tossing his hair over his shoulder as he gave them all a smile. It was satisfying being on a horse in front of a crowd of people on foot. “Good afternoon! Welcome! I’m Sir Leon, not that anyone doesn’t know who I am, and I will be giving a lesson on navigating this year’s archery games! Archery on horseback requires both precision and speed, as well as expert horsemanship. While you’ll have to fire rapidly, it pays to know how you’ll be moving with your horse. There’s a point in a galloping gait where all four hooves are off the ground, which makes for the smoothest time to fire…”

He rambled on while idly running his fingertips along the edges of the fletching on his arrows, praying to whatever gods that were still alive that he wasn’t about to actually do something stupid. Leon finished his lecture and, with all eyes of his students and scattered friends on him, rode to the start of the course with his light bow in hand.

Leon turned smoothly onto the opening stretch of the straight dirt path and draped his reigns over the pommel, letting his horse canter without his lead. Adrenaline shot down his spine from years of warfare and he reflexively readied an arrow in a fluid motion and drew it back-

“AAAAAAAAAAAUGH!” he bellowed in agony. Pain paralyzed his right arm down from his shoulder to his fingertips, muscles and nerves screaming to stop the strain. Time seemed to freeze and he fired the arrow, the release a welcome relief. Tears threatened to spill into Leon’s eyes and he bit his tongue, anger at himself, his inability, his loss burning inside of him.

There was no way in hell he could draw another arrow with his shoulder.

Leon was officially, finally facing how done his career was. He couldn’t even pretend or lie to himself anymore thinking he was indefinitely in reserve.

He was legitimately useless to Valbar on the battlefield. It couldn’t be.

[[MORE]]

In his muddled shock, he could feel every hoof fall under him. If this was his last time with a bow in hand, in front of his beloved- the last battle, even if it was against himself, he’d give it his one hundred and ten percent. Valbar was there. Leon had never been anything but his best self with Valbar watching.

Leon’s right arm and upper back made every motion torturous as his horse galloped and he quickly switched hands. His right hand gripped the bow with seized up muscles as his left frantically fumbled for arrows. Leon grit his teeth and rapidly fired as many arrows as he could, only having passed by a few targets. It was awkward, clumsy, and he could barely see, much less hold himself steady anymore. The arrows rested on the opposite side of the bow, his left shoulder had barely ever done such a motion before, and his instincts screamed that it was all wrong, but he attempted to hit every single target he’d set up.

The entire course only took forty seconds, but Leon was too far gone to hear the scattered applause and shouts, or notice his horse was slowing down to bring him back to Valbar and everyone else before he simply let his feet leave the stirrups and flew off his mount.

~-~

Death tasted like mana herbs.

Leon groaned and discovered he wasn’t dead, and had just spit saliva coated clumps of herbs on himself. His entire body was numb except his face. He managed to wiggle a foot and open his eyes to the crowd of spectators standing around him. He was exceptionally pleased to see Valbar’s face above his, with a hand in Leon’s hair. If only it was under different circumstances. “You okay?” asked Valbar.

The initial shock of impact was wearing off and Leon tried to talk around the bitter leaves. “Yur uh difficult persob to argue wiff.” Valbar gently wrapped an arm around Leon’s waist and lifted him from the ground easily, helping him to his feet. Despite the dulled pain in his upper back, being in Valbar’s arms for a moment made Leon smile lightheadedly. Leon wavered but could brace himself against Valbar enough to stand, forcing down the herbs with a cough. “Ugggghhh. How’d I do?”

Silence.

Leon looked around in confusion at the huddle around him. “Well?”

Luthier took one for the group as he put his hands on Leon’s back and channeled a healing spell into him. “After the first shot, you missed every single target by a country mile.”

Well then. Leon leaned on Valbar and snorted, laughing so hard he wheezed. A few students hesitantly giggled and Leon wiped at his face. “God, okay. Alright. I’m retired for a reason everybody- sorry to disappoint.”

A teenage girl raised her hand and bounced on her heels. “Is it true you shot a necrodragon but didn’t hurt it because your arrow went through both eye sockets?”

Leon nodded, puffing his chest out but then winced. “Yes, that was quite a battle. Necrodragons are only really susceptible to seraphim magic.”

“Are you ambidextrous?” asked another student. “I’ve never even tried to shoot left handed.”

Leon blinked in confusion. He’d expected them to all disperse with disappointment. Instead, all of Valbar’s students and a few outsiders were surrounding him eagerly. “Er, no. I’ve only shot left handed a couple times. It feels really different to switch sides, although it’s not a bad idea for you young, able bodied people to experiment.”

“Could you teach us with Valbar?”

“I bet you have tons of stories!”

“I’m still scared of riding a horse without holding the reigns, how do you do it?”

Leon couldn’t help a grin spreading across his face. Warm pride blossomed in his chest, perhaps even moreso than if he’d actually shown off. “You guys still want me to hang around and teach after that?”

“Yeah!”

Valbar affectionately nudged Leon. “I think you’ve already taught them something, Leon.”

“That’s true.” Leon gingerly stretched his arms, sighing in relief that he could still move fluidly with only a few minor aches that would eventually fade. “Only you can know your own limits- on the battlefield and anywhere else. And-“ he turned to face Valbar with a fond expression. “-no matter how proud, arrogant, and stubborn you are, it’s okay to need help.”

“That’s right.” Valbar surveyed the group. “Alright, let’s get some practice in! Leon, up to being my assistant?”

“Always.”

Leon favored his right arm for the rest of the day, but thoroughly enjoyed working at Valbar’s side. He gave archers tips and pointers on foot, directed simple calvary exercises, and couldn’t stop feeling elated with Valbar close by. While Forsyth was strict, Lukas was reserved, and Mycen was a rare sight but one to be reckoned with, Valbar was warm and kind. He focused on team exercises and positive encouragement, eyes sweeping over his pool of students and making sure no one was left behind. Leon tried to adopt the same teaching method, giving praise and aid wherever merited.

“Canter! Good!” Leon had the timid student who was unsure of themselves out on a lunge line, putting their horse through their paces while the student held their bow, eyes constantly darting to their saddle horn. Leon tsked and called out to them, “Eyes up! Straighten your posture, relax into it- good! Keep it up!”

He didn’t even notice Valbar watching him until he was helping his pupil dismount (with more encouraging words than actual muscle). Leon turned and almost ran directly into Valbar, stopping just short of his imposing chest with a laugh. “Oh! Hi- my bad.”

“Will you join us for dinner?”

Leon shrugged. “Sure, why not?” He grinned at the small group of adolescents milling around, getting ready to leave for supper. “If anyone’s qualified to gossip about you to all of your adoring students, it’s me.”

Valbar chuckled and clapped Leon on his good shoulder. “I know, you could make me blush with your wild, vivid tales of our adventures together. But-“ he gestured to the field as they walked. “-I don’t think I’m the only one adored here, Leon. Beneath all that snark, you have a soft heart after all. The ability to teach proves your skills even better than a simple demonstration would’ve. You’re far more than your ability to hit a target.”

Leon could never stop Valbar-induced smiles from spreading across his face with pure joy. “Oh please- now you’re flattering me. I quite like it! Listen though, I know how much you helped me when I was just some scrawny archer who was terrified, hopeless, alone, and far from home. If you give anyone the sort of confidence and stability you gave me, you’re the best teacher in all of Zofia.”

Valbar finally did blush. “Well, how to respond? You’re biased for one thing- no one else admires me in every way as much as you to begin with.”

Leon’s heart skipped a beat in fear that he’d gone too far, but he laughed as he read Valbar’s easygoing gait and sly grin as only pleased. They mutually avoided mentioning Leon’s romantic inclination towards Valbar. Leon knew he’d been let down gently in the past, and was more than happy to just be friends with the most important person in his life. Valbar bringing it up so casually made an ancient knot of tension loose in Leon’s chest. Valbar genuinely didn’t mind after all. “Hmmm, yes, I suppose I am. I see the truth clearer than anyone else.”

“Oh? And what’s the truth?”

“Oooooh, I could gush about you for hours, but if I had to pick one thing- you give the best hugs.”

Whatever Valbar was expecting, it wasn’t that. “Hugs?”

“Yes!” Leon’s own cheeks tinged pink. He had no qualms about singing Valbar’s praises, but it was such an intimate thing to admit. “Those bulky muscles of yours give strong, secure, perfect hugs where I feel like I’m cocooned in pure security and warmth. Sometimes you even pick me up a bit and my feet leave the ground and I totally relax in your supernatural hugging abilities. You’re astounding.”

“Wow.” Valbar huffed fondly. “No wonder you’re a merchant. Now I want to be hugged by me.”

Leon opened his mouth to continue but he inhaled deeply instead, eyes widening and stopping in his tracks, urgently tugging Valbar’s arm. “Wait- do I smell-“

Valbar nodded, sniffing too. “Ah, it seems Prince Conrad has been stress baking.”

“COOKIES!” Leon bolted forward, Valbar momentarily forgotten as he sprinted towards the intoxicating scent radiating from the dining hall and kitchen. “MOVE, I’M GAY!” He had so much momentum he couldn’t stop in time as a group of people rounding a corner in the crosshairs of his path and he body slammed someone in his cookie inspired frenzy, shrieking as they toppled over.

“Oh gods, you haven’t changed a bit.” A familiar groan sounded from below Leon and Leon gasped with disbelief.

“Kamui?!” Leon sat up off where they were sprawled on the stone pathway and grinned, brushing himself off. “Oh I’m so sorry- I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Not just Kamui.” A tanned hand appeared in Leon’s field of vision and Leon widened his eyes. He pulled himself up with help by Jesse, who giving Leon his best smile complete with a friendly wink. “King Jesse of the Eastern Sands, at your service.”

Kamui rolled over on the ground with a sigh. “Why don’t the pretty boys help me up?”

Another familiar voice pulled Leon from staring at Jesse in disbelief. “Stop your drama, kid!” Saber pulled Kamui to his feet with a roll of his eye. “We gotta see Celica, it’s just easy to get lost in such a huge castle.”

“WATCH OUT BELOW!”

A crowd was gathering again at the sight of new arrivals, and this time it was clear why. Three falcon knights circled high above the castle parapets, swooping down admist wild cheering to land in a triangular stance together. The three girls struck a pose with the gathering of spectators around them, introducing themselves with flourishes.

“Palla!”

“Catria!”

“And EST!”

“The Whitewing Sisters!” Clair broke through the crowd and almost fell into Est’s arms with excitement as Est dismounted. Est laughed and hugged her as Clair gushed. “I’m so excited to meet you!”

“It’s fun to see Valentia again! This part of Zofia is beautiful!” Est bounced on her feet excitedly as Catria and Palla surveyed the area around them.

Catria nudged Palla and gestured away from everyone. “The throne room is that way if we saw correctly. Let’s go.”

Jesse held his hands up and waved. “Hey! Wait, wait we should all go together! Did I lose anyone? All three Pegasus riders, me, Saber- Genny and Atlas, you guys stuck?”

Atlas and Genny emerged from behind the alicorns. Atlas had made visits to Zofia Castle for Celica before and shrugged, still in his fur trimmed woodcutter outfit. Genny stood next to him scribbling excitedly in a leather bound journal. She looked up and smiled brightly. “Oh, this sequel to our adventure is going so well! I can’t wait to see Celica.”

Valbar stood in the center of the group and beckoned everyone towards him. “Why not have dinner first? Celica has been resting in private lately.”

“YES! CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES!” Leon grabbed Valbar and Kamui’s hands and led a charge into the dining hall, laughing and elated as they surrounded Prince Conrad who was handing out warm cookies from a table covered with baking pans. Mae, Boey, and their children were helping him with cleaning up, Boey gently shooing all of the little ones away from the table to wash their hands.

Conrad was shaking with a severe lack of sleep and the area under his eyes was an exhausted gray but he smiled for Leon. “Oh, my biggest fan! It’s relief to have at least one thing under control.”

Leon eagerly gave Valbar a cookie so fast he almost dropped it and then unceremoniously shoved one in his own face with a low groan. Kamui rolled his eyes and had to grab one for himself, reaching around Leon. Leon listened to the alicorn riders and all of the new arrivals mix together around him to introduce themselves and get situated at Alm’s huge table for dinner as he entered a chocolate induced trance. His eyes fell closed and Leon moaned again, a soft sigh escaping his lips as the warm bittersweet chocolate melted into the brown sugar and vanilla against his tongue. It was baked to perfection- the center moist and rich with the lightest crisp on the edges. His toes curled and Leon hazily opened his eyes to take another bite of sugary heaven. “Ooooooooooooh, aaaah, hmmmmm- /yes/.”

“I feel like I should leave the room,” joked Kamui next to him.

Leon ignored him and grabbed another cookie, sitting by Valbar with another sensual groan, ignoring the stares and giggles at the table and missing how Valbar’s face was pink from Leon’s shameless noises of euphoria. “Aaaaaaahhhhhh- God it’s so GOOD!”

Conrad laughed weakly. “I’m glad. I’ve been barely sleeping with all the event planning.”

Alm was busy greeting everyone but got enough space to himself to sit down. “Conrad, please, sit down and promise me you’ll sleep tonight and just-“ he glanced around to make sure Sir Mycen was out of earshot, “-make my grandfather do everything, since he clearly doesn’t need sleep like the rest of us. Wow, everyone! It’s amazing to meet you all again- Celica is expecting you.”

Saber dished himself up a heaping plate of potatoes and meat. “She better be- she invited us.”

“Oh don’t be so grumpy to our majesty!” chastised Jesse. He flung his blond curls back and grabbed a plate. “We were unfortunately delayed by weather conditions. We were all traveling together for days longer than we anticipated.” Jesse beamed happily. “I’d say we got quite cozy!”

Catria and Palla groaned as Est and Genny giggled. “We’re flying back ALONE,” declared Catria.

Palla made eye contact with Jesse as he opened his mouth. “No, Jesse.”

Jesse turned to Est. “H-“

“I’m married.” Est held up her hand to show off a wedding band to ooohs and aaahs from around the table. “I’m having my honeymoon once we get back!”

Genny set her pen aside only to eat a bite now and then, absorbed in her writing and barely paying attention to her own plate. “I’m married too.”

Mae shrieked and smacked the table across from Genny hard enough to rattle the silverware. “TO WHO????”

“It’s a secret!” Genny hid behind her book, grinning as Mae bounced in her seat.

Gray leaned forward towards the Whitewing Sisters and Clair sighed loudly as he spoke. “Tobin and I have been thinking-“

“No we haven’t,” interjected Tobin. “Don’t blame me for this-“

“-and we’ve decided that a group of Pegasi would be called a flerd- a flock and herd! Are we right?”

Palla thought about it while Est readily nodded. “Uh- you know? They’re more horse than bird, so I guess we always said herd.”

“I like ‘flerd’,” Est said.

Luthier, at the discussions of Pegasi, leaned forward in his seat from all the way down the table. “While language itself is ever evolving and contractions may become words themselves over time, the idea of mixing two definitions for the sake of-“

“No, no, it’s Flerd now,” agreed Catria, cracking a smile.

The conversations paused as Boey arrived late, herding his three recently washed toddlers. “Prince Conrad’s cookies are done! Leon even saved you some! What do you say?”

“Yay!” chorused all three children.

“I’ll take that.” Boey sighed and sat down next to Mae. “I know kids are supposed to eat in the nursery-“

“It’s alright,” said Alm with his typical gentleness. He glanced at the kids excitedly getting themselves fresh cookies. “They could be my son’s playmates someday.”

There had been rumors going around about what the royal family would name their new prince. No one was supposed to know until the christening, but it wasn’t going to stop anyone from speculating.

“Ah yes.” Jesse straightened himself in his seat. “Prince Jesse, was it?”

“Oh please, he’s DEFINITELY gonna name his kid Prince Gray,” replied Gray.

Clive caught on to the game and grinned as it bounced around the table. “May I submit Clive as a good possibility?”

“Kamui is an honorable name.”

“Hmmm, surely you went with Lukas.”

“Prince Tobin, cause I’m your BEST friend, right?”

Alm waved his hand. “I’m not allowed to tell! It’ll be a surprise!”

Boey lifted one of the toddlers up to cuddle between him and Mae. “I’d say Boey, but we have that covered.”

Mae nodded energetically. “Boey, Zoe, and Chloe!” She held one of the triplets on her lap, careful to not get any chocolate on herself as the child happily ate their cookie. “I’m missing one right now- oh there they are! It’s okay, they’re all cuddly and mostly harmless.”

Leon blinked with confusion as he felt a small tug on his sleeve. He looked down at the child next to him. All three of them looked practically identical with bright pale pink hair, Boey’s skin tone, and Mae’s eyes. Leon had never known exactly how to interact with kids even when he was one. “Uh, hi.”

“Purble!” The toddler rested their cheek against Leon’s thigh and pointed at his hair.

“Yes. I’m purple.”

Leon was ready to accept being cuddled until they giggled and fully hugged him from the side, so overcome with joy that a wave of uncontrolled magical static jolted them both. Leon jumped with a shriek, the sensation not painful but deeply unsettling. “Agh! What- oh no!” Leon sprung out of his chair and desperately tried to pet his hair down, panicking as people laughed at their antics. His soft hair relentlessly stood on end as he had a catfight with his own head, facing away from Valbar specifically.

“They’re going to be quite powerful mages,” commented Luthier. “Delthea was casting all sorts of accidental spells at a young age.” He paled at the mere memory of it and Delthea giggled.

Kamui warily scooted away from the gleeful toddler next to him whose hair was standing on end. Valbar, however, scooped them up into his arms and smiled as they immediately started eating his dinner with their bare hands. “I miss having my own little one. Having three must be quite a handful.”

“Oh yes.” Mae nodded. “I’m sorry if it’s a bad time- you were a father?”

Valbar chuckled as the toddler on him managed to get potato on his leg. “It’s alright, the wound isn’t as raw anymore. I lost my entire family to a pirate raid. However, as much as I loved having a son, I don’t see myself having another kid.” Valbar tried to help the child on him clean their mouth with a napkin and didn’t bat an eye when they suddenly decided to doze against his shoulder. “My life is going in a different direction, and there are enough people around me to love.”

Leon clamored back into his seat, still fussing with his hair as he fondly eyed Valbar. Even after Leon’s embarrassment at the archery field, Valbar still valued him. Valbar loved everyone. It made Leon’s heart swell with affectionate pride, impressed that his own feelings could blossom further. “You’ve never been bitter. That’s so sweet of you, being so good with kids.”

“I love them.” Valbar looked at the child snoozing on him with such affection as if they were his own. “Right now it feels like I have 50 kids with all those recruits.”

The conversation would’ve continued but a sudden hush fell over the dining hall. Within a moment of glancing around, Leon could see why.

Queen Celica entered the room flanked by Sir Mycen and Mathilda. Mathilda rarely appeared in public anymore, while she usually said it was to stay at her and Clive’s estate to be a mother, those in the castle had figured out that she was a personal guard to Celica when needed. Several people rose to their feet and Jesse scrambled out of his seat to bow but Celica smiled and offered him her hand up. “My friends, you bow to no one. It’s so good to see you all again.”

Genny and Mae exchanged a glance and then ran to hug Celica together, squishing Jesse (who didn’t seem particularly bothered) in with them. The Whitewing Sisters joined in on the group hug and Celica was practically hidden from sight, surrounded by loving friends. She was just as casual as Alm around the castle, happy to see familiar faces.

“We missed you!”

“Are you okay? You just had a kid!”

“You should demand we visit more!”

Celica stood on her tiptoes and waved to Alm frantically, laughing as he and Mathilda rescued her. “Yes! I’m only suffering from being fussed over too much, the baby and I are just fine. He’s fast asleep and well fussed over.”

“Would that be Prince Jesse, my lady?” Jesse teased.

“Forsyth is a much better name!” stated Forsyth.

Leon jumped in on the fun, not missing an opportunity to declare his love for Valbar. “Now let’s be honest- Valbar is the best name.”

“Is this what you’ve had to put up with?” giggled Celica, sitting next to Alm at the head of the table.

“Yes, dear. They’re relentless.”

Celica warmly looked around at everyone, inner circle and commoner alike. “We have less than two weeks before the festivities to get ready- lets make it the best Zofia has ever seen!”

#valeon #fire emblem echoes #fe sov #fire emblem shadows of valentia #leon fire emblem #fanfic #fire emblem #long post #if the read more breaks

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bucky-iss-bae · 5 years

Text

The Word that made my World - Klaroline

Request: Klaroline Soulmate AU where you have your significant other's first words tattooed somewhere on your body in their handwriting and Klaus lost hope years ago that he would ever find his.

Fandom: TVD/TO

Pairing: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikealson

Word Count: 1700ish

Warnings: Canon Divergence, Fluff I guess

A/N: So I hope you all enjoy a Lil Klaroline, might write some more in the future but I’m still watching The Originals, this is lowkey bad but still... Also, I wrote this a hella long time ago sorry it's so shit, and I since have realised I hate doing work in the first person.

Masterlist Fandom List

Klaus didn’t understand how or why his life had become so difficult when it came to love, and finding his significant other. Sure over the thousands of years alive he constantly found women to bed, to have a good time with, to wear on his arm when attending ball’s or galas all in order to keep face.

For the majority of his life he believed he was too heartless to ever have a significant other, that someone out there knew of his selfishness and his ways that they believed he didn’t deserve someone, his father reminded him of this during his early years and maybe it was true, he wouldn’t ever find someone.

Gradually over time causing him to become more selfish, and more in love with himself rather than anyone. His siblings when they were around or alive gave attempted to give him hope, but he wasn’t sure what to believe. He gave up, he gave up and dated a new woman every week, every day, different women at once. He didn’t care if they found out about the other, his good looks, his charm, his compulsion would find a way around this. Anything that averted his attention, knowing that there wouldn’t ever be someone who would be his, a beautiful lady out there who he would love and care for, protect from the cruelties out there. The monsters, someone to change the monster within him. Ac

May ’94. He remembers the day he saw this tattoo appear one morning along his triceps. This change the course of his life, it changed everything, it meant he has someone. A beautiful someone out there. Someone who one day will be his.

But at the same time this still changed nothing, it didn’t mean that she was his yet, sure one day they would be destined to be together but how long until they find each other. How long until he meets his soul mate because until then it’ll be nearly impossible to find her. And he just hoped fate would be on his side for once.

He still went about his life the same, day in day out, each day staring at the tattoo, those words, her first words written there.

He rarely had mercy, on his victims, he was still the powerful and feared man all vampires knew him as and it still took another 15 maybe 16 years until he found her, though he had no clue.

Mystic Falls, once a small village in which he spent part of his childhood, being raised alongside his siblings, abused by his father, either manipulated or loved by his mother, but with loyal siblings, he was back. Building a home making new enemies, new friends.

He was back in a town that was his before this town was even built before this town was known for its vampires. For its werewolves, witches, and now will be known for its hybrids.

The people of this town amused him, though one entranced him. The beautiful Caroline Forbes.

Her mother being the sheriff meant he had to try and get on her good terms, but something about her drew him to her. It made him wonder, is she the one who he’s been waiting for?

Getting on her good terms was more difficult than he would’ve imagined. She was a strong and powerful girl. She was smart, she believed in what was right, and she was a leader. A natural born leader. And she held so much about her that made me want to know more.

The house my siblings and I shared was complete, and furnished, now becoming our home. Once again in Mystic Falls. The others all out and I got to appreciate the hard work we put into making a new or old place as our home.

I heard a car pulling up and was downstairs by the front door within seconds. The sheriff’s cruiser was in my driveway.

I stood in the doorway, an attempt to look friendly, she got out of the car and walked towards me.

“Sheriff, well isn’t this a surprise”

She smiled, “Yes Klaus, I figured I should come and personally welcome our newest arrivals of the town.”

“Thank you, sheriff, much appreciated. I wasn’t sure if it would be because of our extra abilities, let’s say. If you understand”

“Oh I’m fully aware of what yourself and your siblings are. But as your brother Elijah explained, I believe there’ll be no harm right?”

“Of course not. I assume you’re also close to the Salvatore’s?”

“Yes, Damon becoming a better friend then I expected. Though he is the one who turned Caroline at first”

I nodded, “So I’ve heard. Caroline, she’s quite the girl you have”

She chuckled shaking her head, “You wouldn’t believe. But I have to ask Klaus, I didn’t interrupt you from doing anything did I?” She asked motioning towards what I was wearing or lack of. As I was stood here shirtless.

“Apologies Sheriff, I was painting, something I tend to do in my downtime”

“Wow, certainly what I least expected”

I smiled, “Full of surprises I am”

She nodded, “I can tell. You also have beautiful tattoos, what does that say if you don’t mind me asking?” She said pointing towards the first words uttered by my soul mate.

I smiled softly, a genuine smile, “Honestly, it took me a while to figure it out, but it reads, ‘momma, momma, ‘m go be, pwincess’. Eventually, it made sense”

The sheriffs face has a smile, “You know that’s funny because…” She paused for a moment and her face dropped into confusion.

“It’s impossible” She whispered.

My eyes widened, does she know? Does she know who said these words as their first? Someone who wanted to be a princess, but instead I’ll make them a queen.

“Sheriff?” I asked my eyes widening, “Please tell me, please, what is it you know?”

She averted her eyes from the tattoo up to my eyes, “Caroline. When she was 16 her tattoo appeared. Just as everyone does, ‘Eli Play’ was hers. And it’s confused her since. But, I remember the day my baby said her first words. I remember, she was 19 months and such a smart baby, she talked a lot but never clearly, until she tells me she wants to be a princess.”

As the sheriff spoke, and overwhelming feeling came over me. Caroline. It’s Caroline. My soulmate. The one woman who’s had me entranced since the day I moved here. Who’s not taken anything from me, who made me feel things no one else ever has done before. And now here her mother stands to confirm this. Telling me her daughter is the one woman who will make me feel whole.

“Where, where is she?” I asked unable to process what was happening. Thousands of years and this moment feels unreal right now.

“She’s at the grill at the moment, with Elena and Bonnie”

“Sheriff please with all due respect. I need to go”

She nodded understanding with a small smile, “Look after my girl Klaus” She said walking out the house. I grinned at her, before going upstairs to change and leave.

I didn’t take the car instead ran to the grill getting there within minutes. I wasn’t sure of what I was feeling right now, but I can assure anyone that I have never felt this… alive in all my years.

I walked in keeping my composure, keeping calm, I saw one of my brothers charming a girl. Of course, he was, but I soon spotted Caroline, sat and talking with her best friends.

I smirked and walked towards her, she saw me, and I caught that small smile and twinkle in her eye before it was gone. Well the smile, not the small twinkle.

“What do you want Klaus?” She asked sounding bored.

“To talk to you love is all” I smirked. “you girls mind if I borrow her for a while?” I asked the other two.

“Of course not. Car’ would love to join you” Elena said a massive smile of her own. She tilted her head to the side and Caroline sent her friend a glare before begrudgingly getting up grabbing her bag and following me out of there.

We both started walking through the town square, it was quite a beautiful day in mystic falls, “What do you want to talk about?” She asked, her fiery personality not afraid to ask questions and getting to the point.

I laughed, “I just spoke to your mother would you believe”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, she told me she would be going to the new Mikealson mansion to give them a proper welcoming. But I assumed you would be throwing an extravagant party. One your sister would have no problem in organizing considering she’s probably the second best party planner in the town”

“Second best?” I asked amused.

“Of course, me being the first” She smirked,

“Well if you must know we will be having a party this weekend, and all I ask is to have the most beautiful girl in Mystic Falls as my date”

She scoffed, “Flattery will only get you so far Klaus”

“Of course, but you realize, you have my first words tattooed somewhere on this beautiful body of yours?” I asked looking her up and down.

Her eyebrows furrowed, “And how do you know this? You haven’t been perving have you”

I smirked, “Of course not Caroline, I know this because I also know that the first thing you ever said to your mother was how you want to be a princess”

Her cheeks reddened and realization dawned upon her though she was quick to recuperate herself, “Well you know this changes nothing. I won’t be yours just like that. It’s going to take a lot more than a nice accent and charming smile to get me to be yours”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, love”

“And I’ll need to know the colour of your tie so I can coordinate for the party”

A grin formed on my face, “Don’t you worry about what you’re wearing it’ll be taken care of”

A small smile appeared on her face, “How did you know?”

“As I said your mother paid me a visit. She asked about my small amount of tattoos and figured it out. She told me about yours and well, here we are”

Nothing could wipe this smile off of my face, especially seeing the smile on her beautiful face made those years where I suffered and believed I would be alone for an eternity worth it. Knowing this strong-willed girl is my girl. And nothing will ever change that.

#Klaroline #Klaus x Caroline #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #TVD #The Vampire Diaries #klaus oneshot #caroline forbes one shot #Klaroline one shot #The Originals #TO

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minimus-ambus · 6 years

Text

so i had an idea for a fic idea centering around starscream and an incident with a truth serum, and i thought i’d write down a rough outline of it but whoops it’s five pages now

anyway here u go

so like, Starscream (still leader of Cybertron) is making a public announcement when there’s a sudden movement at the edge of the crowd. A second later, Starscream feels a sting on his neck. He pulls out what hit him immediately: it’s a long capsule with a needle at the end. It’s then that his tanks churn and his processor starts throbbing, and he curses himself for being so stupid, for not reacting fast enough, for... At this point, the scene has devolved into chaos: the crowd is panicking, and bots are trying to run away from something that they can’t see. That’s when the guards tackle a bot at the front of the crowd: a bot with a mod on their arm that now clearly is a gun. As they hit the ground, the bot cranes their head to look up at Starscream, who’s two seconds from transforming and flying away. They’re wearing a mask, but their optics are clearly smiling as they wheeze, “My *lord*.” Starscream, not one to lose his composure in front of a crowd, straightens up as much as he can and growls, “An attempt on my life? Disappointing.” But the bot just laughs, something made hard by the guards putting them in stasis cuffs. “No, that’d be too kind.. you, you deserve so much-aghk-worse!” They’re hauled to their feet, but the bot’s glare never leaves Starscream. “Truth serum. Compulsively answer every question asked of you- truthfully.” The bot is grinning now, but there’s an edge of desperation in the expression. “Scared?” Starscream looks at them as if they are crazy, opens his mouth to scoff, and- “Yes.” An eerie quiet descends as the world stills. The crowd is frozen in their rush to run every way, all optics turned towards their leader. The masked bot’s grin has lost its desperation. Starscream blinks, the sound of his own voice repeating in his audials. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. A servo moves to his throat, still sore with the injury made by the needle. For a minute, everyone absorbs what just happened. And what it means. In one movement, Starscream stumbles back- the crowd rushes forward- the guards lose the masked attacker in the rush- and Starscream’s engines tear through the sky as he flies up and out of the crowd, drowning out the shouted questions of the bots below. So basically after this Starscream is constantly trying to avoid everyone cause almost everybody wants to ask him something and actually get the truth- which in most cases he’d rather die than do. Starscream can’t think of anywhere that would be safe... until he remembers something: Thundercracker is staying on Cybertron for a few months. Dreading the prospect of facing his old trine mate but knowing TC is the best option he has, Starscream goes there. Of course Thundercracker is really surprised to see Starscream standing outside his apartment, and asks him what he wants. Starscream’s optics go wide, and for a second he chokes- before he says “I was hit with a truth serum in front of everyone and nowhere else is safe.” TC is dumbfounded by this... honesty? But then he processes what Starscream said and goes “oooohhhhhhhhhhh” and then he goes “awww” because Starscream feels safe with him??? So TC agrees to let him stay cause he’s nice like that TC doesn’t really take advantage of the truth serum to ask Starscream questions, if he does it’s usually by accident (“Hey Star do you mind if Buster stays in here?” “Yes I absolutely do mind, that four legged insect is not allowed within 50 feet of me”) Thundercracker talks most of the time, cause Starscream’s too nervous to even speak. TC tells him about Buster, and Marissa, and his screenplays, on and on and on. Starscream pretends like he’s not listening but at some point actually becomes just a little bit interested. Eventually, Starscream actually speaks of his own volition, probably to say something like “your organic insect is gross and I don’t want it to touch me ever, but I suppose I could maybe understand why you like it...” “Heh, that’s progress in my book.” “Shut up.” “No way, this is the first time in vorns you’ve actually let me speak at length without interrupting to insult me!” Then there’s a vworp and Skywarp appears in the apartment, startling Starscream who screeches and then promptly shuts up Skywarp’s like “oooh hey Screamer!! I just knew you’d be here with this dirtlover.” Thundercracker grumbles “it’s called Earth and it’s not that bad, you guys are just mean” “Pssh whatever, anyway, I came here for Screamer, not you” Skywarp grins at Starscream, who is glaring sharply back at him. “Soo, I heard you can only tell the truth, huh?” Before Starscream can stop himself he says “yes I can, also I hate you so much” Skywarp’s grin gets even wider and he asks “then tell me, how sexy do I look when I pose like this???” and he strikes a ridiculous pose that gets Thundercracker laughing and Starscream for once wholeheartedly telling him how terrible he is Thundercracker thankfully gives Starscream a bedroom for the night, but it surprisingly takes a while for the former trine to actually part and go to bed. Starscream thinks about this as he sits on the edge of the berth. The ache in his processor that’s been there all day has lessened and lessened over time, and he’s actually kind of calm. Then, Bumblebee sits down next to him with the strangest little smile on his faceplates. They start talking in quiet voices, and at some point both of them realize that despite the truth serum still in Starscream’s system, he’s talking and acting just about the same to Bumblebee. Starscream’s always been truthful and open to Bee, at least for as long as he’s been a ghost. Bumblebee’s silent for a bit, until he says very softly, “I’m sorry about this.” Starscream is like “What are-“ but Bumblebee cuts him off and says with his optics locked on Starscream’s: “Do you think I’m real?” Starscream freezes, his vocal processors working. But he tries to stop the words about to escape him, so intensely he devolves into a small coughing fit. Bumblebee is immediately concerned, about to speak again- when Starscream looks up and with a crystal clear voice, says “I don’t. But god, I wish more than anything that you were. ” Bee feels stunned. His spark (or ghost spark, whatever it exists as now) is pulsing, and now more than ever he wishes he could be solid if only for a second. Then, Starscream swallows. And lies down on the berth, staring up at the ceiling. He lets out a dry, bitter laugh. “But you’re not. I’m just a guilt-ridden glitch who hallucinates and talks to himself. Leader of Cybertron... Pathetic, really.” Bee stands next to him for a few minutes, and Starscream begins to fall slowly into recharge. The minibot rests a hand on the edge of the berth. “If I was just some hallucination. Or a figment of your imagination. Then... why were you forced to answer my question?” Starscream only blinks. One of the hands lying at his sides curls into a fist. He closes his optics. The room is silent. In a whisper, he says, “I think you’re the best thing to happen to me in a very long time.” Bumblebee smiles. Very slowly, very carefully, he leans down and presses a kiss to Starscream’s cheek. Starscream doesn’t react, so Bee sighs, but still with a small smile. “I love you too.” Not fully in recharge, Starscream feels the strange tingling electricity dancing on his cheek die down. It does nothing to calm the flutters if his spark in his chest. The next day Starscream’s back to normal, so he bids farewell to Thundercracker (actually he just leaves a note on the door that says Thank You and sneaks out) and flies home. Mustering up his strength, he goes to the council, who are just like “aw dang you’re fine now?? man, we really missed an opportunity there" Starscream is just incredulous cause someone ATTACKED HIM??? IN A PUBLIC SPACE????? AND THEY LET THEM GET AWAY??????????? he’s a very angry birb, his wings get all poofed up But I gotta add something in about Wheeljack, maybe he shows up after Starscream’s back to normal and jokingly says “oh you’re better? Dangit, I really wanted to study that serum’s effects! that, and- heh, no offense but I kinda wanted to ask a few questions myself. oh well..” but instead of being annoyed, Starscream looks at him, glances at Bumblebee in the corner (who’s gesturing vehemently at Wheeljack and whispering “go on you idiot”), and takes Wheeljack’s hands in his own. Wheeljack was *not expecting this* and tries to pull back, but is cut off by a “Wheeljack.” Starscream’s looking him right in the optics, something very unusual for him. The seeker seems to be struggling to keep eye contact, and it takes him a few seconds before he actually speaks: “...Wheeljack. I could.. I could never lie to you. I-I can’t. I don’t know why. But I can’t.” Wheeljack blinks. The room is quiet for a minute, and Starscream begins to get nervous, which isn’t helped by Bumblebee muttering “come on you idiots” over and over again in the corner. Then, Wheeljack finally seems to have gathered his thoughts. He smiles (maybe, the mask makes it hard to tell). Withdrawing his hands, he squeezes Starscream’s own, and says quietly, “...yeah. I think I’ve- ...I know.” And then, he steps back, and walks out the door. Starscream just stands there with his hands still out in the air, feeling the ghost sensation of Wheeljack holding them. He probably has a dumbstruck look on his face, but for some stupid reason, he can’t make himself feel embarrassed about it. Outside, Wheeljack is similarly stunned, but it’s showing in how he’s holding his face in his hands and quietly screaming at himself. Bumblebee is smiling in the corner, shaking his head as he mutters, “Idiots...”

#*cups my hands around my mouth* gayyyyy #but yeah i wanna expand on this #starbee #starjack #my writing #i should have a tag for these #i think i'll go with #robotswriting #yeah that's good #starscream #wheeljack #bumblebee #thundercracker #skywarp #buster #and mysterious unnamed mask bot #who i'm probably gonna make into an actual character some day #some day.....

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yanjunmyworld · 6 years

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Fated Blood Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A/N Thanks to everyone who does read this, i’m going to try and end it within the next maybe 4 chapters as i’ve lost enjoyment of writing it and have a lot of shorter ideas i wanna write and it seems like there is no interest in it. But i want to finish it for those of you who do read it and because i want to take vampire yanjun to the end ^-^

The flashing lights in the distance dazzled y/n’s eyes as she stared in amazement. She had always wanted to go to an amusement park just like in the mangas she had read and her favorite movies. She looked across to Yanjun whose eyes had changed from crimson read to a warm hazelnut brown. He was dripping eye drop fluid into his eyes to lubricate the lenses he had just put on. Y/n decided to wait till his eyes were closed to move in front of his face, to see what reaction she could pull from him. As Yanjun’s eyes fluttered open he smirked towards the young girl and leaned his face closer.

“If you wanted to kiss me babe, you don’t have to stand in front of me you can just do it.” He winked

“Didn’t you promise the cheesiness would stop if i went on this date?”

“We didn’t pinky promise on it” he laughed,

Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed a hold of Yanjun’s hand pulling him towards the entrance in a hurry. He thought it was cute how she changed from being the cold y/n to a excited child. As they were heading towards the ticket booth Yanjun changed the direction to the entrance where a young worker was standing checking the entrance wristbands. Just as he was about to say something to the young couple Yanjun stared intently at the young man and his name tag before turning on the charm in his voice.

“Wenjun you will give us the V.I.P wristbands in your pocket and will let us through without question. You will also give us the coupons for free unlimited food and drinks.”

He smiled at the taller boy and patted him on the shoulder. Wenjun responded by handing over two black wristbands and attaching them to the couples wrists and a coupon booklet. Y/n stared at Yanjun shaking her head as they entered the park.

“Really Yanjun, you used your mind compulsion to take me on a date? I thought you was one of the richest vampires.”

“Why waste the money? They are still getting their wages and we get everything for free. Its a win/win babe. what are our powers for otherwise?”

Y/n let go of Yanjuns hand disapprovingly and started to head towards the disco pang ride. He stood their confused for a few moments. No one has ever complained about using powers when he’s been on dates with others. Why was she so annoyed by it?

Yanjun was making his way over to Y/n when two young females, one blonde and one brunette stopped him in his tracks. Yanjun being Yanjun couldn’t help but entertain the ladies. They were giggling away as he flashed his dimples towards them. Y/n was looking on in disgust as she stood in the que. She knew he was a Casanova and yet why did she think he would be different. The feelings she was thinking about last night had just been validated as being an anomly to her. She rolled her eyes as Yanjun bid the girls a farewell proceeding to head towards the que.

As she stood there waiting, Yanjun came through the various other groups and hugged her from behind. Her heart was pounding loudly as his head found its way to her neck nuzzling happily into it. She tried to shrug him off but he held her tighter.

“Why are you mad at me princess?”

“Why do you think?”

“Fine i won’t use my powers again. But why are you so angry? I didn’t hurt anyone.”

Y/n sighed.

“All i have ever wanted is to have a normal date, to forget that i’m part of such a sultry and unwelcoming world...I thought maybe this would be it. Then i saw your performance with those ladies and remembered your just a player like all the other vampires.”

“Then I will make it up to you properly and prove that I am a gentleman....those girls were trying to hit on me yes but i pointed over to you and said you was my girlfriend.”

“Whatever.”

She continued to ignore him as they made their way to the front of the que. Y/n chose to sit in the middle of the giant circle with Yanjun sitting to her right and another male to her left. She was pretty certain she had enough strength to not fall off the seats like all the other women before her. The dj began the music as the ride began to spin. It started off slow and built up to a fast tempo to match the mc’s comments. Then the real fun began. The ride began to jolt up and down intensely. Couples were falling off all over the place but not y/n or Yanjun to which they both gave a smirk. This went against their favour of course. The mc was always up for a challenge and they had become his sole targets.

“These two are really strong over here but lets see for how much longer”

The voice rang over the intercom as more music began to play and the ride spun faster.Y/n was slowly starting to loser her grip but her pride wouldn’t let her give up so easily. That was until the mc thrusted the ride up and down three times harshly in a row giving her no time to reattach her grip. The mc was laughing non stop over the intercom as she held on with two fingers and her body laid out in the middle. Yanjun laughed at first until he stretched forward to grab her. As he did the ride was thrusted once again and Yanjun was thrown out of his seat slightly head first. He had a firm grip on the bar so he didn’t fall into the middle, which helped him stretch out his free arm to y/n. Breathing a sigh of relief; she took a hold of his hand just as the ride started to jolt again. Causing y/n to headbut Yanjun which hurt her more than him unfortunately. The ride began to spin again and Yanjun pulled her up swiftly and onto his lap; as the ride got faster. The mc constantly making fun of how much Y/n was blushing and how naughty Yanjun was for pulling her into that position.

After what seemed like a life time they were allowed to exit the ride. regaining her balance Yanjun took a hold of her hand and escorted her off the ride safely. He stared at the young girl in admiration due to how strong her resolve was to not relie on him. Other girls he had dated would of done anything to hold onto him on these sort of rides. She really was different and that made him want her even more. She quickly threw off his hand and started heading towards the halloween town.

“Is holding my hand really that bad?”

“Is flirting with other women when your on a date still a crime?”

“I told you already i wasn’t flirting i’m not interested in humans like that. Plus will you grab my hand so i can tell people i was touched by a angel?” He blinked his puppy dog look towards her. To which he earned a slight chuckle.

“Fine... we can hold hands...thanks for saving me earlier when i fell.”

“Anything for my princess.”

On their journey they stopped by a small stall that had various headbands and clip on ears. Not a favourite of Yanjun’s but Y/n was excited. she kept trying on various designs whilst Yanjun snacked on a small vile of blood. As she placed a pair of red cat ears on his head, she noticed a small trickle of blood by the corner of his mouth. She chuckled slightly a brought her thumb to his face and wiped it. Yanjun was taken a back by the gesture but composed himself as he would rather fake it then let anyone see him lose face.

“Clearly someone still needs to be in diapers if you can’t eat without getting it everywhere.” Y/n laughed.

Yanjun grabbed her hand and kissed her thumb, licking off the blood upon it, whilst smirking. Y/n blushed and quickly turned her attention back to the headbands. He hugged her from behind again.

“Looks like someone is falling for me if you turn away that fast.” Yanjun whispered in her ear

Y/n shrugged Yanjun off, trying to recompose herself. She distracted herself by placing a red pair of cat ears upon her own head. Yanjun looked in the mirror at the two of them, wearing their couple ears. He thought it was cute how they matched. He usually hated this sort of thing but seeing her looking happy he decided what was the harm in it. No one would see him. Yanjun thought it would be special, something only the two of them had. Not even Cai Xukun would be bale to match with her then. He smiled and then took a hold of Y/n’s hand.

“Your pretty and I’m cute. Together we would be pretty cute” he winked

Once again blushing, she let go of Yanjuns hand and went to pick up 3 more pairs of cat ears.

“Why are we buying so much? we both have a pair now!”

“Because if i go home without a matching pair for Justin and Cheng Cheng they won’t forgive me and Xukun will steal them and then i would never get them back!”

“Fine...”

He grumbled paying the cashier. He thought it would be something special to remind her of him but now he had to buy one for all of them. Yanjun started brainstorming other ways to make sure she became his and fate had it that his eyes landed on the haunted house. No girl is ever unafraid of these, it’s worked on every girl. he thought.

As Y/n started selfies of herself, Yanjun jumped in behind and started posing with her causing y/n to laugh. He then once again wrapped his arms around her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Take one like this! It will be the best photo you ever take” he laughed squeezing her tighter.

Y/n rolled her eyes and let out a small chuckles as she held up the camera again and snapped the photo of Yanjun’s lips upon her cheek.Why she was taking this photo she had no idea but he was right they did look pretty cute together. She shook the thought out of her head, she was just having fun with him, nothing serious could ever become of this and she needed to remember that. Feeling proud of himself he released her and took a hold of her hand again.

“It’s my turn to choose now!”

He lead them into the que for the haunted house and before they knew it they were inside. Although there was hardly any light for Yanjun he could see perfectly due to his vampiric nature. Little did he know Y/n also had that ability. For all vampires it was 50/50 what abilities they are born with; but for half vampires even the standard powers such as strength and vision were 50/50. So luckily she was feeling more excited than scared. She could see Yanjun smirking as spooky noises started to play inside the venue and she caught onto his plan. Y/n decided to have some fun with this and not let him know she could see perfectly fine.

“Don’t worry y/n, i’ll protect you.”

“It’s only scary because i can’t see anything.”

Yanjuns hand sneaked around her waist and pulled her close to him. She let him keep her there to keep up her well thought out plan.

As the proceeded through, y/n didn’t flinch once at the hands trying to grab their feet. Yanjun was anticipating when people would jump out at them, so that y/n would jump closely into his arms. As they were coming up to a corner, Yanjun noticed one hiding, preparing for his job, to which he smirked in anticipation. As they rounded the corner and the ‘ghost’ jumped out at them , Yanjun couldn’t work out why she wasn’t screaming and flinching into him. Instead as he gazed at her she was smiling waving to the ghost.

“Hey handsome, have you had lunch? do you want to get something to eat with me?”

She smiled towards the ghost which laughed and slowly retreated back. Yanjun stared at her in disbelief. Was she really flirting with the ghost when he was in front of her. Why wasn’t she scared. Even the vampire girls he’s taken into haunted houses got scared. Y/n then smiled at Yanjun.

“Come on we’re only half way through.”

Maybe it was a glitch in the matrix he thought. However as they continued through she just continued to flirt with the various ghosts that appeared. Even when a ghost chased them half way through the house, they just took a leisurely stroll and Y/n didn’t stop talking. Yanjun of course just grumpily pulled her faster through the house and pouted at the failed attempt of his plan. She really was a match for him. How was he meant to make her fall for him if this fail proof plan failed. She poked his cheek as they exited and y/n fell into a light laughter.

“Aww the look on your face Lin Yanjun was priceless.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could see you pout and annoyed at every ghost we came across.”

“Your the first woman i’v come across to not get scared.”

“I’ll tell you a secret.” she laughed “ I could see everything perfectly. Unluckily for you i am one half vampire with perfect vision.”

Yanjun huffed and crossed his arms. Of course she had to have that ability. So the whole time she must of caught onto his plan. She took a pic of him sulking to which ensued a fight for her phone. Yanjun gave up quickly knowing that she had no friends to show the photo to anyway so his reputation was safe.

The night sky quickly approached and they spent the rest of the time going to various attractions such as a safari ride and taking the T express. Y/n went through a variety of food and deserts to which Yanjun wondered where she put it all. It reminded him of one of his close human friend Zhangjing who had the same habit, They decided to end the date at the attraction y/n most wanted to go on. The ferris wheel. In all the media she had consumed the ferris wheel was always meant to be something very romantic and a must have for a date. She hated to admit it but she was having a great time with Yanjun. She felt so relaxed around him and he seemed less douchey then she first imagined. She didn’t want to admitt that she was falling for him. The way he would just stare at her when she would take selfies and demand to be in them and then smile exposing his dimples. The way he quickly made sure no other man had any chance of approaching her, even if they just looked her way he would glare.

Yanjun couldn’t believe that for once he was actually having fun on a date. Usually he did it as a obligation but Y/n wasn’t demanding of him like all the others and generally just wanted them both to have fun. The way she would pout if he didn’t want to go on a ride she wanted to go on before leaving him. Or when her eyes lit up at the sight of ice cream.When she suggested the ferris wheel; Yanjun instantly liked the thought of the idea, The stars were out and it meant he would be locked in a capsule with her for 7 minutes. This was his chance to really make her fall for him he thought.

The couple got into the small red booth and soon enough the wheel began to move at a slow place. Y/n continued to glance out the window, her eyes sparkling from the view. The night sky had stars shining brightly and all the attractions had various different lights illuminating the park, Yanjun just quietly stared at her, taking in every detail. How her hair fell just below her breasts. How her make up enhanced the color of her eyes. She really was beautiful.

Y/n had noticed out of her peripheral vision that Yanjun was just staring at her. Smiling to himself. Although he looked bit goofy she couldn’t help but smile as she turned back to face him. His silver hair perfectly framing his face and his now dark brown eyes having a softer look.

“You look like you’ve fallen in love at first sight.”

“What makes you think i haven’t princess.” he laughed.

“Nice try mister.”

He laughed and applied a strawberry lip balm to his lips.

“So Yixing ge gave me this the other day, could you kiss me and let me know if it tastes good?” he winked.

Y/n laughed and rolled her eyes as the young male sat there smiling. He was staring at her own ruby red lips and admiring the slight pink color that crept onto her cheeks. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her heartbeat in its steady rhythm. He liked the sound. Not having a working heart, the sound gave him the feeling that he was human too, even for just a moment. He wouldn’t give up being a vampire for anything, but he knew how skeptical she was of vampires. So if he was human would she have fallen for him quicker he wondered.

“You know y/n... your not like any other girl i’ve ever met.”

“ I would hope so! i pride myself on being one of a kind Yanjun.”

“I’ve never been this interested in somebody i really mean it. From the moment i saw you at that fountain all i knew was i had to get your name.”

“How many women have fallen for that line?”

She had a deeper blush on her face and her heart beat had increased in pace from what he could tell. She was just not going to give in to him, even though he was baring himself open for a change. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small star shaped necklace with a small diamond circle around it. He had caught her looking at it at once of stalls earlier and saw the way her eyes lit up at it. So when she went to the toilet he made sure to quickly go back and get it and wait for the right time.

“I saw you looking at this earlier and i thought it would suit you”

he beamed his dimples at her as he let the necklace hang from his fingers.

“When did you even get this, or even notice?”

“ I pay more attention to angels than you think. Here let me put it on you”

He stood up to walk over to her as the ride jolted slightly, causing him to fall on top of y/n. By this time the wheel was already at the top and a voice erupted through the pa speakers.

“Sorry everyone we will have the ride fixed soon, there is absolutely no reason to panic you are completely safe.”

Y/n looked up at Yanjun whose face was now inches from hers again. She could feel her face heating up as he looked into her eyes. He chuckled quietly and got up and sat next to her. He then clasped the necklace around her neck and stroked the side of her cheek.

“It suits you.”

“Thanks..”

He words trailed off as she stared at Yanjun. She didn’t realize he could be this thoughtful and if her heart wasn’t pounding enough already now it was going into over drive. She looked down and played with the necklace that now sat around her neck. The moon and stars were always her favorite. The wishes that could come true by wishing upon a star had always been a hope for her and now she had her very own. She looked back up at Yanjun who was still smiling towards her making her unconditionally smile as well.

“ I guess were stuck up here.”

“ I don’t mind, i have a perfect view to look at.” He smirked

“Now i’m starting to regret being trapped up here with you,”

Y/n poked him lightly laughing to which he grabbed a hold of her hand and interlaced their fingers together. He moved closer towards y/n causing her to be pushed up against the window. He tilted his head as he watched her innocent eyes close and softly joined their lips together. Y/n could taste the cherry lip balm he had used previously, making the kiss even more sweet. As he pulled away y/n looked a little regretful. she didn’t want their lips to be seperated so quickly. she liked the taste of his lips on hers. He gently placed his arms around her and pulled her up onto his lap; as his lips joined hers once again. This time however he gently bit on her bottom lip seeking permission. Which she easily granted. As their tongues met their kiss began heating up between the two of them as y/n ran her fingers through Yanjuns hair. He then left her mouth slowly tracing butterlfy kisses down her jaw and neck. She pulled his head back up to rejoin their lips to which she then heard slight grumbling sound.

“Looks like someones hungry” she laughed.

“Sorry... i should have a vial here somewhere.”

Yanjun let go of y/n and began to search his pockets for another vial of blood. He frantically checked every pocket twice and even his wallet to which he found none. He must of drank more than he realized earlier. Y/n could see the panic on his face. She wanted to help him but she had only ever let Ziyang and Xukun drink her blood before. Y/n thought hard about whether she could trust him enough to let him taste some a intimate part of her. She was starting to fall for Yanjun and it wasn’t like he had planned to purposely get her blood she thought. She debated back and forth in her head of the risks she would be taking by letting him, but she trusted him enough that he would have self control over the matter. She placed her hands on his cheeks again smiling and leant in to kiss him once again.

“Just this once, you can drink some of mine”

He knew from Ziyang how much she prided herself on not letting people taste her blood, due to its addictive nature. To think she was actually going to let him relived the young male. Maybe his efforts had paid off and she has fallen for him.

“Thank you princess.”

He joined their lips together again before once again tracing kisses down her neck and jaw. he spent a few moments just kissing one spot before she felt his fangs graze against her skin. As she felt them pierce her flesh she gasped slightly. Yanjun grunted as he tasted her blood. It was so sweet and fresh tasting, just like a humans. It ignited a fire inside of him, he’d never had a blood so sweet before. He pressed his body up against hers as she ran her hand through his hair again; moaning slightly. She wanted to bite into him too but she knew where that would lead them and she wasn’t ready to take that step yet. The more he drank the more he couldn’t stop. he knew he had to pull away before he took too much but it was hard internal struggle for him. He could hear her heart beat slowing as he managed to pry himself away from her neck and licked the puncture mark closed. Upon doing so he looked into her eyes again as the ride started back up. He smiled softly at her before kissing her again. Their tongues greeting each other again. Once they pulled away again they both chuckled slightly.

“Well that was....intense” he scratched the back of his head. “Thank you y/n”

“Hey it was a once off event don’t expect it again.” she laughed

“I don’t believe that.” he smirked.

“Just because i’m an angel, doesn’t mean i give a lot.”

“Yeah, but your my angel, so it’s different.”

He placed a soft kiss upon her lips again before interlacing their fingers as the door to the cart opened.

“Sorry about that technical failure folks.” The worker bowed.

“It was a great experience, don’t worry about it” Yanjun smiled and lead them both out.

Yanjun let go of Y/n’s hand and placed his hand around her waist. The smile radiating off his face whilst y/n’s face was flushed after the event. They made their way back to Yanjuns car. He opened the door and gestured for her to get in before entering himself.

“So angel, what should we do now?”

A/n: I was having real soft Yanjun times whilst writing it. Hope you guys enjoy it because the drama will finally start to appear.

#lin yanjun imagine #yanjun #xukun #idol producer imagine #idol producer scenarios #idol producer imagines #lin yanjun imagines #vampire #fated blood #nine percent #nine percent imagines #nine percent scenario #nine percent yanjun

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elenajohansenauthor · 6 years

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Fictober, Day 26: “If you can’t see it, is it really there?”

OCs: Shannon, Noah, Orlando, and Ursula

Project: Untitled paranormal romance for Fictober18/NaNoWriMo, now tagged #spookyromancenovel on my blog

Potential Triggers: none

Word Count: 2,374

About: Four people at a fancy table, hatching a plan.

Orlando stood and drew himself up to his full height, which was greater than I'd realized. In the suit, he looked trimmer, more handsome, and more intimidating. Not at all the friendly, if slightly mysterious, tea-serving magical guru we'd known so far.

"I'll forgive you that, Noah, because you're probably badly startled by what you saw out there. Or what you didn't see."

Noah tried to approach him, but I threw out my arm. I was surprised it worked, and to strengthen my position, I stepped between the two men, as if I were the one tasked with guarding Noah, instead of the other way around.

"We're tired of being tested." I kept my voice even. "It's one thing to be prepared for the unexpected, but it's another to constantly be run through a gauntlet at another's whim."

Orlando grunted. "I wish it were only my whim that drove this." He gestured at the table. "Come. Have a seat."

He resumed his place at the head of the table. I took the chair to his left, with Noah on my left. Ursula joined us, sitting across from me with her hands folded neatly on the polished wood. She spoke first. "Welcome to Osbourne Manor."

Noah looked at her sharply, but I was mystified. Should I know that name?

"Ursula--" I began.

"You didn't tell me your librarian friend was an Osbourne," Noah muttered. Everyone at the table heard him anyway, of course.

"For one, I didn't know her last name, and also, why does it matter? Who are they?" I addressed the question as much to Ursula as to Noah; it would probably be less embarrassing if she answered, because Noah seemed particularly volatile at the moment.

"We're a very old and very rich family of accomplished witches," she said in a warm tone laced with irony. "But you don't move in our circles, Shannon, no shame in that, because they can be exceedingly boring. I don't trade on my family name to get by, and at work, only the head librarian knows about my connections." She sighed and gestured at the opulent room, decorated with a bit too much scrollwork and gold leaf for my taste, though the sheer wealth on display made a powerful statement regardless of personal taste. "I only use them when there's good reason. I'm not above deploying my resources wisely when there's true need."

"And that need is me?" Noah asked skeptically. "Shannon didn't even tell you about me, not completely."

"No, she didn't." I flushed, but she only smiled at me. "She had every reason to be vague. If my grandfather knew I'd brought a gargoyle into the house, even one that's still partly human, he'd either disown me for the audacity of it, or promote me to primary heir for my cleverness in engineering your capture."

Noah stood, planting his considerable fists on the table top, but Ursula only laughed a pretty trill of notes. "I've no intention of keeping you, dear, though you're still quite handsome, in an odd way. But you'd be worth a fortune to the right buyer on the black market. Whether as a slave, a test subject, or a magical artifact. You're in no danger from me, but you should know that won't extend to the rest of the Osbourne clan."

He didn't relax. "Do you promise?"

She laughed again. "I swear to you, Noah the half-gargoyle, that I intend no direct harm to your person or your freedom. I will not betray you to my family, and to the best of my ability I will prevent harm to you from other sources if necessary." She waved two pointed fingers on one hand in a complicated gesture, leaving a faint trail of light in the air. A sigil? I couldn't identify it, but from all that reading I'd done, I knew they were used to seal advanced promise magic spells. Ursula had known more than she'd given me. "Are you satisfied?" she asked archly.

I put my hand on his arm.

"Yes," he growled, sitting down.

I cleared my throat to bring their attention to me. "So you brought us in the back door to keep anyone else from knowing we're here?"

"Something like that," Ursula answered.

Orlando cut her a look that wiped the faint smirk off her face. I wondered how they knew each other. I wondered what their history was. "I can't make a portal into a place protected by wards I didn't cast myself," he explained. "This was the best I could do, and it had the advantage of giving you a glimpse of the spirit void."

"Is that what that was?" I shuddered belatedly at the experience. "I never would have gone in if I'd known. Please don't tell me that's how we're getting out again."

Orlando and Ursula looked at each other, communicating something without words. "No," Ursula said finally. "I'll figure something out." She stood abruptly and swept out of the room, walking as confidently as if she were wearing a ballgown instead of a simple sheath dress with a cardigan thrown over it. Her heels clicked on the tile the whole way out.

"Do we finally get to find out your plan now?" The impatience in Noah's voice warred with the annoyance for dominance.

"This is where we put one together. I have a basic one in mind, but much will depend on what resources and abilities the two of you can contribute."

"You want me because you need to capture a vampire alive, instead of killing him, and I'm probably the easiest way to do that." Noah shrugged, affecting nonchalance as he leaned back in his chair. "I mean, the two of you--three, if Osbourne's going to be a part of this--have considerable magic to throw around, so I'm not even sure you need muscle like me."

Orlando's face was grave. "It would be a simpler matter if you could fly," he stated baldly. "Despite popular myth, vampires don't have flight, not in their normal form, and they can't turn into bats. Once we have a target, all you would have to do is swoop in and pick him up."

"Nothing's ever that simple," I broke in. "And no matter what we decide, capturing the vampire isn't going to be the hard part."

"True, true," Orlando said mildly. "You guessed that I knew someone capable of mind control, and you were right. But it's a difficult, delicate process, one that can go wrong in so many ways. We may need to try this more than once."

"Some high-up muckity-muck in the Conclave is going to notice if a lot of Archive vampires go missing."

He shook his head. "You'd be surprised. They have a startlingly high fatality rate compared to vampires living elsewhere in the city."

When I digested that, my stomach twisted into a hard knot. "You already know where the Archives are."

He nodded. "I've known for some time, and if you looked at the puzzle long enough, from the right angle, I'd bet you could figure it out."

Noah bristled. "Why not just tell us?"

"Where's the fun in that? I love seeing the light in a person's eyes when they reach the answer on their own. And our little duckling here is good at that, when she stops insisting there's only one way to attack a problem."

“Whatever, fine, it's not important now.” It wasn't that I hated not being the smartest person in the room—I was perfectly aware I was far from brilliant. But having my nose rubbed in that knowledge wasn't pleasant, and Orlando doing it to me in private was one thing. In front of Noah? Not so acceptable. “Is Ursula our mind controller, or is there someone else we should know about who isn't at this meeting?”

“It's one of Ursula's younger brothers.”

“I thought her family wasn't going to know about me.” Noah's hands curled into fists again.

“They won't. He won't. The plan is for you to get the vampires and bring them here—somehow, that's something we'll need to work out. But you won't need to be present for the spells that bind them to our purpose. In fact, the fewer people there, the better.”

“What are you going to tell him?” I didn't like this plan so far.

“Ursula's got that covered, because the vampires aren't just going to be working for you. If we're going to attempt this enterprise, we're planning to extract as much knowledge as possible before we can't maintain it. You'll get what you want, I'll get what I want, and the younger Osbourne...what he wants most is the opportunity to refine his magical skills, and that's not something he can do much of on his own.”

“Wait, he needs to practice mind controlling things?” Noah's temper was working its way back up to outrage. “Can he already do it reliably?”

“Ursula would know better than I—can we table that until she returns?” Orlando sounded pained.

“Okay. But there's something you've skipped over. You jumped straight to talking about Noah wrangling the vampires here. But how are we identifying and choosing which ones?”

More sharp clicks on the tile announced Ursula's return a few seconds before she spoke. “I'll take care of that.”

I waited. “You care to explain how?”

“I don't.”

I glared at her. “I think I liked you better when you were just my librarian.”

She arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Honestly, so do I. Being in this house makes me itch, and that makes me mean, like I have to be with my family. They don't respect kindness.”

Noah mumbled something, but I didn't dare ask for clarification. Ursula rolled her eyes at him.

Orlando tapped the table twice, a more dignified way to gather our attention than my throat-clearing. “Ursula will select our targets. Noah will bring them here and restrain them physically while Ursula and I bind them. Then he will leave, and Ursula's brother will work the compulsions. After that, they will leave to return to work for two nights. Then they will come back to us and divulge their secrets.”

The absence of my name in the plan was glaring. I should have been relieved that I wasn't necessary; instead I was annoyed. I didn't mind taking it out on Ursula under the guise of protecting Noah. “What safeguards do you have in place? Where will you hold the vampires during the workings? What's your plan to get Noah in and out of your manor unobserved, let alone the vampires?”

Ursula slid a small object across the table. It stopped precisely halfway between me and Noah. “A key,” she said dryly.

It didn't look like one. It was a tiny ceramic bell, glazed in with with a pearly sheen. I picked it up and it made no sound—there was no clapper inside. But I felt layer upon layer of magic embedded in it. Most of the spells were unfamiliar, but there was a strong one I recognized instantly. “A homing beacon.”

“Partly. Give it a try. Make sure it's safe.”

I turned the bell over in my palm, looking for any hint of how to activate it. Ursula smirked. “If you can't see it, is it truly there?”

I pursed my lips. “Dumb question to ask a witch,” I said sourly, and then I rang the bell.

It chimed beautifully, a clear, ringing tone with a warmth resonance. When the sound faded, I was sitting on the far side of the room. My ass hit the floor a second later, with no chair to support it. I got to my feet, resisting the urge to rub my tailbone. “I've never been teleported before, but I still know that's a good one, cleanly cast. No disorientation, no nausea, perfect positional replication. Amazing work.”

“Thank you.” If I hadn't already guessed she'd created the bell, I would have known by the pride and gratitude in her voice.

I walked to the table and handed Noah the bell. He took it gingerly, as if afraid it would ring by accident. “It won't,” I said, guessing at his thought. “Without a clapper, you have to use a clear intention to sound it. A clever way to prevent mistakes.”

He nodded and slipped the bell in his pocket. “How does this get me out, though?”

I didn't have an answer for that, so we both looked to Ursula. “It doesn't,” she said with a wicked grin. “No one's home, I'll just let you out one of the servant's entrances.”

I wasn't rich with a fancy manor, but I knew more than average about magical security. “You don't have wards against non-humans? Noah might not be fully transformed, but I doubt he's going to read as human to one of them. No alarms, no monitoring, no tracking who comes and goes?”

Ursula shook her head. “We have two werewolves on the kitchen staff—amazing cooks, with that heightened sense of smell. We dismantled that ward after we hired them, because my mother couldn't figure out how to key them to it, and we couldn't have the house shrieking at us every time they came in or out. She's made noise about modifying the spell for humans and wolves only, but she's a busy woman; she hasn't gotten around to it.”

Orlando grinned. “For six years, she 'hasn't gotten around to it.'”

Ursula made a face at him, and he laughed. It was a surprisingly odd and tender moment, and my mind leaped at conclusions. Old friends, former lovers? I would never ask, which meant a high probability I'd never know. Neither seemed like the type to gossip.

“As for the safeguards, that's where you come in.” Ursula went on, returning to the first question I'd asked, “I've been by your shop, out of curiosity.” That was news to me—I'd never seen her. “You've got it locked tighter than a maximum security prison. How about I show you where we intend to keep the vampires, and you tell me what you can do to prevent them from massacring all of us?”

#writeblr #fictober18 #nano 2018 #spookyromancenovel #nanowrimo #original fiction #daily word count #spookyromancenovel excerpt

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