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byunmyeon · 3 years

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Metanoia

↳ pairing: lee suho x reader

↳ synopsis: this is the sequel to philophobia. the world of red strings is one you haven’t been able to see for a long time, and now that you’ve found your unwilling soulmate, you have no interest in regaining that sight.

↳ warnings: language, angst, angst, and more angst, mentions of depression, mentions of death

— note: due to popular demand, here’s part two!

Something was wrong.

There wasn’t some pivotal event or action that made Suho conscious of the shift, he just knew. This premonition could’ve been assessed as an erroneous inkling that emanated from the vast rift between you two, but you hadn’t given any indication that the lack of recognition from your soulmate was the cause. In fact, you seemed perfectly content with disregarding Suho’s existence.

An entire month had gone by since you confronted him, and the entire situation had passed without further incident. Neither one of you had spoken since that ill-fated day.

However, it was impossible not to notice the drastic change in your character. The way you smiled was different in a way that seemed off, and there was also a certain enervation constantly embracing you. But the biggest difference was your lack of interest in just about anything. Suho might’ve thought it had everything to do with him, but again, there was no clear indication of that.

Nonetheless, ignoring you didn’t make him unaware of the unnamed sensation that had latched itself onto him since then.

It’s not like Suho wanted to notice the contrast in your behavior, but it was something he couldn’t help. Every time you came within a ten meter radius, his eyes would compulsively find their way over to you. Suho was always careful to not get caught staring, although it hardly mattered. It’s not like you looked in his general direction anymore. And even when you did happen to meet his gaze, it was for a fleeting moment that passed by so quickly that it couldn’t even be considered a full second.

Your uncharacteristic disposition made him worry. Not for you, but for him. Suho was deeply concerned that you might expose your shared secret in an abrupt moment of anger and hurt. That’s all it was. Nothing more, nothing less.

To his relief, that moment never came.

Even in the face of all the hurtful things he had said and done, you didn’t mention to Jugyeong that Suho was your soulmate. It was a development he hadn’t expected. Sure, you had told him, no, promised him that you would keep silent about the string that bounded you two together, but he was convinced that you could easily change your mind whenever you felt like it. You hadn’t.

Truthfully, your selfless act made him develop a fondness for you. Suho hadn’t expected you to be so understanding and considerate since it seemed like you were genuinely hurt that he didn’t care to acknowledge the bond between you two. That was the part he still couldn’t wrap his head around. You ignored the red string that tied you two together since the day you transferred without any qualm. Your actions convinced him that you wanted nothing to do with the soulmate bond, with him.

“What’s up with Y/N?” Taehoon wondered one day as he set his lunch tray beside Suho’s. “She isn’t looking so good these days.”

The rest of the group agreed.

“Maybe we did something to upset her.” Jugyeong said with a worried frown. Her pretty eyes drifted over to the lonely girl who was currently picking at her food. “She hasn’t wanted to hang out with us since we finished our exams.”

Suho let his own gaze fall over to you. It was true that you had kept your distance since before he officially asked Jugyeong out, but he didn’t think his girlfriend would care too much since you two weren’t that close to begin with. Seeing her so upset didn’t sit well with him.

Maybe he could convince you to start hanging out with Jugyeong and the rest of the group more often. Yes, that’s exactly what he would do. After all, doing him one more favor wouldn’t kill you.

Most people would say that you made a mistake for letting Suho go. Among those people would be your very own mother. You didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she came to find out that you gave up your soulmate without putting up a fight. It wasn’t something you were necessarily proud of, but you weren’t ashamed of your decision. Okay, so maybe refusing to acknowledge your other half wasn’t right or even sane, but you felt comfortable with your decision.

Well, that wasn’t exactly right.

The reality of your soulmate easily ignoring the string he could see was heart-wrenching. More often than not, seeing him and Jugyeong together would cause a stabbing pain in your chest. It would last no more than a second, but it was agonizing enough to have you regretting your righteous choice.

As time when on, the pain worsened and would prolong itself to the point where it became difficult to breathe. There were even instances where black dots would cloud your vision and had you feeling extremely lightheaded. Those times, however, were nothing compared to the occasions when you came close to fainting. Deep down you knew it was because there was a severe imbalance weaved in the depths of your bond.

But you couldn’t be bothered to truly acknowledge it.

Who needed a soulmate anyway?

There had always been an indescribable tension when you were around Suho. Before, you had wrote it off as nerves from being around someone who was as prickly as he was attractive. That was before you knew the truth, of course. You two had never been close, and after finding out that he was the one on the other end of your red string, you were sure you never would be.

Which is exactly why you couldn’t figure out the reason he suddenly came up to you while you were sitting outside on one of the lone benches. He didn’t hesitate to sit next to you, the action coming naturally like it was something he did everyday.

“Jugyeong says you haven’t hung out with her in a while.” Suho said in a slow drawl. “Is it because of me?”

You wished you could’ve scoffed and told him that the world didn’t revolve around him, but you couldn’t. Because even if the world didn’t, yours did.

“I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

It was the truth. Your chest pains were only getting worse as the days went on. It was hard enough to hide it from your mother, you didn’t need the pressure of also hiding it from your classmates.

Suho didn’t seem the least bit concerned for your not-so-well-being, and it had a familiar ache nipping at your heart. You longed to see his face change with even the tiniest bit of emotion. Just so you could feel, even for a fleeting moment, that the bond wasn’t one-sided. After seeing the indifference he looked at you with, you decided to look straight ahead to spare yourself any further heartache.

“Being alone won’t make you feel any better.”

It couldn’t make you feel any worse.

Suho frowned when he saw your unchanging expression. He could never get used to the blank nothingness of it. Not when your joyful expressions had once lit up an entire room.

“I thought you’d be happy that I’m staying away from Jugyeong.” You finally said, still unwilling to look at him.

It made him happier than he cared to admit, but it didn’t make her happy. The entire point of talking to you was to bring Jugyeong the same amount of happiness she’d brought him. If it meant having to swallow his pride and ask you for yet another favor, then so be it.

“She thinks she did something to upset you.” Suho explained. “So I came to ask you to start talking to her again—as a favor.”

His impassive attitude made you feel crestfallen. You knew he couldn’t care less about the bond, about you, but it still hurt to see that he didn’t care to spare your feelings at all. It took everything in you to respond in a strong, calm tone.

“And you’re okay with me talking to her again?”

“I’m fine as long as you stick to our agreement.”

You nodded slowly, pensively. If it would make Suho happy, then you would do it.

“Okay.”

That was his cue to leave, but he found himself unwilling to do so. Immediately, Suho assumed it was because your souls were intertwined with one another which, in turn, fueled the natural instinct to be close to you. That had to be it.

Suho cleared his throat and stood up. “I’ll see you around.”

Sitting across a psychiatrist was something you never thought you would have to do again. And yet, you found yourself sitting across from the infamous Dr. Kwon. The aforementioned doctor was known worldwide for his trailblazing research on the enigmatic soulmate bond. His fame soared when he revealed that he had successfully treated people who were rejected by their soulmates. For an entire year, it was all anyone could talk about.

And like a moth to a flame, your mother was quick to reach out to his office and make an appointment for a consultation. There was a five month waiting list for this, and now it was finally your turn to meet with the prestigious psychiatrist, much to your dismay.

“There’s no need to feel nervous,” he said kindly when he noticed your uncomfortable posture. “Anything you tell me will stay between the two of us.”

You had heard the same thing countless times, but the words always seemed disingenuous no matter who they came from. Even if Dr. Kwon had treated people who had soulmate problems, you were sure that he’d never met someone like you. His eyes were kind, but you didn’t know whether you could trust him. Plenty of the other specialists had also been kind at first until they realized that treating you like a lab rat would lead to a life of fame and fortune.

“Your mother tells me that you were unofficially diagnosed with philophobia. She believes the cause of your condition is due to the fact that you are unable to see your string of fate.”

You weren’t surprised that your mom had told him everything about you already. She had made the same mistake with all the other doctors and therapists. You could deny it, but you figured if you were to become a lab rat, you couldn’t be in better hands.

“She also mentioned that you haven’t been yourself lately.”

Shit. You hadn’t thought that your mom had caught onto your behavior. The simple thought of her finding out the secret you were desperately trying to keep hidden made your stomach twist with panic.

Your shrug was uncommitted as you fought to control your expression. “She’s thought that since I told her I couldn’t see my string anymore.”

Dr. Kwon hummed. “Your mother is convinced that a severe trauma led you to lose the sight of your string. Would you mind telling me about that?”

You clutched the sleeves of your uniform as a way of comfort. Talking about that was something you never wanted to do. Somehow, spending an entire year repeating the story to countless specialists never helped you get over it. Despite that, you knew your mother wouldn’t forgive you if you didn’t make the effort to “get better.”

“Around the time I turned eleven, I found out that my parents were getting a divorce.” You began. There was a harsh edge to your words that you couldn’t control. “They were soulmates, but my dad said that he didn’t love my mom anymore.”

Dr. Kwon nodded, encouraging you to go on.

“This one day, he decided to drive me to school instead of letting me take the bus. On the way there he told me about this woman he’d met like I’d actually be happy for him or something. I got so angry that I just– I just snapped.”

It was silent for a moment before you continued.

“I told him that I hated him. That I would never forgive him for hurting my mom.” You swallowed thickly. “That was the last thing I said to him before we got into a car accident. He died on the way to the hospital.”

You didn’t realize that the moisture in your eyes was dripping down your face until Dr. Kwon handed you a tissue. He didn’t say anything for a while, and it surprised you. Most of the specialists you had seen couldn’t keep their thoughts to themselves after hearing your story.

“It’s not your fault.” Dr. Kwon said. “You feel an extreme guilt, but you shouldn’t. We all say things we don’t mean, and parents know that better than anyone.”

His words were comforting, but his kind expression was marred when he started speaking like a doctor. You only half-listened to Dr. Kwon, not interested in his spiel about how making an attempt to picture your string might help. If only he knew that over the better part of your early adolescence, visualizing that stupid red string was all you did.

You hadn’t realized that your time with him was nearly over until he started writing on his clipboard. It made you feel relieved, in a way. But there was still one thing you needed. You couldn’t leave without asking him about the one thing that had been weighing on your mind.

“Doctor,” your voice was hesitant. “You’ve treated patients whose soulmates rejected the bond, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Has… Has anyone ever died from being rejected?”

Dr. Kwon shook his head. “Most of them complained about chronic chest pains, but they faded over time after they got used to being away from their soulmate.”

You swallowed thickly. That’s not what you were hoping to hear.

“So, if someone were to constantly be around the person who rejected them… it could be fatal?”

This time, you caught the subtle narrowing of his eyes. Shit. He was onto you. “Is there a reason you’re asking me this?”

“I’m just curious. You’re the only doctor who’s come close to figuring out the real effects of rejecting the bond.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but answered you anyway. “It’s possible, but I can’t be certain since I haven’t had a patient who was willing to be around their soulmate after being rejected.”

You nodded, not liking the ugly feeling in your chest.

“I’m willing to keep working with you.” He said, seemingly not interested in the motives behind your questions. “Hopefully, we can reverse your condition.”

“I have no intention of seeing the string again.”

Dr. Kwon was taken aback. “Y-You don’t? Why?”

Because I already found my soulmate and he loves someone else. The truth was on the tip of your tongue, but you knew you couldn’t tell him.

“I just don’t.”

The first time you went an entire day without experiencing the chest pains was the same day you spent an entire lunch period with Suho.

Since the back of the school was now tainted with horrible memories, you could no longer go back there to find solace. Now your new designated safe space was the school’s rooftop. You were content with listening to music and feeling the warm breeze on your skin. It was also extremely private, which meant that if you did experience the chest pains, no one would see.

Your eyes were closed in blissful peace when you suddenly felt a presence beside you. Unaccustomed to the sudden company, you jumped with shocked fear. Once you saw that it was Suho who was sitting next to you, your heart was racing for an entirely different reason. He hadn’t said much. Unexpectedly, he asked you what you were listening to.

That’s how you found out you shared the same taste in music.

The second time you went an entire day without feeling the chest pains was the day you stumbled on a crying Suho.

He was completely overcome with grief that he didn’t seem to care that he was in the middle of the hallway. You quietly took him to the roof where he collapsed on you. The way he clutched onto you reminded you of an inconsolable child—fearful and in need of comfort. You listened to him as he told you about his late friend and his battle with depression.

Your heart ached with every word he told you, but if countless hours of therapy had taught you anything it was that venting could do wonders for the soul. Eventually, his sobs turned into sniffles. He hadn’t let go of you and vice versa.

After that, Suho didn’t say anything and neither did you. Unbeknownst to the either of you, the connection between you two had gotten stronger. There was an inexplicable congruity between you now, one that allowed you to understand and empathize with each other’s feelings.

You two never mentioned it again, but something shifted after that day.

It had been a month since you last felt the scathing pain. Now it was only a tolerable discomfort that you grew used to. You and Suho weren’t close, he still had his girlfriend, but now there were these moments that you experienced every so often. Ones that seemed more intimate than any relationship you could ever have. Those times were the happiest you’d felt in years.

“Things are pretty serious between Suho and Jugyeong.” Soo-ah said when you two entered the lunch room. “He wants her to study abroad with him after graduation.”

This was news to you, and that familiar discomfort soon settled on the left side of your chest. In spite of knowing that nothing had changed, you still felt like a complete fool. How could you be so delusional? Suho had only been kind to you a handful of times, and you were sure it had only been out of pure instinct. It had been because the link between you two had pushed him to do it.

Suddenly, the discomfort grew into that familiar, unwelcome stabbing pain, one greater than all the others you had felt so far. You let out a loud cry, the high-pitched noise sounding horrifying even to your own ears. The dizziness never came this quickly, but now it was clouding your senses within seconds. It had you stumbling into Soo-ah, and you grabbed ahold of her sleeve to try to steady yourself. You could see her mouth moving, but her words were muted. Oh no.

The pounding in your head and the sharp pains in your chest came in waves. It didn’t take long for the dark spots to appear. Fuck.

The last thing you remembered was seeing Soo-ah and a gathering crowd above you before darkness overcame you.

“Y/N.”

The distant sound of your name being called was enough to have you slowly opening your eyes. Your vision was blurry and unfocused. All you could make out was being in a brightly lit place that had you wincing. Where were you?

In the next second, you felt a pair of arms wrap around you. The familiar scent of your mom’s perfume made you relax.

“How are you feeling?”

It was a man’s voice who asked the question, and you nearly choked on your own spit when you saw Dr. Kwon standing beside the hospital bed. His presence shocked you since you had only met him once and weren’t officially his patient. However, you managed to assure him that you felt fine.

For a second, you thought everything would be fine. After all, there was no technology that was capable of determining that your collapse was related to your fractured soulmate bond. That is, until Dr. Kwon decided to speak up.

“You’ve met your soulmate, haven’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question. Your panicked eyes fell over to your mom. The look she gave you had you wincing. Fuck.

“What!? Y/N—”

“Mom,” you said, panicked. “It’s not– I don’t—”

“I’ve spoken with the doctor who treated you. She said that there’s been an enormous strain on your heart.” His voice had an underlying hardness that tipped you off on the anger he was feeling. “That’s why you asked me about my patients the other day, isn’t it?”

You remained silent, and it gave him his answer.

“You know who your soulmate is. They rejected the bond, but you haven’t. That’s why your chest pains have gotten worse.”

Before you could try to refute any of his claims, your mother went crazy.

“Who is it!?” She yelled. “Tell me right now so I can tell him to stop hurting my daughter!”

You attempted to calm her down, but your attempt was in vain. There was no possible way to settle her emotions. Not when her worst fear had been realized. You tried to ease her mind by reassuring her that you would go away in order to receive treatment from Dr. Kwon, not realizing that Suho was standing outside the room and heard everything.

Dr. Kwon managed to calm your mother down and convinced her to take a walk with him. It was late in the evening now, and you felt extremely relieved to finally be left alone with your thoughts. You got all of two seconds of contemplation because in the next second, Suho pulled the door open and walked into your room.

He didn’t say anything at first, but his face was the picture of tortured. You furrowed your eyebrows, unable to understand why he seemed so distraught.

“You’re dying.” Suho’s voice trembled. “Because of me.”

The fact that he somehow found out went over your head. You wished you could say no. No it’s not because of you. But you couldn’t. Trying to reassure him would’ve been futile. He knew. You both did. The urge to cling onto the severed bond would be fatal if you didn’t get help. Despite knowing all that, you wished to ease his pain. You could’ve laughed at your own foolishness because right now it was you who was laying in the hospital bed.

“I won’t die.” You told him feebly. “I’ll leave. Once I get used to being away from you, I’ll be okay. We can both live normal lives.”

Suho wanted to tell you that he didn’t want you to leave. That his life hadn’t ever been normal, and he was fine with that as long as you could be part of it.

“You didn’t reject the bond. Why?”

You looked up at the white ceiling. The tears were pooling in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. There was no point in hiding it anymore. Not when you were hospitalized because of him.

“I can’t see my string.”

Your confession hung in the air like a dark cloud. It was silent before you decided to continue with your revelation.

“I haven’t been able to see it since I was thirteen.” You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. “That’s why I didn’t acknowledge you when we first saw each other. I didn’t know.”

The candor of your words had Suho staggering back. It felt like someone shoved a blade straight through his heart. Finally, everything made sense. It’s not that you weren’t interested in your soulmate, it’s that you hadn’t known he was right in front of you. He couldn’t stop the tears from gathering in his eyes. What had he done?

“I’ve always wanted to meet my soulmate.” You confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Even after I found out that it was you and you didn’t feel the same way, I never wished that I hadn’t met you. I never wished that the bond didn’t exist.”

You knew he couldn’t say the same since the evidence of just how much he didn’t want the bond was displayed in your current physical state.

“You should leave,” you told him even though the words pained you greatly. “My mom will get suspicious if she sees you.”

Only a small piece of your heart broke when he listened to you.

When Jugyeong and Suho broke up, it was the talk of the entire school. You yourself couldn’t make sense of the sudden separation, but you told yourself that it didn’t matter because it wasn’t any of your business.

You only said goodbye to a handful of people when the last day at Saebom High came around. Your short stay at the school didn’t give you an opportunity to make many friends, and it’s not like you truly wanted to remember your experience at the school.

Before you could walk through the front gates toward your new life, you were stopped by the sound of your name being called.

“Y/N!”

You turned, feeling your eyes widen when you were suddenly wrapped up in your soulmate’s warm embrace. His sudden change in attitude shocked you so much that you weren’t sure how to react.

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

For the first time since you’d met Suho, you felt no need to placate him. After everything that happened, you couldn’t go back on the promise you made to your mother. You needed to get better. Not for Suho, but for yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You were sincere. “This time, I’m leaving you behind.”

He pulled back. The pain in his eyes was another strike to your chest, but you knew you couldn’t give in.

“Goodbye, Lee Suho.”

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the-voltage-diaries · 3 years

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Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου - Lucifer x Diavolo

AO3 Link

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου: Greek for ‘My Polar Star’

Word Count: 1859

A/N: I don’t know what this is. All I know is that @simpingw0lfi3 refused to do it, so I did. Of course, please don’t expect this to be perfect because... it really isn’t.

Vote of thanks: @akaiiro-yume for checking and correcting all the grammatical fuck ups I did, making sure I didn’t stop writing this halfway and going through any mental breakdown I might have had instead for me. And, of course, @some-ikemen-snob for making sure this SCREAMED Lucifer energy this way and that. only for now, but ily both.

Devildom 14th February, 20XX Saturday, 7:57 PM

Dear Diary,

I suppose I've never written a journal entry such as this in the past, for I haven't found either the desire or the will to task myself with writing my thoughts down in a manner wherein I speak to an inanimate object. That said, I have been told writing is, in a manner of speaking, therapeutic, and I believe I could do with some of that right now. It would be false to assume I don’t still harbour any inhibitions towards using my time in this manner, especially when I'd much rather be by Diavolo’s side. The very same Diavolo who, as a matter of fact, happens to be the subject of this writing session today. Strangely enough, and if I recall correctly, he was also the one who introduced - which is putting it rather mildly - me to the “art” of journal entries. I admit, I haven’t given this activity the kind of gravity which was probably expected out of me, but then again, today is a little different from the rest. I'm not entirely certain as to where to begin, but I do believe I have been told in situations like these, one should do whatever... feels right.

Diavolo is... well, where do I even begin? He is the future of Devildom, as a few might call it - myself included. While he does appear to be quite the cheerful and at times careless lord, it’d be a lie to deny that he is just as wise and compassionate underneath that wave of buoyancy radiating off of him. Honest to a fault, but with his moral compass always pointing towards the best interest of those around him. I’ll admit, sometimes it proves to be rather difficult to believe that he indeed is a demon. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to compare him to the Polaris considering he does quite radiate the charisma from himself, shining admirably amidst a dark sea of onlookers. While in name he rules over all the demons in the land of Devildom, the right set of eyes won’t take too long to deduce the eloquence with which his fingers reach out to the soul of every single resident of the land, holding them together better than gravity ever bound humans to the earth.

Saying that is all there is to him would be a lie whiter than the wet snow, making its way to the tips of my fingers and sliding off gently onto this page. That, of course, doesn’t mean describing how I feel towards him is no herculean task. There are some cases when a language - no matter the plethora of vocabulary it offers - just isn’t sufficient enough, and this certainly is one of those cases. For the time being, let’s just owe my lack of articulacy to the bond of mutual respect and trust Diavolo and I share, built over centuries upon centuries, braving the ravages of time, and even perhaps the less than pleasing antics my brothers tend to pull. But while the impression the ruler of all demons and I tend to emit may seem to be distanced by a careful degree of professionalism, I don’t believe anybody knows that that might not be the case. Even Diavolo himself. Doesn’t come as a surprise, really, for they simply can’t know.

Why do I believe that to not be the case, then? Well, I would wonder why I felt so strongly about it had I not known the reason myself. The very same reason which is now a secret so surreptitious that I can’t help but consider burning this piece of paper once I finish writing to ensure it is never revealed to another set of eyes. Such dastardly is the nature of this emotion, tricking one into its delusive warmth, encompassing them with the belief that nothing truly is impossible, that what they feel might just be true and meaningful enough to be returned by the other they feel for, only to cackle with glee and turn away when the reality doesn’t match the fantasy it was believed to turn out to be. The very same emotion which in layman’s terms is apparently called... love.

I’m not entirely certain I understand the extent of its exquisite existence myself, to be truthful. All I know is no matter how intensely I try to shut the door on its escaping fumes, it turns futile the second I lay my eyes on the man in question. While the rest of the known universe sees an omnipotent leader binding everyone together, making them sing the same tune in harmony, I see what I can only consider an anchor, grounding me, making it so that I can’t ever fall into the abyss of the darkness that breathes inside of me and float away. He is the quintessence of the best of what the world has to offer, with his golden eyes sparkling like stardust, weaving their ever-lasting magic into the hearts of whoever they come across - be it human, or demon, or angel - wrapping them in their never-ending warmth, letting them sink into the depths of benevolence they promise. His hair are the cerise of a raging inferno, sheltering beneath their canopy a quick, sensible, erudite mind. His smile is but a warm culmination of everything optimistic and positive, like a flame inviting moths to it, reaching out to give their innermost yearnings a hand to grab on to and never let go. Simply divine. And this is where the paths diverge, I suppose.

They see a to-be Demon King, I see Diavolo.

But alas, love is a fickle mistress. Getting too lost in the charm of her alluring arms will only result in a doom of them wrapping around your neck, enticing, until you realise their hold is tightening. Not to hold on, but to suffocate. I might have gotten so lost in that fiery gaze that I didn’t notice it start to crawl along my skin, leaving a charred, burnt path in its wake. The very anchor which I believed to be the one to ground me and hold me close etched itself deeper into the oceanic floor of delirium, drowning me. The threads of his stardust wrapped themselves around me and clutched hard enough to strangle. Before I knew it, the symphony of something meaningful became the cacophony of a nightmare.

This red thread strung through itself earlier today the series of events I’d rather forget. I’ve known how I feel towards Diavolo for a while now, and I had been searching for an opportunity to come clean and let him know about it for the last few days. Not to say I hadn’t gotten said opportunities at all, but one could owe it to me being too prideful to admit I was finally opening up to the idea of accepting feelings and... emotions. Around that time was when Solomon let slip a few details about the significance of Valentine’s day in the human world as an annual occurrence to celebrate romantic love, friendship, and admiration, and with enough persistence, Asmodeus managed to convince Diavolo to declare the day as an official holiday. Just a few hours ago I walked along the empty hallways to Diavolo’s office, knowing him, Barbatos and I to be the only ones in the building, still choosing work over any form of inactivity. By then, I had talked myself into finally telling the most powerful of all demons about the feelings I harboured towards him. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I was indeed a tad hopeful, wishing for the feelings to be returned. Once I reached the door to his private office, my hand settled above the smooth hardwood to give it a knock. And that’s when I noticed that the door was already slightly ajar. I heard a voice inside, other than Diavolo’s, and I took the liberty to glance inside, only for my hopes to come crashing down when the realisation struck me: I shouldn’t have done that.

Inside his office, Diavolo sat in his seat with his mouth pressed against another, a hand trailing across the small face with dark green locks framing it with elegance while the other held on to the person’s waist, pulling him closer. My eyes widened when the smaller man of the two let out a muffled whimper, perched on Diavolo’s lap. Barbatos. I felt my heart squeeze out a pained croak at the sight, and even though every single nerve in my body begged me to move away and forget I ever saw anything, my legs didn’t move. They stayed glued to their spot on the floor even as I felt it crumble beneath my feet, just the way my eyes stayed on Diavolo. My lip trembled with a longing I never thought I’d experience when Barbatos intertwined his fingers with Diavolo’s, smiling into the kiss they shared, like the perfect harmony which was always meant to be. It was when Diavolo broke the kiss, eyes meeting the other’s and whispers of love and confessions floating across the room until they settled on my ears, that I finally felt the mask crack. The facade I had worked on for centuries to lay the foundation of crumbled as my fists clenched, letting myself have a moment of weakness when a lone tear of frustration, delay, anger, and self loathing dripped down my cheek. I looked up at the ceiling, a voiceless laugh tumbling across my lips at the cognisance that the Polaris I was reaching out for, shining proud in the middle of a dark, cloudless sky, was beyond my reach, and... never supposed to be mine. How far I could stretch, how willing were my fingers to make one last attempt to touch it’s light and bask in it - all of that didn’t matter anymore.

I exhaled a shaky breath, blinking once as I tucked away whatever it is I was going to tell Diavolo in some corner of my mind, crushing the key with a hard snap of my fingers. My eyes found Barbatos again, glazing over with a heartfelt wish for him to find his happiness, at least. It was with one last aching smile towards Diavolo and a euphoric laugh spilling from Barbatos’ lips that I turned on my heel, shaking my head at the fate I was handed. Needless to say, I hold no malice towards either of them - they’re both precious to me, as much as I dislike admitting it.

I believe I have shared more than what was required, and I shall burn this piece of paper lest anyone finds it. One might call it wishful thinking on my part, but I do pray that watching the last signs of anything I harbour towards the one who wasn’t meant to be mine from the start burn as the embers of the fire consume it whole makes me put a lid on my feelings once and for all, for they were never supposed matter. They weren’t supposed to exist to begin with.

After all, only a prince deserves a fairy-tale with a happy ending, and I am no prince.

Lucifer.

#Obey Me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #diavolo x lucifer #diavolo x barbatos #dialuci #obey me swd #obey me... fic?#letter?#diary?#idk what this is #a measly attempt at angst #obey me angst #dialuci angst #FIRST OM FIC JFC

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nautiscarader · 4 years

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Calm yo’ tits - a present fic for ZekkKiray

Rating: E, ladynoir/Adrinette (post-reveal), 9143 words (by notepad++ count, 8886 according to Ao3, so one of you is LYING)

Read on Ao3

contains breastfeeding, lactation and mooificated large breasts.

Now, if you look at the tags (and the word count), and you know me, you might be understandably confused and worried that I might have been possessed, hacked by a Russian bot, or simply gone mad. The last part is very likely, but it is not the reason of this fic's existence.

The fic you are about to read is a present for my buddy, ZekkKiray, a vastly superior fic writer, who on one occasion quoted my works as inspiration for his, which solves once and for all the age-old philosophical dilemma, proving that something can indeed come from nothing.

I knew, to some extent, what his favourite kinks are, which sadly, were not exactly compatible with mine. So I needed to find a fandom we both like, and where I wouldn't have to worry too much about silly things like logic or common sense.

Enter "Miraculous Ladybug".

To put it simply, this fic is a bit of crack, I tried working some elements from my personal headcanons, and it doesn't break, assuming you don't push it too hard. More importantly, though, it's a birthday crack. Happy birthday, pal!

Also, this takes place after S3 finale.

================================

Sitting tensely in her chaise-longue, Marinette eyed her tutor and a temporary enemy with a keen eye. She has taken many exams in her young adult life, but this one might have been the most important so far. She concentrated on the small, levitating creature that flew that past her head, and when Tikki revealed a card, Marinette instantly replied.

- Zaggu, gnu kwami, the hero is Ram-page, and has ability to shapeshift terrain. Strong, but not too agile. Best pair with Pegasus for optimum efficiency. - she spoke quickly. - Yes! That's the last one! - Tikki cheered, flying to nuzzle Marinette's cheek.

For the past few days, Marinette has been extensively trying to fill in the shoes of Master Fu, as the new Miraculous guardian, and she has passed her self-imposed exam with flying colours, guessing each and every Kwami Tikki has tested her with.

- Well, if there are any challenging akumas, you will surely be able to know how to dispose of them! - Tikki cheered. - I sure hope so. - Marinette smiled - But now I have to study for actual exams, Tikki.

Marinette walked to her desk, took her college textbooks and opened them, her other hand already deep in the bowl of fruit snacks she prepared beforehand, knowing of the revision session ahead of her.

- Don't you want to study with Adrien? - Tikki flew by her head - Last time you said he's helped you a lot. - I wish. - Marinette sighed dreamily at the sound of her boyfriend's name - And he did, but...

Her cheeks suddenly became slightly deeper shade of burgundy, and she shied away from her Kwami. The mere thought of her boyfriend made her instantly forget about her duties, both as a college student and as a protector of Paris. She let herself indulge in a fantasy of what could happen if the two were put together in her room, and were given a choice between studying for a very boring exam, or doing anything else... However, Marinette had to exert some self-control, and with her friend acting like a second moral compass flying next to her, she had to abandon of her daydream.

- You know, this is quite an important exam, I don't want to be easily distracted and-Adrien!

She let out a gasp when her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it to answer at once. Tikki smiled, watching as her friend melts in her chair at the sound of Adrien's voice. Something told her she's not gonna do any revisions today.

===================

In his dark lair, Hakwmoth was listening. With closed eyes, he concentrated his powers to filter out hundreds of voices, trying to find the loudest and angriest, speaking with pure rage and despair.

He heard squabbling teenagers and forgot about them at once.

He heard depressed, neglected workers and didn't give them a second chance.

He heard a man crying, pitiful and heartbroken, because of his beloved pigeo-NO, NOT HIM AGAIN, THIRD SODDING TIME THIS MONTH.

Gabriel sighed and closed the aperture overlooking Paris. Finding a good source for akuma was sometimes surprisingly difficult. So many voices, so many possible candidates. And yet, again and again, he has failed.

Gabriel stepped down into the staircase that brought him down to his office, and was not surprised to find Nathalie waiting for him.

- Anything new for me, Nathalie? - he corrected his glasses - Just one call from the office of Coco Marocco. They asked for a call-back... - Nathalie paused and dropped her formal attitude - Gabriel, is everything alright?

She gently put her hand on his shoulder, and his body twitched in an instinct to brush it off. But he restrained himself, paused and took another deep breath.

- It's sometimes so... difficult. To find a good one... - I know.

He looked back at her and gave her a rare smile, saying much more than he could have at the time.

- I'll make the call, thank you.

Nathalie left his office, never taking her eye from him as she closed the door. Gabriel sat in his chair, leaned back and dialled the number.

"Hi there! You have reached the office of Coco Marocco, the finest brand of clothing this side of the equator. For English, press One. Für Deutsch drücken Sie bitte..."

Gabriel sighed and let the voice machine continue its job.

"... for business inquiries, press 7".

Gabriel quickly pressed the number, and was welcomed with the same, lifeless, mechanical voice.

"To access your account, please input the number..."

Without thinking, Gabriel typed the eleven-digit number on the tone dial, and waited for the next step.

"We apologise. In order to access your account, you need to speak the numbers", the voicemail said.

A small vein twitched on Gabriel's forehead. He spoke each digit, loud and clear, hoping beyond hope it registered properly.

"We apologise, please say the number again."

It took him two more tries to reach the next step, and he finally heard the familiar waiting music. The second it stopped, he started speaking, but he was met with even more disappointing reality.

"Hi there! Thank you for your patience. Your call is incredibly important to us. Your number in the waiting queue is... FOURTEEN".

The mobile phone crashed and broke into dozens of pieces when Gabriel tossed it across the room, careful not to destroy the painting of his wife that hid the entrance to his observatory.

- Why does it have to be so difficult? - he grumbled - Bunch of incompetent buffoons, making the easiest of things so much more difficult-

And then, a sudden burst of inspiration, privileged only to visionaries of his calibre, has dawned on him. He quickly got up and dashed to the elevator, not noticing that the crash alerted Nathalie to peek into his room, as he was too eager to bring his plan into motion as soon as possible.

When he stepped into his lair, he was Hawkmoth again, and he knew exactly what to listen for.

=====================

The glorious weather outside taunted Nino to end his revisions early and go to the nearest park to bathe in the warm sunshine, but alas, he had to spend his day in the near-empty university library. Unable to concentrate, he took his phone and launched the app to check if the last paper has been graded, but was left with a disappointing, never-ending loading screen. He looked at the only other person in the room, sitting by the computer in the corner, and decided to break the ear-splitting silence.

- Hey dude, are the uni servers down, or something? - And when were they not? - the chubby student replied - The app constantly crashes, we can't even check anything, so I'm just loafing around.

Nino gave him - or rather his large neck - a curious look and decided to end the conversation swiftly.

- Well, at least tumblog works... - If only - his interlocutor replied, much to Nino's chagrin, without even taking his headset off - Ugh, why did they change the colour of the background again? - You okay, dude? - he looked at his freckled face, and the man gave him a contemptuous look. - Yeah. But you seem to be okay with using this sub-par version - he glanced at his phone.

Nino raised his eyebrow and glanced at his phone.

- What's wrong with that?

The man groaned.

- Ugh, where do I start? The app also never works, they haven't implemented half the features of the desktop version, they still show sponsored messages, I mean, not for me, I hacked them myself away, and the options, can you believe they dared to change the font, it's so unreadable now...

He took a sip of a drink he definitely shouldn't have been allowed to bring into the library.

- But the site is so full of idiots now, it's not even worth going there anymore. Can you believe there are people defending the new Flunkies game? They've added cut content DLCs now! All of them sheep, they will buy whatever you throw at them, and...

The guy continued to complain into what was now a Nino-shaped void, as he left quietly a minute earlier, slightly afraid that arrogance might be catching.

And he wouldn't be exactly wrong...

If Nino stayed, he would have noticed that the same window that finally tempted him to walk outside with its glorious view, became also a gateway for a dark-purple moth that landed on the student's headset, turning it into equally sinister shade.

Suddenly, the student's complaints, spoken into nothingness, fell on listening ears, and a voice spoke in his head.

- Anton, I am Hakwmoth. I have heard your eloquent delivery, and I must say, you are quite right. - I know I am - Anton replied, without missing a beat. - There are so many little things wrong with this world, and only you know how to fix them... - Yes, I wrote it all on my blog, but now they changed the tagging system, and they don't even filter by the- - The point is - Hakwmoth interrupted him - As all geniuses in history, you are underestimated. Like the Cassandra of the Greek myths, people do not believe you, despite you speaking the truth. But I can change that.

For the first time in rather long time, Anton listened, instead of talking.

- I can give you a platform to speak your wisdom, better than any social media would ever offer. I can give you the voice, and I can give you the chance to make others hear you... And to sway their views at once... - You-you can do that? - Anton asked excitedly, though remaining in his slumped pose. - Oh, yes. - Hakwmoth replied with an oily, greedy voice - All I need in return is for you to bring me Ladybug's and Chat Noir's Miraculi. They are wrong anyway, so they don't deserve them... Embrace my akuma, and rise-

Gabriel paused. He expected to feel something by now, but instead, he heard a quiet tapping.

- Are-are you typing? - Well, duh, someone is wrong on the Internet. - I was going to give you powers to do all of that a hundred times faster... - Gabriel spoke, unable to believe what he heard. - Okay, I'm done. - Anton spoke - What were you saying?

Stopping the urge to find a new herald of his will, Hakwmoth stomped in place and let the power flow through him and into his new apprentice, transforming his somewhat shaggy clothes into regal, red-and-golden attire. The chair he was sitting in merged into his body, becoming a golden, ornamented throne. And finally, the device around his head became a golden, conical-shaped object, perfectly suited for his new puppet, already fitting well in his hand.

- As I was saying... Rise, Echo Chamberlain, and correct the world, for only you know how. - I will! - the new villain spoke into his megaphone and flew out the library in his levitating chair, smashing the window to pieces.

========================

- Adrien!

Marinette jumped the last few stairs of her house and nearly tripped, but fortunately for her, she landed exactly where she wanted - in the arms of her boyfriend, meeting his lips a minute or so earlier than she planned. She smelled his trademark cologne, singed with his name, and she positively melted against his chest, blissfully forgetting about everything around her, until her mother's grunt brought her back to reality.

She jumped to her feet, fixed her hair and waved her parents goodbye, as the two walked outside for a stroll on the sunny day, with just a chance of studying in the park, in between kissing.

- How was the journey? - Marinette asked, eager to learn all about his latest business trip. - Well, nothing too out of the ordinary. I mean, for me. - he quickly added, afraid he sounded too immodest - I wish I could have brought you with me. - No biggie. I know how strict your father can be... - she leaned against his shoulder. - Hey, look, we should get some ice-cream!

Marinette eagerly pulled Adrien towards the famous André's ice-cream stand that now was parked underneath an old arch, and, predictably, has already amassed a small crowd, hungry for some cold refreshment. But as the two approached them, they heard an angry voice, dissonating with the rest.

- What do you mean you don't have chocolate chips? What kind of ice cream vendor are you? - a young woman was arguing with the poor ice-cream maker, who reacted to her anger with his usual jovial, kind behaviour. - Ah, but mademoiselle, I have other toppings, perfect for you! Brandied cherries! Candied walnuts! Peanut brittle! Or even... - he paused, before saying the next word with less enthusiasm in his voice - Sprinkles... - But I want my chocolate chips! - Excuse me. - Marinette gently addressed the angry woman - Don't you think you act a bit selfish? I'm certain André has been working so hard to bring us these phenomenal treats, it's not his fault he ran out of some of the ingredients... - Yeah - Adrien added quickly - And I think you will find some of these are as good as the one you crave, I can attest to that. - Plus, there are a lot of people waiting...

A shared murmur spread behind her, with people nodding, agreeing to Marinette and Adrien's polite reasoning. The woman sighed, and was about to accept the lesser version of her favourite dessert, but the next words she spoke left her mouth with a volume of hundreds of people.

- I WANT CHOCLOATE CHIPS!

Adrien and Marinette instinctively put their hands over the ears, and as they watched in horror, they might have just saved their sanity. Thre eyes of the people surrounding them glew with red tint, and the same people that a moment ago scoffed at the picky woman, now shouted with her.

- WE WANT CHOCLOATE CHIPS!

The two shared a concerned look, and they frantically looked around, knowing full-well it was a work of an akuma. Adrien spotted him first, a bizarre, red-and-gold man flying in his throne above their heads. They gave each other a nod and ran as far away from the crowd.

- André, run, it's an akuma! - Marinette cried, but it was too late.

The kind man now was roaring with them, demanding his own ice cream booth to give him chocolate chips, smashing it with his bare hands. Adrien and Marinette hid in an alleyway, and as soon as they could catch breath, their Kwami escaped their pockets, ready to transform them.

Two bright flashes of light later, Ladybug and Chat Noir escaped the same alleyway, following new source of cries and shouts. Ladybug shoot her yo-yo to climb onto the nearest rooftop, while Chat accompanied her onto his magical baton that propelled him into the air, so they could level with Hawkmoth's new puppet.

- You there! - Marinette shouted, gaining his attention - What are you doing to these innocent people? - And whatever it is, we are here to stop you!

The akumatised man laughed and rolled in the air in his throne.

- I am the Echo Chamberlain, and I have done nothing to them! I merely gave them the same voice I have. How dare these ice cream makers don't have the perfect ice-cream I want!

He grabbed his megaphone and spoke into it, emitting once more a deafening cry that reverberated amongst the buildings.

- People of Paris! Throw away your chains! Go to the barricades! And demand the ice-cream you want! Ha-ha-ha!

At once, the people beneath them, scared and cowering, stood up and rushed to the shops, big and small alike, chanting the same familiar phrase for their now-beloved condiment.

- You fool! - a sudden voice rang in Anton's head - I gave you the voice so you can get me Ladybug's and Chat Noir's Miraculi! - Oh, right. - he took his megaphone again - But before that, get me Ladybug and Chat Noir! They took all the chocolate chips!

Echo Chamberlain flew onto his throne, leaving Ladybug and Chat Noir with the horde of people, that now began surrounding them with his single command. The two thought that they were safe on the rooftop of the building, but the angry people began climbing each other, forming human ladders, and in matter of seconds, the two had to escape in the same way they got there to begin with.

- He's using some sort of mind control! - Ladybug spoke, when they landed on slightly taller building, though they've already heard the clatter of broken glass beneath them. - The akuma must be in his megaphone. - Chat added - Also, I never thought people like chocolate chips so much. - I don't think they do. I think he likes it, and so he makes other people like the same thing.

Ladybug took a cautious look down, spotting some people rushing away from the angry mob.

- And I think he needs to target like-minded people. Or at least those that share some form of opinion with him... - she pondered. - Great observation, but may I add one? Duck!

Chat Noir pressed Ladybug's head down as a carton full of ice-cream cones flew right through the space once occupied by her head. The two rushed to their feet again, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, escaping the swarm of zombiefied people.

- Maybe there will be fewer of them here... - Chat spoke, but he was immediately proven wrong by a sudden voice behind him. - Oh, do you think ice-cream toppings is the only thing that makes people angry?

Echo Chamberlain arose from behind the building, already aiming his megaphone at the ventilation shaft.

- How about... Mobile chargers! Don't you hate how they always get lost and get tangled?

The powerful sound wave reverberated throughout the building, and the small rooftop door quaked when a small mob of residents rushed to the top, with said chargers in their hands, ready to strangle the two. Ladybug tried sniping a few of them with precise shots of her yo-yo, but the crowd was too dense.

- My lady!

Chat Noir grabbed her and propelled themselves off the building, landing in the vicinity of the same park they were meant to not-study in. But as they landed, they were already surrounded by more hypnotised civilians, this time complaining en-masse about mosquitoes.

- There's too many of them! - Ladybug shouted, jumping onto the nearby lamp post and then onto the tree. - I mean, they aren't exactly wrong, mosquitoes are horrible... - Chat! - Ladybug scolded him - That's the problem, he is making these people aware of all those small, insignificant problems of their lives. - But everyone has those!

Chat Noir's statement suddenly sounded ominously, as the sea of multicoloured people of every race, size and age surrounded them. Each person beneath them complained about something, creating a powerful choir of cacophony.

- We need... we need something to calm them down all at once...

Marinette looked around, and suddenly, as she spotted André's destroyed ice-cream stand, she saw the bell he would rang to alert Parisians of his presence, and a smile appeared on her face.

- I know what to do! - she cheered - Follow me!

The two escaped the tree just as if it was bout to be uprooted, and the two traversed the Paris to land on an even more familiar balcony.

- Don't peek, I'm gonna change my clothes. - she gave him a quick peck as she opened the hatch door to her apartment. - I'd never think of doing that. - Chat grinned, prepared his baton and jumped to the ground to defend the Dupain-Cheng bakery from the horde of people.

Once she was inside, Marinette quickly opened her supplies cabinet. Under the multitude of sewing accessories lied the hidden, oval-shaped red-and-black object that once looked like an ancient music box. The new guardian took it and gently tapped the black spots on the Miraculous Box, and under her touch, the small drawers began opening, one by one, like petals of a flower, revealing the multitude of Miraculi inside. Each of the intricate jewels glowed with a magical light of its own, as if to invite Marinette to try them, but she already knew which one to pick.

She took a small, circular Miraculous and spoke its Kwami name, illuminating her room with calming, white light, as the small, furry creature appeared in front of her.

- There's no time to explain, I need your help. Tikki, unify!

=====================

Meanwhile, Chat was getting more and more surrounded, forcing him to jump higher and higher, hoping the crowd would follow him and not Ladybug, trying his might to defend himself with his baton from the hypnotised masses, chanting their many inconsequential complaints that made them so strong.

- The prequels suck! - The sequels suck too! - Everything sucks!

As the mob was about to grab Chat, suddenly, he felt a familiar grip around his torso and his stomach did a somersault when he was dragged upwards, away from the crowd, as Ladybug reeled him on her yo-yo as if he was a fish.

- Thanks Ladybug, your timing is impecca-

Words got stuck in Adrien's mouth as he turned his head to meet his rescuer. At first, he wasn't sure it was Ladybug, but he recognised her yo-yo and her charming smile, though they were the only familiar element of her looks that remained. Only half of her original red could be found on her new costume, and the tidy, trademark polka-dots merged into black blots against white-brown rest of her costume. But it was the accessories she was wearing that truly befuddled Chat and forced him to pursue his curiosity, even if he was to be proverbially killed for it.

- My lady...! - Adrien stopped mid-way, taking another long look at Marinette - You... Your choice of fighting style is always impawssible to predict, but... Really, a cow? - What?

Marinette looked at herself, turning in place, as if to check if she's made a mistake choosing a Kwami to merge with, but once she ascertained herself, she shot him with a stern look.

- I'm not a cow. - she spoke quickly - The Kwami, whose powers I'm borrowing, is a yak! From Tibet! - Er, my lady - Chat raised his hands in defence, trying not to stare too long at the horns that adorned her head now - With all the respect, half of your costume is white with black spots, you have a ring in your nose, and you wear a cowbell around your neck... - IT'S NOT A COWBELL! - Marinette stomped in place - It's a Tibetan singing bowl, used for meditation. The Kwami told me so. - And what was its name?

With some hesitation, Marinette looked at Chat, whose lips curled into a sly smile, somehow foreseeing the answer and using every ounce of his intelligence to prepare a comeback.

- Lhamuu... - she whispered. - Lha...MOO - Chat articulated, his smug grin becoming unbearable to look at. - Oh, shut up! - Marinette yelled - We have an Akuma to defeat. - You're right, we should get mooving.

The superheroes nodded and jumped once more into the crowd of people under the super-villain's control, a plan already forming in their heads.

===========

- What's this?

In his observatory, Hawkmoth looked through his puppet's eyes at a sight he most certainly didn't expect.

- Ladybug... is a cow. - he muttered, unable to believe his borrowed sight. - Actually, it's a yak, you can tell by the horns, they are quite common in Asia and- - Never mind that! - Hawkmoth interrupted him - Ladybug has acquired a new power! That means she's wearing two Miraculi! Get them at once! - Is it "Miraculi" or "Miraculouses"? Or does this word even have plural form? - Anton pondered - I think there was a thread on Ladyblog about it, and- - THEY CAN BE CALLED "CROISSANTS" FOR WHAT I CARE, JUST GRAB THE JEWELS! - On it.

==========

Anton's throne flew closer to the two superheroes, who kept fighting the overwhelming crowd of people. Though banking on disappointment from recent block-busters wasn't unreasonable, he decided to play on even more delicate strings. He took his megaphone and spoke one word that electrified the masses and angered them all.

- Don't you just hate... CAPTCHA?... yes, it's because of Ladybug and Chat Noir you have to solve those stupid riddles, finding fire hydrants and whatnot! Destroy them!

At once, the mass of people acting, ironically, like radio-controlled robots, roared with pure hatred and began swarming towards them climbing onto balconies, just so they can get to them. Chat took a step backwards, knowing the crowd there was equally dense. But just as he was about to secure Ladybug, she did something utterly unpredictable.

With grace and skill only she possessed, SHE jumped off the rooftop, right into the horde of people, ready to tear her apart.

- My lady!

From the rooftop, Chat watched as Ladybug landed on the plaza, and let the crowd of people encircle and approach her from every side. And though he was afraid, he also had faith in her, strengthen only by her charming smile and a wink she sent him, while the shouting mob surrounded her.

- It's time to use... The Bell of Clarity!

Marinette touched the bowl affixed to her neck, enveloping herself in a delicate, yellow light, grabbed what looked like a ring in her nose and swiftly pulled it, revealing it to have two small balls on each side, and twirled around, ending with a stylish, victorious pose. With her new weapon in hands, she reached it, and gently stroke the bowl with the metallic ring, letting its vibration travel towards their target.

A powerful sound wave surrounded her, spreading in all directions, engulfing more and more of space, finally reaching the ears of the hypnotised people. When the note rang in their minds, they stopped, appearing confused and disoriented, as they suddenly lost the connection to their master's words.

- No, no, get them, you idiots! - Echo Chamberlain shouted through his megaphone.

Marinette stroke the bowl a second time, producing a more melodious tune. The crowd of like-minded zombies became even less coordinated, much to the supervillain's anger. And when she gently began moving the ornamented metal ring across the bowl's edge, instead of producing a single note, it began singing, its soothing melody finally dispelling the charm put on the people.

- No! You have to listen to me! I am right! - Anton took his megaphone and began speaking into it again - The games now suck! The-there are micro-transactions everywhere! The-the toilet paper! It's never turned the right way around! There is product placement in movies!

But no matter how many annoying details about life - or rather lack of it - he spoke of, the crowd remained calm and peaceful, unified with the sound of Ladybug's bell, that spread across the city each time she hit it.

And just when he was about to think of some new annoyance, something hit him from behind him, and when he turned around, he saw Chat Noir, wrestling with him, his baton already locking his arms from reaching his tool of control.

- It's time to dethrone your highness! Now, Ladybug!

At once, Ladybug shoot the yo-yo, grabbing the megaphone, while Chat and Echo Chamberlain wobbled in the air, each trying to overpower the other. But as soon as Ladybug got her hands onto his prized tool of control, it was over. She broke it in half, releasing the purple akuma, she then gracefully caught with the same yo-yo.

- By bye, little butterfly... - she spoke to the purified Akuma, watching it, as it flew away. - Miraculous Ladybug!

A storm of light, radiating from her engulfed the city, repairing the damages caused by the entitled mobs. As for the Echo Chamberlain, he found himself in his regular, not-levitating chair, and only thanks to Chat Noir's strength he didn't hit the ground.

- I believe it was yours. - Ladybug handed him the headset. - Y-yeah... - Anton stuttered. - Uh, Ladybug, I... - That's okay, Anton. - she spoke calmly - We all get upset sometimes, and we all think we have all the answers. - But maybe it's better to walk outside every once in a while, and, say, have some ice cream? Regardless of toppings? - Chat Noir added, giving him equally warm smile. - Y-yeah...

The two watched as the man waddled away, pondering what his behaviour has done. Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other and bumped their fist with a cheerful "Pound it!".

- So, the Bell of Clarity, eh? - Chat Noir leaned against the wall, watching as his partner affixes her new accessory once more to her collar. - Jealous of my new toy, kitty? - Ladybug shot him with a mischievous grin - It has quite powerful properties, I should tell you about that some time, since I've been studying all the Kwamis and... - Nah, I was just pondering the name...

Marinette eyed him suspiciously, noticing the familiar smirk appearing on his face, about to turn into a full, unashamed grin, but when she did that, it was too late, as words already left his mouth.

- It's "Bell of Clarity"...or Clara-bell, if you will.

The Tibetan singing bowl made one last, long, pronounced note as Marinette struck Chat's head with it, putting an end to his jokes and another successful mission.

===========================

Another tune, this one of pure sorrow filled the air, as Hawkmoth roared in anger, his voice echoing in his evil lair atop the Agreste mansion.

- Preposterous! I have been defeated by a superheroine dressed like a cow! - I think she was a yak, Gabriel. - Nathalie added - SHE HAD A RING IN HER NOSE! - he yelled, slamming his fists against the floor, as he collapsed onto his knees - I HAVE A HEADACHE!

==================

Far away from Hawkmoth's prying eyes, as well as many security cameras they've learned to evade, two superheroes were celebrating another victory in a way that became almost a tradition for them. There was a time when Marinette would be utterly shocked at the mere thought of kissing in public, let alone exposing herself there, but the years of serving as a protector of Paris has changed her mind. At some point, she started treating entirety of Paris as her home, with every dark alleyway and rows of chimney that hid them from the rest of the world, and with that notion came the desire to express herself and her love in the open air. And it certainly helped that her boyfriend was a horny tomcat.

Though she would have preferred if Chat pushed her against her soft bed, she didn't mind the cold, sturdy surface of a building they were kissing against. With his relentless, but delicate caresses, there was no place on Earth where they wouldn't be feeling comfortable, and something told her she would be soon melting in his arms or underneath his body.

And Chat was especially meticulous today, as he wanted to make sure that he'd cover every millimetre of her new costume and find out if her new alter-ego changed something with her preferences regarding making love.

- Chat... - Marinette moaned and curled her toes, tightening her legs' grip around his body. - I've had you as a Ladybug...

Chat pressed her against the wall, his hand already on her crotch, and his fingers dug through the latex costume that parted underneath his gentle, yet steady caresses.

- ...then as a mouse...

She let out a short squeak, almost mimicking her timid, Multimouse persona, as he continued undressing her using his claws and teeth.

- Then as a Rena Rouge... do you remember that? - How-How could I forget? - Marinette gasped, her hands sliding up and down his slim, but muscular body - Especially since Alya was filming us...

Chat let out a deep purr of approval, letting his lips and tongue take action, as he leaned against the skin on her neck. And while he was busy peppering her skin with kisses, Marinette decided to continue diving into their memories, perhaps just so she won't have to moan in anticipation of her lover's next, carefully planned move.

- And-And do you remember when Mister Bug used Lady Noire's face? I've never thought he would be so rough... - Mhm, most certainly... - Chat purred, nibbling on her ear, both actions making Marinette's skin shiver - Turned out white goes very well with your the black mask... And, well, rest of the costume too... - Naughty kitten... - And now, I'm gonna be with you as a... - Chat paused, looking up at his lover - ...a yak. - It's fine, you can say I'm a cow. - Marinette rolled her eyes, leaning in for a kiss. - And how should I call you? - Figured you would kiss first and ask names second...

She spoke those words in somewhat croaky voice, after Chat's kiss successfully left her breathless. She tightened her grip on him and looked him in the eye, seeing the familiar, fiery spark of lust that could lead them on a predictable route.

- Yin Yak - she answered - That's the name of that-that superheroine... - Marinette paused, trying to silence herself from another surge of pleasure building up in her loins. - So, would you be Lady-yak? - Chat kissed her breasts through her costume, yearning to feel her costume splitting apart - Or Yin-bug? I have to say, I am purrplexed and confused...

Marinette cupped his face and brought his face millimetres away from hers, just so her next words could firmly root themselves into his mind.

- I will tell you how I want to be called. - she paused and without losing a bit answered - Yours.

With her words acting like a spell, Chat Noir smiled and in a single move tossed her into the air, and caught her with his arms again, letting her legs spread. And as he did so, a rip in her costume appeared, under Chat's most delicate of touches, as a final proof of Marinette's consent and her yearning for her lover. Marinette yelped when his fingers brushed the now-exposed skin underneath her partially-torn costume. In response, she yanked his bell and slid it down, finally laying her eyes on his naked, alluring body.

- It's so much easier for you... - Are you complaining about an incredibly minor inconvenience? - Chat paused - Be careful, or you're gonna get akumatised too...

They giggled and closed their eyes, preparing for a kiss, but as their lips were about to meet, Chat found that something began pushing them away. And when the two looked down, they couldn't help but gasp at the sudden development happening right in front of them.

- What the-?!

Both Adrien and Marinette stared at her chest, or more precisely, her breasts that sprung from beneath her costume, ripping it completely and showing properly how enlarged they've become. And neither of them could tell which one was more surprised of the sight that greeted them. Her usually perky, medium-sized breasts now felt like two balloons that became inflated the moment Chat parted the way of her costume, though despite their size they seemed to defy laws of physics, never truly succumbing to gravity. As if in disbelief, Chat gently cupped them, and only under his touch, Marinette could feel how much they have grown, and that they were in fact still parts of her caresses-starved body.

- They-they are huge! - Marinette gasped, stating the obvious. - Indeed they are... - Adrien licked his lips - I have to admit, I am enjoying your new superhero form more and more...

Marinette gasped when she felt Chat's breath around her nipple, even more sensitive than usual, as his lips closed around the nub, a lot bigger and more pronounced now. And while his tongue lapped around her areola, his left hand caressed her other breast, exploring the new, vast territory he was going to conquer.

As Marinette whimpered under Chat's caresses, he moved from left side of her enlarged bosom to the other, finally taking a dive between them, licking the alluring valley between the voluptuous,breasts on both sides of his face. He looked up, meeting Ladybug's widened eyes, seeing the mixture of pleasure and lingering shock in them. He gave her one final kiss, and asked sheepishly.

- My lady, I'm not doing anything wrong, am I? - Can you hear me complain? - Marinette smirked - I have no idea what happened, but keep your mouth busy, kitty.

She gently pushed his head back between her huge bosom that almost engulfed Chat's head. Suddenly, she felt his kisses everywhere across her sensitive skin, causing her to moan without any care. They were still hidden, at least partially, since she fully expected her breasts might now expand like a portable raft and take the entire space of the rooftop.

Of course, she knew why this happened. Though Chat was joking, her Kwami certainly had a few bovine traits, and her arousal must have accentuated those even more, just like Chat's claws could tear through her otherwise indestructible suit as if it was papier-mâché when his animalistic needs got over him.

As her kisses became more and more ravenous, her legs slowly gave up, and that gave Chat a chance to sneak his arms underneath her back and raise her leg up, just so his access to her dripping sex could be easier. With her left leg on his shoulder, his fingers continued the delicate dance against her pussy, while his tongue lapped at the skin around her nipples.

- Cha-Chat!

Marinette threw her head back, hoping her lover would bring her to her climax soon, and when Chat closed his lips around her nipple once more, just to contain his scream, she felt something new. An exhilarating, electrifying surge rushed through her, and at the same moment as Chat's eyes opened wide, while his fingering slowed down, though with his new discovery, she didn't exactly blame him.

Once he understood what was happening, Chat smiled and doubled his efforts, suckling on her teat, just so he could taste the delicious, sweet milk she began producing.

- My lady, you are... full of surprises... - he spoke, once he took a healthy gulp of her essence, watching as it dripped onto her large breasts.

To her bewilderment, when Chat brought his lips back to her nipple and continued suckling her milk, she felt the pleasure rising again, and with the newly found source of enjoyment, Marinette realised she couldn't think straight, especially when Chat resumed the moves of his hand again, spreading her folds.

But this time, as his muscular body came in contact with hers, it became obvious he was eager for more than simple finger play. He moved his hips in tune of her moans, sliding his exposed cock along her folds, eager to her her begging. And sure enough, once his name left her lips, he dived between her wet, soaking folds, just like his head dived into the valley of her breasts, equally leaking from anticipation.

Marinette let out another prolonged moan. Chat often made love to her this way, pressing her against walls, often just meters away from busy streets, but never before has her body changed. And now, to each of Chat's thrusts, her enlarged breasts reacted accordingly, bouncing up and down around Chat's face, though every once in a while her lover's thirst for her milk caused one of her mounds - or rather mountains - to remain in place, while he feasted on the liquid ambrosia she kept producing.

Adrien thought that he might have harder time keeping his lover up, and bouncing her with the extra baggage, but it turned out that the opposite was true. She felt lighter, giving him chance to exert a bit more pressure and dominance over his lover, much to her enjoyment. Ladybug dug her fingernails into Chat's shoulders, pushing him against the cushions of her bosom, letting his entire face stimulate her much larger and more sensitive area.

With each kiss Chat placed around her nipples came another deep thrust, reaching further and further into her yearning sex that coated his cock with her juices, only helping his cause of sliding as far as possible. And with that storm of sensation, it came as no surprise to Marinette that her mind slowly started going blank, and she began chanting Chat's name like a mantra, begging him to help her reach the peak he promised her, hearing only his grunts in return.

Their shared orgasm made their joined bodies shudder; at the same time, walls of Marinette's pussy contracted, desperate to contain Chat inside her, coating his crotch with more and more of her juices; then the torrential jets of his warm seed shot up her sex, right against her womb, filling her to the brim. And then, just when she thought she was finished, she felt a new form of warmth on her chest, when milk began spurted from her breasts, though the stream quickly found its way to Chat's mouth.

With each of Chat's final, weakening thrusts, the effects began anew, forcing her lover to switch suckling on her nipples, thirsty for her nectar, as if to use it to replenish his essence he kept flooding her with. But as their juices were leaking out, so was their strength, and even Chat's muscles had to give up at some point.

The two collapsed on the rooftop, still hidden by the shadows of the construction scaffolding, though at this point, Marinette truly didn't care if their love making has been heard, or observed by anyone; with her enormous breasts people might think it's some sort of stunt anyway. Her lips found Chat's and she tasted a new flavour, a sweet one that sent shivers down her spine, when she realised what it was, and she understood at once why Chat was so desperate to milk her.

The same flurry of kisses that drove her to her peak didn't stop, as Chat made sure to pepper her breasts with as many of those as possible, at the same time giving her ample time to recover from her equally explosive orgasm.

And as her mind, hazed by pleasure, slowly returned to reality, a new plan formed in her head, and with a quick, but difficult to pull off maneuver - a drawback of the new addition to her body - she rolled and pinned Chat to the ground, much to his surprise.

- My lady?

Chat's ears perked up when he saw her move along his naked body, leaving a trail of kisses as well as her milk along it. And when she reached her destination, she shot him with a mischievous, sly smirk that would have turn his legs to jelly if he wasn't downed already.

Her delicate fingers closed around his half-lips cock, bringing his sensitive tip to her mouth, and as her lips brushed his skin, it twitched satisfyingly in her hand, signalling he was ready again.

- You just lay there, kitty, and let me take care of you...

Marinette's soft, velvety voice, spiked with just a trace of lust worked its magic on Chat right away. Though Marinette might have been surprised by the sudden changes to her body, the superheroine adapted to them at once and decided to put them to good use. Her voluptuous, wobbly breasts engulfed Chat's hard cock, as Marinette proceeded to give her first tit-job of her life, given that now she had proper equipment for it.

As Chat got lost in her ample bosom, he threw his head back, filling the air around them with low purr of delight, followed by prolonged moan when Ladybug's mouth met with his cock's head upon her first bob. it was equally fascinating for Marinette to watch as Chat's length is enveloped by her breasts, and how she can now stimulate far more of him than when her mounds were small an perky.

She had to keep an eye on his legs that twitched with every few seconds in response to her caresses. Chat's claws closed around the nearest edges, after frantically trying to find one to push away his oncoming climax, and his slim, but muscular torso arched from time to time, in sync with Marinette pushing her massive breasts up and down.

To make things a bit varied, she slowed down her moves, replacing them with a bit of her tongue-work, much to Chat's delight. Marinette could distinguish her name being muttered by her lover, begging her to finish her love torture, but the superheroine had none of that. While she was certain Chat would love nothing more than jump to his knees and face-fuck her, she wanted to prolong his pleasure as much as she could, knowing full well of the building and boiling climax in his loins.

As her tongue ran around his head, Marinette had to steer away to taste her own body, still covered with traces of milk she was leaking, and when the same tongue returned to his tool, Chat moaned again, feeling the liquid she was mixing with his pre-cum, almost as if he could taste it again. Once more he was privileged to see how the once-shy superheroine pushed her limit of perversion with a kink neither of them expected to enjoy an hour earlier.

And it was that knowledge (combined with her dedication to bring Chat to climax, as she started bobbing her breasts up and down again), that drove Chat to his edge, turning his moans incomprehensible begging only Marinette could understand and reply to. She waited until Chat's eyes would meet her again, and spoke to him taking breaks from kissing his swollen tip ready to burst.

- You, kitty - she started - You like my milk... But I...

She pressed her hands against her breasts, wanting to completely envelop Chat's cock between her massive breasts.

- ...I prefer cream.

A loud, yet weak cry of defeat escaped Chat's lips at the same time as first rope of cum flew from his swollen tip, landing straight across Ladybug's face, forcing her to close her eyes momentarily, though she opened them a second later, just so she can marvel at Chat's virility.

Just as second rope of cum was about to decorate her face, Marinette opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, inviting Chat to change his aim, though with his cock still engulfed by her breasts, she was much in control of the trajectory, and with some difficulties, she has managed to fill her mouth with the thick, sticky seed, getting the first sniff of the pungent and aggressive, but alluring taste and smell of her lover.

Three more streams of his cum landed in Marinette's lips, before her treatment has emptied Chat's balls, and the heroine could swallow the veritable pool of Chat's cream sitting in her mouth. She did it without breaking the eye contact with him, making sure he'd hear the guttural, gulping noises as his essence travelled down her throat, his warmth, taste and smell lingering far longer thanks to its consistency. He must have been saving for days...

But that wasn't complete end of Chat's climax; long after he stopped supplying Marinette with his seed, he withdrew from between the heavenly trap of her breasts, and another strands of his seed adorned them, prompting Marinette to perform action she wasn't able before, due to how much bigger and more supple her breasts have become. She pushed her breasts just up enough so she can lick off each and every drop of cum Chat left, as if it was the most delicious meal she wouldn't let go to waste. And the sight of expression on Chat's face was a reward already, aside of the familiar, musky aftertaste that reminded Marinette who has just marked her as his. Not to mention that as she squeezed her breast, Chat's essence mixed with her milk, adding a new taste of sweetness to his salty one.

Marinette revelled in the overwhelming storm of tastes that filled her mouth, and that indulgence gave Chat opportunity to counter-attack. Though he was pressed to the ground by her body and her breasts that now were a significant part of it, the superhero easily rolled her to her back, his head already back between her mounds, licking the milk that has managed to leak during his climax.

- I'd say that's a tie, my lady. - Of course you'd say that. - Marinette chuckled - You just want to get comfy and drink milk, and I just happen to have what you need...

In response, Chat let out a soft purr, as he nuzzled himself into Marinette's breasts, never taking eyes from his lover. Marinette reached and toyed with his untidy golden hair, and her charming smile managed to lure him from between her breasts for another long-needed kiss.

And just when she thought she would be given some time to relax, Chat Noir yanked her legs upwards, pressing them against her body, trapping her enlarged breasts between them, squishing them even more, which made them appear even larger.

- Sorry, Ladybug, but you are just too appetising to not ravish...

Marinette yelped when Chat's hard cock entered her again, and she felt Chat's delicious weight on top of her. She knew her new form would drag a very primal string in his masculine mind, and she did not object when he jumped to his feet and pushed her into a mating press, ready to engage in deeply animalistic form of love making.

His hips worked twice as hard than previously, wanting to reach as far into her throbbing, needy sex as possible, and while he was leaning over her, he was given once more chance to taste her delicious milk, each time he plunged himself inside her.

Ladybug's legs dangled above their heads, in sync of his ravenous thrusts, and as Marinette met his eyes, she had no doubts what drove him into his frenzied state. She knew that her kwami chose to make her look like a perfect mating partner, and that Chat was making sure there was enough milk for his kittens...

Their frantic bucking lasted shorter than they expected, but the same, wild thought they shared pushed them over the edge at the same time. Chat grabbed her thick thighs, buried his face between her breasts that erupted with milk, and in turn flooded her once more with his virile seed, bringing their shared fantasy to completion.

Chat collapsed on top of her, landing his head across Laybug's vast breasts, once more basking in their sweet glory. When their lips met again, they could both taste it, and the two lovers fell into a tight embrace.

The two were blissfully unaware that in the mean time the sun has gone down, but that only meant there will be less light for onlookers to catch them.

=====================

Standing by the kitchen counter, Marinette concentrated on making another batch of freshly baked sweets, so then they can be ready in an hour or so when the bakery opens. It was the quiet before the storm, but Marinette enjoyed those early morning hours... especially when she had someone to help her.

Adrien sneaked up behind his girlfriend, peppering her exposed neck with kisses, while his hands gently travelled up and down her waist, though once he saw what she's been making this whole time, his caresses stopped,and he let out a satisfying purr. On the counter lay several, hemispherical pastries, glazed in white marzipan, each adorned with a candied cherry on top, and the longer Adrien stared at them, the more he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

- Well, our adventure has certainly given you some inspiration, Marinette. Your original design? - I wish. - Marinette snickered - Those are called Saint Agatha's breasts, it's an old, Italian treat.

She handed him one, watching as his fingers dance on the shiny surface.

- It does remind me of what happened yesterday, though... - Adrien smiled, before taking a bite of the sugary coating. - I might have double-glazed them just like you did me.

Marinette brought her finger to his mouth to collect a small crumble of marzipan stuck to his lips, and predictably, her boyfriend wasn't just ravenous for sweets, as he quickly licked her finger clean too.

- Adrien! - Marinette pulled back and rushed to the sink - Warn me next time... - Okay, here's a warning..

Adrien chuckled, closing his arms around her belly once more. He sneaked his mouth to her neck, while his arms separated, each travelling closely to one of her erogenous zones. His left hand dived underneath her apron and tried getting into her panties, while the right one caressed her perky breasts, and as soon as his fingers began toying around her nipples, Marinette addressed something that has been on her mind.

- You miss them, don't you? - You know that I love you exactly the way you are... - Adrien answered tactfully - Don't lie, kitty - Marinette interrupted him. - You are, alas, only a man, therefore, I know you liked when my rack was three times the size of my current one. - Fine, if you want to, then I will say it - he kissed her neck - But just because I had more of you to love. Is it okay if I admit that I do slightly miss them? - If you'll keep finishing inside me, like yesterday, then I can assure you, you'll get them back very soon...

Marinette yelped, when his hands travelled back to her hips and spun her around in place, but once she met his face, she closed her arms behind his neck without missing a beat, just in time for his comeback.

- Is that a warning, or an invitation?

Adrien raised his brow, watching as her face reddened.

- Tell you what, I'm gonna finish in five minutes, and we might find out. - If you'll wear this apron then I will finish in five minutes... - Adrien!

#miraculust #mlnsfw #ladynoir #adrinette #lemon #nautiscaraderfics

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mdelpin · 4 years

Text

The Red Dragon - Chapter 26

AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch25

I'm not strong enough to stay away I can't run from you I just run back to you Like a moth, I'm drawn into your flame You say my name But it's not the same You look in my eyes I'm stripped of my pride And my soul surrenders And you bring my heart to its knees

And it's killin' me when you're away. And I wanna leave, and I wanna stay. And I'm so confused, So hard to choose Between the pleasure and the pain. And I know it's wrong, and I know it's right. Even if I try to win the fight, My heart would overrule my mind. And I'm not strong enough to stay away.

Not Strong Enough by Apocalyptica

Chapter 26

Natsu was able to hold himself together for about two blocks before he found an alley and walked into it. He collapsed against the wall, for once not caring at all about the dirt or the stench, his chest shaking as he dissolved into sobs. He could still feel Gray’s pain and anger on top of his own, and the combination was more than he could handle. It didn’t help that he understood the enormity of what he’d done.

It was over, there was no coming back from this. How could there be?

Natsu heard footsteps entering the alley and approaching him but couldn’t be bothered to see who it was. He heard a familiar voice ask kindly, “Son, are you okay?”

Surprised, he looked up to see Anna Heartfilia, the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother, looking down at him. “Natsu? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

When he continued to weep without saying a word, Anna knelt down and held him to her chest, letting him cry. Natsu held on to her tightly, seeking to let her smell soothe him like it once had. She made soft, comforting noises and placed her head on top of his until he calmed down enough to talk.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” Anna asked as she moved a few strands of blonde hair, which were starting to turn gray, away from her face. Natsu shook his head miserably.

“Come on, let’s get you some cocoa.” She coaxed, standing up and pulling him up with her. She walked towards the orphanage, and Natsu followed behind, not really caring where he was going.

They entered the building and walked into her small apartment, Anna gestured him towards the kitchen as she put her keys down in a small bowl by the door.

She entered the kitchen and grabbed an apron, tying it behind her back as she looked around for something. Making an aha noise, she grabbed a small container that was filled with a reddish powder.

“Natsu, will you be a dear and light up the stove for me?” Anna asked as she continued to search for ingredients inside her small kitchen. Natsu got up from the chair he had settled on and did as she asked. Once the stove was lit, she quickly got to work mixing ingredients and stirring the contents in a small pot.

After a few minutes, Natsu recognized the smell and managed a small smile. She was making his favorite childhood drink, chile hot chocolate. She poured the contents of the pot into two mugs and carried them to the table, setting them down carefully. Grabbing one last item, she placed it between the two of them before sitting down. When Natsu didn't move, she grabbed a handful of the little sugary pillows and dropped them in his drink.

“Thank you, Anna.”

“You’re very welcome,” Anna replied, waving the act away, “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind? That might be the first time I’ve seen you cry since Erza knocked you down your first day of school.”

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for taking care of me,” Natsu said quietly, his mind already full of goodbyes.

"Nonsense, you would have died otherwise. Igneel and Atlas might know a lot about dragons, but they knew nothing about babies." Anna rolled her eyes. "Your mother would’ve had both our hides in the afterlife if we let anything happen to you."

“You knew my mom?” Natsu questioned, eyes widening as he realized he’d never thought of that possibility before.

“Of course I did, we were friends most of our lives,” Anna replied, her mouth curving into a smile, “Hang on, I think I have a picture around here somewhere, it’s from before Igneel arrived.”

She got up from the table, and Natsu took the opportunity to drink his chocolate. Anna had made it for him when he was little. Any time he’d gotten in trouble with Igneel, which was often. Natsu would help her make it, using his fire to heat the small pot as it cooked. It was one of the few sweets he'd had as a kid. He’d loved it because it was both spicy and sweet.

Anna would listen to him rant about Igneel and comfort him, often staying with him until he fell asleep. She really had been like a mother to him, and he'd loved her dearly. Still did. She was also the only human who had known what he was, and she'd never treated him differently for it. Now, Natsu thought, maybe he understood why.

She returned with a picture of two young girls holding hands and smiling, one had blonde hair and was obviously Anna, the other had long pink hair and stunning green eyes, just the same as his. It was an excellent likeness of Anna, so Natsu could only assume that it was a good one of his mother as well. He stared at the picture hungrily, finally able to see his mother for the first time in his life.

“That was us,” Anna grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief, “We were trouble back then!”

“Can you tell me about her?” Natsu asked hopefully, “I only know what Atlas has told me, but he didn’t know her very well.”

“I should have said something before,” Anna apologized, “but your father, well, he still can’t really talk about her.”

"Hmm, let’s see, Porlyusica was a lot like you actually," Anna smiled at him fondly, "She was very passionate, fought for what she believed in, and once her mind was made up, there was no turning back, and boy did she have a temper!"

Natsu rolled his eyes at Anna, but he also ate up every word.

"I think, had she lived, the two of you would have gotten along very well and ganged up on your poor father, and he-- he would have loved it," Anna suddenly became quiet, and Natsu could see she was trying to fight back tears.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve talked about her,” Anna apologized as she sniffled.

"It's okay, you don't have to keep going," Natsu assured her, but she only smiled as she got herself under control.

“I want to, you should know about her. What else? She was an amazing healer, people would come from all over to seek her advice,” Anna continued, “Did you know that you were born here?”

“I was born in the orphanage?” Natsu asked confused, Atlas had told him he’d been born at his house.

"Well, not exactly, this was where your house was. After you were born and Porlyusica passed, Igneel kind of lost control of himself. He explained later it was a mate thing, their connection had been severed and it was excruciating for him. He lost control of his magic and burned the house down. He couldn't eat the fire since he'd created it."

Natsu could feel Anna's eyes on him, watching for his reaction to her words, but he was too tired to play games and too shaken by Anna's description of what had happened to his father to hide anything.

“So it’s as I thought, whatever is bothering you is somehow mate related,” Anna mumbled to herself. She didn’t push though, just looked at him with concern.

“Did you know they’re having a festival in your honor today?” Anna asked him suddenly.

Natsu looked at her in astonishment, “You knew that was me?”

“Well of course, who else would it be?”, Anna replied, amused by Natsu’s surprise, “You’ve protected this village one way or another for a very long time.”

She reached out to touch his face, giving him a look that was tinged with worry.

"This village loves you, Natsu. You have come to their rescue time and time again, and they wanted to show you how much they've come to appreciate you." Anna said proudly, "I even heard Erza say they were going to build a humongous bonfire for you to eat, and I know the kids were hoping you’d show up to do some of those flying tricks you do."

“I know you feel down right now, and I’m not going to push you to tell me why,” Anna added quickly before he had a chance to protest, “But you’re important to a lot of people in both your forms and I think it’s time you realized that.”

Natsu nodded, only half listening, he'd reached a sort of numbness that was almost manageable. He'd walk around the festival for a bit and maybe even make an appearance for the kids when it got dark, but he hadn't changed his mind. Tomorrow he would begin his search for Acnologia. If he could manage to take him down, the village wouldn't need his protection anymore. Maybe then, he and his family could move to Drak Aast with Belserion and the remaining dragons. Far enough away for him not to feel this way anymore and to give Gray a chance to start a new life without him.

Natsu thanked Anna again, allowing her to fuss over him a bit longer. He gave her a tight hug goodbye and told her he loved her. He could tell from the look on her face when he said goodbye that she knew he wasn’t planning on ever coming back.

O-o

Gray was emotionally exhausted. The onslaught of memories hadn't stopped since Natsu had released them. He was out of tears at this point, but still, the memories came, full of images of a happier time but moving too fast for him to be able to hold them for long. The pain was more than he thought he could bear. He felt betrayed, but at the same time, he also felt how happy and in love they'd been in those months, and he couldn't decide which hurt more.

Gray, I’m a fire dragon.

He remembered eight-year-old Natsu saying those words to him before Gray attacked him in anger. Why the hell was Natsu continuing to insist on this ridiculous farce? He didn’t believe him then, and he certainly didn’t believe him now. Still, that small memory loosened a bigger one.

“Can you imagine Erza’s face when she finds out you’ve been back all this time, and you haven’t gone to see her yet?” Gray laughed with glee as Natsu immediately looked nervous.

“I’m not afraid of her.”

“Sure you’re not, Pyro.“

“I set one thing on fire, and it was your fault. You startled me!” Natsu complained loudly as they got to their field.

“That one thing was the hotel.” Gray reminded him, causing Natsu to immediately pout and cross his arms in front of his chest cutely. Gray stopped and kissed him. “You’re just lucky I’m such a great provider.”

“I paid for the stay and all the food for six months!” Natsu replied in outrage.

“Yeah,” Gray agreed readily before adding, “But I paid for the building.”

“You’re going to have to make it up to me tonight,” Gray smirked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Okay, fine,” Natsu grumbled but didn’t look at all displeased by the idea, “Just don’t tell Erza about the hotel, okay?”

“That’s gonna cost you extra.”

“Ugh! You’re the worst!”

"But you love me," Gray teased, loving that he could get a rise out of his mate so quickly.

He was surprised when Natsu didn't answer, it wasn't like him. When Gray turned to see if he'd managed to actually upset him, he noticed that Natsu was gaping up at the sky, eyes widened, and body covered in a thin layer of flames. He followed Natsu's gaze and saw something that both set his blood boiling and terrified him. A monstrous black dragon covered in blue markings was flying towards Talos. He immediately glanced at Natsu, the only dragon slayer around, and grabbed his hand, yanking him towards the village.

“Stop!” Natsu yelled as he dug his heels in and refused to move any further, “We have to get out of here!”

“What are you talking about? We have to get to the village and help!” Gray argued, confused by Natsu’s actions. He’d seen him run into more dangerous situations than this without a thought.

“You don’t understand, that’s Acnologia,” Natsu said as if that explained everything.

“Who?”

“The renegade dragon slayer that almost killed me,” Natsu said impatiently, “We don’t have time for this, I’ll explain on the way.”

“That’s a dragon, I thought you said he was a dragon slayer,” A million questions tried to burst forth, but Gray shook his head to clear them away, this wasn't the time. They needed to hurry. Every second they hesitated was a second less they would have to react.

Natsu refused to budge no matter how hard Gray pulled. “We have to go help them, Natsu. Lyon, Erza, Juvia, Anna... they’re all there, they’ll die if we don’t help them.”

With a sigh, Natsu said, “If I go fight him, will you promise me you’ll stay here?”

"I won't let another dragon destroy my home," Gray replied stubbornly. He was determined to fight but also scared out of his wits. The dragon was huge, and he could feel an aura of malice radiating from it that set him on edge.

“GRAY!” Natsu exploded, sounding both angry and terrified and altogether unlike himself. Natsu’s voice softened into a plea, “I can’t fight him if I’m worried about you.”

“I’m going, Natsu. You can either come with me or not, but there’s no way in hell I’m staying behind.”

Natsu looked at Gray and back at Acnologia, who was flying ever closer to the village. “DAMMIT!” Natsu roared, “I didn’t want you to find out like this!”

Gray gazed at him in confusion, having no idea what he was referring to. He watched open-mouthed as Natsu somehow transformed into a red dragon, and with a mighty roar swiftly took to the sky, racing to reach Acnologia before he could destroy the village.

Gray's immediate response was disbelief, and it was soon followed by denial. There was no way that Natsu had turned into a dragon, it was just a figment of his imagination. It had to be. But as he saw that same red dragon ram into the black one, he knew it was real, and he was filled with a profound rage.

Gray covered his mouth to keep his screams from being heard by anyone outside. He felt as if he were going insane. Had Natsu been telling him the truth this whole time? How was that even possible?

Gray's mind started reeling, starting to put together the pieces that had always been there. Natsu had tried to warn him away, but Gray had refused to listen, too consumed by what he wanted to pay heed.

Of course, I want you, you jackass! I always have. But what the hell am I supposed to do when you hate everything I am? Don't you see how futile this is?

Now that he thought about it, there had been many clues over the years, Natsu's incredible regenerative ability, his power level being a magnitude higher than any of the other dragon slayers. The way Natsu was able to soothe Happy after he, Sting and Lyon had attacked him when none of the other dragon slayers seemed to know what to do. How upset Natsu had become when he'd told him dragons were nothing but beasts intent on destruction or when Gray made references to wanting to kill them.

Gray had been such an asshole about all of it, even as Natsu had attempted to be patient with him. As angry as he was at his mate at the moment, he was starting to see, he might also have been at fault.

Natsu had tried to distance himself from him, but Gray had refused to allow it, never once pausing to consider why Natsu might be doing that. He'd been overjoyed when Erza had forced them together even though it was obviously not what Natsu had wanted. Natsu had even tried to slow things down once they'd gotten together. Fuck. Natsu had attempted to protect him every step of the way.

But why? Why go so far as to remove his memories? What had he seen or done that would make Natsu do that? Surely it wasn’t just because he’d seen him transform. It didn’t sound like something Natsu would do. Gray was still angry, but suddenly it felt like he was still missing something. What had Natsu been trying to protect him from?

Gray once again found Natsu sitting outside in the middle of the night. He sat down next to him and grabbed his hand, squeezing it and placing it in his lap. He remained silent, not wanting to disturb whatever Natsu was doing. It didn’t take long for him to break the silence, but not in a way Gray expected.

“Am I a monster?” Natsu asked him as they sat together underneath the starry sky.

Gray draped his arm over Natsu’s shoulders, pulling slightly until Natsu’s head was against his shoulder, allowing Gray to kiss his head, “You’re about as far from a monster as you can get, love. Why would you even ask something like that?”

“I’ve taken so many lives,” Even though Natsu looked at the ground, Gray could hear the tears he was trying to hide in the way his voice wavered, “In my dreams, I can still hear them screaming.”

Gray thought about saying something to lighten the moment, but one look at Natsu, at the tension in his shoulders, and the set of his jaw made him realize that would be a mistake. He thought about how best to answer.

"Natsu, if you were a monster, you wouldn't feel bad about the things you did. You were put in a bad situation, and you did everything you could to survive. You didn't enjoy any of it."

“Maybe, but sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve to be happy.”

"Of course you deserve it. You lived in hell for a year and a half, we both did. Every time I see your scars-" This time it was Gray who was tearing up, his hand letting go of Natsu's and immediately moving to trace the worst of the scars over his shirt, a sizeable nasty X shaped scar by Natsu's hipbone, "All I can think of is that any one of those could've taken you away from me, and it scares the shit out of me."

"You were the only thing that kept me going," Natsu looked up at him with an intensity that made Gray a little nervous, and when he looked into Natsu's eyes, he saw what looked like small flames shining in them, "I love you."

Gray's heart sped up, and his breath hitched at the sound of those words. It was the first time Natsu had said those words to him, words he hadn't heard since Ur had died, and even back then, he'd had a hard time accepting that he was worthy of such deep emotion. He hadn't said them to anyone since his parents had died, even though he'd always known that it was what he felt for Natsu.

He couldn't bring himself to say the words now, and he worried, but to his great relief, he could see Natsu wasn't expecting him to. Gray leaned in to kiss his boyfriend, and as he kissed, he began to work Natsu's shirt off, separating from him only long enough to remove it. He pushed him to the ground gently and began to trace every scar with his fingers, followed by his lips, every caress a silent I love you he hoped Natsu understood.

Gray heard music coming from outside his window and was surprised to see that afternoon had turned into early evening. He'd managed to waste the whole day, and for the first time since he'd kicked him out, he wondered how Natsu was doing.

Gray could only feel the faintest trace from him, and that worried him. He thought back to how devastated Natsu had looked when he'd left and remembered his words.

His mate would transform back into his dragon form as soon as the sun set. If Gray hurried, he might still be able to talk to him, to at least say a proper goodbye. He didn't know what was in store for them, but he didn't want to leave things at angry words. Not when they had such little time left, and certainly not after everything they'd meant to each other over the years.

He hurried into his bedroom to change into some clothes more appropriate for the occasion, knowing Erza would kill him if he showed up in what he was currently wearing. He changed quickly, grabbed his keys, and left his apartment, following the throng of people that were walking towards where the festival was being held. It was slow going, and he used his magic to make the people around him uncomfortable enough to clear a path for him. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and he started to run.

When he got to the plaza, he was out of breath. The festivities were in full swing, the ample space packed with people enjoying the live music. An area had been set aside for dancing, and Gray quickly spotted Erza and Lyon.

The festival must have gone well because they both looked pleased. Lyon offered his hand to Erza and led her towards the dance floor where they spun around with the other couples, Gray watched them, and all of a sudden, a memory got hold of him.

"Will you marry me?" Natsu blurted out as he held out a sword pendant with a beautiful firestone embedded at its center for Gray to take. "I-- I made this for you."

“You want to marry me?” Gray gazed at Natsu, not quite believing what he’d heard. When Natsu nodded and replied with a grin, the one Gray couldn’t resist, he knew just what his answer would be.

"Yes!" Gray picked Natsu up and swung him around as the dragon slayer laughed. Gray put him down, and when Natsu locked the clasp of the chain around his neck, the pendant immediately began to glow.

“Why is it glowing?” He asked, holding it up to examine it.

“Because our souls are in harmony, our bond is whole,” Natsu explained as he touched the pendant. “I enchanted it with a ton of protection magic.”

“As if I need protection,” Gray scoffed good-naturedly.

“You are my Ice Princess,” Natsu winked, his tone mischievous, and Gray swatted him.

Gray couldn’t remember if he’d ever been this happy before. He grabbed Natsu’s hand and kissed his knuckles before dragging him over to the dance floor, wanting an excuse to put his arms around his fiance while there were so many people around...

They were engaged? Had they gotten married? As furious as he’d been, Gray knew he still loved Natsu, had always loved him, since before he’d even understood what that type of love was. The years of worrying, the sorrow, the anger, none of it had changed that. But if Natsu really was a dragon, how could they have any kind of relationship, and why was he human now? Wasn’t there a chance they could change him back?

He couldn’t waste any more time thinking about all of this, he had to find Natsu before it was too late. He needed his help to make sense of some of the things he was seeing. His hand moved up to the pendant, it’s origin finally revealed. It had been a mystery he’d been trying to figure out for the last two years.

He tried to feel through their bond, hoping to get an idea of where Natsu might be, if he were close or far, but to his dismay, even the constant hum that he'd gotten used to over the years had become faint. Gray had a terrible feeling that if he didn't catch up to Natsu before he transformed back into a dragon, he might never see him again. He looked around the plaza, but the only person he saw with pink hair was a little girl.

He would ask Erza whether she’d seen him, it was the only thing he could think of to do. He saw her talking to some people while Lyon danced with Juvia. He walked towards her urgently, bravely grabbing her by the arm and pulling her away from the others.

“What’s gotten into you?” Erza’s nostrils flared as she put her hands on her hips.

He ignored her question and immediately launched into one of his own, “Have you seen Natsu?”

Erza looked at him worriedly, knowing him well enough to detect the urgency in his tone. “Is something wrong?”

“Have you seen him?” Gray repeated impatiently.

“No, not since I saw him at your place. Did you two have a fight already?”

The song had ended, and Lyon had joined them, hearing the tail end of the conversation. "What did he say to you?"

"I got my memories back, Lyon. Well, most of them, there are still a few things I don't understand, but I need to find Natsu before the sun sets."

"Why before the sun sets?" Lyon and Erza both asked at the same time, and if he hadn't been in such a hurry, Gray would have teased them about it.

“No time, I’ll explain later.”

“Did you check his favorite spot?” Erza asked, her expression thoughtful.

“His favorite spot? You mean the field?”

"No, I guess maybe he stopped going there once he got busy with the patrols, but I could always find him there. Come on, it'll be faster if I show you." Gray chased after her, thankful that he had thought to ask. Erza had known Natsu for a very long time.

They tried to get through the crowd, but it proved difficult. Erza requipped into one of her armors, and that was enough to get people moving. She led them through several streets stopping in front of one of the few buildings in Talos that had a flat roof and an unobstructed view of the lake and mountains. He could feel Natsu near.

He thanked Erza before calling on his ice, using it to lift himself to the roof. He found Natsu perched on the edge of the opposite side of the roof. He sat facing the lake, legs dangling, and eyes fixed firmly on the beautiful view. Gray had never been up there before, but he could immediately see why Natsu liked it.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. There were a lot of conflicting emotions raging inside of him. He wanted to go to Natsu, touch him, kiss him, take him back, but at the same time, he also wanted to yell and punch him again. The conflicting desires were too much, and he ended up paralyzed, watching the sun's progress with an aching heart.

He just wanted things to go back to the way they’d been before Acnologia attacked.

After a few minutes of silence, Natsu finally got up from his spot and acknowledged him. Gray almost wished he hadn't. He'd never seen Natsu look as utterly defeated as he did at that moment. To make matters worse, he also had an air of determination about him that scared Gray even more than the defeat. He knew that face, Natsu had made up his mind up about something, and Gray had a pretty good idea he wasn't going to like whatever it was.

“You must have a lot of questions,” Natsu guessed, his tone stoic as he looked at the sky, “There isn’t much time left.”

Gray took a moment to do something he’d failed to do that morning. He scrutinized Natsu, searching for changes from the last time they had seen each other a year earlier, and in doing so, he noticed something peculiar.

There was a grouping of stitches on his arm, stitches that looked oddly familiar. His eyes moved to Natsu’s chest, which was only covered by the open vest he always wore, noting the scars that covered his torso and finding several he didn’t remember Natsu having the previous year. One, in particular, looked recent. A scar that resembled charred skin, in a place that combined with the stitches on his arm and what he now knew Natsu to be, could only lead him to one devastating conclusion.

As outrageous as it might seem, Natsu and Fukou were one and the same.

Gray’s mind flooded with all the telltale signs in his interactions with Fukou that he’d ignored.

The way his necklace had reacted to the dragon, how Fukou had called him Princess, and been so upset whenever he was in danger, yet still came to his rescue time and time again. How he’d healed his injuries while trying to warn him away from Natsu. But more than anything, he remembered that strange sense of peace he’d felt just sitting with Fukou at the top of the mountain and how often he had thought the two were similar.

He wanted to discredit it, still wanting to deny what his heart had already accepted, but it made too much sense. Why would any other dragon put up with him? Even Happy would have probably told him to fuck off.

Gray cursed himself for not realizing it before, although he likewise knew there was no way he ever could have. Why would he?

He also remembered he hadn’t exactly always been kind to the dragon, and felt even worse about the name he had chosen for him, knowing now some of the things it had probably brought up for Natsu.

“You’re Fukou, aren’t you.” Gray phrased it as a statement, already convinced of its truth but wanting to hear it from Natsu just the same.

“Yeah,” Natsu responded, and for some reason that Gray couldn’t begin to understand, he sounded sad by the admission.

“Why?” Gray raged, “Why not just tell me instead of making me think you didn’t care? Hell, you told me as much!”

Natsu sighed, pulling at his hair in frustration, “You would never have believed me, and it allowed me to remain with you for a bit longer.”

“And maybe I thought if I could get you past your hatred…,” Natsu closed his eyes tightly, “Nevermind.”

His mate might not have finished his sentence, but Gray could still gather the meaning loud and clear…. then we could be together…

The cruel irony was that Gray had wished for the exact same thing. He'd wanted to spend an afternoon in that wildflower field with Natsu, and he’d been so frustrated to spend it watching over Fukou instead, not ever realizing his wish had been granted.

Gray had spent so much time being angry, thinking that Natsu hadn’t even been trying, only to now discover he’d been by his side the whole time. He felt awful, knowing he should have known better, that he should have trusted that Natsu would never have left him behind without good reason.

"Are we married?" Gray blurted out, realizing they were rapidly running out of time. He hadn't remembered a wedding yet, and he desperately needed to know. He hoped they were, that they'd done something with that happiness he'd felt earlier.

Natsu nodded, trying to look unaffected. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can get it annulled.”

Those words hurt Gray more than the fact that Natsu had locked away his memories, or had hidden his identity from him. That he could just take everything they'd been and push it away so carelessly. He had to remind himself that Natsu was wearing a mask. He was hurt, and at the same time, he was trying to protect Gray.

"What if I don't want to?"

Natsu shrugged, still refusing to look at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what to say.”

“I-- I don’t want to lose you," Gray found himself growing ever more desperate at Natsu's attitude.

"You deserve to be happy," Natsu whispered, almost as if he was talking to himself, and Gray heard the pain in his voice. More importantly, he'd felt something through their bond, and that excited him.

Their bond was still there, Natsu was just trying to mute it. There was still hope that Gray could get through to him!

“Don’t you?”

Natsu ignored his question and uttered the scariest words Gray had ever heard, “I’m going after Acnologia.”

“That black dragon? Absolutely not, are you out of your mind?”

“As long as he lives, no dragon will ever be safe. That’s something I can try to do something about.”

“Natsu, please don’t do this," Gray pleaded, finally understanding how much was at stake, "I didn’t mean to send you away, I was angry. I love you, I‘ve always loved you.”

Frustrated by Natsu's silence at his words, Gray snapped, “Will you look at me dammit?! We can make this work somehow.”

Natsu complied, still trying to keep his emotions hidden, “No. We can’t. Don’t you get it? I can only take this form one day a year, and who knows how long that will be true. Is that what you want? A husband that can only be with you one day out of the year? What kind of life is that?”

“I’d rather be with you one day out of the year than never at all. We can… we can hang out as we have for the rest of the year.”

“You’re fooling yourself. Now that you know it’s me, can you honestly tell me it’s not going to hurt you to see me and know we can’t be together? Because it hurt me, a lot.”

Gray remained quiet, suddenly understanding the dragon’s constant absences. He looked at Natsu with pity.

“Natsu--”

“No, no more!" Natsu roared, looking heavenward, "I’m going to do the right thing, for once. I release you from our bond.”

“What?! No! I refuse. We can find a way to work this out. Isn’t that why you came to see me this morning?”

“It’s almost time. I have to go.” Natsu’s voice had once again returned to the same stoic tone that was working away at Gray’s very last nerve.

“We have all the time in the world. We’re going to be together for the rest of our lives.” Gray stared at Natsu levelly. “Do you remember saying those words to me?”

Natsu flinched as his words were thrown back at him. “That was when I thought I could remain human forever.”

“I don’t care what you are, Natsu. I care about who you are.”

"I know you think that, and I really am proud of how far you've come, but you don’t seem to understand. This is who I am, it's who I've always been, and I am done hurting you."

The sun had finally set, and Gray watched helplessly as red scales appeared and slowly began to cover Natsu's body, starting at his feet and working their way up his body. Gray witnessed as Natsu grew a tail, and his body expanded. He forced himself to watch, wanting to show Natsu he could handle it. Even so, it was painful to see his love slowly disappear in front of him and change into the one thing he’d always hated.

But that wasn’t exactly true anymore, Gray felt no animosity towards Natsu in this form. Before Natsu could stop him and while he could still see his face Gray rushed to put his arms around him and press their lips together in one last kiss. Whether he meant to or not, Natsu responded.

“I love you,” Gray repeated urgently, wanting Natsu to hear it, and hold on to it. That he could say those words to him even when he was in this form. Gray was by no means giving up, but he would give Natsu some time to think about what he'd said.

"Goodbye, Gray," Natsu said, and he stood in front of Gray as Fukou, the red dragon he had grudgingly befriended over the last year. He let Gray observe him briefly before taking off from the roof without another word.

Gray watched Natsu fly away from him, feeling more alone than ever, and thinking about how he and Natsu had managed to hurt each other so much over the years without meaning to.

Another memory overwhelmed him. This one more vivid than all the others that had preceded it.

“No, no, no,” Natsu rubbed his snout on Gray’s face as he fretted over Gray’s lifeless body, “Stay with me, love. I need you.”

“I don’t care if you hate me, just please, please don’t die.”

Natsu? Gray gazed up in confusion at the enormous red dragon that was staring down at him. It seemed to be crying. Why was it crying? Its green eyes were glowing as brightly as emeralds, and it reminded him of something, no someone.

Gray could feel the blood oozing out of him as he kept coming in and out of consciousness. The sharp pain in his head alerting him that he probably had a concussion. He felt so cold and, with a slight panic, realized he couldn’t feel anything below his waist. Gray wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, but the dragon's eyes begged him to stay.

Gray could see there was a lot of blood, and he didn’t think it could have all possibly come from him. Was the dragon injured too? This all felt so surreal, how had he gotten to the field with this dragon? And why wasn’t it trying to kill him? Where was his hatred?

His emotions all felt so far away. Gray wanted to yell at the dragon to leave him alone, but he couldn’t, there was something different about it. He felt connected to it.

A soothing warmth began to travel down his body, it was familiar, and his tired brain tried to make the association as feeling returned to his legs. When had he felt this before? He started to feel better as the warmth healed his wounds. Gray still felt woozy, but the dragon seemed to be in worse shape than before. It continued to treat him regardless, and Gray could hear it muttering to itself even if he couldn't quite make out the words. Suddenly it stopped and fell over panting and whining.

"Natsu!" Gray yelled and tried to get up, but he was still too weak. That's right, he remembered now. Natsu had transformed into a dragon to fight off the black dragon that had attacked Talos.

They both lay on the ground staring at each other.

“Gray?” Natsu called out to him, and when Gray grunted, he dragged himself over. Gray could now see the dragon was acutely injured, and he began to panic.

"You idiot, why did you heal me? Look at you!" Gray's voice sounded shrill as the fear settled into it. He had no idea what the fuck was going on, but his husband was injured and in pain, and there was nothing he could do about it. He chose to ignore the glaring issue with him being a dragon for the moment.

“You were -- dying, “ Natsu gasped the words out with great difficulty, clearly not in good shape, “Couldn’t -- let -- that happen.”

“We have to get you help,” Gray tried to move once again, screaming in frustration when he couldn’t.

"Don't worry,-- I'll be -- fine," Natsu began to cough, and blood sprayed on the ground near Gray's head, "Sorry -- Gray."

“Just shut up, we’ll talk about it once you change back.”

“Can’t -- change -- back.”

“What are you talking about, of course you can.”

Natsu shook his head, bright emerald eyes dulling to dark green. “Can’t -- last time -- felt it.”

"I don't understand any of this," Gray reached out his hand towards Natsu's snout, wanting to comfort him. He could see Natsu's eyes reclaim some of their radiance at the small gesture, but Gray had to put his arm down seconds later.

He couldn't do it, he couldn't bring himself to touch his husband, and while Gray hated himself for it, it didn't change the way he felt.

“I — I can’t,” Gray wanted to say something, anything to make things better, but he knew there was nothing that would reduce the sting of his rejection.

Natsu only nodded and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath as his tears fell discreetly. “I -- understand.” He managed to stand up, using his wings for balance. “You should be free of this.”

“Natsu -- I’m sor--”

“It’s okay,” Natsu interrupted, beginning to cast a spell. Once he was done, his talons began to glow with a bluish light, creating a small magic circle.

“What are you doing?!”

Natsu opened his eyes at last, and Gray had to gasp at the sorrow he saw in their depths, "I'm setting you free, you deserve to be happy." He touched his talons to Gray's forehead.

Gray tried to protest, but the magic soon entered his head, and he wasn't strong enough to fight it off. He closed his eyes for a second, needing to think.

Gray opened his eyes, finding himself alone in the field. How had he gotten here? He heard a noise above him but couldn't make it out and was soon distracted by a voice echoing in his head.

I’m sorry.

With the last mystery finally revealed, Gray’s first reaction was to throw up violently, the acid bile in his stomach revolting against his actions.

Gods, what had he done?! Natsu had almost killed himself to save him, and Gray had rejected him.

Natsu hadn't taken his memories to shield himself. He'd done it because when faced with an impossible situation and Gray's rejection, he’d done what he always did. Protect Gray as best he could. He'd set him free and doomed himself to a life of loneliness, with only their memories for comfort.

Gray was still standing on the roof when Natsu returned to eat the enormous bonfire the town had built up for him as an offering. He watched as the dragon did a few lackluster aerials for the kids before giving a mighty roar and flying back to his cave.

A/N: The song that represented both Natsu's conflict and his personality for me as I plotted the story was Not Strong Enough by Apocalyptica, which is also one of my favorite Gratsu AMV's.So now you have a better idea of what happened to make Natsu take Gray's memories. A lot of full circle in this one. Now, all we have left is to give them their happy ending. After next week's update, I will return to updating every other week.

Thank you once again to @oryu404 for beta reading the chapter for me!

@ao3feed-gratsu

#fairy tail #gratsu #ftlgbtales #fairy tail big bang 2018 #update

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geese-howards-transscriber · 5 years

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Happy Halloween! I hope you like possession fics because I kinda just got done writing one!

Synopsis: You’re an urban explorer five years after Kefka is slain. Your friends dare you to go to the last remaining relic of his reign of terror.

You were brought here by a dare from your friends.

It was three days ago when you all were out drinking, celebrating five years of freedom from the terror that ripped through the world during the reign of Kefka Palazzo. That single year of hell on earth was enough to break many a spirit, including yours, for a time. And while his death may have removed magic from the world, it also brought standing peace; one that was, perhaps, permanent. It was a blessing for you; you were an explorer now that the world was remade and you no longer lived in fear of being obliterated. As you and your friends reminisced on days gone by, one of them said:

“You know, they still haven’t torn down that church way out by Thamasa.”

You looked over at them, brow raised. “Seriously? Any idea why?”

“No clue.” They drank. “I just know that that place has a pretty bad reputation. People go in there and never return.”

“Hey, [name],” another of your friends piped in, “You’re an explorer, right?”

“Yeah…?” You didn’t like where this was going.

“Why don’t you go and check it out?” Your friend laughs. “Unless you’re a coward. Are you a coward, [name]?”

You stammer. “No,” you finally manage, scowling. “I said nothing about not going there.”

“C’mon,” another says. “You might find some sweet loot.”

You think it over, alcohol hazing your judgment. “Fine,” you finally say, “but if I don’t come back, you know where I went.”

You made good on your promise, though begrudging it was. You packed a dagger in case monsters were about, rations for the long road ahead, a tent to sleep in, and some changes of clothes. The ‘pilgrimage’ to the church would be arduous at best. You waved your friends good-bye and set out, stone-cold sober and understandably pissed off.

You lost count of time during your voyage to Thamasa from Maranda. You do remember passing by where that horrible tower once stood--- the tower where Kefka reigned from, where the Light that destroyed towns and villages rained down from. You shuddered as you passed the ruins of the tower, swearing to yourself never to go there, even if your life depended on it.

You finally made it to your destination after a few days more of travel, having taken a boat from Albrook, still thriving even having been so close to the tower. You set foot in Thamasa, wobbly-legged from prolonged time at sea, looking around. The town seemed slow to recover, but already had a bustling population, perplexingly enough. You decide to stay at the inn for the rest of the day to get a fresh start. The price seemed rather exorbitant, but given the condition of the town, it’s understandable.

You have a nightmare that night. You dream that you’re standing before the ruined tower. All is silent. You turn to leave, but hear the rubble behind you move. A pale hand reaches out, plants itself on the rubble pile, and helps with lifting a wiry figure from the debris, their hair a mess, body covered in all a manner of wounds. You feel unable to move, as one does in nightmares, glued to the spot as the pale figure slowly cocks their head towards you, their eyes aglow with power-- no, not just power, magic. Magic, which was supposed to have died with the tyrannical god. Magic, which all sane men had come to fear. Still unable to move, you watch in horror as the figure begins to grin, then chuckle, then laugh… and laugh… and laugh.

When you finally awaken, the laughter rings in your ears, looping over and over in your mind. If you were wise, this would be where you decide to go back on your word and return to Maranda.

But you aren’t exactly known for being wise.

You leave the inn after gathering your things, heading to the west. You feel a sense of dread building as you continue traveling, almost as if the closer you get to the place, the closer you feel you are to your inevitable demise. By the time it’s finally in sight, you feel nauseous-- its architecture is out of place among the young forest that surrounds it, and even concealed by kudzu, you can tell that the bricks are already crumbling, the stained glass shattered, the ceiling collapsed.

By the time you’re standing at the fallen doors, you have to resist every instinct to turn tail and flee.

But you had a dare to complete.

You step inside, light beaming through the kudzu leaves in little spots. The pews are out of alignment, some even flipped over or broken by fallen debris. Towards the pulpit, there’s a statue of a six-winged being; the arms and parts of the wings have been broken off by debris, and the whole thing was covered in moss and lichen. You could make out the statue’s sharp features and maddening grin, even through neglected appearance.

You remember your nightmare and shudder.

You go beyond the pulpit to the altar, the gilded and gaudy relics untouched. Tempting as it was, you remember the fact that no one’s returned from this place alive. Maybe because they were trying to loot the place… but it’s not like they were just… smote. Magic doesn’t exist anymore, right? So what’s the big deal? Maybe they were just runaways that sought shelter for the night and left before anyone could find them.

You give in to temptation, and take one of the sacred relics.

Your ears ring with the nightmarish laughter, and you drop the relic onto the floor, looking around frantically. It sounds like it’s coming from all around you, from the kudzu ceiling, the broken marble floor.

No one is there.

You step away from the relics, backing towards the chancel and nearly tripping on the moldy carpet. You look back as you stumble, seeing a skeleton crushed by what was once part of the ceiling. Without magic in the world, you wonder where their soul went… or even if they have a soul left. You also see a pipe organ, the pipes red with rust. Once you regain your balance and composure, you pace over to it, and press a key. The organ clearly works as the high F resounds through the church and surrounding wood, spooking the wildlife away.

Play me a song, you think in another, unfamiliar voice, seemingly jovial at the prospect. Go on. It’s been a while since I heard anything.

You step away from the organ, as if defying the thought. You aren’t even sure where you’ve heard that voice before, or if you’d even heard it before. You swear you hear it scoff as you step away from the organ and begin walking towards the sacristy.

Inside the sacristy, you find still more relics-- gilded staves encrusted with all a manner of jewels and gems, a reliquary encasing a strange-looking feather that you’re sure isn’t from a phoenix, robes that look more at home in the court of a deranged king than in a religious building.

You’re sure not to touch anything.

What’s wrong? The voice seems to jeer at you. Could it be… you’re afraid? Here, let me help you out.

You look down and see your hand reaching out to touch the moth-bitten motley robes, as if on its own volition, because you certainly can’t feel it moving at all. Before you can stop it, you’re gently thumbing over the fabric, barely even able to feel it. No harm seems to come from it this time, but you tell yourself that it’s time to leave before anything stranger happens.

Where do you think you’re going? The voice asks.

Home, you think back to it. I’m going back home.

You go to walk back to the entrance, but your legs refuse to move. In fact, your legs feel like they’ve fallen asleep.

I think not.

Your legs instead take you to the chapel, still unnaturally untouched by the state of decay that had taken hold of the rest of the church. It’s as opulent as you’d imagined the rest of the place would have been five years ago, gilded candelabras sitting on the altar, their candles burned down to the hilt, wax long since dripped all over their bases. On all sides of the altar are golden icons of what you assume are the Warring Triad; you shudder as you remember what happened to them, at least what you were told via word of mouth. The stained glass window that looms above the altar is completely in tact, depicting the tyrant god-- both as a man and as divine.

Aah, this brings back so many memories, the voice says. Isn’t it lovely? Hearing them beg for my mercy always brought a smile to my face. Have you ever heard that? The sound of fervent prayer for a person’s life? It’s music to my ears.

“Just who the hell are you?” you ask to the empty room, staring down the stained glass window. You can almost feel the grin creeping across the face of your tormentor, for you yourself are starting to grin.

Tut tut, the voice replies. We can’t have you shaking me off, can we? Names have power and I’m not giving that up. That’d be stupid, even for me. Oh, by the by, do you have any last words before I shut you out for good? Will you, too, beg for mercy? Or are you one of those pesky strong, silent types?

You tense at the mocking voice. “What?!”

...really now? That’s all? Yeesh, you really are a pushover, aren’t you? Oh well! Let’s get going. We have people to see, things to do! Come on, come on!

You fight to stand still in defiance of your tormentor, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to move.

Oh, come on, the voice growls. Just move already!

You lose the battle of wills. You begin to walk out of the church, albeit slowly-- as if you’re remembering how it feels to walk. Your entire body begins to numb, the same painful feeling of a limb waking up seeming to surround you.

---

“[name],” an unfamiliar person calls out to you as you enter Maranda. You turn your head to look.

“We thought you had died,” another says as the group approaches. “Did you bring back anything?”

You could say that, you think to yourself, but shake your head. “Why do you ask?”

“Aaw, come on,” another of the group groans. “You went all that way and didn’t bring back anything? How lame!”

“Cut [them] some slack,” says the first one. “All that matters is that [they’re] back. C’mon, guys. First round is on us. What do you say?”

You blink, unaccustomed to being invited to anything beyond military meetings. “Sure,” you reply, “but first I think I’ll hit up the apothecary. I’m not feeling so hot.”

“We’ll be at the inn,” the apparent friend says. “C’mon, guys. [name]’ll catch up.”

You turn and make a beeline for the apothecary, a devious smirk on your face.

They don’t suspect a thing.

Nor will they suspect anything when you poison their drinks.

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canon-notcanon-warriorcats · 5 years

Text

Sasha and the Leopard

Sasha was led into the RiverClan camp by a loud and angry tom who was called Blackclaw. He had not been kind to her or her two kits, who stood on each side of her. It took the other two warriors in the patrol to persuade Blackclaw to allow them back to camp. Now Sasha and her two kits stood in the center of the camp, surrounded by whispering, suspicious cats.

“Who are these cats?” A large, blue-gray she-cat stepped in front of Sasha, sniffing the air.

Blackclaw snorted, “She says her name is Sasha and the two young ones are Hawk and Moth. She says she would like to speak to Leopardstar.”

“I shall fetch her then.”

Blackclaw looked up in shock, “You’re just going to be that easy on them? They trespassed on our territory! After all we’ve been through the past moons I think it’s a fish-brained idea-”

The gray cat, who Sasha realized smelled faintly of milk and strongly of kits, whipped her tail in the air for Blackclaw to silence, “It’s Leopardstar’s decision what to do with them, isn’t it? You wouldn’t want to step on her tail, would you?”

Blackclaw hesitated, “No.”

“Then I shall retrieve her from her den,” the she-cat turned around and soon disappeared into a den on the other side of the camp. A den that Sasha assumed was Leopardstar’s.

She had heard about RiverClan and Leopardstar from Tigerstar moons ago and then heard how he had combined the two clans. She prayed that they would be friendly, and maybe be a good home for her kits. She knew of ThunderClan and WindClan as well, but she wanted someway for her kits to stay connected with their father, even if she wanted no one else to know about that connection.

Leopardstar soon came out of her den with the gray she-cat. She walked up to Sasha and the kits, stiff with aggression. But then her eyes softened as she looked at the two kits. Was that a flash of fear in her eyes for a heartbeat? She turned awkwardly to who Sasha presumed was her deputy.

“Thank you, Mistyfoot. I would like to talk to them privately in my den.”

“Of course, Leopardstar.” There was a strange tension between the two she-cats that made Sasha feel uncomfortable for both of them. Leopardstar turned around and led them to her den.

It felt almost cold in Leopardstar’s den. She sat down on her nest. It looked so warm and soft, much softer than any nest Sasha had ever made for her kits. Moth and Hawk pressed themselves against her flanks, possibly feeling cornered in the small space.

“Your kits. They are named Hawk and Moth?” asked Leopardstar in a friendly tone. Or at least trying to be.

“Yes. this is Hawk,” Sasha looked down at the brown and white tabby tom, “and this is Moth,” she looked down at her other side at the golden she-cat. Both kits bowed their heads slightly to the leader. Sasha felt like she was supposed to say something more, but before she could Leopardstar filled the awkward short silence.

“What is it that you want from RiverClan, Sasha?”

Sasha was taken aback by how straight forward Leopardstar was. She actually kind of liked it, “Ah, yes, Leopardstar, I came here to ask you… if perhaps you would take my kits into your clan. Train them to be warriors like you.”

Leopardstar narrowed her eyes, “But not you?”

Sasha nervously swallowed, “No, Leopardstar, I do not think I would be suited to be a warrior, but my kits are strong and loyal. They would serve your clan well.”

There was a long pause, Leopardstar staring into Sasha’s eyes for heartbeats. Sasha’s pelt burned under her fur, she didn’t feel cold anymore. Leopardstar suddenly took her eyes away and looked down at her paws.

“These kits. Who are barely kits, they would be about apprentice age wouldn’t they? They are Tigerstar’s kits aren’t they?”

Sasha tensed. She was hoping no one would notice and she couldn’t tell what Leopardstar was feeling. Was that grief in her voice? Sasha remembered that spark of fear when Leopardstar had looked at them. How was she going to react?

“Yes. Yes they are Tigerstar’s kits,” Sasha tried to sound confident and brave, but knew her voice gave away her fear and guilt. Hawk puffed his chest out, as if trying to look bigger.

Leopardstar looked up from her paws, but instead of looking at Sasha or either of her kits, she looked at the side of her den, “I assume you know what happened to him. It’s amusing that Tigerstar would choose a rogue as a mate. And you look so soft, so pretty. You must have been a kittypet at some point weren’t you? That’s even stranger.”

Sasha pricked her ears in surprise. That wasn’t the way she expected Leopardstar to react at all. But what did she expect? For her to chase her and her kits off? To kill them? Sasha suddenly wanted to talk to her about something. Something very personal to her.

“I had a third kit. He was a black tom named Tadpole. He died some time ago though,” Sasha felt misty-eyed. Moth and Hawk both ducked their heads down.

Leopardstar pricked her ears up and turned to face Sasha once more, “A black tom?” she exhaled a small huff out of what seemed like pained amusement, she also seemed to become misty-eyed, “How strange. What StarClan seems to be putting me through.”

Sasha tipped her head in confusion.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Sasha. I, too, had a son that died. A black tom just like yours. His name was Perchkit. I would have named him Perchtail. He was deathly ill, I would have done anything to help him. Tigerstar came to me and told me that if I let ShadowClan help, Perchkit could be cured and healed of his illness and would live. I’m not entirely sure how he found out my kit was sick, but of course I jumped at any opportunity to save my kit. He died soon after Tigerstar took over my camp,” Leopardstar’s gaze turned hot was rage, “He had used me and it was too late.”

Sasha’s pelt pricked from Leopardstar’s rage. She didn’t know that’s how Tigerstar took over RiverClan. Moth gasped and pressed herself closer into her mother’s fur, Hawk sat up straighter, anger in his blue eyes staring straight at Leopardstar. She didn’t have any reaction to his cold gaze, but she did seem to take note of it.

“That’s kind of similar to what Tigerstar did for me,” Sasha muttered, “He made me feel better after I lost my housefolk. He made me feel special, strong. I admit that I loved him.”

Leopardstar’s eyes softened once more looking at Sasha, then looked away again, embarrassedly “Hmph, how many cats did Tigerstar use by taking advantage of them when they were vulnerable.”

Sasha felt embarrassed as well. She didn’t know what to say to that. Luckily heartbeats later Leopardstar looked back to her, new strength in her eyes.

“You and your kits may stay here, and train as warriors!”

Hawk stood up, “Finally!”

Moth purred as her body relaxed.

“Thank you, so much Leopardstar for allowing my kits to train as your warriors. But I would not fit in well here, I am not a warrior.”

Leopardstar straightened, her voice strong and stern, but her eyes soft and warm, “You should not leave your kits, Sasha. They will need you. Maybe you do not think you would be a good warrior, but you haven’t even trained. I could even train you myself!”

Sasha’s fur felt hot. She looked down at her daughter, a chill of pride cooled her down. She was already as tall as her chin. How big would she grow? Then she looked over at her son. He was already fast and fierce. How strong of a fighter would he become? But she was not fierce or strong like either of her kits. If anything she would weigh them down. And if she stayed would the other clan cats be able to figure out who their father was? Russetfur already knew, now Leopardstar.

Sasha bowed her head, “I’m very grateful for the invitation Leopardstar, but I really would be no good here-”

“Please,” Leopardstar gazed into Sasha’s eyes again, this time cool and confident, “stay here. With your kits. Decide later if you would fit in the clan. Watch the kits you have become the best cats they can be. You can even-” Leopardstar seemed to stop herself, she looked away to the side of her den, “If it would make you more comfortable you could even share my den.”

Sasha looked down at her paws, her fur getting hot again. She then looked at Leopardstar’s nest. It did look quite big for only one cat. One side looked stailer than the other. Maybe she could stay here. Just to make sure her kits would be okay. Or maybe more than that.

“Maybe I could stay here. And maybe take you up on that offer,” she almost whispered, whiskers twitching in embarrassment, “If you’ll have me.” Moth and Hawk looked up at their mother, their eyes bright with excitement.

Leopardstar turned back to Sasha and her kits, “Of course.”

#warrior cats #warrior cats fanfiction #sasha #leopardstar #mistyfoot #hawkfrost #mothwing #blackclaw #mistyleopard is end game but leopardstar and sasha were a thing while she was there #that's part of the reason why she left she could tell leopardstar and mistyfoot were still in love #and they did make up shortly after that #i'll reblog that fic in a bit #this can be like a two parter now #i kind of wish the characters talked more to each other #more interactions between characters #so all of my fanfiction is just them talking lol

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ladylynse · 6 years

Text

Hey, look, more of my DPxML crossover....

I promised an age ago to finish writing one of these two scenes from Le Fantôme, and when I asked which one people would prefer to see, this one won. So, enjoy!

Paris – The Previous Evening (relative to this scene)

Marinette pursed her lips as she surveyed the City of Lights from her perch on the Eiffel Tower. She had arranged this meeting with Chat Noir yesterday, but she wasn’t upset that he was late. Even under the cover of darkness, it could be difficult to get away from the responsibilities and people that filled your other life. She didn’t expect him to always be prompt, and he didn’t expect it of her.

She just wished she had more to tell him.

They had no idea how long Le Fantôme had been active. Alya had started digging up ghost sightings and posting them on the Ladyblog when she’d caught wind of it, but Marinette had first heard of it from Alya, and she wasn’t convinced Chat Noir had known earlier, either; he would have told her. Ghost stories weren’t something anyone dismissed, not anymore.

It didn’t seem like the work of another Vanisher. They weren’t sure exactly how many things were connected—no one knew—but the things attributed to Le Fantôme were not always the sort of thing merely an invisible person could accomplish. There had been robberies from places locked up tight, with no evidence anywhere of tampering, let alone a break-in. There had been things said in private that had been leaked to the news, to the detriment of both parties, most often those heading up wealthy companies. (She was waiting for Adrien’s father to be targeted, but he seemed to have evaded Le Fantôme’s scrutiny so far.) But then there were all the little things that kept happening, the reason the media had begun calling this latest victim of Hawk Moth’s Le Fantôme.

There were cold spots—colder than expected, anyway, for the end of October. There was talk of floating objects, carried by invisible hands, and of other things vanishing before someone’s very eyes. There were strange lights, inexplicable power outages, horrible sounds, and…and sightings.

Nothing consistent. Not really. Not enough to go on, what was consistent. No photographs. Conflicting eyewitness accounts. Was Le Fantôme a teenager, someone around her own age, or an older gentleman who might be closer to her father’s age? Was Le Fantôme the girl who had reportedly been seen crying for help by the abandoned rail line or the woman who had purportedly taken to haunting the Venus de Milo, sketching it for hours before vanishing without a trace to enact whatever she had been planning? Was Le Fantôme someone who had fallen on hard times and found themselves ignored by the rest of society or were they someone who had the appearance of everything but had come to the sudden realization that they had nothing that truly mattered and felt that they couldn’t regain what they had lost?

She didn’t know. It was starting to feel like no one did. Moreover, it seemed to Marinette that Le Fantôme had awakened every ghost legend in Paris. At least, it felt that way when she looked at Alya’s blog. Paris, a city that was filled with ghost stories, was now filled with ghosts. And she and Chat Noir had to find the right one in order to stop them.

It was an impossible task.

She heard Chat Noir alight beside her and waited for some light-hearted pun to follow. When it didn’t, she turned her head and realized he looked grim. “You can’t be tired of chasing ghosts already,” she teased.

“No,” he said quietly as he looked over the city, “but I think I’ve seen one.”

“Le Fantôme?”

“No. The mayor’s daughter.”

What? “Chloé Bourgeois? We’re chasing ghosts, kitty, not banshees. Even if she can screech like one.”

That didn’t even get her a smile. “Something happened before I passed the Grand Paris; I’m still not sure what. The mayor is convinced she’s been kidnapped, but the staff….” He took a slow breath. “She’s been missing since yesterday. Her father has been busy, and everyone thought she was at her friend’s.” Sabrina’s, that meant, since Chloé couldn’t count many friends. “Except her friend came by today to ask after her, claiming she hadn’t seen her and had thought she was sick because she hadn’t been in school.”

“That doesn’t make Chloé a ghost.”

Chat Noir turned to face her. “Sabrina—Chloé’s friend, the Vanisher—she says she heard Chloé screaming at her as if she were in the room, but no one else heard anything. I went up with the butler to check her suite. It was empty at first, but…then she was there, right in front of me, begging me to make this stop, to fix this.”

“Begging?”

That got her a smile, albeit a small one. “Well, demanding. But no one else seemed to notice anything, and when I looked away, she vanished.”

Marinette might not like Chloé, but even she didn’t deserve this, whatever this was. “So you think Le Fantôme is creating ghosts from living people? On top of everything else? What would that gain them?”

“An even better way to hide in plain sight. We still don’t know who we’re fighting, but if there are suddenly other people who fit what we know of Le Fantôme, the public can’t even help us narrow it down.”

“So they’re even more like a ghost.” She’d rather fight someone like the Puppeteer again, even with the risk of being controlled, because at least then they had a clear target. “So who are they really after? They don’t want to show themselves. They haven’t even made a bid for our Miraculous.”

“Not that we know of,” Chat Noir agreed, “but they could be watching us. They wouldn’t be the first villain to act quietly for a while before we caught wind of them. I’ve asked the police to take a look back over all their missing persons reports; if we can figure out where most of the people were last seen and when they disappeared, we’ll have a better idea of where Le Fantôme’s been operating, and it might give us a clue about what they want.”

It hardly seemed like it would be enough, but it was far more than she could offer. “Good thinking, kitty.” It would still be looking for a needle in a haystack, but at least it would be a smaller haystack. “But what are we supposed to do once we find them? We can’t catch a ghost.”

To her surprise, Chat Noir actually grinned. “Says who? I’ve been looking into the lore. Something’s bound to work.”

She didn’t like the idea of going into a situation like this blind, armed with multiple attempts that could very well blow up in their faces. “I’d rather we test it out. If other people are turning into ghosts, they might be willing to help us.”

“If we can communicate with them,” Chat Noir agreed. “And find them. And assuming they aren’t more limited than Le Fantôme.”

She wished he didn’t make so much sense. “We have to try.” They needed to; they were desperate. “I wasn’t able to dig anything up, so your information is all we have to go on.” She bit her lip, but there was no way around it. “Besides, we don’t need to find them. Not really. Not if you already know where one of them is and she’s trying to communicate with us.”

Chat Noir surveyed her for a moment. “You want to try to talk to her. You think she actually saw Le Fantôme? She never said anything.”

“Did you ask? Chloé—at least, what I know of her—isn’t one to volunteer information like that when she’s more concerned with being returned to normal.” Corporeal form, her mind whispered, but saying it like that…. It was another reminder of how much they didn’t know. Le Fantôme might not even be a ghost. Maybe they just had the ability to turn other people into ghosts, and that’s why there was such a spike in ghost sightings.

Still, she didn’t know what that power would gain them.

And she didn’t know why there had been no attempt to seize their Miraculous if that were the case. Could the ghosts touch each other? Would it be easier for Le Fantôme to take their Miraculous if they were caught, or did Le Fantôme have to try to take their Miraculous without changing them? What kind of fight did they need to be prepared for?

“I never had the chance to ask anything,” admitted Chat Noir. “I didn’t see or hear her for long, and after I lost track of her, I didn’t stick around to try to talk to her again. I wanted to drop by the police station and pull the only string we have before our friend’s shift was over.”

Lieutenant Raincomprix tried to help them as much as he could within the realms of the law—as much as repayment for the time he’d been akumatized into Rogercop as recognition that they were all trying to keep Paris safe—but she and Chat Noir tried not to take advantage of him as a resource. He would not break the law for them, of course, but he would answer their questions as best he could, and it could be a lengthy process. This time—researching all those missing persons reports—would certainly take a while.

“That was a good thought.”

“But I should have questioned Chloé first. Or tried to, anyway. Because she’s the more concrete lead.”

Marinette smirked. “I’m not sure concrete can apply to her any longer, kitty cat.” He grinned, and she knew his word choice had been deliberate. She climbed to her feet and unlashed her yo-yo as he followed suit. “Come on. Let’s see what we can find out.”

#miraculous ladybug #danny phantom #fanfiction #crossover #Fic #fanfic #my writing #ladylynse #crossover snippet #snippets #ml snippet #dp snippet #I think most people wanted to know more about the villain #so #now you do #at least a little

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displacedprincess · 5 years

Text

tu voz y la misma fe

Alternatively: step one of the Orizaba Takedown: break your gargoyle dad out of her control

Word count: 2044

Date set: 11/2/2018

Title from: here, to continue my tradition of spanish lyrics prob only accurate out of context

tw: some blood but from injuries sustained prior to the encounter, so no violence

@carvedfromlivingstone

ELENA

Elena was bleeding. And not just because she was on her period, which finally came after that stupid pregnancy scare. One does not simply walk through a town overrun by an army of the dead and an evil moth fairy demon’s minions unscathed.

She was bleeding, but that was a regular thing for danger-prone Princess Elena. If there was a way to injure herself somehow, the universe would make sure it happened.

Pity she’d have to throw out the dress and sweater tights; she was rather fond of the outfit.

And even though she was bleeding, she couldn’t stop her recon mission to hunt for any trace of Orizaba’s whereabouts. This shit ends tonight-! Er, very soon in this eternal night.

GOLIATH

He spotted the woman walking alone, hunting his mistress, and began to stalk her from the roofs of the buildings. His tail swished behind him, helping him to keep his balance, and his talons scratched near-silently against the roof.

The moon hung high overhead, and he couldn’t remember his name.

He’d had one, once. He knew that much. Knew there had been a life before his mistress, before this night that went on forever. But those memories were buried deep down, far out of his reach, and he had more important things to focus on. Like protecting his mistress, Orizaba. He’d taken care of plenty of others who had wished his mistress harm - never killing, for some reason, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t - this little human would certainly just be the next.

With a quiet snap, the gargoyle’s wings spread wide, and he leapt from one roof to the other side of the alley, casting a long shadow on the ground for just a moment.

ELENA

“Dónde estás, you overgrown moth!” Elena hissed between her teeth as she walked around town, sticking close to the forest’s edge whenever possible. She’d never been hunting before, but she spent plenty of time running. Hiding.

Cover was good.

Though, really, Elena was probably dead anyway. Realistically. But if she inherited one thing from her mother, it was her fight.

If only she believed in her fight the way her mother always had.

“I’m going to kill her,” Elena muttered, just as a shadow passed overhead. She craned her neck upward, but saw nothing. Was she more disappointed or relieved? “Bueno...onward.”

Probably just a tree branch wiggling in the wind.

GOLIATH

It wasn’t odd to him that he understood the human’s muttered words. His mistress spoke Spanish, so he spoke Spanish. It was the language that was whispered in his ear by the night, that drove him onward.

It was a little odd that he recognized the human’s voice.

One of those deeply buried memories rattled, but the gargoyle ignored it as he watched her carry onwards, moving around town. Usually, he would have leapt down at her by now, would have knocked her out and left her on a roof (away from anywhere the Dark Wizard’s forced of the undead might find her, but again, he wasn’t sure why he was doing that). But something held him back, told him only to follow.

‘She hunts our Lady,’ the night whispered, voices like mists curling in his ears, ‘but does not know she too is hunted. She must be taken care of. Orizaba wants her. Orizaba wants her.’

His mistress wanted her.

He took to the air, flying overhead before dropping to the ground behind her. His eyes glowed white and his lip was pulled back from his elongated teeth, a growl building low in his chest as he crouched behind the young human.

His mistress wanted her.

ELENA

Elena heard the leaves crunch and twigs snap behind her as a weight much greater than her own came to rest on them behind her. Her head whipped around and as quickly as the fear hit her, it disappeared, as she recognized Goliath immediately.

The fact she heard the beginnings of a growl didn’t even consciously enter her head. Any traces of alarm were erased when saw gargoyle wings. Relief and joy spread across her features before she looked up to talk to him, and froze.

She’d only seen his eyes glow white like that a handful of times, and it was never a good thing. Was there danger nearby?

Elena gasped and looked over her shoulder - nothing - then back at Goliath. “Papá? I don’t see anything.”

She crinkled her nose at him and semi-glared.

“Where have you been, anyway? I haven’t seen you all several-days-of-night!”

All right, she was a little unnerved. This behavior was strange for him, and the fact she wasn’t already scooped up into his arms for a hug was bizarre, but she wasn’t afraid. Not of Goliath, never of Goliath.

GOLIATH

She spun around to speak to him, brown eyes wide, and everything stopped.

He knew those eyes. Even through the mists that clogged his mind, he knew those eyes. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear anything beyond his own blood pounding in his ears.

His mistress wanted… wanted…

“Papá? I don’t see anything.”

‘Orizaba’, the night whispered, again and again. ‘Orizaba, Queen of Night; your Queen, gargoyle.’

“Where have you been, anyway? I haven’t seen you all several-days-of-night!”

‘Your mistress wants…’

He dropped to his knee, clutching his head with a low whine, hissing to himself in low Gaelic. His eyes still glowed white, still peered out from the darkness brightly.

ELENA

Nothing about Goliath was right. Physically, it was him, but not a single thing he did was an act of her Goliath, her gargoyle. Elena’s body began to shake with worry as he dropped to his knee and clutched his head like he was in pain.

What was happening?

“It’s me, Goliath,” Elena whispered, approaching him without the fear she should’ve had. “What’s wrong, Papá? Are you hurt? I can explode them with my scepter, I’ll do it.”

Elena closed the distance between them until she could press a soft kiss to the hunched over gargoyle’s cheek, despite the warning signs to run away, and stood there next to him, her hand resting on his arm.

“Qué paso...It’s this night, isn’t it, Goliath? It must be messing with you. Bueno, I’ll wait here a while. I’m not scared of you, so don’t worry. I’m not scared.” She continued to pat his arm, voice soft like a feather.

Running would probably be smart. Goliath didn’t look at her with love, only confusion if he looked at all. But even now, the gargoyle didn’t hurt her. Even now, her loving father was in there somewhere.

And he needed her help now.

GOLIATH

Goliath.

Was that his name?

Was it Papá?

Her words had him frozen, watching her approach fearlessly with nothing but love in her eyes. No, this wasn’t… he was a gargoyle, a creature of the night, his mistress… his mistress… Elena…

He exhaled slowly through his nose when she kissed his cheek, his eyes closing as she stroked his arm. Her skin was so soft against his, smooth and fragile. He could feel her beating heart even through her palm, and knew it would be so easy to just… rip that delicate skin. She was so fragile. So fragile.

She wants… she wants…

He carefully reached out, his large, clawed hand curling around her waist. Each movement was slow and stuttered, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull her in or push her away. But soon, he had her pressed close to his chest, wings wrapped tightly around them both as he tucked his face against her hair.

“Ulaidh,” he murmured, taking slow breaths. “Ulaidh.”

ELENA

Elena spoke many languages, but Gaelic was not among them. His words were murmured, not growled like he was going to hurt her though, so Elena assumed it was something like an apology or an affectionate nickname. So she nodded her head as she snuggled close against his chest.

And she was fully aware what that clawed hand could do should he give in to the night and the moth spirit’s control. He could rip her open without even thinking about it, like he’d done in battle so many times before over a thousand years.

But perhaps stupidly, she trusted him.

“That’s better,” Elena sighed, muffled a bit against his chest and wrapped up in his wings. “It’s okay if you don’t really remember me right now, I know it’s not your fault. We can wait here until you do. You’re okay, Goliath.”

GOLIATH

She curled up closer to him, so small and trusting and fragile, and he slowly sat back on his haunches. Keeping the human close and safe as he curled his arms around her. The night’s whispers were distant, now. Barely brushing against his mind anymore, instead replaced by the human’s lilting accent.

“Goliath…” he repeated, slowly. It brought back memories, slowly rising from the back of his mind. These memories, held close to his heart even nearly a thousand years later, were some of the clearest. Young Prince Malcolm, looking up at the young gargoyle and laughing in disbelief. You’re a regular Goliath, aren’t you? he’d said.

Goliath said the sorceress, helping him into his human skin.

Goliath said his first human wife, smiling as she looked up from their daughter’s sleeping face.

Goliath said Gryff, feathers ruffling in the night air as they watched the world pass.

Goliath said Demona, firelight curling her smile into something wicked and evil.

Goliath said Elisa, leaning over him as sunlight streamed into their Manhattan apartment.

Goliath said Raul, grinning as he slung an arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

Goliath said Lucia, humming contently with a hand on her stomach.

Goliath said Isabel, running into his arms at the airport and tucking her face against his neck.

Goliath said Elena, running across the street blindly as she raced towards him for the first time in three long years.

“Elena,” Goliath murmured, squeezing her carefully tighter.

ELENA

Elena choked back as he said her name and held her closer. If she tried to speak yet she would just cry and cry until she had no tears left, so she just hummed to acknowledge her name and nuzzled against the gargoyle’s chest.

Her Goliath was still here. Elena didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t recognized her soon.

“My dad’s back,” she murmured from where she was hidden inside his wings. “Good. I like that one of my dads is a gargoyle half the time, but he’s my gargoyle.”

GOLIATH

Goliath sighed as he hugged Elena tighter, curling his tail around them both. “I’m sorry, mija,” he said, wincing as the voices of the night immediately began to try and rush back. But one look down at Elena’s wet eyes was enough to keep them at bay.

Goliath kissed her forehead instead.

“You’re covered in blood, Elenita. Are you okay?” he asked first, looking Elena over carefully with normal, non-glowing eyes. “Is Isa safe?”

ELENA

Elena closed her eyes and smiled under the forehead kiss, relieved her favorite gargoyle seemed to be back to normal. She tilted her head up at him and her smile grew worn and thin. “Not all of it’s mine.”

The blood, she meant. Obviously.

“Isa...I left her last with...Sof- no, Babette. A group of people Babette’s with right now. Sofia, Naomi, and I...all have things to do right now. Zombies to slay, moth demon things to send back to Hell, boyfriends who raised an army of zombies to murder - yeah, you get to hear aaaaall about that, later.”

As the worst cut on her arm pulsated, Elena chewed on her bottom lip and looked down, embarrassed. “I’m getting blood on you. S-s-sorry. Don’t- don’t worry. You didn’t do- this was all me being a dumbass, but what else is new?”

“My kill count is like, at least forty now, so that’s pretty neat.”

GOLIATH

Goliath was frowning, eyebrows drawn together as he listened to Elena talk. He knew the generals of what was going on just from what the night had whispered to him. “We will discuss this, yes,” he said with a nod. “For now, let’s find somewhere to bind those wounds.”

#goliath #orizaba mess 2k18 #get it bc she broke the control over him w only her voice the same faith in him as always #i'm so fake deep

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codenamecynic · 7 years

Text

Then, and Again (For @polkadotfoxx f!OC mage, f!OC templar, set in a world where the Inquisitor recruited the mages to the Inquisition. Warning for death - sort of.)

They haven’t seen the sun in months.

Lynna remembers the Blight – but doesn’t. The Darkspawn never touched Hasmal, never even claimed the southern shore of the Waking Sea, but she remembers tales of how the land turned dark and dead. The horde brings the rain, they said, but this is more than that. The sky glows a pulsating, hungry green that one by one consumes the stars.

Beside her, Saf quietly uncorks one of the few vials of precious lyrium they have left. It’s a muddy color and radiates a song that registers off-key, but they haven’t had the pure blue stuff for some time.

At least it’s not red. Saf still has some standards, even if the bar has dropped so low it drags the dirt.

It’s not red.

Not yet.

“Stop worrying,” Saf grouses from her left, and immediately she glares, spits back.

“I never worry.”

Saf only chuckles, the sound tight around the new scar that splits the side of her face, still pink and raw where her helmet failed to protect her from a demon’s claws.

“That’s your job,” she adds, quietly, an afterthought. A memory. A whisper in the Circle library, pages fluttering like moth wings and flames perfectly controlled behind lantern glass.

Saf tips back the vial and doesn’t hear her.

They’re not going to win.

The soldiers around her gird themselves with expressions like ploughshares hammered into blades, crude and grim. The walls of Redcliffe Keep rise above them, dark against the darker gloom. The light itself writhes with anarchic glee, giving lie to figures with too many arms, too many eyes.

Too many.

This is how the Inquisition dies, led by desperation, bureaucrats, and children fashioned into toy soldiers on the anvil at the edge of the world – one final blow before the long fall into the abyss.

Lynna’s never been afraid of falling. She relishes the feeling of wind in her hair, of the tingle and drop in the pit of her stomach that comes from standing far too close to the edge.

Saf isn’t afraid to fall either, she just worries about the landing.

A swath of monstrosities tears through the ranks in front of them, too corrupted to be called templars. Lynna doesn’t think of them that way anymore, can’t when they’re little more than automatons of burning stone and hunger. They devour everything, grinding flesh, bone and shield beneath their crystalline feet, and hot blood sprays across her face and neck as a scream is cut short by the wide sweep of a blade that nearly catches her.

Saf pushes her back, nudges her behind her shield. She’s good with it now, her arm riddled with muscle that ripples beneath the skin like the backs of fish disturbing the surface of a pool.

She wants to see the ocean again. Wants to feel the water pulling at her feet, eroding sand away beneath her toes. Before her the battle heaves and they rush forward, reckless cries that she can feel reverberate within her chest lost in the snap-boom of her magic, loosed and wild. Fire blooms like the first green shoot through cobblestones, spraying shrapnel everywhere.

The hole they make fills up, spills over.

They fall.

They fall and fall and fall, toppling like dominos and pieces on a chess board that none of them can see. They are pawns without a queen, and they have no hope of turning the tide. Instead they will stand like the story of the Grey Wardens she heard once upon a time, breaking the waves of the impossible with their bodies, a bulwark against the innocent and the end of the world.

Only there are no innocents anymore, no civilians in the apocalypse. And no one knows where the Grey Wardens have gone.

Her breath comes hard in her chest, thick with smoke and smog. Her legs burn, her arms ache, and she barely stumbles aside as a beast too large to be a man barrels through the crowd. Her staff splinters under its feet, six of their soldiers laid low in its wake.

"I don't know how long we can keep this up," someone says. She looks to Saf, who only shakes her head.

They both know that isn't the point.

It was bound to happen eventually.

That's what she thinks, always, in those moments when they shave it just a little too close, a grudging draw snatched from the jaws of defeat. It's what she thinks when the sound of metal shearing off a shield splits the air around the crackle of lightning from her own fingers and Saf stumbles back, the spur of a glowing red crystal thrust through her middle.

They were always going to die. She just usually assumed it would be because of something she'd done. A smoking crater with their name on it, she'd joke, and Saf's eyes would roll.

Probably better that it wasn't her fault. Saf deserved better.

Saf pretty much always deserved better. The templar monster attached to her friend who died screaming in a column of fire from the sky, not as much.

“Lynna-”

“Don’t be stupid.” The soldiers behind them surged forward, rushing headlong into the lights and the blades, and at least it would never be said that Ferelden went quietly to its death. She just wasn’t sure who would be left to say anything at all.

“You should go.”

“I said shut up!”

Saf didn’t even blink, one gloved hand curled around the shard of corrupted lyrium burning through her midsection. Lynna bent over her, and was waved away. “Leave it, it’s- fine.”

“Well if you want to just lie there bleeding all over the ground, you’ll get no help from me.”

“Then lift me up, you idiot.”

Saf is a heavy drunk, and she staggers like one, her arm slung over Lynna’s shoulders. There is still fighting in the distance where the best of their soldiers press at the foot of the wall, but all around them is death. It encroaches from behind, rifts blinking into existence at their backs and already long-limbed creatures stalk their prey.

Corypheus is only toying with them now. The nightmare is real, bubbling beneath their feet, clawing up from below with hands too like her own.

“I’m ready,” Saf tells her, the words bubbling around the blood frothing at her lips, and drops her shield. “Go, Lynna. Go.”

It clangs against the ground, tinny and hollow like an empty bowl.

Lynna doesn't listen, because Lynna never listens, and feels the cold, sharp shards of a smite scream through her on the power of Saf’s dying breath.

Then she's gone, the stubborn light in her eyes winking out like stars devoured before her armored knees hit the ground, and Lynna reaches for the last thing she has left.

Saf's sword has always been too big for her, and she too small for it. They don’t get along. The blade is dented, marred and scratched, smudged with ash, and she has to take it in both hands to hold it steady.

She's always known it could come to this. She's seen it before, the pause like the quiet before the storm as the world holds its breath.

But the storm is breaking all around them and its voice has howled for so long she feels deaf. Numb.

Certain.

Green lights streak the sky like the last flash of sunlight on the horizon, and the demons that Saf pushed back draw near. She can feel the tickle of their voices in her mind, the pull of their thoughts at her own. Promises, temptations, whispers, whispers, whispers, and Saf on the ground at her side, arm bent and raised near her head as though in salute.

A templar, even now.

She deserves better than this. Deserves better than to be some unclaimed corpse on a battlefield, or worse, a puppet for some demon. Lynna never has been worth much, but Saf -

Her friend.

Her only friend.

Saf is worth everything.

There is already fire in her eyes when the blade sinks into her stomach, flames licking her hair and up the side of her face. The power is there, ready, just beneath her flesh, and she pulls it around herself with all her might, feeling it build and swell until it crackles and bursts through her skin.

“Bye, Saf. I'll see you on the other-"

“-side! LYNNA!”

“Whosa? Wassat?” Lynna sat up and was immediately hit in the face with a shoe. Fortunately it was one of her shoes and not Saf’s giant manly boot of death, all armored up and festooned with the blood of their enemies. And all, you know. Muddy.

“What the shitty fuck.”

The blond warrior stared at her from across the room, half in and half out of the window. It was impossible to tell what time it was with Saf filling up most of the window frame with her long legs and broad shoulders and the mountain of incredulity and disapproval of anything Lynna was ever doing that she carried around on her shoulders like Commander Cullen’s fancy fur coat.

“I said turn over on your side. You were snoring.”

“Lies.”

“Not.”

“Slander and libel.”

“It has to be printed to be libel.”

“You hit me with a shoe!”

“That still doesn’t make it libel.”

“No, that makes it assault. And rude. Extremely rude.”

Saf just snorted and turned to slip out the window again onto the roof, leaving Lynna to sit up in the darkness. She put her shoe on, looked around for the other, couldn’t find it and gave up in short order, clomping one-sidedly across the floor to muscle in next to Saf, who signed irritably and blew a puff of smoke out over the rooftop.

“Did you roll that yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“I can tell, it’s garbage. Give it to me.”

Saf (who clearly knew better at this point than to argue with any of the unquestionable truths that fell from the mouth of her friend and erstwhile self-appointed sidekick like - things that fell from the sky - rain or something - whatever) looked annoyed, but handed over what amounted to a handful of fitfully smoking herbs in tattered rolling papers.

Maker. It’s like Saf had never been a teenager. Ever.

“I thought you weren’t smoking these anymore,” she said, shaking out the charred bits and carefully repacking the roll. Not that smoking elfroot was the preferred way of utilizing its medicinal properties. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure it really did anything at all except stink up your clothes, but it was better than chewing the leaves. In some light Saf’s teeth still looked a bit green.

“I had that dream again.” Lynna’s silence and pointed lack of eye contact wasn’t enough to dissuade Saf from the conversation. “Don’t give me that, I know you had it too. You were talking in your sleep.”

Lynna sighed, annoyed. “Was I talking in my sleep, or snoring then? It’s hard to do both.”

“You manage.” Saf cast her a wry look out of the corner of her eye, and she made a face, handing back the stupid elfroot cigar. At least it wouldn’t fall apart now as soon as it was lit, and out of early morning pique she lit a spark between her thumb and forefinger in front of Saf’s face as she fumbled with the matches, almost close enough to catch her hair on fire.

Saf was not amused, which was perfectly normal. Lynna fidgeted awkwardly for a long moment, tucking her sleep shirt down around her bent knees. “They’re just dreams. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know it doesn’t, but…” Saf shrugged. “Do you ever think about what could have happened? When the Inquisitor…” The templar - former templar - gestured, smoke trailing a lazy sigil in the air. “Set the clock back. Travelled through time. The future that she saw, and what happened to all of us. Do you ever think that we-

“Went out in a hail of fire and glory?” Lynna grinned, felt unexpectedly sick, and grinned even harder.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Because we are heroes.”

“Big damn heroes.”

“The biggest. And most attractive.”

Saf snorted smoke and then coughed, exhaling messily like a dragon with something stuck in its craw. “Clearly.”

They both laughed, and then sighed, and then leaned together like two tired trees, bracing themselves on each other’s trunks. Skyhold’s courtyard was silent and still, cast deep in blue by the pre-dawn shadows. It still looked a bit strange. Not glowy enough. Not enough green.

“Saf.”

“What?”

“Don’t die.”

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #f!oc mage #f!oc templar #bad buddy commedy #tw death #kind of #how do i even tag #cynic writes #after 12000000 years

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calum-and-the-bass · 7 years

Text

The Four-Leaf Clover

A/N: Hi guys! It’s me again. So this short story popped up in my mind. I hope you guys enjoy reading it! And I apologize in advance for any grammatical error. English isn’t my first language.

Your feedback is appreciated, like seriously!

PS I hope you guys liked Where The Lines Overlap. x

Word count: 1,684

Rating: General but is a bit sad and gloomy

Summary: You’re the typical shy girl, considered as invisible. With an unknown reason, Calum is drawn to you. Simply put, he noticed you when everybody ignored you. But to his surprise, there’s a reason why.

Chapter One: HOPE

There are times that Calum just doesn’t understand things, one of them is you. For him, you are the complete opposite of what he looks for in a girl. But here he is, utterly in love with you. Drawn to you like a moth drawn to fire.

Calum dubbed you as the ice princess for a reason. You barely smile. You seldom talk with anyone. You’re contented with being on your own little world.

He has a thing for girls who are animated. Who exudes warmth and friendliness. Something that is anything but you.

You’ve put up a lot of barriers. You wear mask after mask of emotions to cover up the real you.

But why? Something that Calum wonders a lot. Surely, no one could be that icy. He thought that maybe you are acting that way because you’re a new student.

“Hi, y/n!” He smiled.

“Hello.” You timidly replied.

He was about to start a conversation with you but you left the room, leaving Calum all alone.

Another failed attempt.

Later that afternoon, he decided to write a song on the rooftop of the school. To his surprise, he saw you there. Sitting on the floor, with a pen and paper. You looked up, stopped writing, and gave him a shy smile.

He approached you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think someone’s here… I.. uh.. I can leave if -”

“No, it’s alright.” You smiled. “I was just finishing something up.”

“If you wouldn’t mind me asking, what are you finishing up?” He asked, sitting opposite you, considering your personal space.

“Oh.. uh… a story.”

“Really? I didn’t know you write!” He smiled. “I wanted to write a song today so uh I went here.” He paused. “Where do you publish your story?”

“I just keep it here.”

“May I read some parts?” Hoping he wasn’t being a pushover.

“Sorry. But uh, I’m not yet comfortable sharing my story.”

“Understandable.”

He continued talking about his songs that he composed recently (singing some parts to you) to make you a little less on your guard. He really wanted to break your barriers. And for him, it was working. He threw in a few funny jokes and puns which made you laugh. He shared his love for music with you. And even though you didn’t talk much, he felt that you were really listening.

“I don’t know I really like playing the bass more though-”

Your phone buzzed. “I’m sorry… I need to go home now.” You stood up. “See you.”

See you. Two words that made Calum hope that something good will happen between the two of you.

Chapter Two: FAITH

Calum developed a habit of going to the rooftop, hoping he might see you there. Each day, he grew expectant, but is crushed by the fact that you weren’t there.

This day, he was losing hope. Should I still go there, he thought. Was he going crazy? How can a girl like you affect him so much? He wondered.

He found himself going up the rooftop even though he knows that you will not be there. ‘See you’ was a lie, he said to himself.

He reached for the doorknob, thinking to himself that he is, indeed, going crazy.

I am going crazy, he thought. You were sitting on the floor, writing. You looked up and smiled at him. Now he’s imagining you being there.

“Hi, Calum.” You greeted him.

“H-hi.” He felt relieved. He approached you and sat on the opposite side, minding your personal space. “Haven’t seen you here in a while.” He broke the ice. “If it doesn’t bother you answering, what’s the story about?”

“It’s about a girl who can’t seem to find her place in this world.”

“Wow, that’s pretty deep.” And cliché, he wanted to add but considered not to because he might offend you. And besides you two aren’t that close enough. He might drive you away.

“I just can’t write this chapter properly.”

His heart fluttered, you are now sharing something with him. A secret you and Calum share, he thought. “Why?”

“I don’t know… I just.. I can’t see the purpose of my story anymore.”

His heart broke a little. “Don’t feel that way… how about adding a new character? Someone who’s there to support your main character? A new friend or something like that?”

“I guess… but I don’t know what kind of character should it be..”

“Do you.. do you want any help?”

“Oh.. uh, I appreciate your offer but I need to finish this on my own…”

“No worries! But you gotta promise that I’ll be the one of the few people to read the whole book, okay?”

You laughed. “Okay. I promise.”

“I really have faith in you. I’m rooting for you. I know you can finish your story.” Calum smiled. “And I’ll be your number one fan when you become a famous author!”

Faith. A word that you haven’t heard in a while. You felt refreshed. What Calum said gave you new ideas for your story.

Chapter Three: LOVE

He seldom sees you in the classroom anymore. Your elusiveness there did not bother him a lot, though. Everything was fine for him because he always catches you on the rooftop, writing your story.

“Hey!” He greeted you, sitting opposite you, minding your personal space. “You’ve been inspired now, huh?”

You nodded. “I think I found the answer.” You looked at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

He became proud. Thanks to him, you found inspiration. This is a start of something new, he thought. “Aww, shucks, it’s all you, y/n. I know you’re a great writer.”

You smiled. “Thank you so much.”

To Calum, seeing you smile and doing the thing that you love makes him so proud. To Calum, you’re already a winner. To him, you’re someone successful. And even though he could not tell you his feelings because it might be to soon for all that, he makes sure that he’s always there for you.

You could feel his love. You could tell how sincere he is whenever he says he believes in you. You’ve never felt anything like this. You’ve never expected that someone will notice you. And yet, here is Calum, proving you wrong.

Thanks to him, everything became clear.

“You know, before I met you, everything seemed useless. I felt hopeless. But thank you for loving me.”

His eyes widened. He did not know how to answer. “…. you knew?”

“Of course! I’m not as numb as you think I am.” You giggled.

And since that day, Calum looked forward going to the rooftop.

Chapter Four: LUCK

As soon as happiness filled Calum’s every day life, sadness came in. After that incident, you rarely visit the rooftop. He does not even see you in the classroom either. It’s as if you vanished.

How could he not even see you? Were you avoiding him on purpose?

Calum’s luck ran out.

“Hey, John, have you seen y/n?” He asked his seat mate before leaving.

“Who?”

“You know, y/n. Shy girl. Ice princess. Sits at the back.”

“We don’t have any classmate named y/n.” John looked confused. “I’m sure of it.”

“Huh? But…”

“Cal, I have a list of students in this class and there’s no y/n y/l/n.” John was the treasurer of the class so he’s certain about it. “Maybe she’s… well.. maybe that’s why…”

“Can you just tell me?” Calum said impatiently.

“Well, I sometimes see you looking at the back but there’s no one sitting there. And then there’s this one time I saw you talking just by yourself… but I assumed you were practicing for an audition of a play or something so I shrugged that off..”

“What? Are you sure??” Calum’s head was aching. If you weren’t real… if they can’t see you… “John, is there.. is there a ghost story you know about….”

Suddenly, it hit Calum. That is why his classmates were ignoring you. That is why no one’s talking to you. That is why you seemed invisible…

Because you are.

But why can he see you? Why him?

“Well, I heard that there was a girl who died on the rooftop a few years ago. They said that the girl loves writing some of her stories there.. but the girl had a heart attack while writing.. runs in her family…the janitor saw her lying on the floor with a pen and notebook beside her.”

Goosebumps. That was what Calum felt. “But you can’t remember her name?”

“Come to think of it, y/n is her name.”

“You’re not messing with me, right?”

“Of course not! Why would I make this up?” John looked at his phone. “Well, I better get going… I don’t wanna be late for my part-time job. See you.”

He remembered you with those last words John said. See you. Two words that made Calum question everything. He will never see you again.

He slowly walked up the stairs. Not knowing how to react if he sees you sitting on the floor at the rooftop.

He breathed deeply before opening the door. Chirping birds and the warmth of the sun welcomed him. He looked around, still no trace of you.

He felt defeated.

“When you said you didn’t see the purpose of your story anymore… you didn’t mean the story you’re writing, huh?” He said, talking to no one. “I still wish I could read the story that you were working on.”

He sighed and sat on the floor. “I’m still thankful I met you, though. I hope you’re doing fine wherever you are.” He smiled. “Look out for me, will you? I’ll miss talking to you.”

As he stood up, he noticed something growing out on the floor. He observed it. And to his great surprise, it was a four-leaf clover. He picked it and glanced around. “Seriously?” He giggled. “Thank you.”

They say that a four-leaf clover brings luck to anyone who finds it. And each leaf represents hope, faith, love and luck. For Calum, you are his four-leaf clover.

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outofnecessity · 7 years

Text

A Circle of Temporaries

“Are you going to remember The Breaking? Once the ‘memic takes, I mean.” Graole questions the one Transient he still trusts.

“You know you’re the only one still doing this?” Vike watches Graole’s eyes closely. He thinks the glass obstructs his worry. It doesn’t. Is he worried about the whole process or is he worried specifically about me?

“Yes I know none of my counterparts use it anymore. And they continue to wonder why higher profile personas come only to me.”

“You’re talking about Rixen. Have I ever done one of his tasks?” He asks knowing the answer already.

“Not that you remember.” Graole says with a chuckle.

He sighs, “Let’s get this done.”

“You know it’s not your first time.”

“In my case, knowing and remembering are two separate things.”

Graole’s silent. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He wants it to be over. He can’t put his finger on whether he feels bad or just hates the whole thing.

“You’re going to send me what I need to know during the…” Vike can’t find words that fit the shape of his ideas.

“Yes, don’t you worry about a thing. Your buddy Graole has got a handle on everything. This is a big undertaking. I’ve closed up shop for this.” He twists a knob on the wall. Then presses his hand against the glass window that separates him and Vike as the sprinklers above unleash the soft blue colored Reopolymemic. The blue takes on a yellow tinge as the light hits it. He thinks about how most everything in this city is about separation. It sickens him. And yet he is a part of it. Part of this peace that Key Rixen has crafted. He thinks about last year’s Cariteon rains and how Rixen insisted he stockpile the crystals. Most would be surprised by how deep he’s in Rixen’s pocket.

He watches the liquid harden and encase his friend. “I really hope this is the last time because I don’t think your brain can handle more of this torture. Your new task is beneficial for all. You will tell them all of The Breaking. But especially the one that is known only as The Moth. He will protect you. He will show the way out of this place. I know it’s what you’ve been looking for. You want out, don’t you?”

Vike nods just as the ‘memic reaches and covers his head.

“When you hatch from the ‘memic cocoon you will go to the church. You know the one and you will tell them of your dreams. Your dreams of The Breaking. Only the dreams you’ve had of the Breaking.”

He can feel Graole’s words. They pounce and throb on the ‘memic shell around him. He thinks, I should have just agreed to the needle. He can feel things in his mind blur around him. It’s a cyclone of lost ideas and feelings. Ideas and notions rise and then slip from his attention, like sand sprinkling through his fingers. He can recall a quiet life, a picture perfect life. Is this mine? Before he can consider his own question another image passes by. A baby. He had a baby girl. She’s gone. Graole is there, like he is now, helping Vike forget. This has all happened before. The ‘memic cocoon might as well be his default attire.

He listens as Graole hammers the task’s main details, again and again. Soon it will be all he has in his memory. These memories he’s floating through are long gone and soon they will be gone again. He wishes he could see her again. The smile he helped make was shattered. He doesn’t remember how but the sound is there, in his head. And now he’s falling. It’s dark yet he knows what’s next.

The hatching.

“Once again, the Dreamfilter’s church is your destination. From there they will bring you to the Rift.” Graole looks through the ‘memic shell into his friend’s eyes. “Oh wow, that was quicker than normal. Your name is Vike and you are a transient.” Vike cocks his head and the shell shakes. “A transient is a person who is hired for special activities, we call them tasks. Do you remember that you have a task now?”

The transient tries to nod but motion is limited inside the cocoon.

“Good enough, buddy. Now the Dreamfilter, no one really knows much about them except that you stay away. But for this task you’re going to approach them. Directly. A lot of this knowledge will flow back through you once you’re out of the...” Graole grunts and clears his throats. “But it is good to have a refresher. You’ll know them as soon as you see them because of the gas masks they wear. It’s been said that Dreamers put off a certain air that can be infectious. That’s why whenever one of the Custodians of the Dreamfilter find one they toss the poor bastard off into the Rift.

“Vike, listen carefully.” The yellow tinge of the ‘memic shell has faded. Graole knows they are out of time. “That’s it. I’ve decided. I hate this ‘memic shit. I’m tired and what you’re about to do is the most important thing I’ve ever heard of. It’s been a pleasure helping you.”

The shell loosens around his limbs. Instinctively he rattles the shell by moving each extremity separately. Then he shakes his entire body. The shell rumbles. He can feel it shaking, the feeling registers as sound in his mind but he knows he can’t actually hear it. Finally, his head bursts from the cocoon.

“Graole! What is the Rift?”

“All things surround the Rift. The Custodian will bring you there. You’ll remember more as you get closer to the church. Just remember to speak of the Breaking. It’s important. Absolutely necessary.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the task, you are to act as if you have dreams so you can be judged and condemned to the Rift.”

“Haven’t I always had dreams?” The familiar sensation of falling overcomes him. That dream is the only constant I know besides Graole. What a life I lead—I put my trust in falling.

“That’s for you to answer. As far as I know you don’t meet any of the requirements of a Dreamer.” There’s a cagey element to Graole’s words like he is trying to let Vike in on something but keep another out.

“What are the requirements?”

“Dreamers come in many different forms, some only experience dreams while they sleep. Others have waking visions, premonitions. And others like myself have ambitions or goals. Fundamentally, all dreams are projecting energy. Whether the brain projects back onto you or if you project onto the world around you or if the world projects unto you. Dreams in any form enhance the basic human experience and Rixen can’t have that.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll have to ask him. Now go. We won’t see each other again Vike.”

The remainder of the shell falls to the floor. He nods to Graole as he stumbles out through the door. Slowly letting his legs return to life.

Graole stares at the pile of expired ‘memic shards. “This is just a waste.”

Key Rixen steps from the dark corner behind Graole. His stance is imposing but his voice always seems to soothe. “Yes and no. We both know there hasn’t been an exposed Dreamer in a long time. That can only mean one thing.”

“The Moth is changing his play.”

“Indeed. I think the star-ship will fly again soon.”

Graole looks up at the sky, through the hole where the roof should be. “What’s going to happen this time? All of the tall structures are gone, the City is a disaster area. A crumbled pile of servitude. Do you really think it can take another failed flight?”

“That is the question your star transient is going to learn for us.”

The walk to the Dreamfilter’s church proves to be quick. The sight of it is startling. The church steeple which surely stood proudly on top of the structure now stands upside down in front of the entrance. One of the Custodians stands motionless inside the steeple, growling at any and all that pass by. Vike walks around it to the entrance, which is nothing more than a gaping hole where a wall used to be. The only real telltale sign of the structure being a church is the overturned pews that have been laid upon one another to build an eerie kind of cage. Anything of value or significance was stolen during the chaos that followed the first and final failure of the Dreamers. It’s part of what set the Separation in motion.

Approaching any Custodian is rare, especially for a transient. They are the dividing force, Rixen’s own votaries—judges that bring and cast Dreamers off into the Rift. There aren’t any features that provide any sort of identity to the Custodians, except in how they carry their weapon. The cross emblem rests in a hip holster. It is a staff-like weapon, meant to look unassuming at first. But with a quick flick of a hidden switch, it can extend to a staff and be used to harm Dreamers from a safe distance. The last time a Dreamer was sentenced, Vike recalls one of the Custodians using the elongated form of the emblem like a sword in the stories of old. Ah Graole was right, some things are coming back to me.

He enters the cage of disheveled pews, laid upon each other like logs. He sits anxiously in the lower set chair that faces where the Custodians congregate. He watches them exchange glances until one makes its way to the cage.

The Custodian’s entrance into the cage is quiet, the robes it wears mask most of its humanity. It seems taller than the others but not by much. However that could just be that this is the closest Vike has ever been to one. At a certain point, exact measurements don’t mean anything anymore. Anywhere near seven feet is a lot of feet for any person to extend to.

Any shimmer of life is guarded and filtered by the gas mask upon the Custodian’s face. The sound of inhalation is mesmerizing, he feels his head bob as the haunting figure sits in the chair opposite him. Only the filter, you must only look at the filter of its gas mask. Keep your head Vike. This confession has to hit every point. Exactly. Graole’s instructions continue to pound on his mind, albeit fractured.

"I do not recognize you. Do you have a place nearby?" He cannot tell from the Custodian’s voice but he assumes the Custodian is a man.

"Yes but I've been away for some time." He shifts uncomfortably in the battered wobbly wooden chair. How much is too much?

The savage leans in closer. "Do I frighten you?" The filter of its gas mask is just barely touching Vike's face.

"Yes."

"Why is that?" It backs up. Its robes barely move. They are fixed in place but not tight to the body of the Custodian. There's a significant curiosity to its movements and tone. It penetrates his ears, ignoring the muffling aspect of the gas mask.

"Because I've been falling." He’s surprised but also impressed by the words that flow out of him. Sorry Graole, I’m doing this my own way. I need to try to learn about this dream of mine. This is my chance. "I go to sleep and while I'm asleep it happens to me.” He swallows. “I'm falling... or floating? I don't know. Everything is black. It's gone. It's just all gone." He watches the Custodian's body shift with every word. Its hand on the emblem at its side. The clasp comes undone. "I am left with a feeling." He finishes with a small sigh of relief.

"What feeling is that?" The Custodian's eager tone shines through the filter.

"Was it ever really there to start?" Vike slouches in his chair. He feels like his confidence is being siphoned through the filter.

"I do not understand."

"I've been around the whole of the City. Multiple times.”

"360?" The Custodian gasps. "I figured you were a transient. Then—”

The question hits as a condemnation. He stands, interrupting the savage. The chair topples over. "I am a Dreamer." He shouts and scans the blown-out church. He's suddenly really aware of the other eight Custodians. Their eyes are locked onto him. Running is not an option.

"I wish you hadn't..." The Custodian shakes its head and lunges. With its hand around Vike's throat it whispers, "It didn't have to be this way."

The Custodian drags him out into the street, past the kids tossing a ball, past the girl wishing the boy she likes would notice her, past all of the starving, dirty, awful people that he knows all too well. The ones he's served. The ones he's abused. The ones he's deceived. The ones he is absolutely bored of. This is it. I’m on my way out of here. Soon my eyes will be free of this rotten place.

The rest of the group are hanging back. He can feel them slinking, following not too far behind. As if they are letting the savage I confessed to bask in the glory of the latest revealed Dreamer.

The City swells. This is the loudest it’s been in years. There hasn’t been an exposed Dreamer in a long time. No one can remember how long it’s been exactly. The Custodians exist as a death squad but only in a sense. The stories are passed down through generations so the reputation remains. The City is a circle around the Rift and the Dreamfilter are the fence that separates the two sides. The words and the stories revolve and spiral within the circular shape of the City. And the transients spin around the City, only against the grain. Their 360s are journeys meant to disrupt or maintain grasp on the City. They are a group of rebels rebelling not only against the City but themselves as well. And now, the City is once again spinning on all accounts. Vike has restarted it like the blinking of an eye.

The Custodian tosses him against the rim of the Rift. He can almost feel the answers bubbling up from the dark hole. Shouldn't there be fear? There's no certainty that I'll survive the fall. I am supposed to fall, right?

"Tell us why." The Dreamfilter encircle him. One by one the nine of them lower their heads to meet Vike’s eyes. "Why have you hid so long? Why expose yourself now?"

The one who took his confession speaks up, "He spoke of falling." It stands and turns the knob on the side of its gas mask to increase the radius of its words. "He said he was falling. Afraid of falling. But he couldn't be sure if he was falling or if the world around him was falling. He asked me what it meant."

The crowd laughs. Some yell out: Down the hole! They are hungry, desperate for the show. The eager crowd feels like a tornado surrounding him. What they don't know is that he is eager too.

Suddenly, a stranger rushes through the Dreamfilter and locks eyes with the Dreamer. His eyes are a bright blue unlike any Vike's ever seen before. Unlike anyone he's ever encountered before. The stranger’s eyes match the vibrancy of a clear blue sky. How can that be? Nothing this beautiful should be here. But if this is possible what else is? Shut up Vike there are things that need doing and saying. Before any words can be exchanged the Dreamfilter are on the stranger. Two of them hold him as the Custodian that the stranger kneed in the back gathers himself. Vike hears its fingers catch the clasp of the cross emblem’s holster. The Custodian raises the emblem and it extends into a long staff. In a lightning quick motion it presses the tip against the stranger's right cheek.

They are gonna kill him if I don't do something. He clears his throat. "I wanted...I want answers. A simple curiosity and yet you claim and would have us believe you are holy men. But what kind of holy men are above sharing knowledge? You want us to believe your words and your ideas, but how can we when they are secrets you keep muffled behind your masks?" He shouts. The Custodians don't turn away from the stranger. "It's almost like you don't know anything at all."

The nine Custodians of the Dreamfilter swiftly turn and face the Dreamer. One of them replies. "You think speaking to us in this way will curb our will?" It motions to the one still holding its emblem at the ready. It resumes the beating. "Dreamer, you are inconsequential."

A gasp rises from the crowd. Vike watches as every head is lowered in a single wave of motion. Key Rixen has appeared. He can’t be sure of his means of transport or which direction the City’s ruler came from. All he knows is Rixen is now center stage. His confidence as ruler is unmatched, unwavering unlike his hair line which seems to recede with every word he pushes out across the faceless and faithless.

"What is this? You are not supposed to celebrate and relish the Rifting." Key Rixen's voice booms. The bowed heads don't notice his vanity. The constant flipping of his cape-like cloak combined with his ever present need to moisten his eyebrows with saliva. Though he doesn’t stop at the end of his eyebrows. He encircles his eye sockets. Vike can’t be sure but it does seem like he does it more frequently than breathing.

He watches as the Custodians all tremble as Key Rixen looks them up and down. Do they overlook everything about him except the position? Aren’t they all doing that with me? The word, the title is spoken and everything else is forgotten.

"Many apologies. We admit our curiosity got the better of us. Shall we retire?"

"No you will end this. And you,” The Key addresses the Custodian who beat the stranger directly. "Your punishment will be swift. You know where.” The Custodian nods and walks away trying to hide the spasms rocking through its body. The rest do their best to not watch their fellow comrade parade off to an unknown sentencing cast down by Rixen’s right hand men. The Key steps toward the remaining and is interrupted by Vike jumping up on the rim of the Rift.

"This is going to end. All of this." He spreads his arms out in front of him, "Among the falling I have also dreamt that The Breaking is upon us." He steps back with his left foot, taking the weight onto the ball of his right foot. He winks at Rixen before letting go of the ledge. Backwards, he falls into the Rift. Into the darkness.

Commotion erupts throughout the crowd. The blue eyed stranger struggles to free himself from the grasp of his captors but they remain vigilant even through the calamity. He watches as Key Rixen steps up on the edge of the Rift.

"Everyone listen to me! You cannot take the word of one lowly Dreamer. He has lived among us and lied to our faces for years. Do not fall with him.

"Tell me do you want for anything? Are any of you troubled by inner turmoil? The cause of turmoil is Dreaming. I’ve handled that epidemic for all of us. This Dreamer who spoke of The Breaking lived with and trusted in a terrible dream his entire life. And he was a transient. People, hear my words. These men and women who call themselves transients are mere con artists, their only driving force is disruption. They are only able to fool us because I’ve provided a life without war. There can’t be armor without a weakness and for that I’m sorry. We’ve come as close to perfection as we can. Tell me, are there any here that remember war?" He scans the crowd. The faceless sea of people shake their heads as one.

"Yes, you should be proud of the conformity. Though I’ve no doubt you’d prefer I’d use the word harmony instead. They said that was your specialty." The stranger groans. “And now I understand how you’ve managed to stay under the radar this long. Your peace is built on hollowing out humanity.”

Rixen whips his head around. "So it finally happened. I had thought they'd given up. I take you’re not here to join me?”

*****

“Kinda disappointing, I think.” Vike says to no one as he attempts to brush the mud off his clothes. He turns in search of light but there is none. He itches his nose and scoffs, “ahhh that’s not mud.” The city's plumbing must run through here. He thinks. It makes sense. Dreamers are waste, according to the Separation.

Searching for a glimmer of light, he spins in a quiet circle careful not to dizzy himself. He thinks of the other 360 he just completed. "Isn't life strange? One minute I'm travelling around the entirety of the City and the next I'm diving into the only unknown that's left. The Rift Caves," He mutters. "So far it's dark and shitty." His quiet laughter echoes throughout the caves.

A soft shred of light catches his eye. His legs feel as if they are moving but it doesn't seem like the light is getting any closer. Until it's right there, suddenly within arm’s reach. There is a break in the cave wall, an opening and he can hear the sound of rushing water. The light is an overwhelming change from the darkness. His eyes adjust slowly and he finds the water to be clear, refreshing.

He hears two soft gasps. A couple of young children stand before him, shocked by his sudden appearance.

"Hello… I mean hi there.” He pauses, too many things are running through his head.” Um… hey, my name is Vike." He says unsure of every word that slips off his tongue.

The girl asks, "Did you... fall? No one has done that in a long long time." The boy nudges her, telling her to be quiet.

He watches the children exchange a nod that they both consider to be subtle. "Yes I did. And I know no one's come down in a very long time."

Brushing aside her companion, the girl takes a step forward. "How come you're so old, Mister Vike? Did you just have your first Dream?"

"No I've...” Vike considers the words Graole said about dreaming. Did he know about my dreams? How could he? “I've had the same one for a long time. Do you really think I’m old?"

She shakes her head. "I don't understand Mister Vike. Did you—” The boy stuffs his elbow into the girl's side. "Glarm would you quit it! He's all right. I just know it."

"Don't tell him my name!" The boy shouts.

"GLARM GLARM GLARM! MISTER VIKE THIS IS GLARM, HE'S MY BEST FRIEND. HIS NAME IS GLARM GLARM GLAAAAAAAARRRMMMMMMMMM!" The girl screams in almost a sing-song manner.

Vike laughs. "So what are you two doing out here?"

"Sometimes cool stuff is dropped from up top. Lately not so much. But I did get this blanket yesterday. Say… Mister Vike, could you tell us about the sky? Everyone that came from up there always says it's the thing they miss most. I want to see it more than anything."

"Hmm, I think… yes I think I could show you." He says eager to make the girl smile. He isn’t sure why but he feels an urge to comfort this girl. He tries to focus on that and not where the blanket has been.

The girl jumps up and down. "YES MISTER VIKE! PLEASEEEEE!" She stops and tilts her head, “Wait. But how?"

A smile creases Vike’s stern face. "Okay okay. I'll need something sharp and that blanket." A look of concern washes over the young girls face. "I'm gonna make it so you can take the night sky with you, wherever you go. Just as long as there is some light nearby. Okay?"

"I don't know. We should get back."

"I promise I won't hurt either of you. And I can do it as we walk." Vike watches as the two children discuss it. He sees the boy produce a rusted pocket knife from his pants pocket. Vike witnesses a look of distrust in the boy’s eyes as he struggles to open the blade. These kids aren’t like the kids back in the City. It’s strange how different life can be mere steps from what one person’s used to.

"I trust you Mister Vike. I don't know that I should but I do." She nods to her young friend and he passes the knife.

Vike follows the kids as they trudge through the sparkling water. He is almost too captivated by the clarity of it to focus on the responsibility in hand.

"Now this can't be exact because the stars... well I can't replicate them exactly. I believe they are beyond what humans are capable of." He punctures tiny holes randomly and carefully in the blanket.

"But aren't we capable of more than just humans? We are Dreamers, right Mister Vike?"

"I don't know. I've never really met a Dreamer." He ducks his head behind the blanket, afraid of what she might say next.

"You haven't met yourself, Mister Vike?" The young girl asks as she smiles at Glarm. They snicker. The girl throws his head back when she gives in to the laughter. Her long ratty hair brushes against the boy’s face. But he doesn’t seem to mind.

"This may be difficult for you to understand but life up there is clearly different than what you’re used to. You both are so far removed from that world...you can't know of the solitude and the emptiness of life. I’ve never had what you two clearly have." He inhales. "I've been searching for it my entire life. I almost had it once but..."

"But what? Oh was there bad stuff?" The girl puts her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry bad stuff happened to you. It's okay now."

"How can you know that?" He asks expecting an answer only a child could conjure up.

"Because you're home now Mister Vike." She reaches her arm outward.

The narrow cave tunnel opens up into a large antechamber. He’s awestruck by the way the stone walls shoot up in curving motions of smoothness.

The sound of rushing water has quietly transformed into an uneasy clatter of busy people. There are women brushing mud on old slabs of fabric like the painters of old. There are men preparing dinner for eager children as they bounce and dance around. There is laughter. Not soft snickering, but actual laughter from a variety of voices. His hands begin to tremble. I've found it. I've found where the happiness hides.

"Where have you two been?!" A woman yells. She notices Vike a second later. "Amnee, tell me you didn't just take his word for it?"

"No, of course not. Geez do you think I haven't listened to you at all?" The girl replies.

"Well, you are coming up on that age."

Vike looks to the young girl, "Amnee? That's a curious name."

"And what kind of name is Vike?"

"Fair." He turns to the woman. "I need to speak to—"

Amnee interrupts, "Mommy look what Vike made us. It's like the night sky if you hold it up to the light. Come on, Glarm make yourself useful."

"That's very sweet. Vike, is it? Do you have children?"

"No." There's more on the tip of his tongue but he holds back. He can feel the pain rise up from his stomach. The pain of a lie.

She watches his eyes carefully. She knows he's hiding something but she can't get a read on him. Amnee takes his hand. The woman looks on, puzzled by the bond they've forged so quickly.

"Mister Vike, don't you worry. You're safe now. This is where you belong," Amnee pauses. "I just know it!"

He smiles, “Thank you Amnee but,” He shakes his head. "I'm not so sure."

Suddenly, Amnee's mother shoos her away. "Tell me what you meant with that. Right now."

"I need to speak to him."

"To whom? New arrivals don't get to bark orders. There are rules and the first rule is you must share the dream that brought you here."

"That's what I'm trying to do."

"I can't just bring you to him. We have rules for a reason."

"And there are always exceptions to rules. I am not supposed to share this dream, share the news with anyone except The Moth. So either you bring me to him or everyone here, and I mean everyone,” He looks over at Amnee and Glarm, "will die."

She slaps him. "How dare you. You can't just come in here and pretend like you know something and threaten my child. Threaten all of us."

"The Moth. Now."

The commotion has attracted a crowd. Everyone is watching and listening. Once again Vike is center stage. The woman shakes her head before motioning him to follow her.

Through the crowd, into the encampment, he's soaking in all the looks. The memory of being dragged through the streets by the Custodian floods his vision. His mind is filled with images of the same. It's all proof to him. People are people. Is there any hope for something different? Something better? Suddenly the memory of those blue eyes flashes in Vike’s mind.

"He's in there. Whatever you have to say you better do it quick. His patience is short these days."

He nods knowing her appetite for words has dried up.

"Just push through the curtain." She says in a slow growl. Her anger soaks every word.

"I'm trying to help everyone here. You’ll see."

"No Vike, I see it already. You are here for you." She walks away, leaving him to ponder the curtained entrance to another cave.

*****

"I know I told you! No disturbances! We're too close, you know that." A tired, frantic voice blasts from across the closed off cave.

Vike is certain he didn’t make a sound as he passed through the curtain. There’s something odd about this part of the Rift Caves. Though it could just be him. Without seeing him, I can sense something odd about him.

"That's the point of the Breaking—disruption."

"What...what did you say?" The man stands and faces Vike. "Who are you?"

He is struck by the Moth’s resemblance to Graole. This man is taller, but not by much, and carries himself in a shrouded, reserved demeanor. Graole is the opposite of that. Moths can be majestic, as well as haunting but Vike’s first impression is something else. He’s not frightened of the man before him but of his cluttered, chaotic attitude.

"The Breaking. It's time." Vike forces his face into a smile.

"Leave now. I can tell you didn't dream that so go away. I can't be bothered to entertain this joke."

"Should I have lit myself on fire first?"

"I don't know who you are or why you insist on this and I'm not sure I care." The Moth turns back to the papers strewn on the table.

Vike slams his hands down in front of the man. "You're supposed to be important. I was told you know things. I was told to say these things to you. It was said that it would garner a reaction and I could get what I want."

"Ah yes, of course. You're a transient. I should have guessed. Now tell me, have you ever had a real dream or are you just that good?"

Vike's ego inflates and he smiles. "How do you mean, that good?"

"If you're standing here that means the people out there, my people, put you through a test. The young girl, Amnee, and probably her companion, Garth."

"I believe his name is Glarm."

"Ah right, okay." He says as he looks into Vike's eyes. "So are you gonna tell me your dream or am I gonna have to pull it out of you?"

"You're not at all what I expected."

"Graole must have been who hired you. He's always painting in big broad strokes that aren't at all representative of the source." He smiles. "And now you're wondering how I know so much about your world when I live down here. Tell me why you agreed to this task. Tell me what they dangled in front of you, tell me why a con man would dive into the Rift and leave behind his entire world."

“My entire world? You’ve shown your hand. I can tell you really don’t know as much as you claim to. And nothing was dangled in front of me, I was granted the chance to leave. Can’t you see the boredom flowing from my eyes? Maybe this dream that has plagued me for as long as I can remember is a fractured mirror image of my own existence. Falling, I’m falling through the motions. Graole said, repeatedly, that the man who goes by The Moth has the means to journey to other worlds. That’s why I’m here.”

“Falling, huh? You fell through the Rift to get here but I’m sure the dream doesn’t feel fulfilled at this time.” He posits and Vike nods. “I know many things but you are strange to me. You are the variable here. But I’m certain if Graole set you on this task then Rixen is the one who ordered it. Am I correct in assuming you don’t remember much beyond this task?”

Vike finds it difficult to determine which questions are rhetorical and which aren’t. He stumbles over the silence between them and confirms The Moth’s thoughts, “Yes the task was all that was firmly delivered while I was in the cocoon.”

“Cocoon?! He finally figured it out? I remember when we first began Rixen had these big ideas about weather, about the Cariteon rains. If you were encased in it then that proves he ordered this task to send a transient to me. That also means he runs the risk of The Blue.”

*****

The crowd at The Rift remains quiet as they watch Key Rixen’s confidence siphoned by a man that is held by the Dreamfilter. It takes three of them to hold him while the others have their hands on unclasped holsters at their hips. Ready and waiting for Rixen to give the order.

The blue eyed stranger smiles at the thought of joining Rixen. "No I am here for the other thing."

"Does it have to be here?” He looks out at the crowd as he waves the Custodians off the stranger.

The stranger nods.

Rixen inhales sharply as he removes his cloak. It flutters to the ground. "The Key's Chamber, after you... please go there before you leave. All of this can't be for nothing. Don't be the one to throw all of this away. They won't be convinced but you... I think you're like me."

The stranger takes the nearest Custodian's emblem. “Kneel.” Rixen lifts his head toward the blue sky. The stranger extends the cross emblem into its staff formation and forces it through the kneeling ruler’s throat.

Startled by the feeling of their eyes, the stranger lowers his head to look out at the crowd as they all bow their heads and whisper "Key. Key. Key."

One of the Custodians takes The Key’s cloak and drapes it across the stranger. "Sir, what is your name?"

"Albastrün.” He reconsiders, “Key Albastrün.” He adjusts the cape so it sits properly on his shoulders.

"What would you have us do?"

"Drop that," He points to Rixen's corpse, "into the hole and show me to the Chamber." He looks out across the sea of people surrounding him. He mutters to himself, “Yes we are indeed alike.”

*****

“The Blue? What is that? I am not following any of this. When you started this? So... you weren’t born here? How could Graole get you so wrong if he’s operating under Rixen?”

“Despite what you may think or know from personal experience, he doesn’t know everything. Not even close. Even if you put all of his counterparts together you still wouldn’t get close to the level of information Rixen or I have separately. It’s not possible to gaze upon both sides of a coin simultaneously and see the whole picture. Up top everyone is a puppet of Rixen’s precious “peace.” You’ve begun to notice, even if you aren’t conscious of it, that this room is different. Something is off about the ground and the walls.”

Once again Vike finds himself turning in a circle. “Yes I see it there’s a certain... unexplainable nature to it.”

“There’s nothing natural about it. I am for all intents and purposes, Rixen’s opposite and this is not a passageway or a tunnel to a new world. This is my star-ship. And it has but one destination.”

“Wait a minute. You’re saying this is the star-ship? The one from back before the Separation? The one they say was built by Dreamers to explore what may or may not lie beyond the sky?”

“The one and the same.”

“But it didn’t work before. It barely took off.”

“That’s not true. It did take off, just not in the way it was meant to.”

“Right it only destroyed the height of the City. It evened everything.” Vike confirms. “I often wonder how the City must have looked in all its glory. I’d love to see the skyscrapers restored.”

“If you think anything is even here you truly are blind.”

“You never did answer my question about The Blue. Or any of my questions, really.”

“Not everything can be answered, transient. Some things must be experienced first-hand.”

“When I was at the Rift, just before I fell, there was a man there. A stranger with disparate blue eyes. And I can’t help but wonder if that’s what you mean by The Blue.”

“This is what I was afraid of. I could feel things happening even before you arrived. It’s why I was rushing to finish the repairs of the star-ship.”

“I don’t understand. Do you know that person? Should I have let the Dreamfilter kill him?”

The Moth puts his attention back to the papers and the equations. Avoiding every syllable of Vike’s questions.

“You can’t expect a person to just watch someone be killed in front of them. Can you?”

“You’re not a person Vike! You’re a transient.” The Moth flips the table.

Another condemnation sends Vike’s emotions toward the sky. He grabs The Moth by the throat and is surprised to find how nicely it fits in his hand. “Listen here, you sad excuse for a man. I am more of a person than you are. I’m not the one hiding in his own little pretend cave waiting for something to happen. All those people out there hold you up on a pedestal and for what? Because you demand it? Because you’re all they have? Fuck you and your lousy Separation. You’re a coward. This thing should have been fixed long ago.”

“You think I haven’t tried? Do you really think I’ve just been sitting on my hands? This ship was flawed from the start, it shouldn’t have left the ground. It wasn’t ready and it’s still not. If you want to help then put me down so we can talk about what can be done. Or just kill me and doom everyone.”

“What do you mean doom everyone?” He lowers The Moth to the ground as flashes of Amnee and Glarm and countless other nameless faces speed through his mind.

“This man you saw, he’s here for a specific reason. We didn’t know how it would appear but we knew it would come. Turns out you’re weren’t so wrong, The Breaking is upon us. If we don’t use this star-ship before he strikes then it’s all over. Did he look you in the eye? Did you look him in the eye?”

“Of course but what does that have to do with the end of us? Is he gonna destroy the City?” He says as those blue eyes return to the front of his mind. He wishes for a second that they weren’t so easy to recall.

“Vike you have to tell me right now, do you believe the star-ship will work?”

“I think if you fix it then yes it will work.” The better question would be can I get on it now?

“Well I suppose that’s partially my fault but yeah good enough. Now go, I need to finish this alone. It sits solely on my shoulders. You should rest.” He reaches for Vike’s hand.

“I’ll be right outside.” He says as he shakes The Moth’s hand, despite every fiber of him not wanting to. I’m agreeing to something here like I agreed to something with those blue eyes. But how? Did Graole know where this task would really go?

*****

Vike is greeted by Amnee outside the secret star-ship. She's wearing the blanket around her, smiling like it keeps her face on.

"Hey Mister Vike! What's it like in there? Is it scary? Um... Mister Vike? Are you okay?"

He pats her head, "I'm worried."

"He scared you, huh? What happened? Mom said you wouldn't ever come out of there. But I knew you would." She flashes her big smile.

Suddenly a memory pierces through his mind. He can see her. His daughter. She was born early in the morning and he didn’t sleep in anticipation of her arrival. He can feel her in his arms. He trembles. She’s gone. Graole comes into focus with a needle. “Vike I promise you this little thing will end your suffering. And your new life can begin.” He can feel a hand on his arm, soft small hands, pulling him back to life.

“Mister Vike? Are you okay?” The young girl jumps when he opens his eyes. “Mister Vike it’s me, Amnee. You remember me right?”

“I had a daughter. I can… almost remember her now. Thank you, Amnee.”

“What? Me? What did I do?”

“You’ve reminded me of her. She was gone from my mind for a long time. The Moth was right. Things are changing.”

“I’m glad I could help Mister Vike but I’m still worried about you.”

“It’s just Vike, okay?”

“I’m sorry Mis— Just Vike, I didn’t mean to get your name wrong.” She hangs her head toward the ground.

“No, that’s not it Amnee. It’s just Mister is too formal. I’m not Mister to anyone.”

“What about your daughter? Are you Mister to her?”

“No, she would have called me Dad.”

“Just Vike, did something… happen to her?”

“Yes, it did but I can’t…”

“Something happened to your memories of her?”

“It is part of my occupation, every time I complete a task my memory is wiped to protect everyone involved.”

“Oh, so your job broke your brain. I get it. But Just Vike… are you, are you a bad guy?”

He considers the question for a brief moment. “I won’t be bad toward you. I promise.”

“Good! I promise I won’t be bad to you either. Are you gonna be here tomorrow for my birthday Just Vike? I’d really like it and don’t worry I can count the blanket sky as my present. I know you’re busy.”

“Tomorrow is going to be tricky but I will do everything I can. I might have to leave. I’m waiting on The Moth.”

“I know. Mom said you could come if I asked if you were a bad guy. Your answer will please her so...” She trails off in response to her mother calling for her.

“You’re good at asking clever questions.”

“Thanks! I’d hope so since it is my job.” She says with a wink. “Gotta run Just Vike you should try to sleep. See ya tomorrow!”

“I hope so Amnee. If I don’t…”

“NOPE! Tell me tomorrow, we will see each other. I just know it.” She runs off down the beaten path that divides and drive through a quiet city of tents. She disappears behind her mother into their tattered tent.

He whispers, “Night little one.” He considers going back in to see The Moth but the thought fades as he sits on the ragged bench and closes his eyes.

*****

The sound of his daughter crying echoes throughout the darkness that surrounds him. He can see her standing in the distance. She’s standing! She never learned to crawl. He wants to call out to her but her name only teases the tip of his tongue.

She reaches her hand out toward him. The perspective changes. She’s falling. He wants to jump after her but his legs won’t move. He doesn’t know how to move them. I don’t think I can ever save her. Did I? Is she dead because of me?

Suddenly Graole’s voice comes into earshot, “...gone. Really I am but I think I have a way to help you through this buddy. It will only hurt for a second.” He disappears in a flash.

Amnee shouts but Vike can’t make the words out. He can hear her running. She’s in trouble. “No, Vike don’t!” She screaming it over and over. He reaches his hand out but it’s too late. She’s gone. They are all gone.

Two sets of quick footfalls wake him. He stands up from the bench outside of the Moth's. The two men are startled by Vike's presence.

"Oh we didn't..." The first man says.

"He doesn't matter, just knock already Minish." The taller man barks.

"How many times have I told you two about disrupting me?" The two men are trembling. The Moth looks to Vike, "Why didn't you stop them?"

"I was sleeping." The words float off his tongue and hang in the air as he sits, trying to remember what exactly he was just dreaming about.

The Moth groans. "Okay what is it Min?"

"We found... we found Rixen. He's dead." Minish mutters.

The taller man continues. "We were out scavenging for fallers." He looks at Vike, who has just stood up again. "Items that have fallen through the Rift." He turns back to the Moth, "Someone tossed his body down. His head was pretty much detached. Something was forced through his throat. All. The. Way. Through."

"Was it a circular hole?" Vike asks the tall man.

"Yes it was. Surprisingly so, actually."

He turns to the Moth. "We need to talk. Now."

The two men disappear into the town and Vike follows The Moth back into the hidden star-ship. He notices the change in the room from his last visit. The elaborate architecture of the ship has been exposed. The dirt has given way to shooting patterns of lines and shapes. It’s beautifully overwhelming. Borderline shocking.

"As you can see, I have been busy. But I need your help now that Rixen is dead. Everything is about to change and I don't know how much."

“I think it has already started.”

"What are you talking about?"

“After I left here something happened while I was talking to Amnee. She was waiting for me outside. I remembered something.”

“You’re saying the effects of your cocoon treatment are fading? That can’t be good.”

“It wasn’t always a cocoon. Sometimes the Reopolymemic was injected right here.” He lifts his arm and points to his elbow. “Wait, what the hell? There were track marks here.”

“This is worse than I first thought. Things are changing at an incredible rate. I didn’t think it would happen like this. Rixen must have turned our new friend. So there’s still hope. We have to go now.”

“Turned him? What does that mean?”

“It means he plays for another team. He’s not from here. And now he’s switched sides. I don’t think I can say it any clearer.”

“How much can he change?”

“He can change everything. Now there has to be balance or this place won't exist. It can’t." The Moth pauses and watches Vike try to process the idea. "I know you know what I'm talking about. You've felt it. You felt it when you left this room earlier. You know we have to get this machine running so we can get the hell out of here."

"But what happens to everyone else?" He asks, knowing The Moth will mishear the question.

"Everyone here is coming with us."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"You can't be serious. They don't care about you. They aren't even—” The Moth stops himself before he completes the thought.

"They aren't what? Aren't worthy? Am I?"

"If you don't come with us then you'll never know about your dreams." The Moth says in an effort to redirect the conversation. “You know like the one you just had. I can help you understand it.”

"Maybe I'm not supposed to know. Maybe I'm supposed to stay here and protect the people that would love to watch me die. Being hated makes it an easy decision. And really, try and tell me you want me to come with you.”

"Try and tell me it’s not because of her and the hole that you think she fills. She’s not yours, you know."

“Don’t act like you know everything going on in my head. We both know that you don’t.” He takes the Moth by the shoulder. "You can finish this machine, right? What about the surface? Can you get me back up there?”

“You can’t be serious. You’re playing right into the same cycle. Come with us. With her.”

“For once just answer my questions.”

“Yes I can fix this but I don’t know if it will be soon enough. I suppose you could buy us time by heading up. But I don’t like it. I don’t know what this stranger wants. He killed Rixen. Do you know how many people have tried that? Rixen must have surrendered. Do you understand what that means?”

“You didn’t want me here. Why the change of heart?”

“Nothing I can say will sway you. I see that now so let’s just get on with this.” The Moth yields.

“First, you must promise me you’ll keep her safe.”

"Okay, okay, I promise I'll keep her safe. Even if it means we all perish." The Moth rolls his eyes.

There’s no sign of an exit or anyway out but the way he came in. He knows there must be a way to return to the surface. "Now how do I get back up to the City?"

The Moth sighs. "I'll show you."

The Moth leads him through a series of tunnels, the inner workings of the star-ship. Are these tunnels or the intestines of some dead beast? More importantly, will she forgive me for not saying goodbye?

"Vike! Come on, we have to hurry."

"Yeah yeah, everything is about time with you. What's waiting for you on the other side of this?"

"Freedom. You could have it too. I'd make sure of it." The Moth shakes his head. "Right, I remember. You are immovable. I will give her your best, if you'd like."

"Yes, thank you." He nods, knowing it will only crush her.

"Okay here we are." The Moth points to a wavering light. It dances before their eyes like it is aware of them. "All you have to do is push down on the ball of light there."

The ball is fixed to a stand in the middle of a small room. There are no doors ahead. This is it. This must be the back end of the star-ship. Or maybe it’s outside of the ship? He steps toward the light stand.

"I push it and then what?" Vike asks, expecting an elaborate test of spirit and perseverance.

"A door will open and you will walk through it."

He rotates his field of vision toward his escort. "Oh, you're not staying."

"You'll reach the surface just as we are departing. Just remember, she'll be watching you." The Moth exits the room with a wink.

“You said I would probably need to buy you time but this is what powers the ship. Isn’t it?” For a split second, he is worried when The Moth doesn’t answer. “I guess a wink is how Dreamers say goodbye.” It makes sense that he’d leave me with one more question to ponder. If this is what powers the ship then it was all a trick, wasn’t it? He didn’t give up trying to sway me, he already had swayed me.

He feels a sense of strength flowing from the light before him. The Moth may have left but his words continue to prod and press on Vike's mind. Am I really going to be what turns this thing on? The question echoes through his head like a ball being bounced around a group of children.

"Well here goes nothing." He slowly lays his palm upon the ball of light. It dims beneath a loud clanking, motorized sound. The whole star-ship vibrates. He looks down at his feet, a fence rises from a grooved circle surrounding where he stands. He's shot upward, within the cage, to the surface.

The rushing sound of the upward motion, and a soft shade of panic, ceases. There’s a faint sound of a man speaking coming from a nearby corner. The cage and the man's voice drops. The circle around Vike vanishes into the smooth stone floor. He looks up to see a fractured ceiling. I sure hope that doesn’t fall anytime soon.

Behind him, there’s the sound of a door opening and a familiar face looks him up and down.

"Hey look who it is! Come to congratulate me?" The blue eyed stranger asks. Rixen’s cloak shutters along the stranger’s back.

"I didn't save your life so you could run around my City murdering people, murdering its leaders." Vike shouts resisting the urge to tackle the murderer.

"It balances out, don't you see? If they had killed me or if I killed Rixen, the end is the same."

"Is it balance or just a child's response? They were gonna kill me so I killed them." He says in a condescending tone. "Wait, the end? The end of what exactly?"

The blue eyed man shakes his head. "Hm... That’s the wrong word. Let's use beginning instead. This is the beginning of us." With a smile he holds his hand out. "Key Albastrün. Thank you for saving my life."

"Us? What are you talking about? You want me to rule with you?" He motions the hand away.

"Would it help if I promised to not kill anyone else? Tell you what, if you follow me—right outside that door—I'll show you what this really is."

"How about you show me what was in that room? And who you were talking to."

"Ah but I can't." Albastrün smiles. "You'd have to kill me to get in there. Trust me, I will tell you what I learned from it. But we have to do it outside or else we'll miss it."

"How do you know about the star-ship?"

"I know because knowing is part of being Key."

Vike sighs. They walk through a small alcove in silence. Through the alcove they find the dimming sun. Clouds have moved across the sky, taking over the vibrant blue.

"Looks like a storm."

"It's that time of the year again. I just hope the Cariteon rains don't last as long as last year. We need it but months of endless rains makes things dull and difficult." He notices a dimming in Albastrün's eyes. They aren't as blue.

"Ah yes the Cariteon crystals. I don't know if we'll need as much as last year. Rixen's dead." Albastrün looks Vike up and down, “Speaking of dull, why aren't you on that ship?"

The ground begins to shake and they can hear screams coming from the area around the Rift. Their eyes lock onto the humble yet extraordinary ship exploding from beneath the City.

He watches it silently, replaying the events of the past day and the faces of new friends flash before his eyes. Amnee's smile flutters through his mind. She's not going anywhere. The thought surprises him.

"Because I do not believe it will go anywhere." He shakes his head and sighs. He's pleased he was able to get the words out but ashamed at the lack of faith. I'll never escape, I am a transient. Through and through. This is all there is.

A series of shocked gasps ring out from the City. Vike can almost make out someone yelling, but the words aren't as meaningful as his own thoughts.

"Vike..."

"I know, I know. It's a horrible—"

"No. Look! It's gone."

"What!? But how is that—"

"We did that. Or more accurately, you did." Albastrün whispers.

"What are you talking about? How did I make—No. It can't be gone."

"Nice try but you can't change it now. The ship and all of those people are gone. Like they never existed."

"I don't understand. It doesn't make any sense." His hands begin to shake. Did I kill them?

"We chose each other, Vike. Do you think Rixen and The Moth were accidental leaders? No they were placed together."

"Were you...placed here?"

"Ah now you're getting it! I was sent here."

"From where, for what? The Moth said you played for another team, what did he mean?"

"You know what the difference between us is Vike?"

He shakes his head.

"There is none. We both had the chance to leave but we chose to stay. Deep down we both know what this place can be. And together we can change it into whatever we want."

“A coin has to have two sides.” The transient mutters under his breath as he looks out across the City. The crowd at the Rift has already gone back to their routines, with their heads hanging low. For a moment, they all looked up and considered something else. Something greater.

"What about dreams?" Vike asks.

"Everybody has dreams, it is part of being human. Don't you think so?"

"Yes Albastrün, I know it to be true." He watches a few people lift their heads back up to the sky. It worked. Those are the first of a new era here. I'm sorry I let you down. Through your irises you saw something I could never see myself. This City is an eye—your eye—ever present, ever open only now it truly can see. Because of you, I’m also beginning to see. Goodnight Amnee.

#short story #fiction #serial novel #sci-fi & fantasy #prose #writing #scifi #piece 1 of 6 #writers of tumblr #creative writing

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