#{/not to mention the whole thing about him finding his brothers likeness in seere; i feel like a LOT could be done with that omg} | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ackerfics · 2 years

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effervescent (ii) — eren jaeger.

chapter ii ; two caterpillars.

— eren jaeger x female reader (encanto au)

— warnings: angst. generational trauma.

— series summary: a young boy of fifteen seeks to save their dying miracle, never realizing that during his little adventure, he finds out the truth about the disappearance of his father, the seer of their little town.

— chapter summary: some events that are meant to be treasured yet brings an ache that cannot be mended that easily.

— word count: 7k

— notes: i'm starting to think that people can read this as a standalone, which is highly encouraged actually hdehdej before we go back to caspian's side of the story, have some moments between eren and reader that were more on the happier end of the spectrum ^^ i hope this will compensate for the rollercoaster that i'm about to make caspian ride on hhhh i've been listening to dos oruguitas the whole time i was making this part. that song is a masterpiece and it never fails to make me reminisce something that never even happened in my life. so make sure to listen to it, too, while reading this! enjoy and have a good one, lovely doves <33 (if you saw any mistakes, pls note that this is also unedited like always :>>)

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reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated !! <3

“You’re going to receive flowers later in the afternoon.”

That was the first thing the clairvoyant Eren Jaeger said to you on a fine summer day when you were nine years old.

Your mother told you to be mindful of what you said around any member of the Jaeger family, the ones responsible for making this paradise that you called your home. You’ve heard of the town's doctor as one of the most compassionate adults out there and you’ve also heard about the animal-whisperer who can herd various fauna within the mountains at his command. However, your first ever encounter with the magical family was with your best friend, Mikasa. You’ve known her before she got her gift of invincibility and strength. You’ve been by her side since she shrunk from all the whispers she got from your school after receiving her miracle. She mentioned having an annoying little brother (“He’s always whining. I love him, yes, but he’s annoying,” was what she said while coloring a page from your daily worksheet) but she always cut you off when you asked more about him, saying that she’s all you’re ever going to need.

Now, you were not so sure anymore.

Eren gave off an air that he was going to be a permanent thing in your life from that day on.

Suddenly, your mother’s warning of watching what you say to the Jaegers completely slipped your mind. You found yourself scrunching your face. It’s not every day you get a reading from the emerald-eyed seer randomly telling people they were going to sleep for only three hours as a running gag.

“What?”

You never meant to be condescending but you were definitely taken aback. You never once interacted with Eren for him to take the time to tell you that you will be receiving flowers. Besides, Mikasa told you that he had this ritual of throwing sand around the place of his prophecy circle, which the black-haired girl never liked at all since it was too messy.

(“It sticks to my hair when he throws it around like confetti, [Nickname].”)

You peeked over your shoulder to check if he was talking to someone else but when you faced him again, his wide viridescent eyes told you that he was directing those words to you.

Eren faltered for a moment before bringing back his grin tenfold. He looked like the sun and it wasn’t helping you at all. “I can see that you’re going to be receiving flowers this afternoon and they’re your favorites.” When you didn’t speak a word, he scratched the back of his head with a glowing face. His eyes were now dancing on anything except you. “That’s my gift, you see? I can see the future of someone.”

You chose to keep the information that he had a ritual to do before saying those words. A ritual that required the person he was going to read a prophecy of. And you vividly remembered never setting foot inside the Jaeger’s grand house. You gripped the strap of your shoulder bag, your shoulders tensing in an attempt to inch away from the brunet. “Uh, thank you?”

Now, Eren brightened like a puppy. “You’re welcome!” He gave you a two-finger salute, jogging with his front still facing you. “You’re going to love the flowers, by the way. Glad to be of service, Schmetterling!”

“Schmetterling?” You tilted your head before shaking your head and walking back to your house. You pensively looked up at the azure sky, blinking at the clouds forming shapes. One looked like a rabbit. “But I didn’t require his services, though? And doesn’t he charge those who want their prophecies read?” You shrugged, putting the matter to the back of your mind.

Mikasa curiously watched Eren as he came back to the tree on the small hill near their house.

While the brunet caught his breath with his hands on his kneecaps, Armin looked up from the book he recently bought from the bookshop and gave his best friend a worried stare. “Are you alright, Eren? Did it go well? Talking to [Name], I mean.”

“I think I know the answer,” Mikasa dryly noted with her blank eyes. “Did you chicken out, Eren?”

“No, I didn’t!” Eren protested. He took a deep breath and his blond friend leaned forward in anticipation while his sister maintained an air of indifference. Finally, he gave them a large grin that painted his cheeks pink. “I finally talked to her!” Armin congratulated him. Mikasa, on the other hand, grumbled that she was still your best friend. “She’s so pretty up close!” Eren kneeled and buried his face in his hands. “I was actually going to back out and just admire her from the corner of the fruit stall but …”

“But?” Armin urged.

“Like you always do?” Mikasa points out the part where Eren peeks at the corner of the houses lining the marketplace just to stare at you.

The black-haired girl developed a sixth sense purely for Eren. Whenever she accompanied you on your daily trips to the market, she always felt a chilling stare digging behind you two. At first, she was on high alert for some perverts from the elementary school trying to ask you on a date but when she finally turned around one morning, she found out it was Eren all along. The creep. You were oblivious to it all, like an untouchable ball of glowing light meant to be admired from afar, but your admirers couldn’t escape Mikasa’s hawk vision. That included her nosy little brother. After that, Mikasa and Eren always had a stare-off during those market trips, the boy’s puppy eyes turning menacing the moment his sister came into view. It always ended with you asking your best friend what was wrong, which broke the two siblings’ stare-off.

Mikasa was then transported to reality when Armin nudged her with slightly narrowed eyes.

“... But something told me that this would be the perfect day for me to talk to her.” Eren looked up to his best friends. “So, thank you two for encouraging me to conquer my fears and speak to her. Agh, this is the best day of my life!”

“No problem, Eren.”

“Don’t mess this up or else.”

“Oh, I forgot. Mikasa, what are her favorite flowers?”

“... Why do you ask?”

Eren’s devious smile nearly made Mikasa smack him with her red scarf.

The afternoon came and you were eating your leftover lunch with Mikasa under the huge tree by the meadow. You over-packed your lunch again since Mikasa liked your cooking that much to the point that she would eat more of your food than her own. She told you that Zeke’s cooking wasn’t to her liking and she appreciated Grisha’s efforts of bringing food to the table but it was either she described their meals as bland or too salty, nothing in between. Ever since she stared at you as if she was looking for you all her life, this became a little routine in your day — enjoying the afternoon delights with Mikasa after a day of listening to teachers' drones about mathematics and general knowledge of the outside world.

Your hair was fluttering against the breeze, your back relaxing on the tree’s trunk as you let the smell of wildflowers enter your senses. Mikasa was working on her homework beside you, her hand occasionally taking a piece of sausage from your lunchbox. You offered to help her with some of the problems but she insisted that she would do them herself this time since your class had a huge test coming up. You smiled at her determination, silver eyes narrowing at the third problem about division. You were about to lean forward to give some pointers but a shadow stopped you from doing so.

Eren was hiding something behind his back, intense viridian stare never looking away from you. If one were to take this scene out of context, they would think that Eren was trying to plot something against you with how much he was glaring.

You slightly leaned back and you felt your face burn from the unwarranted scrutiny. What did he want with you? Why did he look so angry?

Right when you were about to open your mouth to acknowledge him, a bouquet of messily-arranged flowers appeared in your view. In the middle of the arrangement was your favorite flower. Now, embarrassment and confusion weren’t the ones igniting the warmth on your cheeks.

“What?” you weakly asked, staring up at Eren’s determined expression. You saw him gulp before looking away from you.

It took him a couple of seconds to gain composure yet his voice was wavering. “I-I t-told you that you’ll be getting flowers this afternoon, right?” He gestured to the flowers in his clammy hold, pushing them more in front of your face. “Here they are.” The stems were about to snap but he didn’t care. As long as you received them, it was enough for him. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest and he was trying so hard not to run back to their house. He could faintly see Mikasa raising an eyebrow in amusement but he chose to focus on that tiny butterfly landing on a daisy right beside you. His eyelids were fluttering in nervousness. He wanted to hide. God, why weren’t you moving from your seat? He hesitantly took away the flowers, a nervous chuckle bubbling in his throat. “N-Never m—”

You gently wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, stopping him in place. You looked at him with so much understanding and appreciation that he nearly faltered at his feet.

“They’re beautiful, Eren. Thank you.”

Eren didn’t need his clairvoyance to know that you were the one meant for him.

He simply looked away again, watching the meadow flutter their wonders of flora against the breeze. If he were braver, he would look you in the eye to tell you deserved every flower in the entire world, the mountains around their town be damned. Just the act of giving you that bouquet drained him of his confidence. He might need to recharge it soon if he wanted to talk to you some more. He would talk to Armin and Mikasa so that he had the strength to approach you again.

Eren felt his face burn when he saw you inhale the scent of the flowers in his peripheral vision. You just look so angelic and out of his league. It was making his heart ache.

He caught Mikasa’s eye and the stoic girl raised both of her hands to give him two thumbs-up. Eren felt like the air went back into his lungs. He got the approval of your bestest friend and his sister. This was going somewhere. His lips stretched into a bright grin, a sight that had you staring at him for a couple of seconds before realizing that you probably looked like an idiot with your lips parted.

“So,” Eren dragged out the syllable, “what are you guys doing?” He asked the question for the two of them but his gaze was on you.

Mikasa huffed, the earlier pride she felt for her brother vanishing at his words. This was supposed to be your thing with her. Now Eren was joining in and she didn’t like it one bit.

“We’re eating some of my leftovers from lunch,” you answered since the black-haired girl beside you narrowed her eyes at the oblivious brunet. You might have to tell her that Eren wasn’t going to swoop in and be your best friend. Mikasa was already your best friend, surely Eren would fill in a different kind of role in your life. Maybe a close friend that was basically a best friend but not explicitly stated. You were all for Eren to join your little circle (which only involved Mikasa and the ever-enthusiastic Sasha in your neighborhood), seeing as you were always excited to meet new people. Plus, you noticed that Eren mostly hung out with two of his friends, one of which was a mutual one and the other an approachable person. It would be nice to merge everyone into a huge group. “Wanna join us, Eren? You know, as thanks for giving me flowers.”

Eren didn’t need to hear that twice before plopping in front of you two, purposely ignoring Mikasa’s scrunched nose. “Why do you have leftovers from lunch?” he asked with a tilted head. In their family, Grisha didn’t want anyone leaving a speck of food behind during meals.

“Why do you ask—?”

You cut off Mikasa’s snarky reply by kindly smiling at Eren, who was too mesmerized by you to realize that his sister was lifting her pencil case in case she needed something to throw at him. “I prepared too much on purpose. You see, Mikasa likes my cooking,” Mikasa blushed at the proclamation, “and I made things for her to eat in the afternoons.”

“Oh,” Eren uttered, glancing at the black-haired girl. He watched her raise an eyebrow at him while munching on an appetizing sausage. The food looked like it tasted so much better than what they ate in the Jaeger household.

“You want some?”

The boy erupted in full-on shades of pinks when you offered the lunchbox. “A-Are you sure?”

You nodded exuberantly, your smile reaching your eyes. Your excitement never deterred every time you offered someone your cooking. It was the reason why you formed a friendship with Sasha. The girl smelled your stir-fried rice from a mile away and the next thing you knew, a blur of brown hair met with your body. Good thing Mikasa caught your lunchbox or else you would have to buy your meal from the local canteen in your school. They were overpriced and underwhelming in your opinion so it was going to be a waste of money. Bringing yourself back to the current situation, you brightened ever so slightly when you saw Eren taking a piece of sausage and stuffing it in his mouth.

“This is the best thing I’ve eaten since I was born. Are you an angel?”

Your face heated up at the dazed expression Eren had on his face.

“It’s better than any food Dad or Zeke makes, right?” Mikasa asked from beside you.

Eren nodded enthusiastically. He was staring at you like you were his angel, his salvation, his goddess — all of which you were starting to become right now. He leaned forward and stared at you with bright viridian irises. “Will you cook for me, too, [Name]?”

Mikasa slapped him at the back of his head. “Hey, get in line!”

“Ow, Mikasa, that hurts!”

“... Oops, I sometimes forget that I have the miracle of strength. My bad, Eren.”

“I hate you.”

You offered your lunchbox to him with warm cheeks. “Eat this. Maybe this will make you feel better.”

“You really are an angel, [Name]!”

Mikasa turned to you, her blank facade morphing into concern at the sight of your flustered expression. She touched your forehead and gasped, “Are you alright, [Nickname]? Do you have a fever? Should I carry you back to your home?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m fine, Mika.”

Maybe you did have a fever. Your heart was beating too fast at the moment and it only increased its pace when you met Eren’s gaze one more time for the day.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked Eren one spring day when you two were fifteen years old.

Eren, who grew to be taller than you during your teenage years, scowled and ripped a patch of grass from underneath the tree on the little hill. As the years go by, many things have changed. All of you grew to be differing individuals and Eren wasn’t an exception. He earned a stubborn streak behind all that passionate drive he had of conquering the mountains surrounding Paradis, something that got him in trouble with his father. He always got into fights with Jean Kirchstein, a boy who lived closer to the marketplace, and it would always lead to you and Mikasa separating the two for fear of Grisha visiting when he had so much on his hands already. It didn’t help that he got the miracle of clairvoyance as well. It was a power that painted him as an ominous harbinger of misfortunes.

Aside from Armin and Mikasa, you grew to be a part of his life. If he felt down, he would always go to you and let his feelings get the best of him. Not that he was confessing his deep-rooted affections for you but he was rambling all the frustrations that clogged his throat, with you soaking it all in. Today was one of those days as he kept pulling grass patches in his fist. His eyelashes fluttered as he took in a shaky breath.

“People have been talking again.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What are they saying this time, ‘Ren?”

Eren gritted his teeth in anger. “The same as always. How I’m nothing but a walking bomb of misfortune. The lady pointed her finger at me while I'm doing an errand because I apparently saw in a vision that her fish died. Well, news flash, I didn’t!” You kept quiet beside him, letting him vent out his anger. “Didn’t it occur to her that she kept forgetting to feed that poor fish?! No! Because they always wanted someone to blame for the unlucky events that were happening in their miserable lives. I’m sick and tired of them spreading these rumors that labeled me as the villain. I’m not! Am I not allowed to make predictions based on what I observe? Do I even get to breathe from Dad’s nagging, telling me to be more proper like the rest of the family? I’m not like Mikasa whose gift was meant to help people. I’m not like Zeke who’s charismatic enough to get us a herd of cattle. I’m … a disappointment to the family.”

He slumped on your shoulder, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. You felt his shoulder shake in a silent sob.

“I’m nothing. I’m useless. I just wish I didn’t get this stupid miracle. I didn’t ask for this!”

You raised a hand to run your fingers through his unruly brown hair. You gently placed your head against his.

“Everything I say, they take it as something terrible. How am I supposed to live my life with this liability that the key gave me?”

You closed your eyes, every word he let out was a stab to your chest.

“‘Ren, if I say something, would you listen to it?”

Eren sniffled before answering, “I’ll always listen to you.”

“Even if I tell you that you’re wrong?”

He was about to lift his head from your shoulder to give you a look of disbelief but you firmly prevented him from doing so through your hand. “Let me finish, please,” you whispered, knowing that he was hearing you loud and clear. “You’re wrong because you’re not a disappointment nor you’re useless. Didn’t you tell me one time about being special the moment one draws their first breath? It applies to you, too, Eren. It hurts me to hear you say these things because I know that you’re not all of those.” You covered his hand with your free one, your thumb rubbing circles on his tanned skin.

“The thing about the townspeople putting on labels is that they can’t handle the truth. It always hurts and you say it every day without fail — and it's something that I admire. They can’t accept that you’re right — that you saw or observed something that’s bound to happen, and you have no fault in the matter. They’re narrow-minded and you’re so much better than them, so don’t stoop on their level the next time that incident with the fish lady happens again. As for Grisha …

“You can be anyone when it’s just the two of us, Eren. You can play the part of the perfect son for your father and the townspeople but you can be yourself with me. You don’t have to wear a mask — I’ll be your safe haven if you’ll let me.”

Eren felt like he could burst. His body could only take so much when it comes to you. Your smile alone was enough for him to overflow with butterflies and your favorite flowers. His glassy eyes shimmer and reflect his feelings. It was a good thing that he was hiding his face in your neck or else you would’ve seen that he was starstruck. The only thing that you felt from him was his hitched breath. He should’ve masked it more but there was no use when he was practically going to combust at your words. He couldn’t talk about his emotions to Mikasa, seeing as she was his sister and he had to see her every day in their house, or to Armin, who would only tell Mikasa right after. He trusted his best friends immensely, there was no qualm about that, but they couldn’t compare to how safe he felt when he was with you.

It was so natural for him to tell you everything.

“You have always been my safe haven since the start, [Name].”

You looked down and you found yourself getting lost in deep viridescent lakes that glinted against the sunlight streaming from the canopy above.

You felt the butterflies flutter their wings against the sides of your stomach, the emotions bursting through the seams. Almost everything that Eren did or said, whether they were directed to you or other people, never failed to make your heart race. You still didn’t know what the biological reaction entailed but you knew that it had something to do with how he was caring for those he cherished or how he expressed his ideas in the most vivid way possible. You found Eren to be a good friend but sometimes, you thought that he was something more. Mikasa knew about it. Armin had an idea of it, too. Those two mostly looked at you with knowing smiles whenever Eren popped up with some flowers, some poorly concocted lunch, or strewn compliments that made you giggle.

You didn’t know why you were feeling this way around him but it felt nice.

It felt right.

“Do you even know the impact of your words, Eren?” you asked him with a pout and warm cheeks.

“Did it finally woo you?” Eren’s smile could be heard in his words.

He was finally smiling and it was all because of you. You pulled your eyes from him, afraid that he might read what was hidden behind the irises and pupils. “Keep doing that and I might stop bringing you lunch.”

“Hey, your cooking makes me feel alive! Don’t take that away from me, [Name].” He all but whined.

You fought a smile. “Okay, you big baby. Just don’t say those words again please.”

Eren furrowed his brows in confusion. You always accepted his compliments with a flair that made his heart race. You never once told him to cut it out. He kept gauging your reaction, your face still facing away from him. The more time he stared at you, he felt his eyelids drooping. He wanted to continue admiring you from where he was, tucked in your shoulder like a significant other, but his exhaustion was getting the better of him. After reading some fortune about the family late last night, Eren was fighting sleep. This could be one of the reasons why he felt snappy today. He let your scent cover his entire being — apples from the orchard and chamomile that you probably received from the resident teamaker, Levi.

Eren drifted in between consciousness and drowsiness, his next words silent but heartfelt. “Thank you, Schmetterling.”

“You’re always welcome, miracle.”

The night was beautiful — the moonlight dripping in silver streams and gathering in pools on the ground. The night chattering of the fauna created the perfect music for two hearts beating as one.

If your parents heard just a little creak coming from your room, they would come barreling in. So, you carefully opened your windows at the first sound of a pebble hitting the glass panes. Your face warmed up, your hand hastily fixing your hair with trembling fingers. Why were you nervous anyway? This was just Eren, one of your best friends. To this day, you still didn’t have an idea why you were acting like a schoolgirl around him. It was surely a revolting sight to any bystander. It was not because Eren grew taller again, his hair becoming longer and reaching the nape of his neck, that had you tucking your hair behind your ear. Yes, of course, that wasn’t it. However, you did it again before opening the window to the sight of Eren looking up at you with an enthralled sigh.

“Eren,” you breathed.

Eren merely grinned. “Hey, pretty girl, it’s a beautiful night, right?”

You nodded, not exactly meeting his eyes because they were once again looking at you like you were the only one in this entire town.

“Wanna spend it with me?”

You shakily expelled air before your insides clogged up with red carnations and gardenias. Your eyebrows almost contorted into sadness but your heart was singing in elation as you bit your bottom lip. Your hair was gently dancing in the wind and covering half of your face, your body leaning out the window while you stared down at Eren as he hurt you in the best way possible. You nodded wordlessly, afraid that your voice might come out shaky from all the overwhelming emotions.

Eren opened his arms. “I’ll catch you.”

With legs now hanging by your window and hands gripping the windowsill behind you, you took a deep breath and trusted Eren with your life. Air whizzed past your ear until you felt sturdy arms wrapping you in a deep embrace. Your face was hidden in the crook of Eren’s neck and your hand was gripping his shirt. You hear someone’s heart beating wildly against their chest. You wondered if it was you but as you press yourself more on Eren’s chest, you find out that the rhythmic sound came from him. You reluctantly looked up, greeted by Eren lovingly trailing his eyes over every part of you.

Now, the lone heartbeat was joined by another — a song that told of a thousand loves across universes, and it was coming to life on this beautiful night.

“Let’s go?” Eren asked the question so softly that it barely made you flinch.

“Yeah,” you answered with a smile.

Paradis was almost peaceful at this hour. On normal occasions, the marketplace was filled with so many activities that one might get lost if they were whisked away by vendors who were enthusiastic about their stalls. For some reason, tonight was way different than the ones you spend all hours reading under the mellow light of your desk lamp. Few houses still had their lights on but it wasn’t a distraction. They offered to help you guide your way alongside the street lamps lighting up the road. Eren was silent beside you and you were thankful for that. Sometimes during the walk, you felt his hand brushing on your own. Teasing but never crossing the line. Testing waters but was too quick to retreat once the waves were too strong. You wished you had Jean’s confidence when he professed his love to Mikasa a few days earlier. You didn’t wish to have your confession get rejected like what Mikasa did to Jean’s. The sudden thought of your friends became a path in this silent walk.

“Poor Jean,” you started, your hands behind your back as you walked. “I almost felt sorry for him. Mikasa rejected him pretty harshly. That girl still doesn’t know how to let new people in. I hope Jean doesn’t take Mikasa’s rejection as a reason for him to give up.”

Eren chuckled. “I told him countless times that it won’t work out.”

You slowly turned to him. “Did you tell him that you saw it in a vision?”

The young man let out a nervous laugh. “I might have.”

You lightly narrow your eyes at him. You were not exactly mad but given the weight of the words “I saw something in a vision that you should know about”, it might throw someone off their high horse. Even the more confident ones just like Jean. You nudge his side with yours. “You know Jean was a nervous wreck before confessing to Mikasa.”

“I think I know the feeling by now.”

It was an enigmatic response and even though there wasn’t any shed of your name on it, it made your imagination wander. Was Eren nervous tonight? He surely wasn’t acting like it. Or was it a completely different person? You felt your heart constrict at the second thought. You have seen him converse with several townspeople and the only times he showed nervousness was when he told someone of their fortunes. Surely there was an exception to that?

All your musings made you miss Eren’s glance at you, one that had his eyelashes fluttering and accompanied by a small sigh that beheld a thousand meanings.

“So, who’s the lucky person?” you asked, not meeting his eyes.

“Hmm?” Eren looked at you, adoring your side profile that was illuminated by moonbeams.

“The one that got you a nervous wreck.”

Eren sharply inhaled, once again bursting into faux laughter. He scratched his head and you noticed that his hair grew again. It was practically touching his shoulders and he had to tie it in a loose half-bun to not let the strands obscure his vision. Eren’s physical change told you how fast time goes. It felt like yesterday that you two talked about anything other than romance. But you were children at that time. Tonight, you were eighteen-year-olds ready to fly away in tomorrow’s direction. Eren shared the same sentiments because he looked downright uneasy, never meeting your eyes at least at your question.

“She,” he breathed out, “is an angel. The purest soul I've ever known in this place. Everything she does takes my breath away.”

“She sounds amazing, Eren,” you told him with a rueful smile.

The brunet finally took your hand in his, the two of you stopping by the riverside that ran throughout the town, fireflies irradiating both of your faces. You didn’t know that you walked this far but time always seemed to increase when you were spending it with Eren. The young man in front of you, however, was thanking the fireflies for hiding the flushed face he was donning — a sign of his nervousness. You were still staring at him, expecting him to utter Historia or Christa (the two known for their kindness and beauty among the mountains) under his breath but you didn’t expect him to say the next words—

“She’s you, Schmetterling.”

The fireflies glowed brighter than ever.

You could see Eren’s face contort into a pleading yet hopeful expression.

Your heart was pounding in your chest.

“What?”

Eren took your hands in his. He gripped them tightly as if promising into the night that he wouldn’t let you go. He stayed looking at your conjoined hands for a couple of moments before lifting his gaze to meet yours.

“I have always admired you, [Name],” he told you. “Every day since I saw you reading under the tree on the small hill when we were eight, I felt like I’ve discovered something so mystical. You looked otherworldly skimming the pages, with your hair flowing in the breeze. It made my heart swell with the first few signs of infatuation. After that, I mostly asked Mikasa and Armin for help because I could never talk to you. You,” Eren sighed, like the words pained him when it was the exact opposite — saying these things felt freeing, “are so so beautiful and out of my league. Have you seen me? I’m a loudmouth — brash and always asking for a fight. Not to mention, I have the miracle of looking into someone’s future. I’m not exactly the most fitting partner for you. Hell, Mikasa is better for you than me!” He laughed.

Oh, God, he’s rambling.

Eren felt his cheeks flame.

“W-What I’m trying to say is — I love you,” Eren pierced your soul with those beguiling green irises you found yourself falling into, “so so much, [Name]. I couldn’t think of a day when I’m not thinking of you.”

All air was taken from you. You were breathless and speechless. This confession was unexpected because you never once thought that Eren would be the type to tell the world who he loves. And it’s you. Oh, God, it’s you. Your eyes became glassy, reflecting the image of a meek brunet that took your heart to hold in his precious hands before you realized what it meant. You bit your lip to prevent a small sob from coming out but a single tear trickled down your cheek. You felt Eren catch the tear with the most gentle touch known to mankind. After years of questioning whether your unwarranted feelings were something for friends, it now dawned at you that you loved Eren all along — the same intensity he had been showering you for so long.

“Please say something,” Eren whispered against your forehead, his lips tracing your skin akin to a flower petal kissing your head on a spring day.

“I,” you gulped, “you—”

He smiled, transferring his hold to your waist. “Take your time, Schmetterling.”

You shook your head. “You probably waited so long for this. I don’t want to prolong it any further.”

“You know I can wait for you, right? I waited nearly ten years to finally voice out my feelings — I can wait for a few more.”

“You think I’m that cruel to subject you to that?” You planted your hands on either of his cheeks. “Eren, I…” You took a deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat. “You confuse me a lot growing up.” He raised his eyebrows yet he remained silent. “Throughout the years you became my friend, I constantly rethink what I feel for you. Even if I treated you the same as Mikasa or Armin or Sasha, you just stand out among them for me. They don’t give me butterflies like when I see you smile.” You witnessed Eren’s face illuminate with hope, his eyes fluttering and lips slowly gaining a small smile. “They for sure don’t make me imagine what it would feel like to hold their hand or to plant my lips on theirs. I only felt it around you, Eren. And I,” your eyes misted, “now realized that all this time, I’m falling in love with you. I love you, Eren. And I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“No, don’t say sorry,” Eren murmured, afraid that if he talked normally, you would dissipate in tendrils like his dreams. “Let’s just be happy about the present.” He chuckled in disbelief and awe. “I can’t believe you love me back.”

Maybe if he went back home, he would ask Mikasa to punch him in the face. Because this definitely felt like a dream. He opened his eyes and he was met with the most beautiful sight he ever laid his sights on — you were staring back at him, your distinct irises pulling him in. The next thing he knew, he was gradually leaning in, eyes becoming more half-lidded and mouth parting. He often wondered about the feeling of brushing someone’s lips with his. Would it be soft and tantalizing? Would it taste like the sweetest concoction in the town bakery? Or would it electrify him — fireworks bursting in his body? He felt his heartbeat echo at the riverside.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

The moment your lips met his, the entire town of Paradis thrummed with magic that was more precious than a key or a constellation of miracles.

The church bells were a beacon that called for everyone’s attention. Flocks of people gathered inside the town square, just in front of the cathedral waiting for the final people to burst through the doorway. Excitement was pulsating through everyone’s eyes, their breaths held as they clasped their hands while waiting to cheer. When a pair clad in white finally emerged from the cathedral, the townspeople all threw their hands in the air, flower petals mimicking snow as they rained down on the couple.

“Congratulations!”

You and Eren laughed at the celebration. Being the second marriage that happened in the Jaeger family, with Zeke’s just a few months before yours, everybody was looking forward to the new generation of the magical kin.

There was not a cloud in the sky and as Eren put it, the heavens granted this day to be one of the best throughout the years. Because of his nervousness, he nearly consulted his gift, ready to form the sand circle in the middle of the church. His mind wandered to scenarios that involved you leaving him at the altar or you ditching him to finally open that bookshop and cafe you were talking about since you were young. If it weren't for Mikasa literally smacking some sense to him, he would be a sobbing mess. He could still hear Armin stating that he looked pathetic and that he had nothing to worry about.

As Eren watched you snug in his arm, he felt all the happiness in the world on his shoulders. It was a weight that he didn’t mind carrying. He could kiss you again in front of all these people but seeing as you were profusely thanking them, he had to wait for when the night came to show you how much he loves you.

Grisha stood in front of you two. Eren stiffened beside you, his posture straightening and chin holding his head up high. The older man smiled warmly down at you, his hands gently on the sides of your face so that he could kiss you on both cheeks. Eren’s shoulders dropped in relief. His previous tense facial muscles made way to a loving smile as he watched his father regard you as a member of their extraordinary family.

The patriarch of the Jaegers genuinely chuckled. “You look beautiful, [Name].” He spread his arms. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you, Grisha.” You bowed your head a little.

“Call me Dad. Ever since Mikasa told me all about you and Eren begging for me to meet you, it’s safe to say you’re part of the family way before the wedding.” Grisha patted Eren’s shoulder. “Take good care of her, son. She’s a gem — make sure to never let her shine go out.”

Eren smiled, tightening his hold around your waist. “I promise to make her feel special and loved, Father.”

“That’s more like it.” The older man turned to the townspeople. “Now, let us start the festivities for another union in the Jaeger family!” The cheers that followed were signs that this would go on until the moon is high on its perch. Grisha once again spared the two of you an acknowledging glance, tilting down his head a little before mingling with the older folks of the town.

Eren kissed your temple. “Shall we, my wife?”

“We shall, my husband,” you lightly laughed, letting Eren whisk you in the direction of the buffet, which made you laugh out loud. Of course, Eren would immediately go to where the food was. The wedding lasted for nearly an hour and you knew he was starving when he murmured to you about the many food options while the priest recited passages from the word of God.

“Oh, no, you two don’t,” Sasha called out, pulling on your arm. “I don’t allow another person other than me to be the first one to taste the buffet! And [Nickname], the bouquet toss should be happening minutes ago. The other women are eagerly waiting over there.”

You patted her cheek. “I’m sorry I forgot, Sasha. I’ll be right over there.” You glanced at Eren, who was pouting because he was so close to getting a piece of chicken until Sasha stopped you two. “‘Ren, are you staying here at the buffet table?”

“Yeah,” he answered, taking a glass of wine from a server, and telling them his thanks. “I’ll be right here, pretty girl.”

His besotted look remained on your back as you walked with Sasha looping her arms with yours. He didn’t even register that the brunette by your side held a plate filled with things from the buffet table because he was only focused on you. He watched you position yourself at the front of a group of women of all ages, with him occasionally sipping on his wine and minding not to stain his white suit. One of his hands was snug inside his pocket, his posture relaxed unlike when his father was around earlier. Eren couldn’t help but be mesmerized at the sight of you. He remembered crying at the altar while you were walking down the aisle in that dress — so breathtakingly stunning that it hurt just taking his eyes off you. He was so overwhelmed at the wedding that his vision was getting more blurry from the tears accumulating in his eyes.

Even if he saw you every day for more than ten years, you just become much more beautiful than the days before.

With your hair now cascading and free from the bun pinning it, you looked like a faerie — an ethereal mythical creature that was shimmering against the sunshine. He didn’t see Mikasa catching your bouquet or Sasha squealing in delight as she wrapped her arms around the stunned woman. He only saw you clapping your hands in glee, happiness radiating from you like sunbeams and iridescent clouds on a fine summer day. The butterfly hair ornament glinted as you gathered your skirts to join your friends tease Mikasa about the bouquet. It matched with the one perched on the flowers in his breast pocket. Eren’s eyes slowly widened and his lips parted, enraptured at the beauty you possessed even among a crowd.

You were the belle of all seasons.

And he was finally within your circle, so unlike the days he was still pining over you.

As you two met gazes from two different spots of the town square, a wordless thought was shared.

That your story with Eren was just beginning its oneiric narrations, the pages colored with orange blossoms and holly.

taglist for this series:

@rosemirrors @marsandsaturn @songbirdgardensworld

send me an ask or reply if you want to be added ^^

#rorywrites #encanto au #aot x reader #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren jaeger x y/n #eren fluff #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger fluff #eren x fem!reader

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esther-dot · 2 years

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I think Bran will be King but give up his “powers” other wise GRRM’s good King is pretty much just “Big Brother/Omnipresent God” which seems just as dangerous as Dany with nukes. D&D really messed up by focusing so much on Daenerys and trying to soften her. If they had invested more in telling Bran/Sansa as real characters and not plot pieces to prop up GA favs then I think the ending would be more satisfying. I hope GRRM doesn’t make the same mistake by over focusing on characters like Tyrion.

(in reference to this post)

IMO, he has already focused too much on Tyrion. 😂 Someone counted the words, but I neglected to save that link so here is someone else’s info about page count:

(link)

Tyrion has more than twice the amount that Bran has. How few chapters they have is routinely pointed to as an argument against King Bran and Queen Sansa (or used to be) because in comparison to the fan favorites, they hardly feature. That seems to be deliberate though because in that GoT book there was a quote (can’t find it right now) that made me think Martin wants Bran’s ascension to the throne to be a WTF moment for the audience, and if that’s the case, he has no intention of changing course. 😬

I have headcanoned that Tyrion will be involved in getting Bran onto the throne, thinking he can do what he wants and use Bran as a puppet king since he is a child, not knowing that Bran is far more than that. Tyrion maneuvers for power for himself, and instead will find himself being subject to a good king’s will, and Bran will proceed to make his life hell. 😈 That’s just how I make myself feel better though 😆

I’m not a fan of a magical king either, but for some reason I’m doubtful Bran ends this series totally divorced from all powers. I haven’t reread or gone looking for proof either way, but this from AGOT makes me curious if it wasn’t placing him above the world of men, above the people who must cleanse themselves of sin, for a reason.

(I feel like someone has written about this quote, but I’m not finding anything at the moment).

He’s supposed to think on his misbehavior, he climbs. He later falls, then he flies. I’m just not sure that he’ll have to give that up in the end when this path is something he’s been set on to save humanity which is established very early on. I mean, he’s in the “tallest sentinel” is this just about the Others, or is this who he will be as king? He’s the watcher, the seer, the knower, it’s not a violent thing, so I’m not sure that he must give it up, especially in light of his youth. If experience ruling isn’t why he becomes king, will his knowledge/wisdom be? And if he garners specific knowledge, and it is essential to the survival of man, it feels like having your cake and eating it too to get rid of it after? IMO, it would be the same as the dragons saving the world and then killing the dragons. What is the message then? It actually was good for the dragons to be born? It’s messy.

Complicating my own feelings about this is that I always read him as a god figure. 🤷🏻‍♀️ I was surprised he ended up as king because I didn’t think he’d lose his powers in the end, and just like you, I don’t like that combo. There’s a whole thing about Brans blending together that made me think something goofy was going on with who/what Bran is/would be in the end which @istumpysk mentioned in a recap (link), and was the inspiration for a little Bran fic I did a year or two ago (link). Here’s one of those lines:

It’s so reminiscent of the “I AM” interpretation of god, a being who transcends time, who is in different forms that I thought a big thing would come of that later.

It isn’t only lines like that which gave me the “god Bran” idea, but also the similarities with Dany who thinks of herself as a god, and it seemed to me that Bran was the unassuming “true” god of the two. I know I mentioned how the Starks are each an answer to some facet of Dany, and it felt like empowered Bran would be an answer to the Targaryen delusion of godhood. Of course, it’s possible the idea is to contrast someone who wants power and someone who ultimately refuses it, but it’s also possible that Martin will give us someone who isn’t corrupted by power and manages to use it well. I’m not dedicated to that, but Bran’s power is knowledge, it isn’t a force to subjugate people. I mean, you’re right, the big brother fear is there for us as readers, but in ASOIAF, it feels like knowledge is a good thing, so I really don’t know. There’s just a lot there (that I haven’t explored) between Dany and Bran, parallels/contrasts. In AGOT especially, the idea of flight as freedom for them both…it feels associated. If Bran is the key to defeating the Others, he’d be a “savior” who frees people in response to a false savior who oppresses/kills them...that makes sense to me. Of course, that doesn’t preclude giving up his powers, that’s also very savior-esque. Basically, I’m very confused about it! We feel so far away from his ending.

Anyway, I definitely agree that D&D should have focused more on Bran and Sansa! Their decisions in the last few seasons are even stranger now that we know the endgame. 😩

#ask dot

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kaypeace21 · 3 years

Text

Do you think its possible for lonnie to actually be the devil? Where would the strain of godly powers come from for will if Joyce and Jonathan are only psychic? I think you know about the theory that Jonathan is Hoppers kid, so it would make sense why will is the only one who has world warping powers? If Jonathan is lonnies than why isnt he making other dimensions, right? It just might be my hysteria from the afterlife, but very weird to think about.

----

Kaypeace's Response: Um ... I think the Lonnie/ "Satanic " parallels are symbolic. Will being called "Lonnie's son" and "Satan's baby". Lonnie meaning "lion" and the demogorgan being compared to a "lion" ( and in d&d its a a demon called "deep father" ), the victor/demon/demogorgan parallels . It's not literal- its symbolic of the whole ab*sive father theme we've seen every season .

Also as far as mutant genes in the ST universe...

The st comics + the ST novel ("suspicious minds ") confirmed people are BORN with powers (and the lab just experimented on the natural abilities these psyhcis already had ).like how 6,3 ,9 were all born with powers/developed them as kids (BEFORE going to the lab). 9 literally was sent to the lab after accidentally killing her parents with her fire powers (and she went to the lab to get help controlling her abilities) . 6 could see into the future, 3/ricky could control minds. ALL of them had these abilities despite having normal non-powered parents.

But, in the stranger things novel " suspicious minds" : a gay male psychic said his family had psychics for generations and it's genetic. Similar to El and Terry both having abilities and being related.

So ... if the mutant gene is from Joyce's side or even both the maternal/paternal side. The kids may be more likely to develop powers but its not always a guarantee . In xmen comics (referenced in every season of ST): 2 mutants are more likely to have mutant kids but there have been prominent examples of 2 mutants having a human child, or human parents having mutants kids. In xmen, If both parents have no powers , but 1 or even both carried the recessive xmen gene : they can have mutant kids.

In the xmen comics: it wasn't uncommon that 2 humans had several human kids but only 1 turns out to be a mutant (because they inherited this recessive x men gene). HECK,weirdly enough- if we're talking about why Will may have powers but Jonathan may not (or his are weaker/different). In the stranger things comic,9 had fire abilities BUT her TWIN sister had NO POWERS .

And again- alot of xmen mutants have different or more powerful abilities than their mutant parents. EL IS WAY more powerful than Terry (and has many powers Terry doesn't ). In xmen, Professor x's son: is much more powerful than his father and literally has 100s of powers his father doesn't have.

If joyce has a weak power (like say premonition/ intuition): her kids could be human, have similar abilities, or be stronger types of mutants. Genetics and powers are a bit random XD.

Also Joyce called herself a witch, in s1. And I already talked about how the xmen/avenger scarlet witch had a son named Billy/William Kaplan (who reminded me alot of Will). Both are gay, both call themselves wizards , billy's email header is literally "actualwizard666" an association with satan like Will,both were posessed by a creature, both spit up a slug/squid from that experience, billy also accidentally released a monster called "mama" into his deminsion (like the demogorgan called " father" being released into Will's dimension). Billy can alter reality and create/erase anything (including people) into existence. He also has fire/lightning/ice abilities. Also Billy (despite becoming so powerful) doesn't realize he has powers until highschool when he accidentally electrocuted his h*mophobic bully. Like ... worst way to realize you have powers ...

If the innerworlds/ certain characters are a facet of Will’s DID (a disorder caused by child ab*se):well people can live through the same experiences but 1 can develop DID and the other may not. Plus, the age when the ab*se starts determines if you can/can’t develop DID: if 10 and up you can’t get it (like how Jonathan’s hunting story was on his 10th b day). If younger than 10 you can develop it (but generally the younger the ab*se started the more likely it would be to theoretically develop). Also, again (if not actually DID, but just a fantastical manifestation of tr*ma/memories ):Will may just be mutant and Jonathan isn’t OR they have diff powers.Like how siblings can have different eye colors. Or like how mutant Billy Kaplan (who can alter reality,etc) had a TWIN brother -but he only had the power to run fast: they have very different abilities.

Also, in the st novel Terry didn't realize she had powers till college and after she tried dr*gs. In the novel, another girl (a car mechanic) could only see psychic visions when h*gh (she'd see visions of the demogorgan in the future). And in s1 Becky mentioned how Terry was given l*d to help activate her abilities. So I do wonder if Jonathan trying to have ' fun' in s3 may just backfire and he sees something (like a vision of a demogorgan or something)... I don't know? Like jonathan has that rimbaud poster .Rimbaud as a teen would dull his senses via s*btances to in his words "become a seer".

As far as if Lonnie is or isn't Jonathan's bio dad (and that being part of the reason)... I guess we'll find out eventually. Is it possible lonnie is psychic ... anything is possible. I'm still leaning to the idea Lonnie does NOT have powers and that the whole Lonnie storyline with his family will be grounded in horrible nonfantastical reality- and thematically be juxtaposed to the supernatural horrors.

Or alternative explanation

let's see my other theory that stranger things is a fantasy story/allegory : being written by an older Will . And the fantasy story is loosely inspired by his (non fantasy life: of healing from his dad). Ofcourse , Will who loves XMen ,comics, and d&d. And made a wizard version of himself called "Will the wise" when he played d&d as a kid . Would write the fictional counterpart of himself as an actual wizard/xmen (similar to Will the wise) . And he'd make the meta joke that both him (author Will via writing) and ( fantasy Will via powers) is controlling the story.

#submission #will byers #joyce byers #lonnie byers #jonathan byers

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btsinwonderland · 3 years

Text

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 1: The Beginning

A Loki fanfiction!

Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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

It’s your third week back in school and you're slumped over a tower of textbooks as some kind of makeshift pillow. Your head rests on the 394th page of “The Dream Oracle” where you’ve begun to drool. You raise a hand to wipe it away, which takes up nearly as much energy as trying to stay awake.

It was cold in the dark.

Chills ran up your arms, from your fingertips to your neck as you floated through the darkness. It was frightening the first few times you dreamt of it but now it was familiar. The cavern formed slowly as your eyes adjusted to the minimal light emitted by a fire below you. Small sticks and papers created a meager flame which reflected off the black pool of water you looked into. You always wondered who made the fire, but there was never anyone there.

In the centre of the cavern was a small lake, its ripples moved like serpents. On queue, your body flew over to the middle of the lake and dove in. You swam - more like sunk - to the bottom. It may have enveloped you in utter darkness, but you saw the glow. The bluish light of the object drew you in like a moth to a flame and you reached out for it. Once again, you were thrown out of the lake just as you were about to touch it.

You looked around at the empty cavern and noticed the shadows moving. This was new. Usually, you woke up as soon as the lake threw you out.

Near the shore, by a dangerous jut of rock, there was a man. He was tall, with raven black hair and a proud nose. His expression was one of wonder and fear. There was a green light that emerged from his hands and he waved this light in front of him and beside him, almost erratically, as if he was warning someone - or something - to stay away.

“Don’t come near me!” he shouted. It echoed through the cavern.

You came closer and recoiled at what he was speaking to. Every dark shadow was, in fact, a body. The green light that the man emitted showed their decaying, pale faces. These bodies moved towards him. Not a sound, but each expression was contorted painfully. Their bony hands reached out to him, and he threw a green ball of fire at them. Some flew backwards into the lake, but there were so many.

They surrounded him. You saw him put up the fight of his life, and yet they came closer still. Until he had nowhere to run. You reached out to try to help him, but your body was already being pulled away. The last thing you heard was him scream your name, “Freya!”

Hands slapped onto the desk, and your head bounced on the pages.

“My god, have you been sleeping here this whole time?” An annoyingly familiar voice said. “You wouldn’t believe it! They’re finally getting a replacement for Professor Rattowl.”

It took several seconds for you to remember where you were. You lifted your head and look into a pair of inquisitive brown eyes and an aloof expression.

Her hair was braided on the sides and drawn into a high ponytail. Her robes were wrinkled as usual. “Valkyrie, how did you find me in the Hufflepuff common room? I specifically told Thomas to throw you off.” Your voice was thick with sleep.

Valkyrie snorted. “Thomas is a fool for a flirty conversation. You’d think that boy had never had a wank before…”

The memory of the dream hit you, and your heart sank. “Valkyrie, I saw something.”

She glanced at you and then to the wall of the hallway. A long shadow approached swiftly. “Oh shit, the prefect!”

“Quick! Hide!” You said to Valkyrie, pointing her to the coat closet.

A gleaming head of blonde hair turned around the corner and walked towards you. His eyebrows were raised, and he adjusted his rectangular glasses, glaring at you. You tried not to look guilty.

“Eves, what are you doing? This is a quiet area, and I heard voices.” he walked around your desk, looking around suspiciously.

“I must have fallen asleep. I had a poor sleep last night so…”

“Hmmm,” he said, walking near the coat closet.

You held your breath as he reached for the brass door handle. “You know we don’t allow any other houses in our quarters, Eves.”

“Of course.”

He turned to you, reaching away from the handle. “Then you also should know we don’t condone dirtying the sacred pages of our texts,” he said, gesturing at your books with a frown. “Clean this up and head to the Great Hall. Headmistress Frigga has announcements to make.”

He left, adjusting his glasses again but with his shoulders straightened out as if he had done a good job. You wondered if he would pat himself in the back afterwards.

Valkyrie all but crashed out of the closet and mocked Gerald. “Sacred texts! What a prat.”

You chuckled as she took a chair beside you. “Sacred or not, this damned thing cost me twenty galleons!” You wiped the drool away with the sleeve of your robe. The inside was a warm yellow. You glanced at Valkyrie. “How do you keep sneaking into our common room?”

She winked at you with a mischievous smile. “I have my ways, my sweet innocent Hufflepuff darling,” she said, reaching out and patting you on the head. “I wouldn’t dare want to corrupt your purity with treasonous talk.”

You punched her in the arm. “You are a jock in the land of intellectuals,” you said with a smirk, glancing at her red and gold tie.

She linked her arm through yours and dragged you away from the desk. “Alright alright, miss intellectual, now that you’ve stopped drooling, let’s go eat.”

***

The great hall was washed in the warm light of the candles that hung beautifully in the air above you. It was a sight that had never ceased to amaze you, no matter how many times you saw it. The flames flickered in a soft dance. You followed the path of candles over to the head table where all your professors sat.

Professor Odinson was there, with his chiseled youthful face that made all the ladies, Valkyrie in particular, swoon. He was a handsome man, though he did not occupy your thoughts as often as he did for others. Beside him was Professor Sif, laughing humorously at something Professor Odinson said. Then there was Professor Fandral nodding and smiling at Professor Hogun - whom you guessed was discussing the riveting growth cycles of the mandrake.

Headmistress Frigga was in the middle, in her silvery blue robes with sequins sewn into intricate patterns. Her aura was one of a Queen, with a gentle and kind face. On her one side there was an empty seat and on the other side was Heimdall, the divination professor, with whom she was in a deep discussion with. His sunset coloured eyes drifted around the room before settling on you. He always knew. You smiled back and waved at him. He nodded, though his expression was strained, perhaps even troubled.

For a moment you wondered if he knew what you had dreamed. Heimdall was one of the greatest seers of your time, and you happened to be his favourite student. He already knew of your repetitive dreams regarding the cavern, but you needed to tell him about the strange development - and the mysterious man you saw. Most of the time your dreams were fuzzy, but you remembered his face with an aggressive lucidity. Blue eyes that reflected the green magic in his hands before they disappeared into darkness remained on your mind. You took a deep breath and pushed it away.

“Did they already do the first years?” You said aloud to your table.

Mo, a fellow seventh year Hufflepuff, nodded. “Yep, and I guessed about 25/30, not bad, eh?”

You smiled at him and turned around to Valkyrie, who was right behind you, seated at the Gryffindor table. She winked at you when delicious food marvellously populated the table and you all tucked in. She filled her plate and then roughly rocked Mo to the side and sat down beside you.

“What were you saying about Rattowl?” You said, biting into a chicken hand pie. The rich flavour of creamy peas and carrots filled your mouth, and you reveled in it for a brief moment.

Valkyrie had half a mouthful of sausage and chewed loudly. “Well, it’s been what? A month since he croaked?”

A Hufflpuff girl across from you both, Nila, balked at Valkyrie. “How can you say that? He was...killed.” She could barely say the last word.

Valkyrie gave her a look. “What? It don’t make no difference, does it?”

Nila huffed indignantly. Mo interjected. “Well, it’s not every day a professor disappears for three weeks, only to be found ripped apart in the Forbidden Forest.”

You all wrinkled your noses in a few seconds of awkward silence. He was right. It was a bizarre and terrible thing to have happened. You had no love for Professor Rattowl. He was a cranky old man with awful manners, but he did not deserve such a fate.

Valkyrie said, “Well I heard that the Headmistress’s son is going to be the new potions teacher.”

You raised your brows. “Professor Odinson has a brother?”

Valkyrie’s eyes lit up at the mention of him. “If there are two Thor Odinson’s, then I will die this very moment.”

You, Mo, and Nila rolled your eyes at her when the doors crashed open in an echoing sound. All the chatter in the Great Hall was silenced when a lean and tall figure in a black cloak strolled into the room. His languid pace revealed a streak of arrogance - or confidence - as he walked down the hall, towards the head table. He walked between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables and slowly removed his hood.

You audibly gasped when you saw the raven haired man with his high cheekbones and proud nose. His blue eyes snapped towards you, and you felt your face heat up in seconds. He kept his eyes on you briefly before looking back at the head table. You breathed again once he was well past you.

Valkyrie looked at you questioningly. She whispered, “what’s going on?”

You could not take your eyes off of him and whispered back, “later.”

Everybody at the table rose, and Headmistress Frigga spoke with her wand pointed at her neck. “We will never forget our dear Professor Hubert Rattowl and the legacy he leaves here. The tragedy of his passing will remain a bitter memory in the long colourful history of Hogwarts. It has been a terrible time trying to fill this role, and our surprise guest has been gracious enough to accept our invitation. Professor Loki Laufeyson’s entrance may give you a taste into his exciting curriculum as the new Potions Master.” She gave him a warm smile.

He walked over to his seat and placed his hands on the table to look out at the students. There was something both inviting and dangerous about him. You could not look away.

He smiled widely and raised his hands. “Your potions saviour is here!”

The students clapped and eventually broke into applause. The Slytherin table was particularly ecstatic. There was no mistaking what house he belonged to. He looked at every table with a wide grin, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. They rested on you and your heart stopped. They flickered away, and he moved on before sitting down as the Headmistress continued her announcements.

Your hands were still clasped together in mid clap as you looked at the same man that was in your dream. His screams echoed in your mind and you wondered if this was all a nightmare. Regardless, it was going to be an interesting semester.

#loki #loki x reader #loki fics #loki (marvel)#loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki series #mcu loki #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #hogwarts au #thor odinson #valkyrie #Professor Loki #loki moodboard #loki of hogwarts #norse mythology

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

The aftermath of Merlin snapping, and yelling at Arthur in the middle of the forest;

Arthur pushes for change, the gang takes bets on when Merthur will happen, and someone, somewhere, is grumpy.

Part 2 of Merlin’s Angry Outburst.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Once Arthur has a first draft of the repeal, the first people he brings in on it (with Merlin’s approval, of course) are the 5 knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana.

(Morgana, who later that evening comes back to Arthur's chamber in tears (Merlin is also there) to reveal her magic, and thank him for not being Uther.)

All of them enthusiastically agree, after only a little conversation.

Elyan and Leon are the most... dubious, but only because of the practical factor, they don't disagree with the actual repeal.

After months of the gang working in secret, they reveal their best draft to the council. At least half the council are new members that Arthur appointed, the rest are left over from Uther’s time.

They argue back and forth for a while, half vs half. A few of the older members, who were around before the purge, slowly start changing their minds.

In the end, it takes them maybe a month to get a majority, and Arthur overrules the remaining opposition. He is King after all, technically, he doesn’t even have to have a council.

Days after the agreement is reached, Arthur goes out personally to collect a few specific Druids, who had been waiting just outside the border for the go ahead.

It takes maybe another month to go through all the laws thoroughly, changing and editing and altering what needs to be altered. With the help of Arthur's close advisors on the political aspects, and the help of the Druids, Merlin, and Gaius, on the magical aspects (what should be allowed freely, what should be monitored, and what should remain fully banned).

The city celebrates when the announcement is made, they all loved the new King anyway, and had been overjoyed with the drop in executions, and deliberate ignoring of small instances of magic.

After a feast to celebrate the new found freedom among the people, the gang gathers once more, in private, and Merlin tells a shortened version of the story he'd told Arthur all those months ago.

None of them are that surprised (Gaius, Morgana, and Lancelot already knew, of course).

If they hadn't suspected Merlin of being a sorcerer before this whole thing started (Leon, Gwaine, and Gwen definitely suspected) , then they had certainly begun to in the last few months. They cheer when Merlin finishes telling them "just how often I've saved your oblivious arses" .

They cheer even louder when Arthur announces that he would be made court sorcerer, and it would be made official in a ceremony before the week ended.

There are no cheers when Morgana stands.

Curious eyes land on her, probably due to how terrified she looks, but the small encouraging nods and little smiles she gets from her brother (her Brother), Merlin, and Gwen, give her the strength she needs to tell everyone of her magic as well.

They see she is frightened, they imagine how difficult it must have been, being at first Uther’s ward, and then his daughter. They smile gently, and she receives hugs a plenty. Once all the congratulations are out of the way, she sits back down next to Gwen, still shaky and full of adrenaline, but happy.

She spends the remainder of the group’s quiet celebrations with her hand gripped in Gwen's under the table.

(Read this how you want, I personally envision it as the start of something)

So the days draw on, Merlin is announced Court Sorcerer, Arthur hires another manservant and gives Merlin a large set of chambers in the same hallways as Arthur's, complete with all the books on magic Arthur can find, and several of the magical artefacts that had previously been kept locked away (Merlin and Arthur are the only ones who are able to gain access to the room, something magicky I guess).

(No one mentions that that corridor is supposed to be for royalty only. Leon figures they're bound to realise that they're in love with each other any day now, and then Merlin will practically be royalty anyway so... might as well cut out the middle bit of having to shuffle chambers again later on).

The kingdom is prospering, and for months after the initial announcement, and implementations of the new laws, sorcerers and nobles from all over Albion, visit Camelot, to give congratulations to the King.

They give gifts and provide knowledge.

The Druids, however, are a slightly different story.

The ones who had been helping with the paperwork, had been... odd(?) around Merlin. But they respected his wish to keep all of that under wraps, or at least until it was announced publicly.

Arthur and Gaius know the whole Emrys story. Lancelot and Morgana know bits of it... but other than that... as far as anyone is concerned, the newly promoted Court Sorcerer is just another wizard.

The new Druids entering the kingdom are paying brief respects to the Forever King (I mean... at this point, he's still only King of Camelot... which is what he was before the magic ban repeal), before staring in reverence at the Court Sorcerer stood by his side.

They respect his wishes to keep the worshipping and gift giving to a minimum, though they still come to him for requests of miracles and ask him to perform druid ceremonies (blessings and name-givings and weddings and funerals (though they prefer to call them celebrations of life, rather than commiserations of death) and such).

Merlin can only brush off so many displays of such awe before the rest of The Gang demands to know what’s up, at which point he has to come clean about the whole... “Most Powerful Warlock To Ever Walk The Earth” thing.

Much to Merlin’s chagrin (and everyone else's amusement) the Druids still insist on calling him Emrys. The stubborn ones sometimes even go for "My Lord Emrys", which gets them a scowl from Merlin (and barely concealed laughter from everyone else).

Maybe... later on... when Morgana is more comfortable with her magic, after a few months practicing with Merlin (with a supportive Gwen Always at her side) , she is announced as the Court Seer.

Merlin had never had much luck with prophetic visions, but once Morgana’s fear died down, once she learned to let it flow, and breathe through it, the visions come easier, and kinder.

She stops seeing only visions of doom, and worst case scenarios, instead she has dreams of the many paths the future may take.

She does not panic when a path seems grim and dark, for she has a King and a Warlock and Gwen, by her side. Always. And they work through the future together.

So the ban has been repealed officially for around 6 months.

Arthur is a couple months away from completing his second year as King. And he and Merlin are still beating around the bush.

The betting pool for when they’ll finally get together has been growing bigger and bigger. Practically the whole castle is in on it now, with Gwen and Morgana as the ring leaders. Whoever wins... will be very lucky.

(It's Leon in the end, he pays attention, and he know what his boys are like. But he's a noble and has no need for the money, he pays for a few rounds of drinks and donates the rest to one of children's homes in the lower town).

But the war comes first.

Camelot has been prospering, and has many supporters throughout Albion, but one of the kingdoms, it doesn't matter which, you decide, does NOT like this.

Scouts and small patrols have been needling Camelot’s borders for months now, and Arthur and his Council (and Inner Council) have been making quiet preparations. They know that some sort of... something, is coming soon.

Especially when Morgana begins to dream of battles and blood and lightening.

They prepare for, and expect, a full scale war, but they hope for some negotiations and a peace treaty with the opposition.

Their hopes are dashed, when a messenger is escorted into the throne room, wearing The Opposition’s colours, with a letter.

Said letter is an angry rebuttal of everything Camelot stands for, full of accusations of abandoning tradition, and spitting in the face of great leaders, of which this soft boy-king should NOT be counted as.

At the end, there was an official declaration of war.

The messenger boy was obviously scared to death, and once Arthur read the P.S, which invited Arthur to torture and/or execute him to the whatever extent he wants, he understood why. Without any hesitation, he offers the boy a job in the stables, a new wardrobe of clothes, and a servant’s bed in the castle.

After the official council meeting on the matter, setting up war committees, laying out contingency plans, organising the distribution of emergency evacuation plans, and discussing potential aid that could be requested from allies, Arthur pulls the gang together, for their own meeting.

“We knew this was coming, and there is no need to panic yet. Our outer borders are well patrolled, and we’re still getting up to date reports. The city walls hold strong, but I want to send out patrols to warn the villages of what’s coming. Start closer to the border, and work our way in. Leon?”

“My Lord, I have teams prepared for exactly that already, I just need to give the word and they’ll go.”

“Good. Morgana, I need you to try and keep focusing your visions, if we have even a small idea of how they might try to initiate the first battle, it’ll be a huge advantage.”

“Me and Merlin have been practising some new techniques to control where and when I can see, we’ll write everything down, and ask the Druids if they’ve seen anything as well.”

Arthur holds in a smile at the confidence in her voice. He is unendingly proud of how far his sister had come, and made a mental note to tell her that when all this was over.

“Brilliant, keep me in the loop. Gwen, when we’re done here, go and let the forgery know, the Royal Household will pay them extra to push out as much long range ammunition as they can. Arrows and crossbow bolts, we need as many as they can produce.” Gwen nods, and Arthur finally looks towards Merlin:

“And Merlin, I need you to be ready. Don’t wear yourself out too much in the next few weeks, I need you in good condition, if we’re to win this with minimal casualties-”

He glances over at Morgana before he continues:

“If the two of you could also ask the Druids if they have any volunteer healers. Make sure they know they aren’t obligated to come, but any help in the infirmaries would be greatly appreciated.” Morgana nods once more, as does Merlin, before he speaks:

“There’s a camp a couple hours ride outside the city at the moment, we’ll head out at first light-” He pauses and closes his eyes for a second, tilting his head, before looking to Morgana:

“They’re expecting us.”

Arthur addresses the room again:

“Right. I think that’s all for now, anyone have anything to add?”

Gaius responds after a moment:

“My Lord, if I could make a request for a few servants to help me set up supplies for the infirmary? Extensive preparations will need to be made to ensure that I have all I’ll need. Preferably people with rough herbal knowledge, if at all possible.”

Arthur nods straight away, responding:

“Yes, of course, I’ll ask the Housekeeper and the Steward who they can spare this evening, and they’ll be ready for you in the morning. Anything else?” At the silence in the room, Arthur tells everyone to get to work.

Leon marches straight down to the training grounds (Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan following him) to ring the summoning bell and inform the knights of the developments, and their tasks.

Gwen heads straight to the forgery (her and Elyan still oversee work there, but they have employees (and a few trainees) to run it) to give the Kings order.

Gaius shuffles out, and makes his way back to his quarters, already making mental lists of ingredients needed, and work to be done.

Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin are left, the royal siblings thinking to themselves, and Merlin thinking to someone else. Arthur contemplates that the whole mental link thing he had going on with the Druids was extremely useful.

Both his and Morgana’s thoughts were interrupted by Merlin huffing, and clenching his fists as he opens his eyes, obviously unhappy with whatever was said:

“Merlin?” From Morgana has the Court Sorcerer looking up from scowling at the table. He replies after wiping the frown off his face:

“Oh, it’s fine. They just made a... stupid suggestion is all. Don’t worry about it.”

“Stupid? Doesn’t sound like the Druids. What was it?”

Merlin looks mildly uncomfortable at that, and replies slowly:

“It... doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you another time. It’s late, you should practice some meditation and head to sleep, no potions tonight. And remember to keep some parchment and a quill by your bed, so you can scribble down anything you see-”

Merlin stands abruptly and heads towards the door:

“-I’m going to check the wards on the outer wall, and push a little more energy into the wells. I’ll see you both bright an early.” With that, Merlin heads out the room swiftly.

Arthur looks to his sister questioningly, but she shrugs as she responds:

“Who knows. “I’ll tell you later” means he doesn’t want you to know, OR he’s hoping I’ll forget because he doesn’t want either of us to know. He’s right though, I should meditate for a while-”

Morgana stands at this:

“- hopefully I’ll see you before we head off, if not, I suppose it’ll be dinner in the evening. Good night, brother.” Morgana leaves the room gracefully, heading in the direction of her chambers.

Arthur thinks for only a moment, before rushing off, catching up with Merlin as he readied his horse, preparing for the journey to the outer walls:

“I’ll come with you. I find I quite enjoy watching you do magic, and to be perfectly honest, I could do with some fresh air to help me think.”

Arthur pretends to ignore the slight blush that dusts Merlin’s cheeks, and readies his own horse. The two of them ride out of the stables and make the journey down the cobbled roads in comfortable silence, side by side.

They take their time on the journey, and the 15 minutes of companionable silence is finally broken by Arthur, who looks at Merlin curiously, as he says:

“So what did they suggest?”

Merlin looks up sharply at that, broken from his deep train of thought as he dumbly replies “What?”

“The Druids. What was the stupid suggestion?” Merlin’s eyes widen at that, and he blushes once more as he looks determinedly forward:

“Oh. That. I told you, it doesn’t-”

“Merlin...”

“Oh fine! They suggested that I... that I forge a mental link with you. Like the one I have with them.” The sorcerer purses his lips at that, and continues to avoid Arthur’s gaze:

“You can do that? Well... would it be such a bad idea? I mean we aren’t going to be able to meet and discuss things as often as I’d like through this whole ordeal. AND you’re basically the Kingdom’s powerhouse, I’m sort of relying on your magical know-how here. Surely it wouldn’t be a bad thing? For us to be able to converse across the battle fields?”

Arthur, in an effort to not be hurt, reminds himself that he doesn’t know all that much about magic, and it very well could be a stupid suggestion, instead of one that Merlin is just personally opposed to.

Merlin, in response, looks to Arthur in great shock, before sighing and looking down to his horses mane:

“It.... is possible. And fairly easy, technically. But it would be painful, AND permanent. I wouldn’t be able to undo it after we won. And a temporary connection takes far too much energy to maintain, even for a short time. I just figured you wouldn’t want me in your head for the rest of our lives.” He tries to inject a little humour into his words, but it falls flat, and he just seems sad.

Arthur pretends he doesn’t notice however, and responds quickly:

“How painful are we talking? I mean I’ve been hurt pretty badly before. And... how exactly does it work? Would we be able to read each other’s mind constantly, without the other knowing? Or what?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows in shock at that, and his answer comes out slowly as he looks at Arthur:

“Like... a really bad headache? Imagine the hardest you’ve ever been hit, without passing out. It would last for a few minutes after the connection is initially forged, but would fade slowly over the next day or so. And no. Once the connection is established we wouldn’t be in each other’s head all the time, we would just be able to sort of... project our voices to one another. Other thoughts would be safe, even if you were thinking about me, I wouldn’t hear it unless you were thinking to me... if that makes sense.”

By the end of his explanation, he’s looking nervously at the King, who is deep in thought:

“Hmm. Ok. I... only if you agree but... it might not be a bad idea. Even after the war is over. There have definitely been times where I’ve needed your opinion on something but you’ve been elsewhere, or we’ve been in the presence of someone else. Of course we’ve been fine so far, if you don’t want to, but-”

Merlin interrupts him, speaking quickly:

“I’m fine with it. I agree, it would be useful. So... I can bring what we need back from the camp tomorrow?”

Arthur nods firmly:

“Yes. The sooner the better, we can do it tomorrow evening, if that’s enough time for you?” Merlin once again looks shocked at this, as Arthur stares at him:

“Oh! Yeah, Yes. That’s fine. Like I said, it’s not particularly difficult, and I can ask Gaius to prepare us something for the pain during the day. Are you... are you sure? It is Permanent.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and huffs:

“Yes, you said that already Merlin. Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded his head decidedly, and spoke confidently:

“Yes. You’re right, it’s not a bad idea. Come on, if we hurry, we’ll make it to the walls, and then to the main well, and then back to the castle, before dark.”

The pair of them hurry their horses, and after another 10 minutes of comfortable silence, they finally reach the City Gates.

The guards give a quick bow, and The King and The Court Sorcerer jump off their horses before handing the reigns to one of the Gate stablehands.

Arthur (and the guards) watch in barely concealed wonder as Merlin presses his hands against the rock of the wall, and closes his eyes.

The golden glow can still be seen from below his eyelids, and he hums slightly as he frowns in concentration, seeming to push into the wall.

Arthur sees a short of... sheen, ripple across the rock, and extend into the sky. Merlin steps back and nods, admiring his handy work:

“They’re holding strong, I’ve extended the height as well. Kilgharrah and Aithusa should be the only ones able to get over it without alerting me now, from the air at least-”

Merlin heads to retake his horse, Arthur following him, before he continues:

“Though I still want to check the tunnels again at some point in the next few days.”

“Of course. Relax Merlin, it’s barely begun, and the borders still hold strong. We’ve plenty of time before things kick off in any way.” He makes sure to speak quietly. A public announcement hasn’t been made yet, and it would be bad if rumours started spreading before The King had time to put together a proper disclosure.

Merlin nods distractedly, and urges his horse to go faster as he heads towards the main well, in the town square. It’s late, not long until sunset, so there shouldn’t be many, if any, people there. Arthur speaks again:

“Why are we visiting the well? I wasn’t aware of any problems?”

“There aren’t any, but once the announcement is made, and once the outer villages are told what’s happening, we’ll have hundreds, probably thousands, of people flock to the city for safety. I just want to make sure we’re prepared for such an influx, and boost our water levels a little.”

Arthur nods at his response, but doesn’t say anything. He chooses instead to admire the man Merlin had become. He held himself differently, more strong, confident in who he was. Just like he had back when he was still a manservant, he served Arthur, and his people, above and beyond his job description. Merlin took upon himself, not only the politics he was supposed to oversee, but the personal safety of both the King, and every Camelot citizen, and he did it all with an alarming amount of grace.

Arthur sometimes catches himself thinking that it was almost as if Merlin was built to be a king. He may not like the spotlight, but he was a protector, and leader, unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you, Merlin. It feels like years ago now, that you yelled at me in a forest.” He says it with a grin, but Merlin flinches. He continues before The Sorcerer interrupts him though:

“Really Merlin. Thank you. You were right, I would’ve got there in the end, but it wasn’t fair for people to suffer in the mean time, and you took the fall in their place. You’re a hero to your people... and to me. You should be proud of your accomplishments, I know I am.”

Arthur resists the urge to duck his head as Merlin looks at him in bewilderment, a definite flush on his cheeks as he replies:

“I... thank you, Arthur. I always had faith in you-” Merlin begins to grin before he continues:

“-and besides, someone had to knock you down a peg. Perhaps you should hire someone to take you into the forest and yell at you every once in a while.”

Arthur laughs at that, and Merlin tries to push down the blush as Arthur responds:

“Now Merlin, why on earth would I hire someone for such a job, when I already have you?”

Merlin chuckles as he answers:

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it, My Lord. Hold the horses, I’ll just be a minute.” With that, Arthur realises they’ve made it to the well, and dismounts as Merlin has, holding both of the horses reigns as he watches Merlin approach the well.

The Sorcerer crouches down, and once again closes his eyes in concentration as he presses his hands into the stone of the well. The glow is a little less bright this time, but Arthur admires it nonetheless.

Merlin finishes quickly, and gathers his horse from Arthur once more, nodding towards the castle.

Arthur follows as Merlin hurries towards the looming building. He wasn’t sure why he was in such a rush, but he only begins questions it when Merlin hurriedly hands the horses of to a stablehand, and continues to run up the castle steps.

Arthur can only just keep up with Merlin, not having the breath to ask him what’s wrong, before Merlin suddenly comes to a stop, catching his breath for a moment to go through a door leading to the highest balcony on the West of the castle:

“Merlin... what.... what are you-”

Merlin wordlessly interrupts The King as he points to the skyline, the sun only a few minutes away from touching the horizon.

There’s not a cloud in sight, and the sky is painted in oranges and pinks in front of them, bleeding into deep purples and blues behind the castle.

Merlin finally mutters, not looking away from the sunset:

“Call me a girl all you want Arthur, but nothing compares to this. It’s beautiful, I come to watch it whenever I’ve got the time.”

Arthur had only glanced briefly at the sunset before looking back at Merlin in wonder, a fond smile on his face (not that Merlin would notice).

He stares at the side of Merlin’s face, the orange sky making the gold in his eyes look even brighter, and the glare of the fading sun making his hair shine. A gentle breeze has Merlin shiver slightly, and Arthur’s smile widens as he responds, so quietly he’s not even sure if Merlin hears him:

“Hmm. Beautiful.” He doesn’t look away.

THIS IS COMPLETED! All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific let me know✌️

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katyspersonal · 2 years

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Some Bloodborne connections I made up

Micolash and Archibald - They worked together at some point, I like to imagine that Archibald helped Micolash to construct Mensis Cages as someone more familiar with engineering. Archibald was around a bit too late to have a chance to enrol in Byrgenwerth, so Micolash, believing to be qualified to follow Willem's ideas in his weird way, offered 'something just as good'... In a way Micolash saw his younger self in Archibald - eccentric, slightly callous genius whose drastic ideas are often misunderstood and rejected.

Micolash and Rom - Brother and sister mentioned in the description of the first brain fluid you collect! Both were orphaned and separated for life, having only met in Yharnam as Rom was looking for a single family member she got a hunch about. She loves him a whole lot, but things sure became complicated after he saw an opportunity to use her as gateway to real enlightenment through traumatising her and seized it.

Simon, Yamamura and Gratia - The detectives squad! Simon and Gratia were friends even before, both not using guns and Gratia acting overly protective when someone laughed at Simon's weapon in her watch. Simon and Yamamura were quickly able to recognise 'behaviour of a person that knows more than they let on' in each other though so sharing their suspicions about Healing Church was only a matter of time. Essentially Simon is the guy that can sneak everywhere unnoticed, Yamamura is 'the seer' and Gratia is the power!

Iosefka and Fauxsefka - Actual twins. They were children of affair between a Cainhurst noble and a witch from Hemwick, nonetheless both were welcomed in Cainhurst as legit family. Their fates were foreshadowed as Fauxsefka showed more of 'vampiric' signs at birth than her sister; she was also named Miriam to line up with more foreign influence in Cainhurst, as opposed to Iosefka having more 'local' sounding name. Miriam was mostly growing in Cainhurst around her father, meanwhile Iosefka stayed more with her mother, learning various unique skills from her and other witches, such as purifying blood that she'd later use with her vials. They were never close, however, both ended up falling for brainwashing of the Healing Church and deserting each her sinking ship. Iosefka was working with School of Mensis and is still terrified of Micolash to the point of not daring to peep a word about Mensis' secrets even if he is long time ago gone. Miriam remained a faithful Choir member though, but eventually despair led her to attempting turning anyone in a blue alien so they don't have to become beasts instead, and her sister was the first to be "saved".

Maria and the Doll - In a way, they are the same person - dolls do not need to sleep, and Doll mentions having a grudge left her after you kill Maria. So I headcanon that when Doll is asleep - she is awake somewhere else, likewise us finding Maria napping means Doll is awake meanwhile, although neither has recollection of her other self or what happens in another 'plane'. Think of it like DID of sorts.

Henriett and Alfred - The detectives squad... 2! Both started off as simple hunters of Healing Church, having missed its "prime" chronologically and left to dig up its legends and maybe secrets on their own, as friends. They ended up as enemies though - Henriett becoming avid fan of the Old Hunters and resenting entire Church's narrative and Alfred falling into insanity, romanticising Church's past days and developing obsessive idea to finish Logarius' quest.

Henriett and Damian - They share the solidarity of people who ended up resenting their previous factions yet still having signs of having once belonged there openly - Henriett still using weapons of Healing Church for 'poetic justice' and Damian not changing his clothing as means to wear what he used to do on his sleeve (even if not many people even know of School of Mensis...). A lot to talk about.

#bloodborne #bloodborne headcanons #fandomry rambles #i have more but i might be forgetting at the moment so more later when i rember #internally i name the doll Anette so their names combined make 'marianette'#which is of course supposed to refer to word 'marionette'. as in how this split of personality happened from great helplessness in life #as in how all her choices were merely illusion of choice #she distasted blood practices of cainhurst yet exactly tapping on that blood magic helps her to excell in the hunts #she was led to fight 'monsters' on fishing hamlet but played right into bigger plan of other people and more terrible crime #and even her best friend she was not able to save #'your choices don't matter' and it feels like you are always played by something way bigger

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capituloperdido1 · 3 years

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ACOSAS

Chapter 1

Here is the first chapter, please let me know what you guys think! Warnings: Anxiety Attack, mentions of SA

There was not a night, in which the shadowsinger did not wake up sweating after his night terrors. It had become a routine for him, to see the flames in his dreams, to see the smiles and dark eyes of his so-called brothers while they laughed at his pain. At first, he would find ways to comfort himself, he would read, pray to the Mother, and even journal (a suggestion given to him by his blonde friend). However, after the years passed, and his nightmares did not disappear, he had come to realize that the nightmare was a punishment from the cauldron. The scars, the nightmares, the fact that he did not have a mate; it was all a punishment for the horrors that he had committed. So he accepted the nightmares, he accepted the scars, the accepted the loneliness, he accepted the punishment Azriel rolled over the bed, taking off the sheets that had covered his body; and sat at the edge of the bed. He took a couple of seconds to look around his room. Five... the grey walls, the black wooden desk, the leather chair in front of the fireplace, the basket of dirty clothes, and the book that the priestess had let him borrowed. Four... the satin sheets on his bed, the trim curls on his head, the fleece black pants he wore, and the wooden decorations that surrounded his bed. Three... the chirping of birds in the morning, faint music from Velaris, and the sound of trees moving with the wind. Two... whiskey and roses. One... the taste of the chocolate pudding the house had given him the night before. He exhaled as his mind acknowledged reality. Sometimes, when the nightmares were too real; he woke up afraid to be in that cell... prison that his childhood self had called home. He stood, looking for his fighting leaders as he got ready to go to the training ring. Maybe the day ahead was not going to be bad, maybe something good might happen. Maybe, a certain auburn-haired priestess would be there. -.-.-.-.- The sun was just rising, the cold autumn wind tickled his wings as he flew up the house of wind. As if she had guessed he wanted to see her this morning; Gywn moved with gracious velocity while she tried the new obstacle arrangement that was meant for that morning. Azriel smiled to himself, one thing that he admired of the priestess was her willingness to overcome any challenge. She had become known around Prythian, the priestess, and her Valkarie friends, as the fiercest women in their territory. Some feared the group of females, others wanted to become like them. After the Valkaryes had conquered the mountain, many more priestesses had come to train with them; even some Illyrian females, not more than a dozen, had decided to learn the ways of the warriors. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn had to help him and his brother train the new recruits; so they had resolved that the hour after the normal training would be focused on the three of them. However, over the last few months, he had a few one on one training sessions with the priestess. Once her smell hit him, his shadows became restless; one mischievous shadow shooting towards Gwyn and flying around her. They always reacted to her that way, as if they were anticipating throughout days and nights when they would see her again. At first, Azriel had been mortified; he worried that being surrounded by his shadows would make her uneasy, afraid or even disgusted. But, as always, the priestess had surprised him by smiling and opening her hands every time she saw them; welcoming his shadows with eagerness, not fear. -I was wondering if you would come today- she said playing with his shadow. Stop, come back he said to the shadow; but again it ignored him and flew around her hair as if saying i'm not leaving until i want to. -I had a feeling you were going to fail the training course, i could not miss it- he said jokingly. -mhm, sure shadowsinger- she smiled, taking a sip of her water - we both know I'm faster and more agile than you ever were- He laughed and took his leather jacket off A moment passed, and he confessed,- i couldn't sleep- -me neither- she said smiling sadly. They had never talked

about it.

What kept them up at night, they didn't need to. They resorted to talking about books, trains and make snarky remarks to each other. He had to admit that her competitiveness matched his own; and in some way, it helped him forget about his nights. -well... how about you time me, and then i'll time you shadowsinger- she said. He smiled, he appreciated that she never pushed him; and in return, he never pushed her. He knew her terrors, he had been there to witness most of them. But unlike him, he prayed to whatever deity existed that she could overcome them. If there was one person in this world who did not deserve one bad dream was Gwyneth Berdara. -hmm... but let's make a bet priestess- he smirked. -you win, ill bring you the stash of chocolate brownies Nesta hides in the house. I win and you will let me look at more of your notes on mind-stilling- The priestess had come one night with stashes of papers in her hands; she had dumped the papers in his lap and said - i have not finished it, don't judge the writing. But read it, and try some of the exercises, it has helped me with... you know- From that moment on, he read mind stilling exercises for his anxiety after a bad dream. Gwyn smiled, tying her long hair up in a ponytail. His shadows stilled for a moment, not in fear, but in admiration. -sounds like a deal shadowsinger- He dared to open his mind to his shadows, curious to hear what they were thinking; beauty, they said, autumn beauty. -.-.-.-.- Somehow, they ended up training until Nesta and Cassian came up the stairs. Neither of them had completed the course without busting their asses in the sand at least once. However, she was happy to convince him that even if there was no winner she would let him borrow another copy. Azriel knew that meant he would have to bargain with the house (who somehow held the brownies away from anyone) and exchange some smut books for at least one or two. His brother approached him smiling; after the Blood Rite and all the mess that had been the last couple of months, Cassian and Nesta were finally able to plan their mating ceremony. Azriel never pictured Cassian as the man who would talk for hours about how Magnolias and Lilies could not go together. But his brother was so happy, so excited to plan his ceremony; that he had been part of every decision made until that point. Nesta was more than happy to lay off the decisions of lighting and colors for their mountain ceremony; she was more focused on the guests. Cassian had insisted on inviting some of the high lords; to satisfy Rhys and make it somehow a place to prepare for Koschei. Nesta had refused and had threatened to poke Rhysands eyes out if someone other than Hellion, and Kallias arrived to their ceremony. -hey Az, you look like a whole building fell on your face man- said Cassian while tying a bun with a string of leather. -and you look like you need an ass-kicking, should I tell Nesta to humiliate you in the ring again?- he responded, smiling while he remembers the oldest Archeron sister kicking his brother out of the ring in their last hand to hand combat As the rest of their class arrived, Azriel took the chance to get near Gwyn. - Listen, I know I didn’t let you go back to your chambers. But... thank you, for ... you know being here - he said while scratching the back of his neck. She smiled. And his shadows danced happily looking at her dimples and red lips, beautifully matching her hair. -you know Azriel, I know I’ve never said it. But as your friend, I will be here whenever you need me. If you need to talk, fight, or read some smut... I’ll be here - Gwyn said. He nodded and attempted to show that her words had not just opened a light inside him that for five hundred years had disappeared. -thank you Gwyn-. -.-.-.-.-.- After the training, Azriel walked to his chamber when he heard the voice of his brother in his head. I need you, there is a mission that needs attending. Now. He sighed, he hated that Rhys sounded upset every time he talked to him; but after the mess during solstice, he had not been able to make

things right with him. With anyone for that matter; he had avoided Rhys and Elain, too scared to face the feelings that surged when he now thought of the seer. He flew to Rhys house, landing at the roof where his brother watched the bright morning of Velaris. - Azriel- his brother acknowledged him with a nod. After a couple of minutes, his high lord spoke. -how close are you with Gwyn, the priestess-. His eyebrows furrowed -why? Am I going to have to stay away from her too? - he said with an intentional bite in his tone. Rhys looked at him angrily -no. I need you and her for a new mission. One that requires trust, and your head on your brain, not your pants- -I would never think about her like that Rhys, not knowing what she had endured- he responded in a low voice. Rhys got close to him and put a hand on his shoulder - you’re right, I’m sorry. I know how much you respect and connect with her- -which is why I need you to take her to Helions library for a couple of weeks, I need her to do some research on the possibility of a fourth trove and how to help Vassa- It took Azriel a minute to process what his brother was asking of him... No, what he was asking of Gwyn. -no- he responded. Rhys grabbed his shoulder a little harder -what? What do you mean no?- -I mean that Gwyn will not leave the library under your orders. She is not ready for that- he said, his voice rising at the anger and protectiveness he felt in his chest. -how do you know that?- Rhys responded with the same tone. -because... because I know- Azriel answered -and you keep making decisions without regarding people’s feelings and fears, and that’s not okay Rhys- He knew that was unfair; his brother did what he did for the sake of the court, for the sake of the world. -Azriel that is not your call to make- his brother said in a softer voice. -neither is yours, especially because you don’t even acknowledge her existence. Or any of the Valkyries for that matter- he moved away from his brother. It took him a minute to look at Rhys, who had a pained look in his eyes. -you’re right, I can’t argue with that- he sighed-I’m sorry, I know I should’ve talked to her first; and now I will. However, if she says yes, I will task you to protect and help her. I can’t send Cass because he is ... mated now- Azriel laughed sarcastically. Of course, he thought, leave it to Rhys to make his cut bigger with a few words. -of course my lord- he said, and shot up to the sky without saying goodbye.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

At the library at the bottom of the house, things were usually quiet. That was one of the reasons why Gwyn had begun to train; the library offered no distraction to her mind, no way to still it if thoughts raced through her. She had been shelving books that Merril had given her for the past hour; thinking and avoiding the memory of last night's nightmare. The blood, the rough hands holding her down, the children screaming. It was all too much, it was all too real. She had gone up in the morning to the training pit. To avoid sleeping, yes, but also because she somehow knew that Azriel would be there. She hated that he had to go through what she went through, but she was grateful for his presence at the moments when she needed him the most. Steps sounded at the end of the hallway, and Gwyn stiffened. They sounded male, heavy, and loud. She knew it was not Azriel, his shadows always let her know that he was approaching. She looked up from her book nervously, ready to run away if needed.... But that was her high lord looking at her with a sweet smile on his face -hello Gwyn, Valkyrie, Carynthian warrior- he smiled. And she realized that out of the three brothers, Azriel had the best smell. She liked the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar, the others smelled too sweat and too flowery for her taste. -high lord- she courtesy nervously. -please, don’t do that, we are practically family right ?- he said while offering her a bag that she had not noticed he carried. -I’m bringing you the best chocolate croissants in the city, Feyre told me you and Nesta enjoy chocolate at the same rate. I hope you like them- he placed them in her cart, knowing she would not touch him. Another set of steps sounded at the distance, and her sister appeared walking with rapid-fire towards her. - I told you to wait Rhysand- Nesta said. -I...it’s okay Nesta, thank you High... Rhysand— Gwyn said, opening the bag and smelling it. Damn... that was dark chocolate in the croissants; her favorite. -what can I do for you guys?- she said while taking a bite of the soft, sweet bread. -we were wondering if you wanted to dine with us tonight, here in the House, only Az, Cass, Nesta, Feyre and me- The High Lord said. - we have a proposal for you, but we want to talk to you about it first-. She looked at Nesta, who was stealing some of her croissants. - su...sure... I’ll gladly accept. It would be an honor - she smiled. -.-.-.- After her shift with Merrill ended, she went to her chambers to bathe quickly. She should change, she knew they dined casually, she wanted to fit in with the group. So she bathed, braided her hair and decided to wear a flowery blue dress that showed the mid of her back; it had a tight bodice and a skirt that flowed until the top of her knees. It had been a gift from Nesta, she had told her to use it whenever she wanted to practice what she would do when she went to Velaris for the first time. As she climbed up the stairs, she imagined what life would be like if she was brave enough to leave the library. Gods she wanted to be in the city, wanted to try the food, hear the music, look at the people. But it all scared her too much. She was waiting for an opportunity, she said to herself, an opportunity to escape the library and be dragged to the real world. The smell of roasted potatoes, beef, and vegetables filled her nose; she thanked the Mother that the house cook. she approached the dining room and smiled at hearing Nesta laugh so hard, probably at something her mate had said. She was happy that her sister had found a man that grounded her, filled her (in every sense of the way) and that respected her. She was a bit jealous that she had found a mate though, she had studied the relationships of mates for months, and understood that they were rare but only rare among powerless faes. Which meant, that the possibility of finding hers was minimum... or as Merril liked to say an absolute zero. -you came!- said Nesta, smiling. Gwyn strode down the hall to sit beside Nesta; her eyes looking around the room to acknowledge everyone who was there.

-thank you for inviting me - she said, coming out as barely a whisper. Rhysand approached with a smiled that brightened the entire room, - thank you for coming, Gwyn, i know the effort it must have been but i appreciate it-.

She smiled -those chocolate croissants were really persuasive my lord-. Rhysand got even bigger -look at you, already teasing me as Cassian does-. The house placed food in front of her, adding extra vegetables. To which she frowned "i didn't know you cared for my vitamins". She ate silently, admiring how the dynamic between all of them was. She couldn't deny the jealousy that threatened to rise, she missed having a family. No, she missed being able to enjoy family without the fear of the outside world suffocating her. Minutes, hours passed and they all kept talking. Azriel had changed his seats to be in front of her, the shadowsinger looking deeply at her while she played with her water. She felt even more comforted now that he was near her. Rhysand stood and cleared his throat -well, i'm sure Gwyn has had enough of our voices; so let's get to the point-. He approached her slowly and passed her a paper she had not noticed he carried. -we want to officially invite you to be part of this court- he started. -Everyone that is here admits that there is no one more deserving and capable to be the official scholar of the Night court-. He laid the paper in front of her. A contract, offering an obscene amount of money. -you... want me to work for you?- she said -yes, if you are comfortable doing this of course- he responded. The contract asked her to inform, research,and educate the leaders of the court, on different matters she would be asked to. -Before you accept- Azriel spoke softly, looking at Rhysand, -you should hear what the first mission would ask from you-.

Rhysand nodded, -we are looking for the possibility of a fourth trove, and we can only do so in the biggest library of the country.... in the day court-.

Leaving the library, she would not only leave the library but also the night court.

Was she ready for that?

-Would i go by myself?- she asked him

-No, you would go with Azriel as your bodyguard, or assistant, whatever you need from him- Rhysand responded.

She smiled, looking at the shadowsinger. - And you accepted this?-

His mouth quirked upward -if i didn't we would have had Nesta to deal with-.

This was it, this was the push she had asked for.

-Rhysand, i would be honored to be the scholar of your court- she said, - and i thank all of you for trusting me, i will not let you down-.

She looked around the room to find every single one of the court's members looking at her with loving, proud eyes.

She would go to the Day Court, she would find a way to help her friends and her world.

Gwyneth Berdara looked at her future companion, the beautiful male with eyes of honey that she would daydream about.

Who knows? Maybe this mission would bring them closer. Maybe they would finally talk about their nightmares, their fears.

Maybe she would finally be able to show Azriel how she felt about him. And maybe this time, he would listen.

#gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar #post acosf #nesta archeron #nesta and gwyn #acotar fanfiction

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wingsofkpop · 3 years

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Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part Two

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting and injury, weapons, blood and gore, brief mention of a mutilated animal corpse, minor character death, description of trauma and mental illness, brief mention of suicide, mentions of murder, satanic themes and ritual, etc.

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit themes regarding violence, trauma, and death. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 10,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

The nighttime is hushed, almost anxious as Minho maneuvers his way past gravestones and overgrown shrubbery. It’s almost like nature itself is too afraid of accidentally provoking the witch, sensing the torpedo of dark magic and violent sorrow stirring through his veins. He peers up at the crimson moon, grateful for the illumination it provides, and continues down his path—ignorant of the cold air bleeding into his flesh.

Minho knows this is probably not the best time for a visit, aware that his ex-covenmates are likely plotting some sort of mission to overthrow him, but he doesn’t care—he can’t care anymore. A part of him, the shameful, guilty part of his mind. actually hopes they will succeed, at least then, he would no longer have to endure the pain that comes with bearing this black magic. He can feel its poison rushing through his veins, seering his body from the inside out, killing his soul over and over and over again…

But isn’t this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? Minho performed that spell to hurt the very friends that hurt him—to hurt Mark, and he got his wish… so why does it feel like the world is caving in around him, swallowing him whole?

Once he reaches his destination, Minho collapses to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his burdens. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry. A silent gust of wind strokes his cheeks, painting his skin red with bitterness and anger. He welcomes the cold air, accepting the punishment, before lifting his hand to splay his fingers against the even colder surface of the headstone.

“I’m sorry…” Minho whimpers, “It didn’t have to be like this…”

The silence heightens his anguish—deepens the wounds in his heart.

If he could take it all back, he would… but he can’t.

“I wish you were here, noona…”

His murmur is lost to the wind, but it doesn’t matter. He climbs back to his feet before sparing one final glance at the burial place of his lost friend. After a deep inhale and a wordless goodbye, Minho turns and hastily begins back toward the mausoleum.

He was allowed this one moment of weakness—now he must get back to the horrible reality he manifested for himself.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Can you be any more obvious…?”

Mark quickly awakens from his mindless trance, discovering, to his dismay, Dahyun looking down at him with a single raised, all-knowing eyebrow. He fakes a cough into his elbow before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re kidding me, right?... You literally haven’t taken your eyes off of her since we met up in the forest.”

Heat immediately rises to Mark’s cheeks. As if on instinct, his eyes trail back to his subject of interest, watching as you wipe the sweat from Jaebeom’s girlfriend’s forehead and neck before shifting to do the same to Felix. It’s such a simple action, but you somehow look so ethereal—almost like an angel sent from heaven.

He curses himself for his own cheesiness, then releases a defeated sigh.

“We got into a pretty big fight earlier.”

“Then don’t you think you should—I don’t know—talk to her instead of staring her down like a creep?”

“I think the last thing she wants to do is talk to me.” Mark drags a hand through his hair. “I… said some really stupid shit in the heat of the moment. She probably hates me.”

Dahyun scoffs, “God, you are such a fucking idiot.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to get your ass over there and apologize to that girl.”

Her harsh tone doesn’t falter beneath his glare, nor does her tenacious expression as the two proceed with their silent staring contest. After a minute or two, Dahyun breaks off the competition with a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes are soft when she looks back at him, and suddenly Mark finds the dried mud on his shoes a lot more interesting.

“Mark, anyone can see how much you care about her—how much she cares about you.” Even when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder, the witch keeps his attention to the floor. “(Y/N) could never hate you—no matter how much stupid shit you pull.” She snickers, “And you pull a lot of stupid shit, so that has to account for something.”

He can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his own lips.

“Thanks, Dubu.” Mark says, tilting his head to finally meet the warmth of her gaze.

“She’s a good one—a really good one, Mark.” The wolf hums, “Don’t let it be your fear that pushes her away.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reply further, pacing to a nearby corner to join a conversing Bang Chan and Yugyeom.

Sparing the wolf trio one final glance, Mark musters up the remaining courage he has left and pushes from his perch against the kitchen countertop. He forces himself to walk in your direction—each step releasing more butterflies into the confines of his stomach. Once he reaches you, close enough to touch your turned back, he almost chickens out, content with spending the rest of the night watching you like hawk, but the sound of Felix’s breathy voice locks him in place:

“—Channie-hyung and I have always wanted to go to Chicago… Is-Is it as windy as they say?”

“Even windier.” You say with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many scarves I lost, and don’t get me started on how freaking cold the winters are.”

Felix laughs too, although it resonates as more of a wheeze than anything.

You shrug, “It’s a gorgeous city though—probably my most favorite place I’ve ever lived.”

“Then why did you leave? If you loved it so much?”

Mark’s interest piques when he notices how your figure grows tense at the young boy’s croak. He’s heard his fair share of stories of your heartfelt time in the Windy City, but he never quite figured out why you ultimately decided to move to Moon Dye Bay. You’ve always been reluctant to reveal certain details from your past, especially regarding your time in the foster system, but even then Mark has been able to pry the worst memories from your brain.

This subject, however, has been a brick wall.

“Because I couldn’t stay.” You finally answer, “It’s complicated, but something happened and basically I—”

“(Y/N)?”

He silently cusses as Felix interrupts your explanation, but his annoyance dissipates at the panicked expression etched along the teenager’s sweaty face.

“What is it, Felix?” You shift your position on his bedside to better face the boy, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his forehead. Mark can only imagine how hot the skin is to the touch.

Felix’s words crack as they leave his lips, slicing at the witch’s heart like a dagger:

“Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not.” You immediately say, but Mark can sense the uneasiness in your tone. “Everyone is doing everything they can to help you, okay?... You’re gonna get through this, and one day you and your brother are gonna go see Chicago yourselves and try not to get blown away into the next century.”

Felix sleepily chuckles, “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“You should get some sleep.” The moment the command leaves your lips, Felix is already closing his eyes and diving headfirst into dreamland. Not wanting to startle you, Mark waits a couple seconds—partly to give you time to regain your composure, and partly to give himself time to think of what to say. However, he doesn’t have much of a choice when you suddenly turn, growing aware of his presence. A frown overtakes your face, and he instantly regrets ever leaving his countertop.

“Did you need something?”

“No—yes, I mean—shit.” Mark buries a hand in his tresses to tug at his roots, attempting to juggle between putting together the right spoken words and reminding his body to breathe. “(Y/N), I—”

“If you came to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” He helplessly watches as you rise from the bed before tossing your used rag on a nearby table. “I think you made yourself pretty clear back at my apartment.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said—” Before you can storm away, Mark latches his fingers around your wrist. “—please. Just give me a chance to explain.”

Your shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, but you make no move to tear away from his grip and he takes it as a chance to continue:

“After my mom died, I was so fucking angry…” Mark notices your surprised gaze when you lift your head, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I was angry at the world, at her, at myself… and when my magic began to show up, things got a whole lot worse.” He shakes his head, “I thought about just ending it—jump into the bay or maybe drink myself to death—but then I met…”

“Then you met Jackson.”

“He taught me how to deal with the anger—to use it as a tool, not a weapon.” His eyes begin to burn at the countless memories that reel through his mind. “It was because of him I learned how to control my powers, and I was able to bring the coven together—hell, he was the one who told them to nominate me as Regent, which right now, seemed like the worst fucking decision on the planet.”

Mark takes a moment to blink away his tears before taking a seat on an empty cot. He still can’t find it in himself to glance at your face, keeping his eyes trained to the wooden flooring.

“But when Jackson had an idea, there was no stopping him.” He chuckles sarcastically, “The bastard was as stubborn as a goddamn mule.”

“What happened to Jackson, Mark?” Your voice is both a sweet lullaby and a screeching siren against his ears. “How did he die? Really?”

“The initial plan was to infuse enough magic into Jackson’s werewolf form so his venom would be lethal to the Primes, or at the very least, to Jinyoung. It all went smoothly in the beginning, I was able to channel enough power to complete the transformation… but something went wrong—

“—Jackson was different when he shifted. He was ruthless… He didn’t want to just kill the Primes—he wanted to slaughter every vampire along with those who protect the secrets of their existence… no matter if they were witch, werewolf, human—they all deserved to die…

“The combination of his determination and the bloodlust drove him fucking mad… If Jaebeom hadn’t ripped out his heart, there’s telling what he would have done—who he would have killed…”

Mark leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, attempting to hide his shame beneath the curl of his bangs. “—Jaebeom may have dealt the final blow, but Jackson died because the dark magic I used turned him into a monster—he’s dead because of me…”

Silence encompasses the room like a vice grip to the throat. For a moment, Mark believes you left him, too disgusted and ashamed to even breathe the same air as him, but the entrance of your worn boots into his vision proves otherwise. The image is replaced by your face when you kneel in front of his broken figure, laying your hands over each bicep. He notices your touch is gentle, but not hesitant, and warm—always so warm.

“You can’t blame yourself for his death, Mark.” Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until you wipe a tear from his cheek. “How could you have known what that spell would do? You couldn’t have—”

“Magic always comes with price—especially dark magic.” He whispers, unable to hold back more liquid sadness as it trails down his skin. “(Y/N), if I ever lost you the same way I lost Jackson, my mom, I—”

Mark’s voice cuts out into a sob, and once your arms wind around his form, he completely breaks, releasing every ounce of repressed sadness and despair and pain into the crook of your neck. He knows he’s selfish for melting into your embrace—for consuming your comfort like a demon expelled from the heavens—but he doesn’t care.

When you guide his eyes to meet your own, Mark can spot the glassiness of your own orbs in the artificial light—along with enough compassion and ardor to send another flood of tears down his face.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You affirm, your tone unwavering and stern. “I’m here—and no matter how many times you fall, I’m gonna be here to pick you up…

“I’m here, Mark… Do you understand me?”

He nods with a sniffle, tightly squeezing your hands between his own.

“I’m sorry.”

You smile at his apology.

“I’m sorry too… for everything.”

“Just… No more secrets. For real, this time.”

“For real, this time.” Mark’s heart rate picks up when he suddenly notices how close his face is to yours. From this angle, he can count the constellations glistening within your eyes and map the delicate curves of your facial features. If he were to lean just an inch closer, just one tiny inch, his lips would be on your own—

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have an issue.” At Yugyeom’s statement, you and Mark immediately wrench away from one another, almost as if having been caught engaging in forbidden territory. Mark pretends he doesn’t miss the weight of your hands inside his own as he rises from the cot, making sure to put an appropriate amount of distance between his and your shoulders.

He clears his throat before humming, “What’s going on?”

“Chan wants to go and find Chaeyoung’s body.” Although Yugyeom’s face remains neutral, Mark can see the sadness lingering within his eyes at the mention of his fallen packmate. “He doesn’t remember exactly where she was, so him, Dahyun, and I are going to search the forest.”

You immediately shake your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sunrise isn’t for at least another hour, and we have no way of knowing Youngjae broke the curse yet.”

“I’m with (Y/N) on this one, Gyeom.” Mark agrees, “We’re safest here in the bunker.”

“We can’t just leave her out there. I mean, she—” Yugyeom cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, before continuing in a softer tone, “You know how it feels to lose someone, hyung… Chaeyoung is—was… our family.”

Mark takes a moment of silence to ponder, conflicted between his common sense and Yugyeom’s pleading gaze. As you said, sunrise is an hour away—but Youngjae, the coven and the Primes should have overthrown Minho by now, right? Plus, he literally blew Changbin’s head off with that shotgun. There’s no way his body could regenerate that quickly…

“We’re all staying together.” He finally says, moving toward the kitchenette to grab his weapon from its perch on the counter. “And if anything seems shady, it’s an immediate retreat.”

Yugyeom delivers a nod before heading off to gather the other wolves. Mark moves toward the bunker exit, but is stopped by your form. A heavy sigh cascades from his lips—just from your expression, he knows this conversation isn’t going to go his way.

“(Y/N)—”

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t go with you, don’t even bother.”

He shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous…”

“If someone tells me that one more goddamn time—” He can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across his face at the sassy way you roll your eyes. And he doesn’t protest when you move to follow Dahyun up the ladder.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, taking the moment to feel his lungs expand, before releasing the air in an even deeper exhale. Even with the relaxation attempt, his body remains tense and his thoughts disorderly. He can’t help but feel as if Minho is waiting somewhere in the darkness of the crypt, ready to pounce on him like a predator to its prey.

Would he toy with his catch first? Or would he skip the pleasantries and go right in for the kill?

A hand appears on his shoulder, wrenching Youngjae from his morbid daydream. He angles his head to meet Lia’s concerned gaze and immediately tries to mask his fear beneath an expression of indifference. Unsurprisingly, the female witch sees right through his facade:

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, Youngjae. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from me.”

His shoulders sag in defeat as a sigh blows past his lips.

“I’m just… worried about Mark-hyung. He’s powerless out there.”

“Mark is smart—he’ll know what to do if he finds himself in trouble.”

“And if he doesn’t?... I-I mean, what if Minho or Changbin found him before he could warn the pack? He could be dead for all we know—”

Lia silences his desperate quip with a shake of her head, “You shouldn’t think like that right now—”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Youngjae runs a frustrated hand through his hair before gesturing toward the main exit of their underground penitentiary. “Even with yours and Jisung’s energy, I don’t have enough power to take down the barrier spell.”

“Help is on the way—”

“How do you know that for sure?”

Lia remains silent, simply continuing to stare at Youngjae. He feels almost uncomfortable beneath her gaze, resisting the urge to shrink back and become one with the shadows.

“I don’t know… but I have faith.” She murmurs after a brief moment. “We’ve lost a lot, but I still believe that we’ll all somehow manage to come out of this alive. You should try doing the same.”

With that, Lia leaves to speak with a dangerously quiet Jisung. Youngjae spares the pair a single glance before heading toward the crypt entryway. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the exit stairway, almost as if mocking him about his inability to escape the dingy prison.

Youngjae knows Lia is right—of course she’s right. Worrying about the possible pitfalls of this plan won’t help him, or Mark, or anyone. He can only pray that his mentor safely found his way out of the cemetery and is sending backup right this very moment.

He needs to have hope, if nothing else.

“What if we somehow lure Minho down here?” Youngjae’s thoughts quiet at Lia’s suggestion, angling his head to meet her gaze. “Technically Youngjae just needs to touch him to siphon his magic… so why don’t we bring him to us?”

“Minho-hyung won’t step past the barrier.” Jisung dissents, dragging his fingers through his already tousled hair. “He probably knows we’re planning something against him, so there’s no way he’ll believe whatever ruse we try to pull.”

“Then we have no choice. Youngjae, are you sure you can’t take down the spell?”

Youngjae sullenly shakes his head.

“Is there something else you can siphon? Maybe the crypt itself?”

“The crypt was built by humans.” He answers, “I can only draw power from the supernatural—”

“Then it’s a good thing my dear brother and I weren’t turned into superwolf bait.”

Youngjae, along with the other witches, nearly leaps a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He whirls around to face the stairwell, which to his surprise, is now occupied by the last person he ever expected to see:

Im Jaebeom.

Jisung chokes, scurrying backward into the shadows as the hybrid approaches the trio. After taking purchase against the doorway, he offers his signature sly smirk.

“Evening, Harry Potter and friends… Funny meeting you down here.”

“Now is not the time for games, hyung.” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief as Jinyoung’s voice echoes throughout the stone walls. Seconds later, he comes hustling down the staircase before shoving Jaebeom out of the way. The vampire then peers into the crypt, his gaze burning with the determination of a man at war. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No. We’re okay.” Lia steps forward. “If you’re here, I’m guessing Mark reached the wolf pack?”

“Your guess is correct.” Jinyoung nods, placing a hand against the invisible doorway. “My brother and I will do everything we can to help disarm the rogue, but I think it’d be best to free you all first.”

Youngjae joins the conversation. “I can take down the barrier spell, but I’ll need to draw energy from one of you to do so.”

“Let’s do this quickly then.” Jinyoung goes to roll up the sleeve of his white shirt, but is halted by his immortal companion. Surprise filters through Youngjae’s veins as Jaebeom shrugs the leather jacket from his shoulders with a huff:

“With my luck, he’ll drain you dry and I’ll have to deal with this voodoo fucker myself. I think it’s best we use my energy—sorry not sorry.”

“Alright, then.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll need you to push through the barrier just enough that I can touch you… It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”

“Good thing I’m a sadomasochist.” Jaebeom snickers at his brother’s unamused expression, “Too much?”

“Move your hand through that goddamn barrier before I throw you to the superwolf myself.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, but follows Jinyoung’s instructions and proceeds to force his limb past the invisible blockade. He remains silent, but Youngjae can spy the uncomfortable twitch of his eyebrow and the tension along his stone-cold features. Blood begins to bud along his knuckles like a patch of blooming roses before flowing down his pale skin the more he presses against the barrier.

The siphoner raises his hand in preparation. “Just a bit more.”

A mere couple seconds later, Youngjae feels Jaebeom’s bloody flesh brush against his own. The skin-to-skin contact is slight, but enough, allowing the hybrid’s energy to spread through his veins like wildfire. Youngjae almost cries in relief as the magic conquers his entire body—a new kind of hope sparking somewhere within his chest.

“Phasmatos Siprum… Emnis Abortum…” Youngjae murmurs, positioning both hands against the invisible wall. He feels it crumbling beneath his fingertips, unable to withstand the power flowing through his figure. “Fasila Quisa Exilum San… Fasila Quisa Exilum San…”

A proud grin stretches along his features as the barrier buckles, then completely shatters. With Lia and Jisung in tow, Youngjae beelines out of the crypt and into the stairwell where Jaebeom, who’s cleaning the crimson from his knuckles, and Jinyoung reside. The latter nods, which Youngjae is quick to return.

“‘Kay, they’re free… Now what?”

“Now we find Minho and end this once and for all.” Lia answers, not sparing the hybrid a glance as she dashes up the stairs. Youngjae and the rest of the group try to keep up with the female witch as best as they can, not faltering until they reach the surface. The cemetery is quiet when they emerge from the crypt, Youngjae notices—almost too quiet.

He takes a short moment to breathe in the fresh night air before turning to a tense Jinyoung, “I need to get close enough to siphon Minho’s magic to perform the counterspell. You think you and your brother can find me a way in?”

Jinyoung nods. “You can count on us.”

“Stay close…” Lia warns with a sigh, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard already knows we’re free—”

Lightning suddenly strikes a mere few feet from where Lia is standing, earning a chorus of screams and surprised gasps from the witch trio. Youngjae watches as Jinyoung speeds forward, grabbing Lia just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp by a second bolt. With Jisung at his side, Youngjae quickly takes shelter underneath the overhang of a nearby tomb as even more lightning bombards the earth. He surveys the area, searching for the perpetrator responsible for the weather abnormalities.

“Minho!...” Lia screeches from behind a large tree, her tone far less than friendly. “Quit being a fucking coward! Come out here and face us goddamnit!...”

Youngjae huddles closer to Jisung as the wind suddenly picks up, ripping at his hair and clothing like a vengeful spirit. He moves to speak to his younger companion, but his words die on his tongue as the subject of the hour waltzes into view. The heavy gusts don’t seem to affect him, though that’s no surprise since the wretched weather is his doing.

Minho smirks, “They say lightning never strikes one place twice… You must be really special then, Lia.”

“Oh fuck off! We’re tired of playing your stupid games!”

“This only ends one way, Minho—” Jinyoung says, cautiously moving from Lia’s side to approach the powerful witch. His steps, however, are halted by another vicious bolt of electricity. Youngjae attempts to make out Jaebeom’s form through the blurriness of his wind-induced tears, but the hybrid is nowhere to be found. “—so we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! The choice is yours!”

“Last I checked, this isn’t your fight, Prime.”

“It became my fight the moment you threatened my family and my friends!”

Minho snickers, “Trust me, I had every intention of ridding this town of you and your brother’s filth.”

“Was it also your intention to kill an innocent werewolf girl!?” Youngjae’s heart drops at the vampire’s following statement. “Son Chaeyoung is dead because of Changbin—because of you!”

“Every war has its casualties.”

“And what of Felix!? Will his death just be another trivial loss in your obsession for revenge!?”

This time, Youngjae notices the cockiness melt from Minho’s features into something akin to trepidation. The wailing of the wind picks up to a screech, nearly drowning out the dark-haired witch’s weak inquiry, “What are you talking about?”

“Felix was bitten… and is dying as we speak!” Jinyoung shakes his head frantically. “Do you believe he deserves this, Minho!? Do you believe Chaeyoung deserved to die!?... You can fix this—make this right!”

Minho remains silent, and for a moment, Youngjae wonders if the witch will actually come to his senses and call off this whole ordeal. But just as soon as it appeared, the pained look along his features transitions into something more sinister.

“We’re all gonna die someday, so what does it even fucking matter!?”

“Are you hearing yourself!?” Lia screams from behind a nearby tree, “Look what you’ve become, Minho! How would Nayeon see you right now!”

“Don’t bring her into this!” Minho’s hiss blends with the moans of the wind. Massive raindrops begin to pelt down against the earth, immediately soaking Youngjae to the bone. For the first time, he notices the dark witch’s position in relation to his own. Realistically, Youngjae can be at Minho’s side in mere milliseconds, before he has a chance to blink. If only he can get him to move a bit closer…

As if reading his thoughts, Jinyoung attempts to coax the witch another step forward.

“Please, Minho… I don’t wish to hurt you.”

The latter shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s too fucking bad that you think you can.”

Minho raises his hand, harshly forcing the vampire down against the muddy earth. Youngjae watches in horror as Jinyoung’s limbs begin to contort and rearrange against his own will—the sound of cracking bones and the vampire’s pained groans filling his ears like a haunting melody. He forces his gaze away from the gruesome sight and prepares to advance on the dark witch, but Jisung stops him with a hand to his shoulder:

“Not yet, hyung.”

“But Jinyoung—”

“Trust me.” His eyes are wide with determination—Youngjae can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Jisung so fierce. “I have a plan. Wait here until my signal.”

Though filled with confusion, Youngjae does as the young witch requests and stays in place while Jisung himself carefully maneuvers his way through gravestones and buildings, attempting to remain out of sight. A sudden burst of lightning cracks through the atmosphere, and at first, Youngjae fears Jisung has been caught, but quickly realizes Minho has his sights set on another party:

“I was wondering when you’d join the fun—I looked forward to tearing your bitch-ass apart.”

“I would say I’m flattered, but I rather like my ass.” Jaebeom saunters across a nearby rooftop. In the midst of the storm, he almost reminds Youngjae of a superhero—or more likely in his case, the psychotic supervillain. “Look, you’ve had your fun, kid. Now I suggest you release my brother and cut out all this petty-teenage bullshit before I break your body in places you never thought possible.”

“That’s it?... And here I thought you’d want the antidote?”

Jaebeom’s face darkens.

“...So there is a cure?”

“Of course. Every spell has its loophole.” Minho finally lowers his hand, ceasing the painful reconstruction of Jinyoung’s skeleton. Youngjae watches in confusion as the former retracts something from his pocket—some sort of vial, it seems—and offers it toward the hybrid. “The blood which Changbin drank to turn—it’ll heal anyone fallen victim to his bite.”

“You better hand that over before I rip your teeth from your skull.” Jaebeom growls darkly, hopping down from his overhead perch.

The witch shakes his head, “Not so fast, Mr. Wolf… See, there was only so much left—enough to heal one lucky soul.”

“You’re a sick fucking bastard,” Jaebeom spits. “You wanted this to happen—”

“Your little bloodsucking girlfriend is dying, isn’t she?” Minho tosses the vial toward the hybrid, who effortlessly catches it between two trembling fingers. “If you want to save her life, then I suggest you go before the venom does its job.”

“Jaebeom-hyung, don’t—!” Jinyoung gasps, slithering across the muddy earth like an earthworm lost to the world.

“You know she doesn’t have much time—”

“We can’t do this without you—we need you!... I need you, hyung!”

Jaebeom, staring at the tiny container in his grasp, doesn’t reply to his incapacitated companion. Youngjae curses the smirk that spreads across Minho’s face—a sign of victory—and attempts to spot Jisung and Lia somewhere between the ferocious raindrops. He has no such luck, and instead decides to pray for a miracle instead.

“If you hadn’t fucked around with the few people I care about, I might have actually liked you.” Jaebeom murmurs with a sigh before tucking the vial into his pocket and sending the dark witch a malicious sneer. “Well isn’t that too fucking bad.”

Youngjae leaps almost ten feet in the air as lightning strikes for what seems like the millionth time, although this time, it’s inches from where Minho is standing. After searching the area, Youngjae discovers Lia and Jisung across the way, hands clasped, eyes bright with passion, uttering some sort of offensive charm. Minho attempts to sprint in the opposite direction, but Jaebeom easily tackles the witch before he can get far.

“Now Youngjae-hyung! Do it now!”

At Jisung’s cue, Youngjae takes off into the rain. The bitter feel of Mother Nature’s tears against his skin quickens his movements, wanting nothing more then to end this hurricane, both literally and figuratively, once and for all. He reaches Minho in what seems like hours and hurries to grab his wrist—but just like the tides during a storm, the tables quickly turn.

At the wave of Minho’s hand, Jaebeom goes flying across the cemetery, crashing into a stone statue and collapsing into the resulting rumble. White-hot pain spreads through Youngjae’s veins like a poison, freezing his muscles and immobilizing his limbs from any further movement. He collapses to the ground, where mud immediately clings to his clothing.

Minho rises to his feet before stepping on Youngjae’s hand with a cackle, “Don’t you fuckers get it!? I’m untouchable! You can’t fucking win!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Minho…” Youngjae chuckles, curling his fingers around the tread of the dark witch’s boot. Minho realizes his mistake as soon as the former’s hand begins to glow, foolishly attempting to squirm from his touch.

Thunder roars in the distance as Youngjae grins in triumph:

“Because unlike you… we’re not alone.”

The last thing Youngjae sees before he loses consciousness is a flash of white and the bewildered face of the dark witch as he collapses beside him.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I take it Mark apologized?...” You nearly leap out of your own skin at the sudden inquiry. With a less than agitated frown, you turn to acknowledge the culprit for your almost heart attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear some of these supernaturals have powers of teleportation or something…

“Goddamnit, Dahyun. Not all of us have superwolf hearing.”

“Sorry, dearie. Force of habit.” The she-wolf offers an apologetic smile, moving forward to hook her arm with your own. She allows Yugyeom, Chan and Mark to gain a bit of distance ahead before repeating again, “So Mark…?”

“We both talked it out and apologized… so everything’s okay now.” You hum—the tiny fib leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Truthfully, your encounter with Mark left you conflicted. Of course, you’re more than glad he finally opened up about his past, and even more glad that he trusts you enough to reveal his lingering feelings of trauma, but there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room—one involving his dead best friend and the fact you can talk to him beyond the grave.

You should have told him then and there—right after you promised to abolish all secrets—but something inside you couldn’t do it… and you don’t know why.

“Why are you so interested in Mark and I’s relationship anyway?” You utilize your curiosity as a distraction from the guilt breathing down your neck, angling your neck to peer at Dahyun’s side profile. “Is there… history between you two?”

“No, no—nothing like that. Mark and I have just known each other since we were kids. Our moms were close friends, so Mark, Yugyeom and I pretty much grew up together.”

“He never told me that.”

“Don’t take it personal, sweetheart. Mark doesn’t like to talk about his past—” Dahyun sighs, “—too many bad memories between his dad and the bullshit that happened with his mom. He’ll come around eventually… he just needs more time.”

“I know his mom passed when he was a teenager, but Mark never actually mentioned how she died…” You bite your lip, sending a curious glance to your wolf companion. “It’s really not fair to ask you, but—”

“Mark found her in their own kitchen with her entire throat ripped open.” Dahyun’s blunt answer leaves your throat dry, unable to speak another word if you wanted to. “The sheriff ruled it as an animal attack, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what really happened.”

Your heart sinks, and you choose not to say anything further.

“Dahyun! (Y/N)! Don’t get too far behind!” Chan’s voice echoes from somewhere up ahead. With the black of night beginning to fade, you can just make out his, Yugyeom, and Mark’s silhouettes a couple dozen feet away. Dahyun gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before releasing your conjoined limbs to catch up with her packmates. You do the same, meeting an armed Mark about halfway.

His eyes glitter with concern underneath the fading starlight.

“Everything okay…?”

“Yeah, Dahyun and I were just catching up.” You inhale a deep breath before releasing it in an even heavier exhale. “But there is something I need to talk to you about—about Jackson and the whole resurrection thing.”

Mark shakes his head, “You have every right to make your own decisions, (Y/N), but I wish you and Youngjae would have come to me.”

“I know that, but it was more complicated than that—” You try to gather your thoughts while also attempting to make sense of your words. “I couldn’t tell you because, well—because Jackson told—”

“Mark-hyung! We’ve got an issue!” Yugyeom’s warning immediately cuts off your explanation. Mark shoots you an apologetic glance before hurrying the two of you forward to join the wolf trio. It only takes seconds for you to distinguish the cause of the beta’s distress.

A deer carcass lays precariously on the forest floor, and albeit it’s practically torn to shreds, you can just make out a single word carved into its bloody flesh:

Die.

“Shit—we need to go. Now.”

“We’ve already come this far. Chae should be around here somewhere.” Chan ignores Mark’s directive, stepping over the animal corpse to traverse further through the forest. He barely takes a step before the witch is grabbing his wrist. “Let me go, hyung.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Dahyun quietly hisses, “Listen.”

You try to do as the she-wolf says, but all that meets your ears is the combination of your own labored breathing and uneven pulse. Judging by the confused expression along Mark’s face, he’s probably dealing with the same situation.

“What is it?”

“We’re being watched.” Yugyeom answers Mark’s inquiry in a whisper. “Mark, you and (Y/N) need to find somewhere to hide right now—Chan, Dubu, get ready to fight—”

As soon as the command leaves Yugyeom’s lips, Mark takes you by the arm and drags you behind a broad tree trunk. You fish Jinyoung’s pocket knife from your pocket while Mark cocks his shotgun in preparation. Who knew the day would come that you’d actually be grateful for the presence of two dangerous weapons…

“If anything goes wrong—you run like hell, got it?”

You shake your head at Mark’s demand. “I’m not just going to leave you—”

“Yugyeom! Above you!” At Chan’s warning, you’re suddenly shoved to the ground by the witch, watching in horror as a deranged Changbin descends from the treetops onto the beta himself. His skin is a sickly ashen shade, and his black veins so prominent it would make a nurse weep. There’s no human emotion left inside his dark eyes as he strikes Yugyeom over and over again with his lengthy sharp talons, tearing open his skin like a birthday present—he’s a complete animal.

“Bin, stop!” Chan throws his arms around Changbin’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him from Yugyeom, winding a tight arm around his throat before thrusting a knee against his spine. “Think about what you’re doing!”

With Dahyun’s assistance, the two wolves manage to separate the dark wolf from that of Yugyeom’s wounded self. Even so, Changbin clearly does not appreciate being stolen away from his prey. He easily escapes from Chan’s hold, landing a couple heavy hits against the latter’s nose before shoving him to the ground. Dahyun takes the moment to strike, bringing the dark wolf to kneel with a harsh kick to his knee, but the action does minimal damage. Changbin punts the she-wolf a dozen feet away as if she weighs nothing. You wince as Dahyun connects with a nearby tree trunk with a vocal thud before dropping to the ground with no movements of rejoining the fight.

“Shit…” You curse to yourself, “They won’t be able to take him down by themselves—he’s too fucking strong.”

“Watch your ears.” You notice Mark aiming his gun toward the dark wolf, waiting for an opportunity with his finger on the trigger. At his discretion, you cover your ears just in time for him to fire a first and second shot. A ferocious growl echoes through the trees, spreading goosebumps across your flesh like wildfire.

You watch both Chan and Yugyeom take advantage of Changbin’s distraction. The alpha delivers a swift, yet heavy hit against his wounded shoulder while the beta goes for his legs. Similar to Dahyun, they manage to pin Changbin to the forest floor. For a moment, you almost believe the fight has concluded in your team’s favor—but the tides shift. In the blink of an eye, Chan is impaled with a large jagged branch and sent tumbling into some foliage whereas Yugyeom is dealt punch after strike after kick, unable to escape the barrage of Changbin’s wrath. He eventually, like the former two, collapses to the earth and makes no move to rise.

Changbin cracks his neck before stalking toward where you and your companion stand.

“Mark—”

“I got it!” Mark quickly feeds another couple shells into the shotgun barrel, cocks the weapon, then aims down sight. He manages to sink a bullet into your target’s abdomen, followed by another in his bicep, but Changbin merely releases an annoyed snarl and continues charging forward.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—(Y/N), move!” You leap out of the way just in time to avoid a powerful strike. Changbin’s hand splinters the trunk of the tree, sending pieces of bark in every direction. A particular shard catches the bridge of your nose, causing blood to warmly cascade down your skin. You quickly wipe the liquid from your right eye, ignoring the nausea fluttering inside your gut, before focusing back on the situation at hand.

You look up in time to watch Mark swing his shotgun harshly against Changbin’s skull. Taking advantage of his disorientation, you rush forward to stab your pocket knife into the wolf’s back. Changbin practically roars in fury, angling backward to land a hit to your face before you have time to react. The force of his strike throws you to the ground, a sharp pain lingering in your left cheek.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Mark throws himself against Changbin, delivering hit after hit to anything and anywhere. Still, Mark’s human strength does little to outbeat the dark wolf, and you watch in horror as Changbin effortlessly pins the witch against his chest with a bloody hand around his throat. You desperately search for something, anything, in hopes of saving Mark from whatever deadly fate awaits Changbin’s bloodlust, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.

“Changbin—please don’t do this!” You cry, praying to some type of deity that the wolf is sane enough to understand your words. Even so, your confidence is low, seeing as talking clearly had no effect during your last encounter, but you’re fresh out of options at this point. “You know this isn’t who you are!”

To your surprise, Changbin actually answers, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not, but I know you don’t actually want to hurt anyone…” You cautiously rise to your feet with a shake of your head, wary of the tight hold Changbin currently has on Mark’s jugular. “Your thoughts are all sorts of fucked up right now because of the dark magic, so why don’t you just let Mark go and we can—”

“Don’t you fucking get it! This fucker—” He yanks at Mark with more force than necessary, “—took everything from me! He took my pack, my alpha—the only people I ever felt safe with!”

“I understand you—”

“No, you don’t!” Changbin wails, “You can’t even imagine how I feel! How fucking hard it is to wake up in a world you know you’ll never belong! How much it fucking hurts just to go on and pretend like everything’s normal when it’s fucking not!”

“Tell him it’s okay to feel angry—” You whirl your head around to find a seemingly exhausted, yet wild-eyed Jackson Wang at your side. “—but none of this was Mark’s fault.”

You’re mortified at first, having never encountered the ghost anywhere outside your bedroom—but whether it’s the desperation etched along his features, or the flush of purple that overtakes Mark’s complexion—you quickly transfer back to reality:

“Changbin, it’s perfectly normal to feel angry and cheated, but this wasn’t Mark’s fault—deep down, I think you know that.”

“What does it fucking matter anymore? I’m all alone anyways.” The pure agony etched along his face has your heart splitting in two.

You’ve never seen a creature so strong and so powerful look so… vulnerable.

“You said the exact same thing to me when we first met…” Jackson murmurs softly.

“You told Jackson you were alone at one point too…”

An obvious wave of tense silence washes through the forest, making the beat of your heart that much more prominent in your ears.

Changbin’s whisper is dark—dangerous. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because… Because he’s here, Changbin.” You say, your eyes meeting Mark’s as the words leave your tongue. “You’re not alone because Jackson is still here.”

You don’t know what kind of reaction you expected from your revelation, but it certainly is not the heinous laughter that spills from the dark wolf’s lips.

“You must have lost your goddamn mind… Jackson-hyung is dead!”

“Maybe physically, but his spirit still remains.”

“You mean—” You turn to discover a bewildered Yugyeom unsteadily leaning against a tree, “—his… ghost? You—You can see his ghost?”

You nod.

Changbin sneers with a low growl. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“There’s a cliffside back along the bay about twenty miles from the lodge,” Jackson begins, his tone a blend of nostalgic and sorrowful. “Changbin and I used to go there to watch the full moon rise before we turned into our wolf forms… I-I’ve missed that so much…”

“You and Jackson would always watch the full moon rise on a cliff overlooking the bay before you transitioned,” You repeat. “He says he misses those moments with you…”

“Stop it!” Changbin frantically shakes his head, “You’re lying!”

“He’s here, Changbin… He’s really here.” You move forward again, more confidently this time, and raise your hands in a sympathetic gesture. “And the last thing he wants is for you to make the same mistakes he did, so please—let Mark go and let us help you…”

It’s as if time freezes for a moment. Changbin seems to fight a battle with himself—countless emotions rushing through his teary eyes. You watch the dark wolf glance toward an unconscious Dahyun and Chan, then to a silent Yugyeom, before finally setting his focus back to you. You can only pray your face reflects the hope swirling throughout your veins—pray that Changbin will do the right thing.

To your delight, the blackness of his veins gradually begin to fade and the sharp claws protruding from his fingertips recede. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Changbin finally retracts his hold from Mark’s neck. You’re quick to take the unsteady witch in your own arms before sending the now normal wolf a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Changbin…”

He nods shyly before wiping a couple tears from his cheeks. You watch as Yugyeom cautiously makes his way toward the younger boy, murmurs something, then tugs the latter into a tight embrace that pulls even more liquid sadness from his eyes. The sight has your heart melting into a puddle of warmth—the emotion doesn’t last though, not when Mark’s dark croak enters your ears:

“You… can see Jackson…”

You shrug sheepishly, “I wanted to tell you, but he said not to… He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.”

Mark remains silent. You try to search for his features for some kind of anger or disappointment, but are only awarded with his surface level blank stare. Worry flooding through your veins, you look to Jackson for any possible guidance, but the ghost merely shakes his head.

After a couple tense seconds or so, Mark finally murmurs, “Jack… I—I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jackson says immediately, “If only I had listened to you, then maybe things would have played out different.”

“He says it wasn’t your fault—he should have listened to you.”

“We both made some pretty shitty mistakes.” Mark hums, “I miss you, man. So fucking much.”

You don’t wait for Jackson to reply, already knowing his answer.

“He misses you too, Mark. Just as much.”

“How is this even possible…?” You and Mark turn to find the shocked gaze of Yugyeom, who is closely followed by the despair of that belonging to Changbin. “Supernaturals can’t even see spirits, much less mortals…”

“We never exactly figured that out. Jackson said he felt drawn to me from the Other Side—he kind of just showed up in my bedroom the night after Mina and Momo died.”

“Any contact with the dead usually requires some sort of spell or medium.” Mark bites his lip in confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in any of my mother’s grimoires—”

“Jackson!” Your body grows rigid as Jackson suddenly collapses to the ground with a pained groan. You hurry forward, kneeling next to the man, and reach for his shoulder. The realization of his phantom existence hits you like a bag of bricks when your fingers phase through his form. You settle for calling his name again instead, “Jackson—what’s wrong?”

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Changbin stress from somewhere behind you, but your focus is completely on the ghost in question.

Jackson lifts his head with a gasp, revealing a line of blood dripping from his nose. “I-It’s the witches!... They know about our plans—they’re trying to force me back to the Other Side—”

“(Y/N)?”

You shake your head feverishly, “It’s, uh, it’s the witches on the Other Side—they don’t like Jackson crossing over, so they’re trying to bring him back…”

Mark nods. “Witches, dead or alive, will do anything to maintain the balance of nature.”

“(Y/N)—shit—I don’t have a lot of time—” Your chest tightens at the urgency behind Jackson’s words. “I know so much just went down, but—”

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t let you disappear again.” You affirm before climbing to your feet to face your new subject of interest. “Mark—I need you to perform the resurrection spell.”

“Woah, wait—” Mark shakes his head, “(Y/N), I can’ t—”

“If we don’t resurrect him now, then Jackson is gone forever!” Your warning spreads a new tension across the atmosphere, manifesting in the form of sullen and panicked expressions. “Please, Mark—we have a chance to bring him back!”

“I can’t do the spell because I don’t have any magic…” Your heart sinks at Mark’s revelation. “Minho absorbed all my magical energy back at the graveyard… I’m so sorry, Jackson…”

“Hold on, you told me that there’s different types of magic…” You push, “Can’t you draw energy from something? Like the forest, or the moon, or, or—”

“Or me.” You turn, discovering the speaker of the response to be none other than a determined Changbin. “Minho-hyung’s spell may be gone, but I can still feel the magical energy lingering through my body.”

Mark hesitates, “I-I don’t know if it will work… and if something goes wrong—”

“Do you want Jackson-hyung back or not?...”

A moment of silence passes after Changbin’s question. You keep an eye on a repeatedly wincing Jackson, and the other on the witch’s face, attempting to decipher his thoughts inside the glow of his gaze. For a moment, you wonder if Mark will even provide an answer, until the words finally leave his lips:

“Fuck the balance of nature. I’ll bring you back, Jackson—I promise.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung stares at the sun as it gradually rises past the horizon, bathing his skin in a warm, celebratory light. His gaze wavers across the cemetery to the notorious mausoleum, where he watches Lia and Jisung carefully assist a barely conscious Youngjae past the doorway. After this crazy night, the siphoner definitely deserves a good, long rest. Then again, so does everyone else.

He releases a heavy sigh before shifting away from the witch trio. After sparing one final glance to the sunrise, Jinyoung allows his feet to carry him through the early morning glow, past countless tombstones and other structures, and settles beside a second figure in front of a particular burial site. He silently reads the engravings along the headstone before addressing his companion without so much as a glimpse:

“I assumed you would be halfway back to the bunker by now.”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, not that Jinyoung really expects him to. He peers at the hybrid through the corner of his eye, attempting to seek meaning beyond his blank features. Centuries later, Jinyoung still can’t predict the workings of Jaebeom’s inner thoughts. Especially when it comes to the situation at hand.

“Mark called. Changbin is no longer affected by Minho’s spell.” He explains, “They’re also preparing a ritual to resurrect Jackson Wang—”

“Tzuyu…?”

Jinyoung’s chest tightens as the name falls from Jaebeom’s lips.

“Their youngest, Ryujin, is looking after both her and Felix.”

“So she’s still alive…?”

“It seems so.”

A brief moment of silence passes between the pair. The earth grows brighter and brighter as the seconds roll by, reminding Jinyoung that time is a friend to no one.

“Hyung, did you… truly switch off your humanity?”

“I did, at first.” Jaebeom’s answer is quiet, and Jinyoung can detect the subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff tone. “But I guess I can never completely turn it off.”

“It’s alright to feel, hyung—be it anger… or passion… or fear…”

Jinyoung notices Jaebeom shift uncomfortably before glancing down at the glass vial in the palm of his hand. For once, he can actually distinguish the emotions present within the hybrid’s dark eyes. The knowledge only jabs at his heart.

“Everything is taken care of, right?”

“The night has ended, and Minho is safely sealed away in the crypt.” Jinyoung nods, “We live to see another day.”

He watches his companion tuck the precious vial into the pocket of his jeans before turning away from the headstone. Jinyoung is not sure where the urge comes from, but he abandons his perch, grabbing Jaebeom’s shoulder before he can leave the cemetery. He ignores the hybrid’s confused expression and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for staying, hyung…” Jinyoung’s murmur is slightly muffled against the fabric of his jacket, but he knows his companion heard them loud and clear.

Jaebeom hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the sudden act, but eventually winds his arms loosely around Jinyoung’s back with a gentle murmur of his own:

“You will always be my family, Jinyoung… Always and forever…”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I’ve never used magic like this before, so I can’t promise this will work.” Mark glances to where he assumes Jackson’s spirit is located inside the white circle makeshifted out of a bag of flour Dahyun managed to find in a bunker cabinet, before glancing to the companion at his side. “You sure you’re up for this? It’ll feel like I’m literally sucking the life force out of your body…”

Changbin nods, “If it means bringing Jackson-hyung back.”

“Okay, then.” Mark turns to the surrounding crowd next, “In order to do this, I’ll need to lower the veil to the Other Side. This will create a temporary door that Jackson can pass through to physically enter our realm. Once he crosses over, he should become mortal again.”

“Seems easy enough.” Dahyun snickers, although the sound is dry and forced. “Anything else we need to know?”

“Whatever happens, do not enter the circle.” His eyes drift from the she-wolf to your silent form. As if sensing the scrutiny, your gaze connects with his own, and knowing he has your attention, Mark continues in a darker tone, “Just as spirits can pass into our realm, we can cross to the Other Side… so for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid.”

Your and Mark’s staring contest ceases when your head snapes toward the circle. Seconds later, you break the tense silence with a soft murmur, “Jackson says it’s getting worse. He can feel the witches trying to drag him back.”

“Then I guess that’s our cue.” He sighs before nodding toward the circle one last time, “I’m gonna do my best, Jack. Just hold on.”

With one final glance to the grimoire you gave him earlier, Mark inhales a deep breath and takes Changbin’s outstretched hand into his own. He closes his eyes, focusing every part of his brain on the electrifying sensation of the magical energy coursing through the wolf’s body. Bit by bit, he feels Changbin’s power bleeding into his own veins, awakening the slumbering supernatural nature of his soul. Once he’s sure enough he’s acquired enough magic, Mark opens his eyes and begins the incantation:

“Vita mortem, mortem vita est… Partis inferioris velum, partis inferioris ante illum vetum…” Almost instantly, the wind picks up while the air grows uncomfortably cold. He ignores the violent shivers wracking through his limbs and proceeds to repeat the words as the temperature continues to drop. With each spoken syllable, Mark’s head becomes dizzy and his flesh feels as if it’s being scorched off, but he continues.

No amount of pain could ever dull the hope of seeing his best friend alive once more.

“Holy shit—it’s actually working!”

Mark doesn’t realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them, nearly yelping in delight when he discovers the image of said friend standing in the center of the white circle. Jackson looks no different than the day he last saw him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh out of irony or burst into tears.

“The veil is down! I’m gonna start the spell to cross you over!” Mark yells over the howling of the wind, clutching Changbin’s hand tighter as he transitions to the next phase of the spell. “Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet ohnaz eespalit… Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet—fuck!”

A brutal force comes down against his head, almost resembling that of a punch, before spreading hot fire down his neck and to the rest of his body. Mark doubles over with a wheeze, attempting to fight against the painful sensations by grounding himself in Changbin’s touch. However, as soon as the first wave concludes, a second, even more excruciating one follows. He feels as if someone is trying to crush his brain—to kill him from the inside out.

“Mark-hyung! What’s wrong!?”

“It’s the witches!...” Mark is thankful that Jackson answers Yugyeom’s panicked inquiry, “They’re trying to break the spell!”

“Like… hell they will…” Mark hisses, righting himself with a pained groan before grabbing Changbin’s other hand. “I’m not going down without a fight—hold on!...”

He jumps back into the spell, weakening the manipulated pain through the absorption of more of the wolf’s energy. Borderline high off the power, he pushes everything he has into the ritual, determined to see it through to the end. After a minute that passes like a decade, Mark detects a shift in the atmosphere, indicating the near completion of the spell, and shouts:

“Jackson—get out of the circle! Get out now!”

As if in slow motion, Mark watches Jackson quickly move to escape the white border. But just as soon as his toe brushes the edge, he is wrenched away and lifted from the ground.

Dahyun cries, “What the hell is happening!?”

“They won’t let me cross over!” Jackson squirms and writhes, attempting to escape whatever invisible grip is holding him hostage. His efforts are futile, and he continues to rise higher and higher off of the ground.

“Hang on, Jack!” Mark releases Changbin’s hands and raises his own palms in Jackson’s direction. However, the same torturous pain from before returns once more, hitting his nerves like a sledgehammer to a brick wall, and throws him to the earth. “Shit—no! H-He has to pass through the circle!”

“(Y/N)! Don’t!”

Mark raises his gaze at Dahyun’s shriek, only to watch in horror as you rush past the flour boundary and grab hold of Jackson’s hand. A blinding light immediately erupts from your clasped palms, expanding through the area until all Mark can see is white.

After a long moment, his vision eventually returns, and he finds the forest completely silent. The temperature is no longer frigid, he notices, and the strain within his brain is gone. For a moment, Mark is filled with prowess, victorious at the fact he successfully carried out an ancient resurrection ritual, however, his triumph is temporary, especially when he notices your form laid motionless in Dahyun’s arms.

“(Y/N)—fuck!” Mark hurries to where you lay, stealing your figure from the she-wolf to cradle you in his own hold. “Shit, shit, shit—she’s not breathing! Fucking goddamnit!”

His panic only grows tenfold when he hears the murmur cascade from Dahyun’s lips:

“Mark… where’s Jackson?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jaebeom scales the final rung of the ladder before making his way toward the corner where the snoozing trio resides. He moves cautiously, mindful not to awaken the young werewolf caretaker, yet eventually finds himself perched on the edge of a familiar cot. His heart thunders inside his chest, and he cannot tell if it’s out of anxiety or hope. Though at this moment, Jaebeom can really care less to find out.

“It’s about time you showed up…” He winces at the broken husk of his companion’s voice, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you were actually going to leave me to die in the hands of a neurotic teenage wolf…”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond to her quip—he can’t find it in himself to do so.

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow, “What’s with the face? Did you take down the witch or not?”

“We did.” He hums, “The spell is broken.”

“Good thing—” The vampire pauses to cough, and the sound is like broken glass against his ears. “—you and your brother are safe for the eternity to come.”

“Tzuyu… I found the cure.”

“What are you waiting for then? My consent?” She snickers playfully, “We fuck for over a century and this is the most gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen from you, Beomie.”

Again, Jaebeom remains silent.

Recognizing the obvious tension in the room, Tzuyu’s face falls. “But… I guess it’s more complicated than that, hm?”

“There’s only enough for…” He’s unable to finish his sentence, not when his companion’s eyes are gazing at him with such sullenness and sympathy. Jaebeom has to look away for a moment, though the action does little to relieve the tightness of his chest.

“Ah, I see.” Tzuyu hums, glancing across the way to a slumbering Felix. Her pale lips twitch, as if attempting to upturn to a smile, but it instead appears as a weak grimace. “You know, I really never meant to hurt (Y/N)… or you.”

“Tzuyu—”

“I’ve known you for decades… but I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Another violent cough wracks through her body, expelling a mass of dark blood past her lips. Jaebeom is quick to wipe the splotch from her skin with the blanket, trying not to dwell on the fact that her skin is ice cold. “I’ll admit, I was jealous at first… I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like that…

“I know you’re afraid to care—to love, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu murmurs sadly, lifting a hand to rest against the hybrid’s cheek. “Especially someone like (Y/N)… and you’re right to. She’s too good… too human.

“One misstep and you could lose her forever.”

“I want to be selfish…” Jaebeom whispers, “I want to be selfish so fucking bad—”

“But you can’t be, Beom. Not with her.”

“Then let me be selfish with you.”

Tzuyu smiles.

“I’ve lived over three lifetimes, and he is barely a ways into his one—so you’re going to give the cure to that damn kid, Im Jaebeom.” He leans further into her touch as she caresses the apple of his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from her—to keep her safe?”

He nods.

“Good… Can you hold me for a moment? I’m cold.”

“I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

And so Jaebeom takes Tzuyu into his arms. However, it’s not until the vampire grows still does he allow a single tear to cascade from his eye, staining the bloodied bed sheets with the agony of a heart that has been broken too many times to count.

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Perception is Key

Part Two to Hell on Earth

avengers x reader

series masterlist

masterlist

Summary; dread is all you feel as you take up temporary residence in New Asgard. Something big is coming, and you are not the only one that can feel it, but despite that, Thor tries to make you feel safe in his rebuilt kingdom, though all you see is it falling before your knees

Warnings; mentions of death, angst, secrecy

divider by @firefly-graphics

Death, it was a certain doom for all living mechanisms, even Asgard had been demolished by its inevitable demise. Yet here you were, nursing an off handed bottle of ale that came from the gods, whilst you breathed in the salt scent that regarded from the ocean that crashed by. New Asgard, the home of Thor and his brothers in arms, whilst his real sibling was killed by Thanos. It was a shame to see the brave deity in mourning, however, there was nothing that you could do about it. Nothing.

The concept of the end came to all, it was a daunting curse that teased its victims, and pried them into sculpting their own fears of it. But for all the people in the galaxy knew, death could be peaceful; you liked to think that you were the same. A wound cog that did not work for their purpose, a villain that could do some good. And whilst you had never threatened the end of the world, your hereditary abilities sure as hell did. It was another danger to humans and more, thus making you one in regard.

Killing was a route that you didn’t want to take, it was dark, and there was no way back for redemption. Murderers and the bad guys, if they wanted penance, would spend their whole lives trying to make amends for what they did, in exchange for a forgiveness that they would never be granted. And if you did such a thing, as regretting causing exhibitions of death, your father would send for you from the underworld, and have you dragged back down to his bleak halls.

Those heroes would rise, as the ones that you came to know and befriend were brought to bottomless pits of service for Hades, suffering for all eternity as they knelt before the god whom ruled hell. Mother could only prey that he would give up his display of the deceased, he used them like puppets, and it was not a friendly scenic for the next batch of Demi gods that they were planning. You were brilliantly strong, but they would be stronger, as not only would they have the army of warriors behind them, they would be invincible.

Their carriageway into ironic new life, was affecting to you, you could feel it as their existence seared through your veins. There was a war coming, and it was going to be a blood bath, there would be bodies littered on all the planets as they respected their appetites, and they would come for you. It wasn’t silly for you to fear them, they had been around before, it was a rebirth for the ages, a damning revolution that would drain all the breathing from the lungs of species, flushing their external beings into whisperings of blistered remains.

Zagreus and Macaria were coming, pursuing the punishment that was deemed worthy for your scoundrel self, you were nothing more than another revamped version of yourself, raised from the ashes, and taking your overdue time to age. You were supposed to be the cause for the world’s destruction, but they, they would tear every atom down piece by piece, because you were unable to complete your mission of birthright.

Humans, nor other vessels of aspiring and mundane inventions, had the impact of defence to protect themselves from more dominant species. They were simply specks with heart beats in the universe, thumping in their chests as they strived to usher their own planet under the hypocrisy of a dying climate.

“Heimdall once said that Hades had a vision, and he, a seer of all people, couldn’t see how far his faction of thought went. There was no end with his quarrel with the nattering of life, instead, it was competently endless, going on for light years upon light years, straggling the gods into the grand demise. To put it into other words, you are his vision.”

“Well I’m not sure that our Vision back at the compound would be too pleased if I coined his name.” But all joking aside, the air shifted every time that you brought lightness to your words. Continuing, you spoke to Thor, whom had brought you to his evolved demeanour of his homeland, and stole you from the consequences of the violent struggle that you had instinctively conquests upon James Buchanan Barnes. “However, on a more serious note, you are aware of my origin, and the truths that Hades is my father. You know of why he crafted me, but there will be a greater shadow than my foresworn self, and the others need to know of this oncoming riot.”

“We shall tell them, but first; eat.” The god of thunder intended for you to follow through with his kind hearted order, though a heated rumble shook the core of the earth, the energy trembling up your legs. They had been born, sooner than anticipated, and much closer to your break from the ruckus than you had wanted.

“I am not sure we have the time, you felt that cause of apocalyptic foreshadowing, I can tell by the fearful promise on your face. My father will not rest until he has me, a weapon in his hold returned, and to do so, he will tear apart this family, in literal terms, so that I can return to my biological home.”

“Eat.” Thor spoke once more, gulping down the terror that graced his long spanned veins. “If there is to be a fight on earth for the ages, destruction raining down on midguard, then you will need your strength. There is no need to deprive yourself of basic necessities, young warrior.”

Accepting the small loaf from his hand, you watched as the crumbs fled a trail through your palm. Even you appetite was frolicking trauma upon bacteria that swayed in the depths of the bread; the gathered yeast feared you, much like you feared yourself. “I’m going to have to return to the compound, as much as I hate to do so after what I had done, they have to know. And throughout our excursion of informative speech, then they shall have to know of my dreaded secret.”

But what if they already knew?

“A weapon like that...” Steve shook his head as he threw the classified papers onto the desk space he had reserved for his affiliated research. “We have to protect the earth, and if we have to do so from her, then we will have to stretch to any means necessary.” The captain gulped, not pleased as he divulged deeper into this situation with his friend.

Bucky remained shocked from the fleeting threats that had deranged from your form; it was like a curse adorned you, but it turned out, it was just you. Nothing had made you this way, instead, you were born a vigil monster, a daughter of a fraternising god.

“The daughter of Hades... I miss the old days where we believed in one god, and went to church every Sunday morning.” He wasn’t have supposed to have heard Barnes talking, but the figure did as he pressed himself against the wall, his hearing inclined to listen to more.

Peter’s eyes bulged as he was silently affirmed with the truth. He had a web stringing each digression together as he thought of your independence that you had been determined to keep. They were going to tell everyone, swaying their opinions from what they knew, rather than what they did not.

But that made you a legend, a mortal infliction of ancient religion; there must have been more to know. He had to be silent to ensure he didn’t trigger an alert to the super soldier’s enhanced hearing, as the boy that was pursed with a spider bite slipped away, portraying his fawning portrayal of being a vigilante.

His assumed destination that his quiet feet were carrying him too was the library. There’d surely be something useful in the walls of filled shelves, and if there wasn’t, then the internet was a useful friend. As he entered the subjective room for required reading, he saw the Falcon himself, Sam Wilson, seated at a small and solitary table.

Perhaps... no, it’d be wrong to turn him against his close friends... but possibly what was necessary. Peter allowed his doe eyes to scan the various sections. Mythology. Though, all avengers knew that there was some truth to every realistic evolution of belief, though it was usually only a little. But maybe, in your case, there would be more.

Tony had told him there had been an incident, and Peter had believed that Mr Stark was concealing a devise of perception from the rest of the aligned team. It was certainly wrong for him to delve against the ruin of the circumstances, but he was eager to do anyways. Whatever happened must’ve been lined coursing seriousness, and he was afflicted with firm interest to find out what.

Ah, he found something. Adjoined with the abilities he knew that you were capable of, he knew it must have been in regards to you, it just made sense. The spine spoke with integrity, daring anyone to read the biblical novel of fumed remark that raised hell on Earth.

The goddess of invoked, bringer of nightmares and madness, Melinoë.

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conaionaru · 3 years

Text

Honor and Blood (IVAR THE BONELESS)

Sound of war

Synopsis: Vanya comes to a realisation and challages Lagertha (again), while the Ragnarssons make plan for revenge.

Warnings: theorizing, poisons, badass Vanya, mentions of violence

Tags:

@xbellaxcarolinax @queenbeeta @thereareendlessopportunities @chynagirl13 @astridbaby @heavenly1927 @buckysjuicyplums @youbloodymadgenius @didiintheblog @lol-haha-joke @shannygoatgruff @xvxcarolinexvx @justbecausewecan @lovemesomevesey

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

"I love your father with all my heart, Aros," Vanya whispered to the young Ivarsson in her arms. The toddler giggled at her tired tone and drolled over his fist. "But he can be tiring at times."

Aros giggled once more as his mother marched away from the hut where Sigurd and Ivar were fighting once again. The Ragnarssons were getting stir crazy, and if they don't stop, she might just go grey. What a joke that would be? Grey before twenty.

"I could hit them over the head. Knock them out and enjoy the quiet." Hoenir's gruff voice spoke from behind her as he grumpily glared at the ground. The princes fights keep interrupting him in his much-needed naps to gain back strength.

Vanya snorted and looked at him over her shoulder. "Don't tempt me, Hoenir." The tall Seer chuckled at her halfhearted response.

The plan for today was pretty easy. Gather resources and give them to the people. "Lagertha might see as a threat."

"She sees threats everywhere. I am helping hard-working people in a way that I am more skilled in. I never held a shovel."

"What do you royals do the whole day?"

Vanya smirked and looked at him innocently. "Drink and gossip, of course. Sometimes people get poisoned at dinner."

Hoenir shook his head and looked down at the smaller female. It was cowardly to hide behind poison, especially for a man. Poisons and herbs were woman's work. Speaking of... "Do you know how to poison someone?"

The ginger shook her head and fixed her hold on the giggling toddler. "I would never. It's not a pretty sight to see. I was taught how to do it, but..."

She let the words hang in the air. Not every poison was messy; some were more subtle and untraceable. Sometimes it looked like the person died in their sleep. Like Osmond did... Vanya froze in her step at the realization.

Osmond died after suffering for a long time. Some poisons can have the same effect... But who would do that? Mother? Silas? No, he wouldn't stoop so low. Waiting was more of his thing; without Stithulf, he wouldn't have even gone against Vanya.

But Siflæd was a cunning and ambitious woman. And the years she spent neglected by Osmond made her bolder. After he died, she was allowed to be somewhat happy. In the end, she got everything she wanted from his death. Expect a good new king. Instead, she got Silas.

But would she go that far and poison her own husband? After all, Siflead was schooled in poisons just like Vanya was...

"Are you alright?" Hoenir asked once again, shaking Vanya from her spiral.

She shook her head and smiled at the Seer. "Yeah... I just got lost in my thoughts. Let's got find Brynja and the thralls. We've got work to do."

Vanya walked among the people digging trenches, distributing food from a wooden basket. Hoenir and Brynja walked behind her, the older redhead holding Aros in her arms. Her red curls made him squeal in delight as he tugged at them, to Brynja's great displeasure.

"Here, have some bread." She smiled at the villager who took the loaf with a smile and split it with the woman digging next to him. She was pregnant and looked exhausted. "Hallr!"

The male thrall walked up next to her, ready to do as she asked. "Dig in the woman's place or a while. She looks like she is in desperate need of a break.

"No, Princess!"

"Nonsense! You are pregnant. The baby will thank you." She smiled and watched the man help her sit down to regain some strength, Hallr digging in her place.

Vanya continued, that's till she saw Ubbe in front of her. He was talking to Lagertha. The redhead carried on handing out bread and water till she reached the new Queen that watched Ubbe with hard eyes. Astrid and Torvi stiffened when they saw Hoenir approach behind her.

"Vanya." Lagertha smiled, making the girl's skin crawl. The fake niceness made her wary of the shieldmaiden.

"Bread and water to help you all in your efforts to protect Kattegat." Vanya ignored the greeting and handed her the bread.

"That is very thoughtful of you, Vanya. No wonder I only heard good things about you. It was hard to believe when we got off on the wrong foot."

Vanya laughed the jab off and shook her head, the smile on her lips fake and bittersweet. "I heard great things about you once upon a time too. No matter what kind of person you are, this is a good idea. The walls, I mean."

Lagertha smiled proudly, her back straightening at the praise. "It is nice, we agree. I wish we could better our relationship. If you need help with your son." Her blue eyes trailed to the happy toddler in the back. "I would be happy to give you advice."

Vanya smiled broadly at the Queen, putting her at ease for a moment or two. "I can assure you I learned a lot from Aslaug." The smile turned sour as she glared at Lagertha. "Before you murdered her in cold blood."

Vanya turned on her heel and slammed the wooden basket against Ubbe's chest. "I suppose you are done with her too. Come." She marched off, leaving the three shieldmaidens behind. Torvi tried to stop her and frowned.

"Vanya, please."

The princess shook her head and motioned towards Hoenir, who already had his sword ready. "I hope Asa and Hali are alright and healthy." With that, she marched off.

After a nice relaxing bath, Vanya planned to visit Ivar in the forge and spend some time with him while Aros slept. Hoenir, of course, followed her around like a tall, brooding shadow.

One would think that Vanya would have gotten used to the brother's bickering and fights over the year of marriage. What wishful thinking that was.

Ivar glared at Sigurd; his axe stopped mid hack by the blacksmith. "What in Odin's name are you two doing?!" She hissed, drawing the axe from her husband's hands.

"Talking," Ivar replied coldly, watching his wife frown at him in dissapointment. And here, she thought she would be the only one to commit fratricide. At this rate, there would be only four Ragnarssons.

"Whoever would have thought that you two were brothers?" The blacksmith's words snapped the brothers from their trance. Sigurd marched off while Ivar sat there brooding and sulking at the same time.

Vanya sighed at their antics and turned on her heel to follow the angry Sigurd. "I do not need a scolding, Vanya! Control your husband."

The redhead huffed and tugged on Sigurd's wrist. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a frown as she glared him down. "I shall put a leash on the both of you! Why can't you just get along for once? Especially now. I know you care for him."

The Ragnarsson rolled his eyes and huffed in his dramatic way. Hoenir stayed behind with Ivar, figuring that Vanya would return when she was finished with Sigurd.

The taller male looked down at Vanya and saw the axe still in her hand. With a tired sigh, he reached towards the weapon to take it away from her. But Vanya pulled her hand back and huffed in frustration.

"Tell me." She insisted.

"I tried to be civil. But Ivar wouldn't take no for an answer. So I lashed out." Gods, why must men be so feral? Why can't they just give each other the cold shoulder and be done with it?

"What did he say?"

"Shouldn't you be more interested in what I said? Protecting your husband's honor and all? You have been doing that a lot lately. Playing guard dog doesn't suit you, Sister."

Vanya rolled her eyes at his harsh remark. "Ivar's honor doesn't need protecting. He is capable of doing that himself, obviously. What I want to do is defuse the situation before we have to bury you too."

"It was about Mother." Aaah. Well, that explains it. "He doesn't like that don't mourn her. She ignored all of us. She raised Ubbe and Hvitserk just fine, giving them happy childhoods. All I had was a year with her and Father. And then Ivar came along. And that cripple was all she cared about. Ubbe raised me more than she did."

Vanya's eyes softened, and she released her grip on his wrist. "I get why you are angry. And why revenge doesn't interest you-"

"Why should it?! Father abandoned us all. The people and his family. All Mother had was the memory of Harbard, duties, alcohol, and Ivar. I don't see the need to avenge either of them. You and Ivar both see her as some perfect image. Even Ubbe thinks her a mediocre mother. I am the only one not blinded by lies!"

He seethed, the snake eye looking like it was pulsating. The redhead watched him with sad eyes. "Just because I loved Aslaug as a mother doesn't mean that I don't get what you are feeling."

Their eyes met, and Sigurd shook his head, a confused look on his face. "You mourn her. You want revenge for her."

"For Aslaug, yes. Because she was nice to me. But if it were my mother..." She let the words hang in the air, Sigurd understanding what she wanted to say. "But this isn't just about revenge or parents. I worry for you."

"I am fine."

Vanya scoffed and pointed the axe at him. "Because the blacksmith stopped the axe from slicing your throat! What if he wasn't there? You two fight like dogs, and how long before one of you dies, and we have to bury another family member?"

"Stop worrying, Vanya."

"NO!" The musician stared at her wide-eyed. "You, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar and Aros are all I have. You are my family, and I don't know what I would do without any of you. Especially you."

He swallowed and tried to calm her down. "Vanya..."

"We may butt heads because of Ivar. But I care for you. You have a gentle soul."

"Vikings don't have souls."

"A gentle heart then! And a brilliant mind! What a waste it would be if you died so young. Only because you keep egging him on. I can try to keep him calm, but I won't be there all the time. And I worry that one day I will get the news that one of you died."

Sigurd sighed and pulled his sister-in-law into a hug. "I will try. But I make no promises." She chuckled at his humor and sent him off.

When she returned to their hut, Ivar was sitting on the bed, sulking. Vanya sighed and sat down next to him, but he refused to acknowledge her. She understood his jealousy, but it was unnecessary.

She loved Ivar, not Sigurd, and Aros was the proof of that. Never before was Ivar bothered by her relationship with his older brother. After all, since the wedding, they were her brothers as well. She saw them as nothing more, and yet, Ivar decided to act out now and ignore her.

Was it the fact that she ran after Sigurd, or that she looked disappointed before she did it? What was she supposed to do? Look proud that he nearly murdered his brother? After all the times she stood up to the snake-eyed Viking, Ivar had the nerve to get jealous! The insecurities were there before, but normally it led to talks, not to brooding.

Some reasons were the fact that Sigurd liked to mock his ability to walk or his temper. Another reason was the fact that Sigurd was originally supposed to be her husband. If it wasn't for Ivar's disability, that is. Silas saw potential in Sigurd's eye being seen as a symbol of the devil. And any child born with that eye would be a devil spawn and rejected to the crown. But Ivar's condition was a better choice, and so Silas chose him.

As if Vanya had no choice in staying with Ivar. She could have divorced him and married Sigurd instead. But Vanya didn't love Sigurd. Instead, she chose Ivar despite all his faults. They were lovable to her, but at times like these, she questioned her patience.

"You have no reason to be angry with me."

"I am not angry." Right, and the cold shoulder and pout were a sign of utter adoration and attention.

Vanya rolled her eyes and laid Aros down in his bed. "I am not angry either. A little bit disappointed but not shocked. I expected it, but I still hate that it nearly happened."

Ivar sighed and turned to watch her bent over their son's crib. "Sigurd brings out the worst in me."

"I can see that. But you could try to restrain yourself from time to time. He is your brother, and he isn't Silas. Your feud with him is different from mine with Silas. That doesn't make it less important, but you shouldn't let yourself be controlled by anger. There are consequences for murdering someone!"

"Yes, banishment. I know."

"And guilt. You two can claim that you hate each other, but I see the love there. I see that some parts of you worry for each other. Don't throw that away just because you both act like children."

She stood up and walked towards him. Sitting down in his lap, Vanya smiled at him softly. "If not for yourself, then do it for me and my gentle heart."

"There is nothing fragile or gentle about you, Min dyrebare (My precious). You have a kind heart, but you also have a strong spirit." Vanya smiled so brightly like the sun that it made Ivar freeze. Never was her smile so happy and breathtaking.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Ivar." She teased, swaying her hips over his lap. Well, so much to that. Flipping them both over, Ivar got to kissing a trail down her neck. The fire in the fireplace cracked soundly as the room filled with noises of pleasure.

Vanya laid under Ivar, panting as she watched his dark blue eyes stare down at her with the usual shine to it. His eyes were always her favorite part of him, so deep, mysterious, and powerful. The sweat on her skin felt uncomfortable, but his sweet sounds and gentle touches put her at her ease.

The gods gave her many challenges in her path, Ivar being one of them. But if he wasn't her favorite challenge. "Faster!"

#vikings #original character #original female character #history vikings #ivar the boneless #Ivar Lothbrok #Ivar Ragnarsson #Ivar #Ivar x oc

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wastetimeandtype · 3 years

Text

KUVIRA WINS STORY/ NEXT AVATAR (SUMMARY)

--I’m not going to finish this. I haven’t touched the story in years. Honestly I just don’t want to write something as bleak as this story anymore, I was in a weird place when I came up with this. However, I am still fond of it, and I think it’s some of my more solid writing (I wrote 25k) if you can forgive the more edgelord elements, but I won’t be finishing it. I will say this was never meant to be tonally similar nor do I want this story to happen in canon, it was just an extreme ending to book 4 I found interesting to explore.

CONTWNT WARNING: This takes an extremely uncharitable view of Kuvira and is overall pretty depressing, so be forewarned that this story summary mentions death and one instance of rape.

So, general backstory:

- The hummingbird suits fail and they don’t manage to enter the colossus. Jinora is seriously injured, and the group try and regroup but are captured.

- Kuvira drugs Korra with the toxin that incapacitated her that time in Zaofu the Red Lotus tried to kidnap her. Kuvira executes Bolin, Varrick and Zhu-Li for betraying her (this story is bleak...)

- Kuvira tries to win Korra over by talking to her and appealing that they’re similar. This doesn’t work, and also Kuvira just executed Bolin. Anyway she eventually gets pissed and tortures Asami and Mako in front of Korra. Korra manages to break through to the Avatar State but as she is poisoined she is not all powerful and Kuvira manages to kill her. Korra dies surrounded by Korra and Asami.

- In the months that follow, Hiroshi Sato and Asami and encouraged to work for Kuvira. Asami is aghast and the two plan an escape. Hiroshi dies in the escape attempt. Asami looks around the cells for Mako, but she can’t find him- at this point, they hadn’t seen eachother since Korra died and he was moved. She leaves Republic City by boat, vowing to take back the city. (note. Hiroshi’s fate was never fully decided, but I didn’t write him into my first draft so i assume I meant for him to be dead).

- Wu, meanwhile, managed to escape the encroaching forces from Kuvira as many of the refugees were evacuated to the Fire Nation just before full control was given. He then lives there in political exile.

- The Fire Nation declares war on Kuvira’s regime after they get confirmation that the Avatar is dead, along with the Water Tribes. Kuvira makes good progress conquering some of the islands, but the Fire Nation manages to make Hummingbird suits which destroys the mecha, and out of desperation starting making their own spirit nukes. This forces the war to a stalemate to aavoid further huge losses. However, they do not sign a peace treaty, only a cessation of fighting. Kuvira releases some political prisoners like Iroh and the Air Nation as a sign of goodwill but Izumi and the Fire Nation won’t sign a treaty without the return of sovereignty to the United Republic. Kuvira refuses.

- Kuvira renames Republic City to Empire City, because originality, and makes it the capital. She rules the nation under an iron fist. All benders are made to register, with fire and waterbenders being treated the worst.

- MEANWHILE Kuvira released Opal (airbender) but not the rest of the Beifongs. Opal is PISSED. She teams up with Asami and set up the United Republic Liberation Front, with volunteers from refugees from all over the world.

- Whilst this is happening, Zaheer and the Red Lotus’s ideology sees a resurgence of popularity and Zaheer is broken out of his prison to lead the Red Lotus. So we now have to rebel factions, and the URLF does not trust the Red Lotus because of the whole trying to murder Korra thing, and the Red Lotus doesn’t like that they plan to put Wu on the throne in the Earth Kingdom.

- The Air Nation relocates to the Fire Nation, but some like Meelo join the URLF, and some rejoin the Red Lotus. The Air Nation implicitly opposses the Earth Empire so any airbender is viewed as a terrorist.

- The Fire Nation implicitly support the URLF, the Earth Empire knows it, but the two nations are still at a stalemate due to the spirit nukes.

- Opal and Asami begin a relationship out of shared grief (they have lost their family, friends, and romantic interest (Asami didn’t even get to date Korra). They also vow to try and rescue Mako, as they don’t know what happened to him, but they suspect he’s imprisoned with other lightning benders.

- A young child named Xan is born in the Earth Kingdom. His single mother dies young, so he is raised in an orphanage. He is a talented earthbender, but one day when it’s cold, he warms his hands up with firebending. He is whisked away to Kuvira’s mansion in Empire City. He sees her as a mother figure and is very close with her. Xan, the Avatar, is brought up to be a loyal member of the regime, and doesn’t doubt it otherwise.

STORY PROPER

- Xan is super happy with Unification Day! They celebrate the day Kuvira unified the Empire by conquering Empire City. They even have a play called the Unification Play. Bolin and Varrick are portrayed as evil and duplitious, propoganda runs rife. He is nearly seventeen.

- Xan is very loyal to the Earth Empire but chafes under the rule. He has mastered Earth and Fire, but struggles with airbending (as they have no teachers) and waterbending isn’t coming naturally either. He runs away from his bodyguard Iseul to have some fun on Unification Day. Iseul is a tall, metalbending soldier woman and around twenty-four. She is very by the book and has a strong sense of justice, and does not go out of her way to terrorise the fire and waterbenders like other members of the metalbending ruling class. However, Iseul is incredibly loyal to Xan, and loves him as a brother.

- Xan is reprimanded by Iseul and Kuvira for running off since he is a massive target for the evil rebels. Kuvira gives a speech to the crowd, but is targeted by an airbending assassin who is shot down by metalbending gaurds. She has insignia from the Red Lotus on her person so she is considered a terrorist. Zaheer is moved up to the top of the most wanted list above Asami and Opal.

- After this is Xan sees a vision of Korra. She has been trying to contact him, but Kuvira tells him to suppress these visions and that spirits are trying to influence him. He has no other education so he believes her. So he continues to ignore KOrra trying to get through to him.

- Xan is also generally an anxious mess and worries about the pressure.

- Xan watches soap operas with Kobi, his loyal servant of a similar age. Xan loves gossip and relationship drama. It’s his major flaw other than being an Earth Empire loyalist. He lives at the Air Temple with lots of guards which Kuvira turned into acomodation for him. Xan’s identity to the public is still kept secret, it’s just seen as more training barracks.

- Xan accompanies Kuvira to watch people being sentenced for being horrible people and also being anti regime. A waterbender is sentenced to a re-education camp, and her look to him strikes a nerve and disturbs him. Xan also visits a spirit weapons facility where they are attacked by a corrupted spirit (like in book 2) as all the spirit vine weaponry is causing the spiritual world to be out of whack and the spirits are angry (not helped by Xan ignoring his spiritual side).

- However Kobi briefly mentions that maybe Kuvira isn’t right all the time which causes Xan to snap at him. Xan is loyal.

- A few days later Kobi sneaks Xan out for some underage drinking but the drinks are actually drugged. Kobi is working for the URLF! Kobi is a trained liar so he evaded the truth seers under Kuvira’s employ. The URLF manage to get to the Air Temple, kidnap Xan in a submarine and take him away. This is the worst part of what I wrote because of how easy it was, and would be revised.

- Anyway Opal is on the submarine and takes Xan to the URLF base which is on a Southern Air Temple island (not the air temple itself, if that makes sense). They have an advanced cave system within the mountain to hideout.

- Opal on the trip is like ‘what up Xan’ and Xan is pissed and enters the Avatar State. They calm him down as he has nowhere to go as he is in a submarine. Xan is like ‘Bolin is shit fuck you’ and Opal hates this little shit. Xan can’t stand Kobi, who tries to say this is for the best and that Kuvira is wrong. Kobi is half a waterbender and hasn’t seen his mother in years as she didn’t register herself and was taken away to a camp, so Kobi joined the URLF. Xan has some sympathies, but can’t trust Kobi as Kobi has demonstrated that he is an excellent liar.

- They get to the hideout where we meet Asami. Asami and Opal are the leaders of the URLF. They imprison Xan for a bit where Korra again appears like ‘what up’ and he’s like go away. Asami lets Xan out of his prison to show him ‘Nuktuk’ because Asami is trying to explain to Xan bias and propoganda. She also offers that they’ll teach him airbending and his freedom around the complex in exchange for open-mindedness to their organisation. It’s better than being in a cell so Xan agrees. Asami also tells Xan that Kuvira killed Korra, and that she tortured Asami and Mako. Xan is disturbed, and also has no information on where Mako currently is. Opal is pretty pissed at Asami for basically doing this behind her back. (They have a slightly strained romance). Xan loves this drama. He is roomed with Kobi as Asami is like ‘you can room with your friend’ forgetting that Xan doesn’t like Kobi. Should be clear that Xan is pretty much trapped on this island as he has no control over the Avatar State and can’t bend water.

MEANWHILE

- Iseul really fucked up and Kuvira admonishes her for being a bad bodyguard. Iseul deeply cares for Xan and asks Kuvira to be allowed to go find Xan and Kuvira agrees (note: i do not like this plot point. I think it makes more sense for Iseul to go anyway despite Kuvira’s refusal).

- Iseul travels to a small town where she knows where rebels have had activity the Earth Empire is trying to stamp out. She decides to integrate with them, get close to the leadership, find Xan. She saves two members from the metalbending police starts to get friendly with the rebels. However they aren’t the URLF, they’re actually aligned with the Red Lotus, but on the ground, in towns, they often function fairly similar. Iseul decides to accompany a small group who are travelling down to another town with URLF contacts. She also meets Chatit, a prominent leader of the URLF. They flirt with eachother a little bit. Iseul wonders what she’s doing. THIS IS WHERE I STOPPED WRITING, THE REST IS PURE NOTES.

- Iseul and the Red Lotus gang get sidetracked by a member along the journey saying they think they found a bunch of lightning benders in a prison. The Red Lotus decides to break them out, Iseul reluctantly agrees to this to prove she is loyal to the cause so she can integrated with the URLF when the time comes. Of course, Mako’s in the prison! With a child named Akane. Iseul rescues Mako personally as he has an injured leg and they start to bond. Iseul also gets along with Akane.

- Akane is the daughter of Akane, another lightning bender Mako fell in love with in prison. She reveals she’s not Mako’s biological daughter, but the product of rape from one of the guards. Iseul is horrified, and does make her doubt the integrity of the regime she loves.

- Chatit decides, ‘hey, let’s go to Zaheer instead! We can get him on side when we go see the URLF and Mako is now a bargaining chip’. Mako is very unamused by this whole situation. He just wants to see Asami and Opal. He also likes Iseul not only for saving him but it’s clear that she doesn’t really believe in Zaheer and he likes that she thinks for herself.

- Chatit brings Mako to Zaheer’s secret camp in the woods and he’s like ‘what up Zaheer I brought you the guy who killed Ming-Hua!’ Zaheer does not give a shit as he is beyond grudges and admonishes a Chatit for not getting their philosophy. However doesn’t mind using Mako as a bargaining chip.

- mako is like to Iseul ‘Chatit is as bad with Zaheer as the metalbendera are with Kuvira’ and Iseul is like wait... that’s ME. She doesn’t say this aloud though but she now thinks Chatit is a complete weirdo because he simps for Zaheer so hard. Iseul’s faith in the regime is still shaken but Iseul is still dedicated to finding Xan and making sure he’s safe.

MEANWHILE (we’d cut back and forth between the two POV’s, so this is all mixed in with eachother).

— Xan struggles to learn airbending as he doesn’t know what true freedom is.

- Wu visits and is like ‘hey let’s party! You guys are so miserable!’ Wu also has a hunky Fire Nation boyfriend now. However Xan gleans from Wu that he intends to regain the throne, and also be the last King. The bloodline dies with him.

- Xan and Kobi have a little dance at this party. Opal and Asami make up. Xan is enthralled.

- Xan starts to make some progress with airbending so Opal and Asami decide to bring him on a boat to the Southern Water Tribe to visit the spirit portal in the hope he’ll be able to reconnect with Korra properly there by force instead of him burying it.

— they get to the Southern Water Tribe by Air Bison. The Souther Warter Tribe is attacked by Kuvira’s forces. Corrupted spirits also attack and wreck havoc amongst the general populace and the forces.

— in the chaos Korra reappears before Xan and he connects with her. She brings him to the moment of her death, and he feels her pain and is horrified, and it confirms the torture side of the story. Xan snaps back, enters the Avatar state and leaves with Asami and Opal.

— this is where the story gets a little shaky, but Xan still tries to believe he might be able to get through to Kuvira.

MEANWHILE

Word spreads that the Avatar has returned! Iseul sends some sort of message to the Earth empire forces to ask if they have Xan back. This is intercepted by the Red Lotus. Mako is horrified as the whole group realised she is a traitor. They move to execute her but Mako does step in since Iseul saved him from the prison, but declares to her to never interact with him and his daughter again. Which is sad as Iseul was getting a big sister bond with Akane. Akane does apologise to Mako but he’s having none of it. He just feels manipulated and he is so, so tired.

— not been clear but Mako’s mental state isn’t great. He’s been in prison for around seventeen years, witnessed the execution of his brother, and murder of Korra. He’s a bit fucked. His leg is also in poor condition and can’t fight well, he’s basically just been used to power lightning for years. Akane is the only thing that keeps him going. He wants to make sure she’s safe with Asami and Opal. Plus he’s also being used as a bargaining chip.

— the Red Lotus finally get to the URLF contacts. They manage to speak to Asami and Opal who are like ‘whooo Mako!’ and agree to a meeting with Zaheer. Xan decides to come too.

— Iseul and Mako are transferred to the URLF. Iseul finally decides to give up some crucial information— the Earth Empire intends to use its spirit weapons again soon, as they anticipate that the Fire Nation will use the comet in years to come to destroy the Earth Empire. They intend to use such an intense, short blast that the Fire Nation can’t respond.

— the URLF and Red Lotus decided they must band together, but they have to get the Fire Nation on side to attack the Earth Empire unexpectedly.

— Xan decides he must speak to Kuvira. Get her to see reason. Everyone tells him he’s delusional so he steals an Air Bison to get himself there before the attack.

— Before they fight, Mako, Opal and Asami have a tearful reunion. Mako can’t fight as he isn’t well, but he does bid them farewell.

— once there, Kuvira will not see reason. They fight and fight and fight, while the Fire Nation ships arrive with a shit tonne of weapons s, and the Earth empire prepares to use its weapons. Xan realised that it’s going to be an all out death battle, mutually assured destruction, so he kills Kuvira in a very long fight where he goes into the Avatar state (at this point he is pretty good at airbending but cannot waterbenders still).

— war is averted. Xan is traumatised and pissed. Korra reminds him that he isn’t some weapon— he’s been told what to do all his life, even by the URLF. So against proper protocol as suggested by Asami, he grabs all the spirit weapons in a big hurricane from both sides, and blows them up, forming a massive explosion (it could form a spirit portal like in book 4, but I don’t want to take Korra’s moment).

— the URLF establish control over Republic City. Asami is appointed temporary president. Wu is named King of the Earth Kingdom. Immediate release from the camps occur and the metalbending police are disbanded. Opal is re-United with her family.

— Zaheer says nothing and does nothing more after removing Kuvira, Though he does nod at Xan after the end— is it respect or a warning? Does Zaheer intend to try and kill the Avatar a second time?

— Asami and Mako enter a relationship, with Opal and Asami continuing theirs. It’s a poly life. Mako doesn’t really forgive Iseul but does tell her he might one day, and Iseul vows to make sure there is true justice for everyone.

— Xan is traumatised and hurt and realised he still has much more to learn. He decides to sneak away to the Northern Water Tribe. Kobi tells him it’s okay if he needs to spend some time alone, but he can have company if he needs it. Xan accepts and Xan and Kobi board a ship to the Northern Water Trube.

The endddd.

* I do realise Kobi has little impact on the plot after he spies for the URLF. He would mostly appear as Xan’s friend in the story and Xan would eventually trust him again. Hinted relationship between the two as he was the only person that Xan was honest with that wasn’t Iseul, and only she did it sometimes.

* I realised a while ago there there was an issue with Mako’s subplot not brought up here, that if Kuvira imprisoned him, wouldn’t she try and use him as bait with Opal and Asami? Or even execute him to send a message. Something. So I did come up with a backstory that Mako escaped prison but was recaptured, and went under a false name. It was only noticed that he was Mako because Iseul studied all the history books and recognised him as valuable during his rescue. None of this was developed beyond my own notes but it solves some logic issues, though is a bit contrived still to make this subplot work.

#lok #tlok #legend of korra #korra #mako #fanfiction #asami sato #original characters

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hela-avenger · 4 years

Text

poison & wine- part 17

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1536

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: If you’ll like to be tagged please send me a message! Thanks for reading everyone!

poison & wine masterlist

The shirt was coming along nicely and you couldn’t help but feel proud that you hadn’t lost your touch. It had been a while since you had sown anything from scratch. You used to make most of your clothing, later on mending the things you owned, to a point where you stopped sewing altogether.

Nostalgia was hitting you quite hard but you refused to let your emotions show to the girls who were seated around you.

At hearing of your task, Datya and Lynn had excitedly brought the materials needed and wished to learn how to make a shirt themselves. Alongside making Loki’s shirt, you were teaching the girls how to cut the measured frames and how to stitch them together.

Iana, after having cleaned up the breakfast that the other girls had neglected to help her pick up, had joined you too. She seemed to need no help as she quietly started to make her own shirt.

As of now, you were making a white button-down for the prince while Iana made him a black one, and Lynn and Datya conjoined tried to make a green one.

“So why are you making the prince a shirt?” Lynn asks you. “He already has enough.”

“The Allfather has requested that I do,” you answer with a shrug. “It’s meant to be my gift to signal the start of our courtship.”

You look up at the girls who seemed to have grown silent.

“Is that wrong?”

“No, no, no... “ Datya quickly responds. “It’s just… that’s quite an antiquated notion.”

“It is?” you ask.

“What Datya meant to say it’s that recent courtships tend to skip such traditions in order to proceed to an engagement,” Iana steps in. “I assume the Allfather wants the prince to follow through the long process to assure him he’s ready to take you as his wife.”

You fight against the scowl that wants to make an appearance on your face and simply turn your focus back to sewing the sleeve. You really had to talk to Loki about this whole engagement issue people kept bringing up to you.

“Right, well, either way, it gives me something to do,” you tell them. “It’s been a while since I’ve made anything by hand.”

“I’m surprised that you even know how,” Lynn states. “We were told that Midgard had advanced to an industrial setting.”

“We have,” you stammer out quickly knowing they couldn’t catch on to your lie already. “But my mother was old-fashioned. She taught me everything I know.”

“Oh, well that’s very kind of her,” Lynn responds. “It’s quite a useful skill to have.”

“It is,” you whisper to yourself. You really didn’t have the mind to think of your mother at this moment. You had to remain focused on the matters in hand.

“So…” Datya pipes in excitedly. “Now that we’re all alone and no interruptions, why don’t we continue our conversation from yesterday?”

“And what conversation was that?” you ask.

“The one about you and Loki!”

“Oh, yes,” Lynn agrees. “You never gave us any details.”

“Girls,” Iana calls out to them in a warning.

“It’s fine, Iana,” you assure her though you were deeply panicking at the incoming interrogation. “They’re just curious.”

Gaining the green light, Datya is quick to ask you a question.

“How did you two meet?” she asks. “Was it love at first sight?”

You knew that Loki and you had failed to discuss a cover story but you knew that nothing worked better than telling the truth at the moment.

“Oh no,” you chuckle out. “Quite the opposite really.”

“Really?” Lynn asks eagerly.

It’s not that hard to recall your first introduction to the dark prince. You were catching up with Thor about your travels when Loki had decided to walk in.

“I met Loki through his brother. Thor introduced me to him and Loki simply nodded at my greeting and left the room without another word. He was very cold to me in the beginning. It took a long time for him to warm up to me and even then he tends to slip up every now and then.”

“How long have you been together?”

“I uh… It’s hard to measure,” you answer knowing a lie had to be entangled into your words. “I travel a lot in Midgard so my visits to the compound where Loki stays are hard to date exactly. Our… courtship just seems to have appeared out of nowhere one day. There was a shift. One that I didn’t even realize had occurred until I saw him again.”

“Because you missed him,” Lynn sighs out with an enamored tone.

“Yes, because I did,” you can’t help but agree.

“He probably missed you too.”

You hum in response as you cut the thread from the first sleeve done. A silence falls into the room as everyone focuses on sewing but it doesn’t last very long.

“Is he concerned about your mortality?” Datya asks you.

You hadn’t expected that question. You should have known it was coming but you were caught off guard nonetheless.

You heard about Loki’s opinions about Thor and Jane. You knew he didn’t agree with it. You could answer in his own words but you knew that wouldn’t help sell this fake courtship at all.

“We haven’t really discussed that,” you answer quietly.

“But you thought of it?”

You pause at the question directed solely on your opinion.

Have you thought about your own mortality?

Of course, you have.

You started to when your mother aged in front of your eyes while you remained the same. You thought about it every day since then. It was why you kept yourself moving. Not allowing time to keep you rooted in one spot to watch how things aged and died around you. You couldn’t allow yourself that grief again. You couldn’t carry that weight for the centuries you still had lying ahead.

And yet, you couldn’t bear being alone anymore.

That’s why you had to find your father. He was the only kinship left. The only one who could live long enough to spend the rest of your half-immortality with.

“Yes, I have,” you finally answer. “It’s why I live my life without fear, seek what brings me happiness, and follow it until I reach it.”

“That’s beautiful,” Iana comments.

She had set her sewing down and watched you with an unreadable expression. You felt uneasy under it. Her eyes somehow manage to read you perfectly. You felt as though you revealed too much especially as she cast her eyes away from you.

“Enough questions, girls,” Iana orders. “Allow Lady Y/N her much deserved privacy.”

Datya and Lynn know better than to argue and remain silent. Their attention turned to the cloth at hand. You let out a sigh of relief and finish up the second sleeve with no interruption. All that was left was placing the buttons and perhaps if time allowed it, some embroidered design on the cuffs or the collar.

You set your work in progress down in favor of completing a task you had set for yourself.

“If I wish to pay Heimdall a visit, how would I go around to do so?”

Loki walked down the halls of the palace trying to conjure some sort of plan to overcome the sudden obstacles that had arisen. He hoped you could shed some light on your parent’s history and perhaps from there he could see what resources available he could make use of.

It made him uneasy.

The whole concept of not knowing.

Loki didn’t understand how you’ve lived this long with this question lingering in your mind. He also didn’t understand how you traveled to Asgard with a last minute plan that currently involved him doing all of the hard work.

Loki craved for order. It’s what he desired the most at the moment. Something that you had denied him with this chaotic mess that is the search of your father.

He needed answers. He needed the truth. He needed you.

So the dark prince walked with a purpose in search of you making his way back to his bedroom only to find two of your handmaidens leaving from it.

“Ladies,” Loki greets, startling them instantly.

“Your majesty,” they bow.

They seemed nervous without bothering to attempt to hide it. Loki brushes past them and swings the door to his room open only to find it empty. He’s quick to turn back to your handmaidens who are looking up at him in alarm.

“Where is she?”

They both share a cautionary look before one of them is bold enough to finally look at Loki in the eye and answer.

“Iana took her to the stables,” she answers. “Lady Y/N wished to visit Heimdall so we told her she would need to ride there.”

“We advised her to wait for you, but she insisted on going alone.”

Loki tries to reel back the anger that rose within him. You had mentioned seeking the All-Seer’s help but he had made it clear that it would be pointless. He should have known you would ignore his warning and go ahead to seek the answer yourself.

With no plan once again.

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @sigyn-njorddottir @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk

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illyrian-lover-flower · 3 years

Text

The life I once dreamed of ~ Chapter 5

The Time flew by quikly and before Azriel knew it -past two weeks.

Two weeks of training with Cassian, two weeks with his family eating dinner together and two weeks full of nightmares.

As much as he hated to admit it, but he would have been happy if he would have dreamed about the seer these whole two weeks. The dreams about her kept him distracted, but they reminded him of past happy times. Unlike his nightmares, which showed him now since two weeks almost deadly incidents that laied over fifvehundred years back at Ramiel.

It wondered him though why the war-lords wanted him and Cassian again in the Blood Rite. They already knew the surroundings -so why would they insist that they take part in it again? They had an huge adventage.

But whenever he mentioned These doubts to Cassian, the bulky Illyrian didn't seem to take him serious, shrugging his shoulders at him and telling him with a grin on his face "Maybe they want us to destroy Ramiel." Az tried to smile at that, or at least tug the corners of his mouth up a little. As much as he would appriciate that, the Illyrians were too proud of their culture, so they would never do that.

So Azriel had not gotten any clue what was expecting him exactly there.

But now he felt like as if he was throwen back in time -s tanding in some begginers fighting leathers in the foyer of his brother, without any weapon -not even truth Teller bound to his tigh- and without any blue Siphon. It was weired to say at last, turning around to the family of his brothers and his too. It still pained him to see that she wasen't standing there too. Encourageing him to come back alive and in one piece with her soft, but fierce nature. Most of the time she was soft to him and their family. But Elain had also the fierce blood of the Archerons cruseing trough her veins -even though his family didn't see that side often.

If he remebered clearly they didn't even suspect a thing, that sweet Elain could also have a steeled tongue. To be honest he didn't get to see that side of her, too, often too.

Most of the time she let that side out - when he came back from a Mission - wounded.

She would push him on the next Couch, or bed, and inspect the wound, he told her she didn't have to do that, because of many reasons, but mostly because it was emarrassing when she kneelt down and looked at the wounds on his legs. The wounds were normaly just light onse, but she would still scold him everytime that he should be more carefull.

And if a wound was deeper than normal, she would take some herbs and lay them on it. If it was really bad, in her opinion, she would call Madja.

The healer mostly smiled at the worried seer and tried to calm her down.

She tried it mostly with telling her about former wounds, that were much worse, but it mostly made Elain worry even more. So he stayed in bed for his best friend. And endured all the tea she served him.

Smiling at her and her sweet worry.

He often tried to tell her that his wounds were, because of the lifes he protected. She listened closely whenever he did and he could see the respect and something else in her eyes, when he did, but she still kept her point about him beeing more carefull.

It ended mostly with an argument, were both stayed away from eachother for the rest of the day, but it ended everytime the same - they would apologize for their beahaviour and cuddle up in bed again.

He smiled at the memories sadly.

What would she think if he would come back from this rite half dead?

Would she even let him go outside alone or on missions again?

Over all his thoughts he almost forgot about his family that stood infront of the winged staircase, he could barely see them trough all the shadows that surrounded him, once not controled by seven of his blue siphones.

They swirrled around everywhere and were a dark barrier between him and the rest. Isolating him again - alone in the dark.

He smiled at the blonde haired female that stood, like everytime, there when he left. Her arms crossed over the red top, she wore, looking at him worriedly. Feyre and Rhys stood next to her, waving their goodbys to Cassian - who hugged both very tight, for a very long time.

Even Amren and Varian where there, wishing them good luck as well.

He didn't think as he stepped closer to them. Cass let go of Feyre and Rhys - only because they all opened their arms for him.

His brain seemed to have stopped working. Without thinking as he closed the gap between him and his family, wrapping his arms tightly around them. His two idiot brothers, he loved with all his heart, his flying Student, his former love -who was now one of his best friends, the fierce female that endured all the shitty ideas of their family with him and even her husband, who became the newest memer of their Family.

Tears started to build up in his eyes as he laid in all their arms. The middle of a circle full of people he trusted with his life.

"I'm sorry for what I did to all of you!" his voice was a mere whisper, but the arms around him tightened - showing him he should keep quiet and not drown in his worries again. So he did that and pulled them closer, his shadows lifting a little.

'Just come back in one piece. And bring her back again, search for her. I would give you all of eternity time to find her. You're the best version of yourself when you're with her.'

His High Lord didn't have to say her name to know who he ment, as he heard the calm voice of him in his head.

He didn't know how he should respond to him, so he said nothing, almost.

'Even if I die in this. I will still search for her - even after death and I would stay by her side and protect her for the rest of her life, even if it means seeing her happy without me.'

Don't! hissed a dark, cold voice at him. One of his shadows spoke to him. He wondered why it did this now, but he wouldn't let this moment be ruined by his stupid fears and companions.

He wouldn't let them control him anymore.

*******

The goodby to his family was hard, but he had apologized at least. Still, he would not die in this.

He had to find Elain after the Blood Rite!

The cold wind stopped howling around him, as he and Cassian landed on one of the round trainig areas, infront of Ramiel. Some Illyrians came up to them and checked imideatly if they had any knifes, daggers or any other weapon with them -but found none.

It seemed like they were the last to arrive, because they started to drop the smirking novice-warriors, once everyone was checked.

No explanation about how things were going, because everyone knew. They all trained for this week, since they were dropped into their war-camps.

The twenty novices didn't complain as their wings were bound to their backs.

Rhys was right though, they dropped Cassian at the opposite side of Ramiel, making Azriel look up at a steep, rocky cliff of one of the mountains. The Grey stone was cold and sharp under his hands as he started to climb up the rocks to the first ledge. On its way there he started to pick some of the sharper rocks up -rocks that were suitable for daggers.

The wind threw needles into his tan skin. The leathers he wore started to rip apart already. Mor and her eye for Fashion - she was the one that told him they would fit him- they clearly didn't. The fissure under his armpit started to tear apart the fabric of the rough, dark material - stones already ripped the fabric at his knees and raillegion. Some sharp, little stones already dug into his skin.

Azriel sighed, he should have asked Rhys to get him the leathers.

On the ledge - there were a few conifers, but almost no grass and if, it was covered in snow, which was only normal for the early spring in the mountains. He wanted to go as far as he could, while it was still day, but Azriel didn't know when he would come across the next tree, so he sat down on the Cold, wet Stone and started sharpening the Stones, climbed the trees to search for some thick Wood sticks and put the Stone and Wood together. Connecting everything with some already torn of Cloth.

By the time he was done, it was already getting dark around him and started to freez. It was Cold, but he knew to not attract any attention with a fire, so he chopped some needled limbs from one of the conifers. But as he did, he had the awkward Feeling of beeing watched. Trained in selfecontrol he stoped his hands from shaking and turning his head around nervously - instead he just continued chopping the light wood, but send in secret his shadows out to report to him.

They wouldn't stand out in the dark surroundings of these mountains, so he didn't have to worry much as they started swirling around on the rocky mountain floor.

The shadows didn't need to report back to him - the problem with his bad feeling, that twisted in his gut, was solved pretty fast. There -over his head, in the crown of the pine- sat an Illyrian warrior.

Clothed from head to toe in black leathers only a gap, for the eyes of the warrior, was cut into the black mask. The eyes, that looked down at him, seemed bigger than normal onse, as if they were in shock.

Azriel didn't need the blink of an eye to bring, the somehow delicate Illyrian, down from the pine.

One of his shadows rushed up the stem, griping the ankle of the winged male. The shadowsinger jumped foreward, avoiding to colide with the stranger that was brought down to earth with the cracking of wooden limbs.

Once he was down, the stranger had no time to react. Azriel brought his massive figure to sit on the other males chest. He had one of his hands pining down both of his opponents over his head. While Azriels other hand tightened around the hilt of one his self-made daggers,pointing at the throat of the one beneath him.

It felt weird to not feel the cool hilt of Truth-Teller against his scarred palms, for such tasks, but for now it had to do it.

"Who are you?" he asked in his deadly voice. He already noticed the smaller stature, but it didn't make sense, most Illyrians -him included- had a bulkier stature when they come here. Having gained muscels over the training - else they weren't allowed for the rite anyways.

And the always curious shadowsinger he was, having this sort of behaviour already carved into his Body and bones, he started his usuall way of an examination, but the male was quiet.

Looking him dead into his hazel eyes.

His jaw clanched tight and as Azriel was about to pull of the mask - he realized his beginners mistake. But too late, the male already chocked, chocked on his own tongue.

As Azriel pulled off the black mask, he saw the red liquid that lined down the males cheeks and the foam infront of his mouth - his blue eyes still fixed on Azriel.

It was weired to see a so small Illyrian male, especially one with blonde hair -but with such determined blue eyes.

Azriel got up again, he thought of burning the body, but the fire would have drawn too much attention - then again he thought about carring the male, around with him the rest of the week, as his evidence, because no one would believe him when he would tell them about an full weaponized warrior, but then again - he didn't look like one.

With an closer look, the male looked more like … like an Assassin!

Azriels mind was imideatly flowded with questions.

He never heard anything about Illyrian Assassins, but then again, he didn't pay much attention to his surroundings for the past three years. But even in all the missions he did for Rhys, there was never even an clue about an organisation of Illyrian Assassins - because no one would set foot on Ramiel durning the Rite full weaponized, let alone come here alone. In hornor of the traditions.

Azriel had a bad feeling, as he settled himself close to the sharp rocks, sitting in the shadows, as he listened to the howling of the scary creatures of the court of nightmares.

The normaly so beautiful night sky of this court, was hung by grey clouds -just like his mood.

And for once, since he had started to step foot out of his apartment again - he felt like his old self. At least a little bit - but he still wasen't complete.

He would never feel complete without Elain, but for just this one week, he would have to solve this with his broken parts.

He needed to find out who was behind that assassination as soon as possible.

So Azriel sat there, close to the cold rocks - letting himself for once not think about Elain- but about his upcoming task and the one he had to master now.

He had to survive this whole Blood Rite, for her.

And this would be the only thought of the sweet flower grower he would allow himself for this week.

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#elriel #elriel fic #acotar #elain #azriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #elriel angst #elriel fluff #elriel slow burn #rhys #feyre #elain archeron #elriel fanfiction #az family #nesta #cassian #nessian #feysand

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scribomaniac · 3 years

Text

Something Wicca This Way Comes Ch 14

Grunting as the air was knocked from her lungs, Emma somersaulted behind a chair in the attic, just barely dodging a fireball. Closing her eyes and her fist, she tried to pull on her new powers. Nothing.

Feeling a shadow fall over her, Emma’s eyes snapped open and she found a shadowy figure looming over her. Curling back her lips, she decided to switch tactics. Roaring with rage, Emma launched her self at their torso and tackled them to the ground. The figure let out a shrilly scream and then the shadows around it receded to reveal Tink.

The white-lighter grimaced up at Emma, “Not bad,” she wheezed, “but I don’t think that will work against the actual Source.”

Breathing heavily, Emma shrugged, “Never know until you try, right?” Emma helped the smaller woman up, then pushed the hair away from her face. “And I’m sorry but I just can’t take you seriously. I know this,” she waved at Tink, referencing the previous transformation, “is supposed to make me feel like I’m actually in danger but it really doesn’t.”

Tink did a good job turning herself into a menacing figure, and had nailed the illusion of fireballs and energy balls, but in the end, Emma knew it was all fake and that the woman would never intentionally hurt her.

“Well you’ve got to learn how to use your powers on command, Emma!” Tink threw her hands up, practically stomping her foot as well. “Not just when you’re in danger!”

“Yeah, well,” Emma sighed. When she’d been a Firestarter, using her powers had been so easy. That heat was always inside her, ready to overflow like lava. It hadn’t always been like that though. Her earliest memories of learning to use her magic consisted of Rumpelstiltskin screaming and threatening her, backing her into a corner until he got the result he desired. It was because of that that Emma had suggested this type of training, but it didn’t seem to be working. Emma shook her head, “Maybe if you yelled more?”

A bright white light rose from the floor, interrupting their conversation. After only a few seconds Will emerged from the light, a bright smile on his face. “Hello ladies. Emma, your mom just got back.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Tink stepped in front of Emma to block her from leaving the attic. “We need to figure this out, Emma!”

“Figure what out?” Will asked, looking nervously between the two of them. Then, “Wait, your power thing?”

“The only time you’ve been able to use them so far was during the last two demon attacks.”

Emma rolled her eyes as Tink pointed at her, “Yeah, and? I can use them when it counts so what does it matter?”

“Using them when it counts and using them to defeat the Source are two different things.”

“Okay,” Will stepped in, steadfastly not making eye contact now. “Tink, ah, why don’t you go take a break. I think Liam’s down at the pub. He could probably use some help training the new bartender.” When Tink merely raised a brow at him, he waved her on, “Come on, I’ll take over the training from here.”

Narrowing her eyes, Tink asked, “You’re sure? You’re not just going to blow it off as soon as I leave?”

“Scout’s honor, now shoo.”

With a long sigh, the white-lighter relented and orbed away.

“Alright then,” Emma placed her hands on her hips. “What did you have in mind?”

Clapping his hands together, Will answered, “A break! Come on.” The youngest Jones brother led Emma over to the windows and had her sit down.

“Didn’t you just promise Tink?” Emma asked wryly. “Scout’s honor and all that?”

“A break is not the same thing as blowing it off,” Will answered easily. “Now, tell me everything you’ve tried so far.”

So Emma did. Over the past week and a half she and Tink had tried what felt like everything. Walking into pitch black rooms, using magical stimulants, asking Jones ancestors for help, even. Nothing had summoned even a spark from the Savior. Nothing, it seemed, except the pure adrenaline that came from a life or death situation.

Will hemmed and hawed at all the right times, his mouth set in a firm line as he considered her words. “And before, when you were in the Underworld, this was how you trained your powers? The Source would attack you?”

Emma shrugged, then nodded.

“And so when you used your powers after that, what did you focus on?”

“What do you mean?”

Biting down on his lip, Will was silent for a second as he thought to rephrase his question, “I mean, what did you feel when you used your powers? When you summoned fire? Scared? Happy? Emotionless?”

The answer came surprisingly easy to Emma, even though she’d hardly ever thought of it before. Softly, she answered, “Angry. I felt anger.”

Will nodded excitedly, as if that made complete sense. “Right, okay, yeah! You were angry because of how he treated you, right?”

Emma nodded slowly. It was true, she’d been angry at her life in the Underworld, but she wasn’t just angry at the Source. She’d been angry at her parents for giving her up, the Seer for making her drink that bitter tonic, Bae for watching everything happen but never helping her. And she’d been angry at herself, for never fighting back.

“So anger was the trigger then, but it isn’t now, because so much has changed, right?” Not waiting for Emma to even nod this time, the half white-lighter continued, “So we have to find the new trigger—the new emotion for you to draw on. The last time you used them, what did you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Emma tried to think back. It’d been an attack by some lesser demons, but there’d been a lot of them. David had been there too, and Emma had been worried he’d get hurt in the crossfire. “Scared, I guess. For David.”

Will’s eyes narrowed, and then he lunged and shouted in her face, “Boo!”

Startling, Emma fell back against the chair’s arm, “What the hell was that?”

“Did I scare you?”

“What?” Emma frowned, “Yes! Jeez, of course you scared me, you screamed right in my face.”

Will shrugged, “Then fear’s not the trigger.”

Emma rolled her eyes. This was going no where. Killian had once told her that Will was studying Psychology. She wondered if this was practice for him or something.

“Okay, I want to try something else.”

“Can we just go back to the training?”

“This is training,” Will insisted. “Now, close your eyes.”

Emma stared at him blankly, not deigning the request with a verbal rejection.

“I know this is hard for you, Emma,” Will said, looking straight into her eyes and forcing her to see the pure sincerity in his own. “But please, trust me. Just for a little bit.”

Pursing her lips, Emma took in a deep breath before doing as he asked.

“Okay,” Will said slowly, “now I want you to really think back to the last attack. Tell me what happened.”

This was silly. Shaking her head but keeping her eyes closed, Emma replied, “Seven lower level demons attacked the manor. Two went after you and Killian, three went after Liam, and two appeared behind David.”

Will’s voice was calm and steady as he asked, “And you were scared he was going to get hurt?” Emma nodded. “So what did you do then?”

“I ran towards him and used my power to vanquish them.”

“Okay, now I want you to reflect on that moment. The moment where you decided not to run and save yourself, but to run towards someone in danger. Did you feel anything? Did you think about it?”

Emma remembered the look on David’s face. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open as he watched the demons work. Emma’s heart stopped dead at his expression, and then when she saw the two demons shimmer behind him, when one summoned a fireball to his hand, there hadn’t been time for second thoughts. All Emma knew was that she couldn’t let him die. Couldn’t let her father die. She needed to protect him, would do anything to protect him, even if it meant sacrificing herself to do so.

“Emma,” Will’s soft voice permeated her thoughts, “open your eyes.”

When she did, she gasped. The whole room was lit up with a golden light. Looking down at her hands, she found herself to be the source. It was beautiful and shone even brighter than a white-lighter.

Will’s grin was wider than his face could manage. It was contagious too and soon Emma felt her own smile cracking against her lips. “Looks like we found your trigger.”

Feeling like a child on Christmas morning, Emma ran down to tell Mary Margaret the news. The older witch was ecstatic by the development, immediately suggesting new methods of training and ways to manipulate Emma’s light. It was like a light switch had been turned on inside Emma’s head. By the afternoon, she was able to focus the light on her hands, control its brightness, and she’d even been able to shoot off a few bolts at small targets.

Eventually Mary Margaret had called it a day, not wanting Emma to overtire herself, and suggested they take a break—a proper one this time, Will had joked—by looking through some old family photos. Unsurprisingly, most of the photos centered around Emma’s brother, Neal.

“And here he is at his high school graduation,” Mary Margaret flipped through her phone with a soft smile on her face. “You should have seen your father when he was accepted into UCLA. I swear that smiles was screwed onto his face for weeks.”

Emma hummed, not entirely sure what that all meant. She knew UCLA was a college, sure, but she didn’t get why someone would get so excited about going there. Then Mary Margaret swiped to another picture and this one showed Emma’s younger brother wearing a blow and gold football uniform. “Is he on the team?”

“Just for the first couple of years,” Mary Margaret nodded. “Then he quit to focus more on his studies. He’d decided to become a teacher halfway through and needed to take extra classes to catch up. Football’s pretty intense there so he wasn’t able to keep up with both.”

“A teacher, huh?” Emma hadn’t missed the way Mary Margaret’s eyes had lit up at the mention. “Like mother like son.”

Ducking her head but grinning proudly, Mary Margaret chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t know what made him change his mind, but it was a happy surprise. For me at least. You wouldn’t believe how angry his grandfather became after Neal made the decision. Ah,” her brows raised and she quickly looked over at Emma, “I mean, your grandfather. Both of yours. Sorry.”

Not offended by the slip up in the slightest, Emma shrugged and asked, “Why’d he get mad?”

“He was originally going to study law,” Mary Margaret rolled her eyes and then swiped through a few more photos until she found one that included her, David, a toddler Neal, and a few other people Emma didn’t recognize. “Here’s your grandpa George,” she zoomed onto the face of a balding old man with perfect posture and a hard lined mouth. “He owns a law firm in L.A and wanted Neal to take it over for him one day. He had the same reaction when David dropped out of law school and entered the police academy.”

“Did he ever get over it?” Emma frowned at the picture. The man looked cold and mean, not unlike some of the faces she’d grown up with in the Underworld.

“It took a few weeks, but he eventually came around. George can be a bit crotchety at times but he’s a big softie when it comes to Neal since he’s—or, was—his only grandchild.”

“What about him?” Emma pointed to another man in the photo, one who had an identical face to David’s. “You didn’t tell me David was a twin.”

Mary Margaret’s lips thinned. “That’s James, your uncle.”

“No kids from him, then?”

“No, thank God. Oh!” Mary Margaret’s eyes went large and Emma laughed. “No, that was unkind. Ah, I just mean he never found the time, I guess. He’s a lawyer too, and—”

“And he’s a total jackass?” Emma guessed, a wide grin pulling at her lips. Before this Emma had thought the woman a saint with no bad words to say about anyone—demons excluded, of course.

Sighing in defeat, Mary Margaret nodded, “Utterly and completely.”

The image on Mary Margaret’s phone disappeared, revealing a name as a call interrupted them. “Oh, that’ll be my sub. I need to take this.” She gave Emma an apologetic smile.

“Go for it, I’m going to take a shower.”

The room the Jones brothers had given her was located on the second floor. It used to be a study for Liam, and before that a nursery, so it wasn’t very big, and it hadn’t been updated in at least twenty years, but it was comfortable and gave Emma a place to go for privacy. They’d made the decision to have her stay with the Charmed Ones to provide extra protection and the cut down on any travel time between the Manor and the Nolan’s house.

Opening her closet and pulling out a new, non-sweat covered shirt and pants. She’d have to grab a new towel from the linen closet in the hallway since she’d thrown her other one in the hamper this morning. Once all this was over, Emma had decided, she’d be over the moon to have her own bathroom again. She’d never truly appreciated the luxury a private bathroom was.

Another reason Emma was staying in the manor was because they’d decided to wait to tell Neal about her existence until after destroying the Source. Neal knew he had a sister, theoretically, but he didn’t know she was alive and in contact with his parents. They still weren’t sure how they’d break it to him. He had no idea that his mother was a witch since Mary Margaret had given up the practice ages ago. So that left them with two options, either fessing up about the whole things, or coming up with a new lie. Personally, Emma preferred the later option. Neal had been told his sister was kidnapped as a baby, all Emma had to do was say something like she’d tracked them down through some DNA testing site or something. David had been on board with that plan, but Mary Margaret was obviously uncomfortable about lying to her son. Omission was one thing, she had said, but outright lying was another.

“Hello dear.”

Emma’s heart stopped. Spinning around, she found the Seer lounging on the bed. Her blood red lips were pulled back into a devious smirk, reminding Emma of a snake that was eager for an easy meal.

“Regina,” Emma growled. Fists curling, her hands began to glow. “What are you doing here?”

Not bothering to move an inch, Regina shrugged a diamond covered shoulder, “I wanted to check in on you. It’s been so long since we last spoke.” Quirking a brow, she asked, “By the way, how’s your mother?”

Raising her luminous hands, Emma took a step forward, ready to end the Seer’s life right here, right now.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Regina held up a finger, her smile broadening. “If you vanquish me now, then you’ll never defeat the Source.”

Frowning, Emma paused but didn’t lower her hands. “What did you see?”

Casually, as if she wasn’t two seconds away from being smited into oblivion, Regina stood from the bed and walked around the room. Trailing her finger along the wooden dresser and sneering at the floral drapes. “Who decorated this place?”

“Regina,” Emma snapped, finally putting her hands down and dispersing her magic. If the Seer had wanted her dead, she would have attacked by now. Or she would have had someone attack her by now. And since neither of those things had happened, that could only mean she wanted something from Emma. “What did you see?”

“Many things,” Regina hummed, now directing her gaze up to the crown moldings. “The future is not yet set you see, but the odds are not in your favor, dear.”

Emma knew she was being baited. Regina used to play this game all the time when Emma was a child. She’d tease out details of the future in order to have Emma beg for more information. Not this time, though, because this time Emma knew something Regina didn’t.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma said, “Screw the odds, you don’t know what you’re talking about. If you did then you’d have killed me after stealing me from my mother.”

Spinning around to stare straight at Emma, her dark red dress swishing loudly at the movement, Regina barked out a laugh, “You think so? Why? Because you’re the Savior?” Seeing Emma’s eyes widen, she laughed again, “I’ve always known what you are Emma. I’m the Seer,” her lips pulled back in disgust, “I knew what your destiny would be long before you were a thought in Mary Margaret’s pretty little head.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. If Regina’s known this whole time, then Rumpelstiltskin must know too. So what’s he playing at? If he knows who she is and that she’s destined to kill him, then why has he let her live for so long? Why did he make her so powerful? Why did he keep her at his side? Regina had to be up to something. Emma thought of Glass and his fate. Regina had gotten the demon killed without lifting a finger.

“So many thoughts, so little time,” Regina tutted. “I never told Rumple. He just thinks you’re a Firestarter,” she shrugged, like an afterthought, “maybe a bit more powerful than most, but nothing more.”

“Why?” It didn’t make any sense. Regina was the Source’s right hand. She helped him gain power centuries ago, she told him everything. So why didn’t she tell him this? Why did she want Rumpelstiltskin dead, or was this a trap? “What are you up to?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, I assure you.” Stepping closer, Regina continued, “All you need to worry about is getting stronger, and you won’t be able to do that while working with that insufferable white-lighter or your pure-hearted mother.”

“Don’t you dare talk about Mary Margaret,” Emma said, her tone low and deathly serious. “I should kill you right here and now for what you did to us.”

“Probably, but you won’t.” Regina stepped even closer, looking straight into Emma’s eyes.

Emma raised a brow, “You sure about that?”

Regina chuckled, “You need me to find Rumpelstiltskin’s dagger. Killing me will just ensure your own demise, and the demise of everyone you love. No,” she smiled, all teeth and no warmth, “you’re too smart to kill me now. I raised you better than that.”

Maybe what she said was right and Emma couldn’t kill her, that didn’t mean she had to put up with this. Hands flashing brightly, Emma pushed Regina hard. The Seer hissed as she fell backwards across the room. The fabric covering her shoulders were scorched and blackened and smokey tendrils turned into a hazy mist around Regina’s face. Through the fabric Emma could see Regina’s skin, shiny and red with blood, begin to heal.

“You raised me to be a killer,” Emma straightened her book and looked down at the demon responsible for the piece of shit she’d called a life. “So don’t test me.”

Standing back up to her full height, Regina tried plastering on her usual grin but it was obviously strained. “Guess you’re not as smart as I thought.”

Lifting her chin, Emma replied, “Guess I’m not as afraid of you as you thought. Now get out.”

Regina blinked. “What?”

“Get out of this house,” Emma repeated. “I don’t need your help and I don’t need it. I’m not playing your games anymore, Regina.”

“So what?” Regina laughed, incredulous, “You’re letting me go?”

Emma nodded, “You get this one pass, but if I ever see you again I swear to god, Regina, I’ll burn you into oblivion.”

“Stupid child,” Regina hissed. “You’ll regret this.” Then, in a wave of white light, she vanished from Emma’s room.

Knowing the Seer, she headed straight for the Underworld with the intention of telling the Source of her new “discovery” and that Emma was the Savior. Once Rumpelstiltskin knew of her true identity, he was sure to come after her himself, holding nothing back. She was ready for him though, she could feel it in the marrow of her bones. Regina was wrong. Every second of every day Emma grew more into her power and her strength, and it was only a matter of time now before her light eclipsed the Source’s darkness. Like a candle at the end of its life, Rumpelstiltskin’s reign of terror was about to be snuffed out. Let him come.

#charmed au #something wicca this way comes #ouat #emma swan #tinkerbell #liam jones ii #captain swan #i realized i never posted this chapter to tumblr #oops #my bad

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