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emaanwritesandwrongs · 1 year

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In the half hour before sleep overcame me 2/8/23 Midnight Well Doctor. What is the Diagnosis?

Well Mr. Phelps. I’m sorry, but as I’ve said before, we’re going to need a lot more detail of your symptoms to really understand what’s going on. At the very least something beyond just your stubborn rocking back and forth and chanting “something is wrong.”

An awkward silence hung as if Mr Phelps found nothing of concern, or any invitation to respond or dig deeper into that comment. He acted as if he had just been told that the president of Azerbaijan had a rather pleasant breakfast this morning.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and continued.

Your vitals came back looking in spectacular condition, your bloodwork panels came back healthy, and CT scans show no signs of defect or trauma... Could we please get more detail into what you may be feeling at this moment so that we may direct you to the appropriate specialist. Um, my current recommendation would be to schedule an appointment with our psychiatric department. We have some of the best care in the North Central Tri District Metroplex! I assure you -

That’s enough, Doctor. It sounds like the results of your test confirm my very fears. There is something deeply wrong with me in that there is nothing wrong with me. I lied on your intake form earlier. I am not thirty-four, that is not even a third of my age in fact. I should be withering and folding forward. Huddled and stiff! I should have been on a deathbed many decades ago surrounded by family. Yet here I am, suffering still.

I don’t understand, Mr Phelps? Still? What I mean is. When am I going to die? I’ve tried all i can to whittle myself down. I starved myself, laid in a desert without water for days. Instead the barren land around me started growing green, while I remained unchanged. I’ve tried other more gruesome methods. But the skin on my neck breaks fishing wire, and the bullet bounces off my head like a pong ball. I’m not invincible. I get paper cuts like any other person, and occasionally my stomach will be upset. I figured the intention of mine to die was the problem. I hired many hitmen to assist my own suicide yet their plans all backfire and they end up hurting themselves! You better believe those hitmen on the dark web would not even touch me with a ten foot pole.

As a demonstration in one swift movement the patient pulled a needle he had snuck out earlier from the doctor’s drawers and crushed it against his neck where his jugular vein would be. Before the doctor could react in shock, the needle shattered and spread across the floor like cheap confetti. The white walls of the Doctor’s office turned iridescent, and the informational posters on lung cancer changed its content. Instead there were only moving pictures of cats dancing in a ring-a-round-a-rosies style. Fascinating. Let’s say I don’t humor the idea of revealing the secret of your death resisting body to science - and instead I ask - well why do you want to die so badly? If what you say is true that your mere intention to die intervenes with the fate of death, and your age hasn’t naturally overcame you. You must be in a constant and unstoppable state of wanting to perish. So as a doctor, I must dig into the root of this cause. Why, yes why do you want to die so badly? Is life all suffering to you? Are you a big philosopher Mr Phelps? No. Forget about all of that. I could never really get into any of those books. Well I want to die because...

The doctor could’ve sworn he saw a hint of red flash over Mr Phelps, but if it was ever there at all then it was gone in an instant.

I want to die not because I think life is suffering. It may or may not be. I never paid attention to that aspect. I want to die because my greatest deepest dream since childhood is to have the most beautiful eulogy about me read aloud to a big crowd of people! People who love me! People who would remember me! And I believe the gods would allow me to listen to it too while I lay peacefully in that embrace of death. I’ve waited very patiently night and day like a good boy. You see, mama taught me patience as a virtue. That Noah waited thousands of years for God’s signs! So what was it for me to wait a few decades? But naturally I grew impatient, but in the healthiest manner. I didn’t jump straight to attempting to end my life as a mere seven year old! What would there to be remember about me? I grew possessive over my eulogy. I wanted more control. Day by day I decided to insert myself into people’s lives. I saved Paulas cat from the tips of that flimsy tree in the seventh grade! That would’ve been a wonderfully tragic death had the branch snapped and in turn so my neck. I defended little Johnny boy from that troublesome locker room bully Pocketknife-Mike. My actions weren’t all risk. It was also out of seeking to be remembered. I asked Nancy to the homecoming dance even though she wasn’t quite all that pretty. But I knew I would burn right into her mind the most compared to all the other underclassmen girls! What? Don’t look at me like that Doctor, I’m not even finished yet. I ran that progressive campaign to protect our minority communities on our campus, and then served as student body president. I gave up any of my feelings to that ungrateful Sarah and instead married that poor yet at least grateful girl Jeanine. I fed and raised my children. But made sure to be just enough tastefully absent except for the times I was there and needed, so that they’d not just grow tough and resilient, but remember my rare cherishing moments. But now all of them: Paula, Johnny, my children are all dead and gone. You may think I sound cruel, selfish, narcisstic, lacking a soul. Perhaps yes, and for my lack of a soul I cannot die. But how can you call me empty and heartless if all I have done is brought good into this world? And all I ask in turn is to be recognized for it? A eulogy! A real eulogy! One that I hear as a song from the other side of consciousness, while I’m locked away, frozen into place underneath coffin doors.

The Doctor pictured this man as so for a second. He could see it. Mr Phelps’ hands clasped stiffly together and a smile curled artificially into place. Phelps continued

Why there is no other perfection quite as near to the one of a lovely man’s tragic death. All his sins are forgotten and forgiven. And we rejoice over the good he has done in the world. That’s all I want Doctor. If there is suffering of mine, then this is the cure for it. I didn’t do any of this good in the world in exchange for money or power. And I am not sure how yet I will reap any personal gains from my eulogy post mortem. So tell me, should you really have that look on your face? Now that I am immortal I suppose. I find no reason to do good. I’m afraid doctor you may want to reveal the secret of my body’s ignorance to laws of biology to your torturous friends in science. Perhaps I deserve it. Mr Phelps I believe you have been born once again just now. How so? I do not want to! I propose that you now have a choice to turn your life around. Maybe instead of navigating life with a compass locked to the magnetic pull of death, try living for the sake of living! Be selfish outwardly. Break some rules. Of course I doubt you will spiral into evil. But it’s about finding a balance! Take this as a prescription for your condition and we’ll get started on a treatment plan right away! I have high hopes, Mr Phelps, that death will come to you when you are no longer seeking it. Well I’m unsure if those words give me comfort Doctor. I am unsure what I am feeling at all right now. But, very well, I’ll give it a try. I only have the rest of my life to after all.

#writes

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ellis-in-name · 1 year

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Chapter 4: A Madman's Run and A Story

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“What! No!” I screamed aloud as I read the letter. Without thinking I turned and ran down the stairs and out of the house. It’s noon now, I wasted three hours cleaning and reading. If I hurry, I can catch up to Miss Valory and get her to explain all of this to me. My feet pounded into the gravel road, but I quickly stopped and ran back into the cabin. Despite the panic and the worry, I knew I would need at least some supplies before running off. I grabbed two rations of bread and a small bottle of water from the kitchen. I threw everything into a satchel and tore off running again. I must have to get to that train! I can’t let her throw Miss Valory’s life away. I don’t know what is going on, but I will stop it!

The scenery around me became a blur as I ran, and time passed by. The adrenaline of my panic kept me going without breaks, it felt like I had all the energy in the world. But all of that can only last so long; I had to catch up to someone walking for three hours, just by running alone. My muscles burned, my lungs were on fire, my breathing was becoming ragged. In the distance I could see the train station and it was getting closer by the second. Come on Calian, you’ve been running for an hour, what's another ten minutes? I thought to myself- chanting it over and over in my head. The train station was close now. Just a little bit farther. My legs pounded into the ground, a steady rhythm. Left. Right. Left. Right. Almost there. The whistle blew and my rhythm faltered as I tripped and flew to the ground. I watched helplessly as the train began to move. I scrambled to my feet and took off running once more. The railing of the last car was just within my grasp. With one last push I leapt for the last car of the train; only to feel my gut clench with horror as I sailed straight past the car, over the tracks, and into empty air. My eyes widen with shock as I kept falling. I forgot. The train is built on the side of a cliff. I’m careening to my death now. I’m sorry Miss Valory, but I tried.

I felt the wind rush by my face as I fell when all of my momentum suddenly stopped, and grit my teeth with pain and something firmly gripped my leg and caused a wave of agony along the limb. I opened my eyes and saw Miss Valory holding onto my leg, hanging out of the last car. All I could do was stare at her with both shock and awe.

“Look, Calian, I know you want to hang out with me and all, but this is just insane. So, if you wouldn’t mind, please get up here before we both fall!” She yelled into the rushing wind. The train had begun to pick up speed, causing my body to sway in the wind. I curled myself up, straining against my own inflexibility and aching muscles, grabbed the railing, and pulled myself up and over onto the train car. I collapsed to the ground as soon as I was over the railing with a sigh and multiple shuddering breaths.

“Miss Valory, how did you catch me? I should be dead right now.” I asked her between breaths.

“Well, I saw some idiot running like a madman as the train was leaving. So, I ran to the back car as fast as I could because I figured they would try to jump onto the train – it wouldn’t be the first time it has happened. You just happened to be that idiot. Also, my friend noticed you before I did to give me the heads up. Only he was laughing at the sight more than warning me.” Miss Valory replied as she reached her hand down to pull me up. “Now, if the excitement is done, let's go back to my seat and you can explain what you are doing here,” Valory stated as she more or less dragged me into the train car. I could not tell if she was happy to see me, or furious and annoyed. Maybe irritated was the right word.

As she dragged me by the arm for another couple of cars, I tried to ignore the curious eyes that followed us from the seats. Miss Valory and her friend were not the only ones to see my idiocy. She finally pulled me into a private car towards the front of the train and practically threw me into a seat across from a man and then promptly sat down beside me. At this point, I was thinking she was a bit more than irritated. I spared a quick glance at the man across from me before looking at Miss Valory again. His hair was dirty blond and his face seemed mundane. But his eyes seemed to pierce through me, a deep emerald gaze as if trying to assess my entire being and life in one moment.

“Calian, meet Michael, he is more of an idiot than you and the person I had left to meet.” Valory told me and ignored the look of fake hurt Michael put on.

“Valory, dearest-” His words stopped there as Valory's fist slammed into the wall next to his head. My eyes widen with shock at the sudden burst of violence.

“You are not starting that, I said no, and I mean no! Accept that fact that I won’t marry you and deal with it.” She growled quietly in the silent train car.

“Look, Valory, I was only joking, you don’t need to kill me for it.” He replied nervously.

“I- It’s nice to meet you, Michael!” I squeaked out as I tried to break the tension hanging in the air. Michael looked at me and smiled.

“I like this kid! He respects me! Finally, some notoriety for what I’ve done!” Michael said, and both Miss Valory and I glared at him.

“I have-”

“He has no idea what you’ve done.” Miss Valory interrupted, “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

“You both wound me,” Michael said as he pretended to pout.

“Oh, stop crying you baby. Now moving on from the formalities that took far too long.

Calian, why were you trying to leap onto a moving train?” Miss Valory asked. I opened my mouth to reply except Michael beat me to the punch.

“Wait, this is the kid that jumped for the train? That’s hilarious!”

“I almost died you jerk! That’s not a laughing matter!” I cried out and instantly quieted

down. “I’m sorry Michael, I didn’t mean to yell out like that.”

“You’re fine kid, you should have seen Valory and-” Another slam into the wall silenced him. Seeing the anger on Miss Valory’s face was surprising. She always seemed so calm and collected, even during some of the more trying times when I lived with her. But now, I could see how much of that calm attitude might have been carefully controlled and directed anger and pain. When she was with me, she felt the need to keep everything under control, but here, she was more expressive in that anger. What lead her to be like this?

“Remember Michael? We decided to not talk about him. Or do you want to be out of that window?” Miss Valory growled. “Now, please can we focus on that reason we are even meeting in the first place. But first—” Miss Valory’s face shifted to a pleasant smile, barely containing the irritation and anger that I did not want directed at me. “Calian, why are you here?” I attempted to ignore Michael's comment about Miss Valory being temperamental and emotional as I opened my mouth to begin my explanation.

“Well, I didn’t know how much water to give your flowers, and I didn't know what you wanted me to get rid of in the house cleaning. So, I came to ask you.” I lied. It was a horribly obvious lie, and I tried to hide my own embarrassment. What am I doing! I can’t lie to her! She’ll see right through it! This is a mess, a really big mess. I thought to myself and jumped slightly when Michael burst out laughing.

“You jumped off a cliff for some flowers? And spring cleaning? This is rich! Valory, you have the most adorable pets under your thumb.” Michael said and my heart stopped.

Pet. is that really all I am to her? Maybe he’s right. To Miss Valory I’m just a pet to take care of. I should give up and go home. I can’t do anything... No! I need to help her! Who cares if I am a pet! I won’t let her throw away her life!

“Calian, that is very sweet of you to worry about my flowers and privacy like that; however, you didn’t need to run all this way for something so simple. An explanation would have been enough.” Miss Valory told me after Michael was silenced by another punch and a few angry words. “Michael, could you leave Calian and I alone for a bit, I think he may have been injured in his running and fall. I know you hate blood and gore.” Miss Valory said, and Michael quickly left the room, his face already turning pale at the mention of blood.

Wow. He not only bought my lie, but he also has a weak stomach. I thought to myself.

After Michael had left the room Miss Valory turned to me and looked straight into my eyes, the pleasant smile dropping. I squirmed under her gaze. “Alright, why are you really here, because I know you aren’t here for the flowers even though that's something you would do. You were too panicked to be here for that.” She stated bluntly. “And you’re a terrible liar.”

I felt my face flush as Miss Valory dissected my actions like it was second nature. “Well, um, how do I put this, um...” I started as I struggled to put what I wanted to say into words. Miss Valory let out a sigh of mild impatience and I blurted out whatever had been in my head at that moment. “I saw the letters! The wood chest in your room! It opened while I was cleaning, and I saw the cloak! I got curious and saw the letters, and-” A finger to my lips silenced my torrent of panicked words. I looked up to find Miss Valory with a comforting smile.

“You know, you look like a tomato when you're flustered.” She said with a laugh.

Is she mad? Is she happy? WHY CAN’T SHE PICK AN EMOTION?

“Wh- what? Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Nope. I knew the truth had to come out eventually, I just didn't know when,” she said and leaned back in the chair. “Now then, ask your questions, and I'll answer them,” she said. “After that, I’ll tell you why I moved to your town.”

She has to be joking, right? She can't be serious, to not be angry like that? But she was angry a second ago? I thought to myself and looked at her waiting face. “Who- what, is the resistance?” I asked hesitantly.

“A group of people that should have been disbanded about three or four years ago. They brought about an era of reconstruction for magic and also helped bring down a tyrant that went by the name of Ash.”

“Magic? But that's only a fairytale.”

“Not for some, pull out that bottle of water in your bag.” Miss Valory ordered.

“How did you-”

“Just pull it out.” She demanded. Following her command, I pulled out the bottle of water and yelped as the glass shattered. I dropped the remains of the bottle before I cut my hand on a shard of glass. There's a small thud and I looked down to see a bottle shaped chunk of ice. The ice began to shiver and expand. It then broke and shattered into small pieces that flew through the air and floated around Miss Valory. The ice began to swirl around her wrist and formed into a bracelet as I watched the spectacle.

“Just, who are you?” I whispered. “Miss Valory, who are you?”

“I am a mage Calian. We are littered around the world. Although it’s a very uncommon trait in people; however, it is still there. Next question? I’ll give you two more. Make them count.” Miss Valory replied.

“Oh, um, you referred to the Academy and stopping someone there. What did you mean by that?

“There was a man named Ash, as I said. He wanted to take over the world or something. I didn’t really care at the time... My friend and I stopped him.”

“Your friend? You mean Aran?”

“Yes, Aran was my partner at the time, but he was killed by Ash in the very end of our fight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,”

“Oh, don’t be,” Miss Valory said and rubbed my head. “That was more than four years ago. It’s time I moved on. You’re also out of questions.” She said with a laugh. The way she tried to play it off was unsettling, because I knew from experience that three or four years was not long enough to just “move on” from someone you cared about; my sister was proof to that.

“Now, show me those legs. We need to make sure nothing is damaged by your stupidity.” She said as she made room on the seat. I lifted my legs up onto the seat and rolled up the pant legs. Thankfully, there was nothing visibly wrong and both of us let out a held breath. “Well, time to tell a story. Get comfortable because it’ll take a while.” She said and began her tale.

“I’m not a normal child and I never truly existed to begin with. Most children are born by natural means, but I was not. I am the product of malicious intent and the result of a calamity. I am a magic creation called a Vessel, a hollow human that does not have a soul of its own. They don’t live all that long because the soul they do have breaks down after a while.” Valory said and patted my head when I started to panic. “Don’t worry, Aran gave me his soul and more or less saved my life. Speaking of Aran, I met him at the Academy. We quickly grew to be friends until Ash tried to kill Aran. Ash somehow took control of me and forced me to imprison Aran at the Academy. That’s when I met Michael. He convinced me that the resistance had a plan to break out Aran, but only if I joined them. A few weeks later we had saved Aran, but my soul had begun to break down. Which basically made me into an insane person that heard voices all the time. Aran, although reluctant at first, agreed to attack the Academy with me alone. We journeyed from the resistance camp and arrived at the Academy. We met Ash and tried to kill him; however, he was ready for us. He killed Aran and faded to ashes as I swung in anger. After that I returned to the camp and the rest you know from the letters.”

She was breathing a little heavily. In truth, the way she told the story was not that long at all, but it was all rambled off at such a fast pace that there was far too much to process. I could tell that there was more to the story, more details, and Miss. Valory just wanted to give the straight facts.

“Miss Valory, I’m sorry… I didn’t-”

“Don’t give me your pity Calian. I’m a strong woman and I have moved on. You cannot get sappy on me just because you suddenly know so much more about me. Now, you must be tired. Get some sleep.” Miss Valory said as she stood up from the seat. I watched as she walked out of the train car and towards where Michael had gone.

“Wow, I never even knew that Miss Valory had such an exciting past. It almost seems as if she’s from the fairytales Mom used to tell us when we were kids.” I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

*****

All around me darkness swirled. It permeated the air like a dense, black, foreboding mist. Burning air hit my body in waves, one after another. With each breath I felt as if I inhaled toxic waste and was forced into a coughing fit. “What’s going on? This isn’t the train! Where is Miss Valory?” I thought as I frantically sat up. The ground was sticky with a black substance that clung to me like glue and the air burned with every breath I took.

“You… You are the one she has chosen? This is most… Hilarious.” My eyes widened as crimson eyes peered at me through the darkness and I was lifted from the ground by a massive hand made of some sort of gritty substance. “Such a puny human without a single magical ability. How pathetic of her to choose a wimp. Maybe in time you would have been able stand up to me. But I got to you first!” As the creature spoke in its deep baritone voice it opened its massive mouth and I slowly began to move towards it.

“No! Please! Don’t eat me!” I screamed as I beat at the hand that held me. But it was to no avail. As I got closer to the maw my body slipped lower in the hand until I was hanging in the air by my neck. I felt my head growing fuzzy as I began to choke, and I fell unconscious.

Hmmm. You really are useless Calian. Can’t even win a simple fight.

#writing #serialized fiction #chapter 4

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jinxhallows · 2 years

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Uninvited. [ part VIII ]

Uninvited. a short series ft. Felix, Chan and Hyunjin (& a sprinkle of Jisung for a little razzle dazzle)

cw: 100% AU, afab reader, blood and gore descriptions, supernatural creature themes/tropes, vampire theme/tropes, hybrid theme/tropes.

word count: 4.8k

part one -> click here

part two -> click here

part three (explicit content) -> click here

part four -> click here

part five (explicit content) -> click here

part six -> click here

part seven -> click here

**I have a taglist now by some strange miracle, so here you all go! Thank you for the support I hope this is as fun to read as it is to write. <3

@planetdemon ; @a-person-with-void ; @haleyms

——–

Jisung stands positioned at the table in the centre of his eccentric living room. Fanned out across the surface is a town map. His arms are spread wide as he leans over it, eyes following all the routes around where they needed to be tonight.

“In order to have an idea of what we’re up against, I need to be able to see where our enemies are at. I’ll need the blood of a witch, to locate the witches,” he unsheathes a sharp athame and places it in your palm.

“The blood of a vampire, to locate the vampires,” Jisung nods to Felix, who bites into his hand and squeezes his fist over the clay bowl resting above the map at the top of the table.

“The blood of a hybrid, to locate both wolves and hybrids.”

Chan steps closer to the table and crunches his fangs into his flesh. He maneuvers his wrist to spill the blood into the bowl.

Once he finishes, you slice your hand, it hurts just as bad as every other time, but with less prolonged sting.

You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to the pain.

You squeeze your fist, blood dripping into the bowl. As you finish, Chan’s arm comes around your waist, it distracts you from the pain a little. He offers his other wrist to your lips and you drink, only a little, and your palm stitches itself whole again.

Jisung instructs everyone to hold hands and asks you to chant after him. One after another he speaks aloud a phrase and you echo it back with just as much intensity. By the time you’ve said it, you feel power surging throughout your body. You’re almost afraid, you want to let go of Chan and Felix’s hands on both sides of you; but you knew you’d sever the link in Jisung’s spell, so you endure.

You watch as the blood climbs over the sides of the bowl, trailing out in lines all centering upon the town they were directly outside of. You glance over at Jisung, who remains focused. Felix and Chan’s bodies jerk violently forward. Jisung chants harder now and you follow suit, despite all of your thoughts against this. You instinctively want to grasp Chan, to make sure Felix was alright, to stop the spell if it was going to cause this much harm.

The blood droplets spread even tinier, providing a more precise location of each enemy.

Jisung lets go of both Chan and Felix and you’re free to break the chain on your end. Both brothers double over in pain from the exhaustion of being channeled for their energy.

“What’s wrong?” Chan asks, holding his stomach as he catches his breath.

The elder witch shakes his head, his black locks falling further into his face. “There’s a lot more than we thought.” Jisung points to all areas where the blood has collected as he explains the symbolism of it all. “In the witch shop and across the road where her remains lie.”

“Chan, when do they expect you to come for the reading?” Felix asks, looking up from the map.

“After the shop closes at 7pm.” He answers. “I can take out the hybrids myself so you don’t get poisoned.”

“Brother, you’re leaving the vampires to me?” Felix asks with a lifted brow.

“Not at all brother, by all means, indulge in every witch you come across.” Chan’s smile is devious across the table to his younger sibling. You watch as the predator inside of him begins to delight in the very idea of this.

Felix smiles, it's filled with malice. “You spoil me. Jisung and I can do the unsealing spell together then, if Hyunjin’s theory is correct.”

“Your little witch and I can handle the rest if you join us after you’ve finished. We’ll have to channel her to lift the seal on Edith.” Jisung adds.

You and Felix accidentally catch each other’s eye simultaneously. You look down at your fingers, mindlessly tapping on the tabletop. He knew what you had asked of him, and though it sounded sweet, that you wouldn’t die in all of this…you know, you probably will.

But if Hyunjin comes back, it’ll at least be worth something.

It takes Felix a difficult moment of serious consideration. His brother would view this as another act of betrayal, that was certainly a fact. No matter how much he could plead that you had the right to dictate your own death—Chan would see it as if Felix was once again responsible for ripping his brother away from the joy and peace he sought for so long.

This always made Felix the ‘bad guy’. Just because he led with his head more than his heart. It saved all of their lives on more than one occasion.

“Can I go over a couple things with you, Jisung?” Felix asks. They duck out of the room together, leaving you and Chan to fare in the heavy silence.

You happen to catch Chan from your peripheral. He’s solemn, his jaw tight, eyebrows furrowed, indigo wisps of shaggy hair coasting over the left side of his crown.

“Part of me knew it would come to this, and I brought you willingly along this entire time…” he speaks barely above a whisper.

“I managed to convince myself I would only need your help, your blood, your magick to make this happen. You’d be set free, your memory wiped, able to live a normal life after this.”

You walk over and carefully sit on the table in front of him. “Chan I’m a witch, this was going to be my fate one way or another. I’m trying to accept it and it would really help me if you could too.” You take his hand in both of yours. Running fingers along his knuckles and veins, you can’t help the sad smile that breaks your expression. This moment was so beautiful, between you both, so quiet, it could be easy to forget you had such a violent battle to fight in less than an hour.

Chan’s brown eyes meet yours and then coast away as he chews his lower lip. It’s the first time you’ve seen the dimple in his cheek unaccompanied by a happy, carefree smile.

Finally, he looks at you once more.

“I can do almost anything you ask of me, but that.”

You two hold each other’s gaze for a few moments. You can’t argue, you can only accept Chan for who he is and hope he does the same of you.

You rest yourself against the table and nudge him, rocking his body slightly to the side playfully. “You said Amelia was pregnant…if you had a child, what would you have named it?”

He takes the bait and allows for a subject shift.

“A witch in her coven told us it was a girl. So, Amelia and I, we kept arguing back and forth—I liked classic names and she enjoyed culturally traditional ones. We settled on Anastasia in the end.” You can tell this is a happy memory for Chan, as his expression warms and his voice softens when he speaks now.

“Little witch, tell me, what will you do after this is all over?” He asks curiously, now taking your hand into his own to calm your busy fingers.

“I don’t know, I guess I never considered it.” You say as you look down for a moment before glancing up again. “I’ll study magick. I guess I’ll stop running from it all and actually make myself useful, and learn to do cool things like wave my hand and make cars start again, like Jisung.” You giggle, waving your hands in the air dramatically. Chan chuckles.

“What? That’s a huge flex, being able to command things like that? Geez.” You shake your head in disbelief.

“I’m not laughing at that, I think its…cute how fascinated you are by all of this. It's like I’m re-experiencing it for the first time with you.” Chan pulls you in, real close, arms closing around your waist. You rest your arms on his shoulders, fingers intertwined behind his neck.

“Thank you for trusting me tonight.”

“You’re a smart woman. You’re resilient, strong, and you learn fast. You make great critical decisions….and I’m absolutely infatuated with everything about you, my little witch.” His forehead rests softly against yours, as you look into his eyes. There’s something about the way he adds ‘my’ before your nickname that makes you feel all gooey inside. Chan's grip tightens around your waist, and for the first time..strangely enough, you feel a buzzing inside of him, humming inside of you; low, nearly undetectable. It feels…really, really good.

“I support your wishes to practice and study magick after this is all said and done…in fact…I think Felix would love being able to teach you everything our mother taught him. When you feel advanced enough, Jisung can take you even further…” He releases your hands, cupping your face.

You’re not sure why, but you’re starting to feel emotional. “What are you saying right now, Chan?” You curl your hands, balling the fabric of his shirt up between your fingers at his waist.

“I’m saying I want you to move in with us, to study and grow and…” he blinks, and you can swear you see tears welling up and it's making your walls break.

“...I like you, a lot and–God I never know how to ask this…it's really a shame, as old as I am–”

You grab his hands in your own and he finally stops stammering over his words. Chan can feel he’s embarrassed himself, but you think its adorable. You lean forward and kiss him, soft, light.

When you pull back you bite your lip to hold back a giggle. “Are you asking to be with me? Like as a couple?”

Chan breaks into a smile. “Yes, that’s what I’m asking—if you’re…alright with it. You can take some time to think it over, I know that’s a big change for you–”

You kiss him once more, shutting him up for good.

“I’m all yours.”

—---------------

Jisung is standing in front of an old closet door. It’s painted an ugly teal color, with paint chipping through and around the cracked, splintered wood. He places his hands on the front of the ancient wood, eyes closed as he begins chanting. Chan waits. Felix turns back to you, pulling something from his back pocket.

“Here.” he says in a soft voice. He takes your hand in his own, and places the gold peacock beret in your palm. It feels warm. You wonder if Hyunjin knows. You tuck it into your back jean pocket.

“This path goes underground, we’ll come out in an alley behind a restaurant in the centre of town. Trust your instincts, alright, little witch?” Felix says. You feel a great responsibility now holding the beret with Hyunjin’s soul trapped inside. You nod in agreement.

Jisung opens the door, and you feel a gust of cold air. You lift your hands to block the force and when it settles, you lower your arms. In front of you is a cavernous entrance into a black abyss. Jisung looks back at you before speaking.

“Come here, wanna learn something?”

You merge between the boys to get closer to the front.

“Have you ever played darts before?” Jisung asks.

“Yeah, a few times at the bar. I’m not very good at it though.” You reply curiously.

“You don’t have to be good at it to cast an illumination charm.” The dark-haired witch pinches his fingers together, as if holding a dart. He’s chanting something quick under his breath and throws the invisible dart to its intended target, a rusted sconce on the stone wall interior. Jisung gestures for you to step ahead and try yourself. He repeats the spell for you, instructs you on how to direct your focus and intention. You feel kind of silly, but you position yourself, close your eyes, and chant. You open and can feel, for a brief second, as if you know where the next sconce is.

You throw, and the next sconce a couple yards down is now burning bright.

“Beautiful job little witch!” Chan excitedly slaps your shoulder before he and Felix step ahead of you both. He never realizes how strong he is sometimes. You rub your shoulder to ease the sting.

Felix is adjusting his belt, fiddling with his sleeves. He looks unbothered. Perhaps it’s a front, but you believe it, all the while. Chan readies himself. As kind and gentle as these brothers had been towards you, they were indeed, supernatural beasts with immense killing power and hefty body counts.

“It’s been a long time, brother.” The elder hybrid smiles at his white-haired pureblooded younger sibling.

“Then let's not waste another second.”

The scent of both men is all that’s left behind in their wake. The flames of the two lit sconces dance with the gust of air left behind after their disappearance into the darkness.

—------------

The two brothers emerge in the alley. It had rained all day, and the streets were wet and full of puddles in the cracks now at night. Rain muddled senses and scents. It didn’t make things favorable for either party.

Felix and Chan walk together, side by side. They don’t speak to one another, and when they exit the alley onto the main street, they go in opposite directions. Felix makes his way around the block the long way, making sure to find his way to the backdoor, following his senses. He could feel magick when it was in use by witches; but he was at a disadvantage to his hybrid brother, who could sniff a witch out as if they carried a beacon.

Chan pulls open the door to the witch shop. At this point, his hair is standing up on end and his skin is tingling with the sense of imminent danger. He maintains his outer composure, however, as he walks up to the witch at the front counter. Her demeanor is a lot different than when they first met. She refuses to make eye contact with him, he can hear her heartbeat racing.

“Hello Emily.” he sings in a cheery tone. “Here for a reading.” Chan winks. He knows this baby witch is in on everything by now.

“Yes! My Aunt, here, let me take you down to meet her now.” Emily turns around. Her heartrate is speeding up now. He follows her behind the register, down the narrow hall, to a door at the very end. She fumbles with keys around her neck.

“Your Aunt is locked behind here?” Chan innocently queries.

He can hear the catch in her breath as her fingers shake. “Y-Yes, for protection.” She finds the key, sliding it into the keyhole and twisting. Chan can hear the door unlock, and it creaks as it opens.

There’s a set of stairs leading down to a dimly lit basement. Emily steps aside, gesturing down the stairs. “She’s right down here, she does the readings down here in her sacred circle.”

Chan crosses his arms as he gives her a convincingly bemused look. “You’re not going to show me down? I’ve never had a reading here before; it would be terrifying to get lost.”

Emily still is refusing to look into his eyes. She must’ve been forewarned about his capabilities of persuasion. He grasps her chin in his hand and she freezes in fear.

“Hey, shh, its’ alright Emily–” he says in a soothing voice. He can feel her muscles relax under his touch as she stupefies under his gaze. “Take me downstairs to meet your aunt, I’m afraid to go alone; and you should give me that key, so I can get out on my own. You have to do inventory tonight, after all.” Chan gently drops his hand and Emily blinks a few times before she blushes.

“Of course, I’d never want you to feel uncomfortable here. As a first-timer, I can totally understand. Here’s the key, so you can let yourself out.” She gushes as she pulls the key from around her neck and hands it to him. Emily journeys down the stairwell first. Chan looks back down the hall behind them to confirm they weren’t being followed before he closes the door, locks it, and quietly walks behind Emily.

The elderly witch sits at a small, square table. She’s dressed in a long, purple toned dress. Her hair is hidden under a gold toned scarf. Beads and jewels adorn her neck and chest. A white candle burns in the center, and hot wax melts onto the table surface.

“We’ve been expecting you, Christophe.”

Chan grasps the baby witch, he holds her hair in his fist, her neck exposed. She cries out in fear.

“Shh, shh, there there Emily-“ he tightens his grip as she struggles. “Nobody has to die tonight.”

“Release the girl. I will not ask twice.” The witch says as she stands to her feet.

A commotion stirs upstairs, catching the elder witch off guard and she looks around, trying to quickly find the source of the noise.

Chan crosses the room, a lethal blur, and snaps the woman’s neck in her exposed vulnerability. She collapses to the ground. Emily sprints up the stairs to escape; but Chan has a new problem now…

He turns around in the low-lit basement, and he hears…nothing. He smells…nothing.

This witch couldn’t have been expecting him without protection; especially if she knew him by name.

His brother’s yelp of pain coupled with the scent of his blood takes priority and Chan is upstairs in half a second.

Someone runs from the storefront, leaving the door open, bells jingling in the gust trailing their exit. His brother is on the floor, cringing in pain, as the baby witch kneels next to him.

“Do you want to die?! Go! Now!” Chan barks as he’s by his brother’s side, pulling him into a sitting position. Emily backs away, albeit a little hesitantly, before she runs away from the wrecked store. There are three bodies on the ground, vampire, dead.

“Fucking hybrid, he had something to cover his scent.” Felix snarls through gritted teeth, a poisioned sweat causing his ice white hair to stick to his face.

“That’s something we didn’t account for.” Chan bites into his wrist, holding it over his brother’s mouth. Felix drinks, and the venom from the hybrid bite begins to subside until the pain disappears entirely and his wounds heal seconds later. “He ran afterwards?”

“Yes.” Felix stands up. “Probably to Edith. This was a distraction. This was meant to buy time.”

“It was too easy.” Chan murmurs, “I knew something felt off.”

“Is the witch dead?” He asks.

“Yes, shit.” Chan realizes his mistake.

“Get her body and bring her up. We’ve got to start the spell— “

“But— “

Felix grasps Chan firmly by the shoulders. “You have got to trust that girl, brother. She’s got power in her blood and Jisung by her side. She can hold her own until we make it to her—listen!” His grip tightens as Chan tries to argue. He sighs before he looks at Felix, settling.

“Trust her. Trust me.”

Chan’s gone in the blink of an eye. Felix rushes over to a knocked over table, herbs spilled on the ground. He brushes them out, spreading them so he can see better, picking out the ones he needs. Chan returns less than a minute later, setting the dead witch’s body on the floor. Felix is about to feed, when he stops, looking at his brother once more, as if waiting for some kind of protest to the madness they were indulging into.

“Do you think this could really work?” Chan asks.

The young vampire shakes his head. “It has to.”

Felix sinks his teeth into the neck of the dead witch elder, and he begins to drain her until she becomes bloodless.

—---------

You and Jisung remain hidden in the shadows, inside the upper floor of an unoccupied warehouse next-door to the witch shop. He tries dialing Felix’s number again…no answer. He dials Chan–direct to voicemail. Jisung looks outside of the window once more before he begins to pace.

“It shouldn’t be taking this long…something’s wrong.” he looks up at you, “Do you sense anything?”

You shake your hands out. “Just a whole lot of…sludge it feels...heavy on me.”

Jisung shakes his head. “Not good. I think we’re gonna have to get there ourselves, little witch.”

“Ourselves? Like on our own? Jisung, I–I can’t fight vampires, and trained witches–”

“Stop, breathe for a second, and listen to me.” Jisung’s voice is sharp as he looks directly into your eyes. He takes your hands into his own, and then turns them so that your palms face upwards. “Whether you want to or not, you’re a part of this now. If I’ve learned anything from being friends with these brothers, it's that they can’t be stopped when they go after something they value–and there’s nothing they value more than family.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a small smile as he hovers his palms over yours. “I don’t like to teach this way, but we don’t have time for the scenic route, little witch.”

Without any conscious effort, your hands magnetically collide with his. Your skin is melting together, and you begin tilting in pain, unable to untie yourself from the connection as your vision blurs. It feels like you’ve been put onto a rollercoaster that’s running downhill at high speed, your heart races, things move so fast in front of your eyes, you have to close them but its agony—you can’t escape the force of wind blowing you back and visions you can’t catch.

It all stops at once and you fall to the ground on your knees, immediately vomiting onto the floor; but Jisung is there to catch you, to help you come back to the present. You feel as if someone’s running up behind you, but you can’t speak yet, you try to push Jisung away, to warn him as you fall over onto all fours, dry heaving.

Two vampires suddenly rush both sides of the room without warning—but Jisung is fast, he’s too fast. With a twist of both his wrists, they double over, violently expelling blood from their mouths, eyes and noses as they drain out onto the floor. He’s breathing hard, it must’ve taken a lot out of him to conjure sudden power like that.

Suddenly, the black-haired witch falls to the ground, wheezing, choking. You look over your shoulder, finally normalizing yourself again as your focus returns and you see a tall pale man, dressed in all black, walking over to the incapacitated Jisung. He kicks him in the ribs and you cry out, falling over. A woman enters the room and walks slowly over to you, kneeling in front of you as she cocks her head to the side, observing you with disdain.

“You’re the filthy traitor of the Pavo Coven, Y/N, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, feeling your body quiver and hum with energy as you involuntarily grab the woman by the throat. She’s wailing loud enough to pierce eardrums, and the flesh of her neck is sizzling like grease on a hot stove, blood boiling and spilling over your fingers. It stinks like heated metal, like cooked flesh, and burnt hair. You let go and she falls over, dead.

As if you feel a fly buzzing behind you, your head instinctively flicks it away, and the pale gentleman above your new friend is sent crashing against the wall. You scramble over to a nearby spike of iron and stand up as he begins to recover. With a great release of power, you send it hurtling directly his heart, and he’s killed on the spot, body slamming to the ground, blood spilling out onto the ground and pooling underneath him as his body hardens.

He wasn’t a witch.

You hurry over to Jisung, helping him to sit up as he coughs. “Nice work, little witch.” he says in a raspy, pained voice.

“Jisung, how do I heal you; I-I don’t have vampire blood–” You can feel your emotions rising, panic starting to cloud your common sense.

“My bag…you’ll know.” He waves you off. You grasp his backpack and rifle through it, and sure enough, you feel a vial and pull it out. There’s a black, thick liquid inside and it’s corked on top. It feels ice cold to the touch. You uncork the vial, helping to pour it between his lips and he swallows hard, making a face of displeasure. You watch him with bated breath, as he blinks a few times, shakes his head, his hair falling all over the place.

“Whew! That was not fun.” He smiles with a chuckle as he looks over at you.

“What was that earlier? What did you do to me?” You ask, feeling a mixture of relief that he was alright, and bewilderment at what you had just accomplished.

“I shared a little bit of my mind with you, just enough to equip you with some starter knowledge; but you see how sick you got? You can kill someone if you shove too many thoughts into their mind at once.” Jisung finally has the strength to stand up, you assist him. He dusts himself off as he walks over to the body of the hardened man. He crouches down beside him, looking the body over.

“What is that?” You ask softly, rubbing your arm as you start to feel a little cold.

“A hybrid.” Jisung replies, looking it over with a frown. He pushes the sleeve of his right arm up and pulls the iron spike out, with increased effort. To your horror, he reaches into the cavernous wound and digs around, and you almost gag from the sounds of squishing that ensue. He slowly pulls out a weathered, impaled heart and throws it onto the floor, flicking the extra blood off his hand as he stands up.

“Gotta remove the heart or they can come back.” Jisung provides an explanation for the gruesome activity. A loud thud followed by yelling can be heard echoing through the dark warehouse from below where you two stood.

“I think we’ve got company.”

You break off running alongside Jisung down the wide hall. You both turn the corner to see a set of metal stairs into the dark lower floor of the warehouse. He stops you, hand out in front of your body as he holds a blood-covered finger to his mouth, signaling you to remain silent. You hear bones cracking and a spattering of fluid. You’re both holding your breath, when a loud tone suddenly rings out, causing all surrounding sound to fall quiet—not a good sign.

Jisung pulls his phone from his pocket, but it’s sent flying from his hand by an invisible force, crashing into pieces against the wall. You both look down the stairs—and you feel like you can breathe again. The relief sends chills down your spine.

Felix walks up the stairs, emerging from the dark, hands in his pockets. His hair is wild, you’ve never seen it so tousled and undone. His eyes shine bright through the darkness, like neon yellow, yet his sclera remained a muted bloodshot red. The thin skin around his eyes, the capillaries were black under his translucent skin.

“That’s one way to announce your location.” Felix smiles, but doesn’t look any less terrifying.

Jisung wants to retort back but he can sense a different energy from his friend. His eyes travel down Felix’s frame and back up to his piercing gaze once more.

“It worked…” He says, his voice full of awe and admiration. “You’re able to perform magick.”

“Not for very long so we should get going before our streak runs out.” Chan is the next to appear from the shadow of the stairs. His body is dirty and he looks feral. Blue hair wet, curly, and bloody. You rush into his hard chest, burying your nose into him, hugging him tight. He wraps his arms around you, feeling relief in knowing you’re alive like his brother said.

Chan kisses your forehead before looking up at the others.

“I’m not sure how many other witches are in the area to drain and we’ve got one shot at this.” He says, keeping you close under his arm. “The witch shop, it was all a distraction to keep us away from Edith.”

Jisung pushes past you all and stops at the top of the stairs. Pure horror is on his face. He looks back at everyone.

“Because they’re going to try to bring her back first.”

Next Part -> Click Here

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witchwood-inn · 3 years

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Healing in Irish Folk Magic Pt.1

In Irish folk magic, there are an abundant of cures and healing charms. All info here comes from the book Irish Folk Medicine by Patrick Logan. Part 1 is all about healing magic. Part 2 will include old herbal remedies! Just a disclaimer, healing magic never replaces medical care, medications or visiting doctors. If you are sick please visit a medical professional, these magical charms can go alongside medical care and both together can be very effective!

Healing Magic: 🌿 9 is a very sacred number in irish magic. It was common to repeat healing charms and cures for 9 days until the healing was done.

🌿 Take a twig of gooseberry and break off the thorns until there are only 9 left. Make sure each thorn points in the opposite direction of the one next to it. Then point the first thorn at the sick person/ wound/ infection/ sore area and slowly turn the twig, and point each thorn at them as you move down the twig. You can say a prayer or chant while you do this. The pointed thorns direct healing energy at the specific area that needs healing.

🌿 A charm against illness “I save myself from (illness) Save me cunning birds, bird flocks of witches save me!” This charm can be said aloud or written down and placed somewhere significant (Inside a healing charm bag or poppet maybe?) Old Example: This charm written down for urinary disease, the slip of paper would be placed by the urinal or toilet.

🌿 Healing waters: The first snow of the year is collected carefully and the water is kept. It was often used to treat scalds (but can be used for anything!) Washing charm: To remove warts or illness, bathe the affected area in well water. If there is no well nearby, find a hollow stone that has gathered rain water and bathe the affected area with the water. Its said though that it’s better to find the stone when you are not looking for it. Forge water is also used for healing (Water used by smiths to cool hot iron) Bathe affected area in the water every morning for 9 mornings. It’s said to be extra affected if the water is stolen. Before trying this one, just make sure it’s safe to use on the skin. I think this water contains high amount of iron which might make it beneficial but do your research! Running water carries away evil. A river flowing south is very powerful. Bathing in a river or placing a charm in a river can help you get rid of unwanted emotions, thoughts, situations etc (Make sure it’s biodegradable please)

🌿 A charm to remove a thorn, say: “Nothing is higher than heaven, nothing is deeper than the sea. By the holy words that Christ spoke from his cross remove the thorn from me. Very sharp is Goibniu’s science. Let Goibniu’s goad go out before Goibniu’s goad”

This charm is said over butter, which then goes into hot water and then smeared around the thorn but not on the point or wound itself. This charm is very interesting as it is both christian and pagan. Goibniu is an irish deity, the metalsmith of the Tuatha Dé Danann . He is associated with Hospitality. You can always change the words to remove christian association by replacing Christ with another deity. Another thorn charm: “A splendid salve which binds a thorn, let it not be spot or blemish, let it not be swelling nor illness, nor clotted gore, nor lamentable hole, nor enchantment. The sun’s brightness heals the swelling, it smites the disease” This charm indicates using a salve, but there is no record of the salve used. Create your own healing salve and say the charm above when applying it. It doesn’t have to be for a thorn, you can reword it to match any intention! The sun also seems important here so make use of the sun’s energy while using this charm. 🌿 Transference magic was a popular form of healing. Transference usually meant taking away an illness and giving it to something else. There are numerous methods:

Take a piece of raw meat, and make the sign of the cross (pentacle/ any protective symbol) over the person you wish to heal (Sometimes it was done over each wart to get rid of warts). Then the meat was buried. As it rotted, so too will the illness. It was common to use bacon for this one. In Dublin, the same method was used with a potato. Cut it in half or in 3s and rub one half of the potato on to the area you wish to heal. Then the next day and day after, rub the other pieces on the area and then bury them. As the potato rots so too will the illness.

In Trim, the same method was used by using a pin. Point the pin at each wart (or at the person) and it was common to throw the pin into water (In Trim it was at Newton Bridge tomb). As it rusts away so too will the warts (illness) Hanging an ivy leaf over the fireplace to represent illness. As it dries and shrivels up, so too will the illness in the home. For children suffering from loosing teeth and dealing with pain. In a natural area, The child should throw a fallen tooth over the left shoulder and not look back to see where it went. The pain and discomfort caused by the tooth is transferred to the earth where it landed. To get rid of warts (or illness) Gather pebbles for each wart or problems you have and place them at a crossroads. The first person who comes and picks up the stones will get the warts or illness. 🌿 To heal a sprain (or any muscle/ bone injury) Tie 9 knots into a piece of string or twine and tie it around injured area. Extra power if it is a red string (Red expels demons) 🌿 Healing charm (Say it over a person/ injury to manifest healing) “Brigid (or Dian Cécht or any healing deity) Fared into a wood and their foals foot he sprain. Then charmed Brigid As well as she knew how ‘Bone to bone, blood to blood, nerve to nerve, and every sinew in thy proper place as though they were glued’“

Check out Part 2 soon!

#irish folk magic #witchcraft #witchblr #celtic #magick #magic #charms #cures #gaelic #mine #healing

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angsty-omi · 3 years

Text

second best.

tanaka ryūnosuke x reader; tanaka ryūnosuke x kyoko shimizu

genre: angst, heartbreak, cheating

word count: 1.5k

cw: insecurity

She was beautiful. Her silky black hair, perfect nose, nicely framed glasses, and a cute mole on her chin. Anyone could see it, every volleyball team in the tri-state area attempted to get her number. Kiyoko Shimuzu was her name, and you could not help but see the way your boyfriend looks at her.

The three of you went to school together, since primary. A trio, one would call it ever since the third grade. At recess, kids would say, “It’s no surprise that Y/N, Kiyoko, and Tanaka are all partnered together.” and during a specific game of soccer, you accidentally tripped over the ball and skid your knee. You bit your lip hard, trying not to cry in front of everyone. Your eyes were watery, at the fact that your knee hurt like hell and now everyone was staring at you. To your surprise, Tanaka ran over to you to help you up and guide you to the clinic. When you got there, the nurse sat you down and poured alcohol onto cotton balls. Tanaka offered his hand, and you gripped it lightly, with a slight shade of pink on your cheeks. It was a cute moment until the nurse dabbed onto your joint. Then, you tightly squeezed Tanaka’s hand and screamed some very colorful words. That night, your mom scolded you and sent you straight to your room. While you lay on your bed, you could not help but smile at the event that happened that afternoon. This was the start of your attraction towards Tanaka Ryūnosuke.

When you got to middle school, puberty started to hit you like a truck. The rapid growth of hormones made your face acne-infested. While everyone told you it was normal, you could not help but question why does Kiyoko’s face not look like this then? Her skin was clear and had a nice dew to it. The amount of money spent on drug store products could buy you a whole store. Acne was inevitable, already eating at your brain, and planting their seed called insecurity. Tanaka would always call Kiyoko terms like, ‘gorgeous’ and ‘goddess’ while you had what- ‘funny’? The summer going into high school, you decided to get medical help. Immediately, you were put on accutane. You did not want to see anyone during that whole summer, especially Tanaka. Accutane made your face very dry, crackled, and forced you to put on chapstick every minute. Locking yourself into your room all summer, made you lonely.

Sometimes, you could hear Tanaka and Kiyoko walk by your house and hear them say, “Has Y/N ever responded to your texts? It’s like she’s a ghost.” Tanaka asked.

“Nope, she hasn’t even answered to get our nails done, she must seriously be ghosting us,” Kiyoko responded.

You tear up at the guilt of ignoring your closest friends, but it’s hard when you’re in love with one of them and envious of the other. You did not want your toxic mindset upheld against them, so you justified that it was just for the best.

When fall came around, it was back to school. Your first year. The Accutane, though traumatizing, worked. In addition, being trapped in your room all day introduced you to makeup. Looking in the mirror, you actually started to like what you saw in the mirror. You’ve learned self-care and it paid off. Scanning the sheets on the wall, it looked like Tanaka was in your class and Kiyoko was in the honors one.

“Class 2-B” you read aloud to yourself and sat down at a desk. You left the one seat open next to you, just for Tanaka. When you saw him walk in, your heart skipped a beat. He looked different, in a good way. His hair was shaved, taller, and looked more mature. When you waved over to him, he just glared at you and sat at the seat farthest from you. This made your heart drop. Why was he acting like this? Did I do something? Does he not want to be my friend anymore? Questions rambling in your head. During lunch, you headed over to his desk and pulled the chair behind you to sit down. He just stared at you intently, furrowing his brows signifying anger.

“Ryo-channn, look what I brought,” you gleefully rang, knowing that he would never in a million years refuse your mom’s onigiris. When you took out your bento, you grabbed the onigiri with your hand and put it near his mouth. Still looking at you angrily, he took a bite from the onigiri in your hand and looked away from you.

“What’s wrong?” you worried. He did not respond, so you asked again. “You can’t just act like I don’t exist Ryo, especially if you’re eating from my invisible hand.”

“That’s funny, me acting like YOU don’t exist when you ghosted me for three months? I thought we were best friends, Y/N.” Now, you finally understood why he was so upset. Before you could speak up, there was a knock at the entrance, “Ryo, want to grab lunch together?” Kiyoko said in a monotone voice. It seems that Kiyoko too was also mad at you. You could not help it though, you and Kiyoko were basically sisters up until that summer. “Yeah, let me grab my stuff,” Ryo picked up all his belongings and left you in the dust.

That day, you waited for both of them after practice. Kiyoko was a manager and Tanaka was on the team. Two birds, one stone. When they walked out together, they both saw you. Murmuring to each other. You took a deep breath, “Listen, I’m sorry for not texting you guys back and not spending time with you during the summer. I-it’s just that I felt so i-insecure with myself, I didn’t want to bring you guys down with me y’know?” Tears started welling up in your eyes, you continued, “I would hear you guys talk about me when you passed by my house, and it took everything I had to not just run out and hug you guys. But, I couldn’t. I hated myself for the longest time and I was scared that you two would start to notice it. So, I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore, but you guys needed an explanation.” You sighed and started to turn around and leave. You fell to your feet, with two bodies tackling you down. “G-guys?” your eyes are still watery. Laughter emitted from their voices, “Don’t do it again or else we will kill you,” Kiyoko threatened.

It was the final set, both teams were tied. Yamaguchi was serving and Aoba Johsai hit it back with ease. The rally probably lasted around a minute, but to everyone, it was slowed down. Until, Tanaka passed the ball to Kageyama, and everyone thought he’d set it Hinata. Instead, he setter dumped. The crowd was silent, not realizing what just happened. Karasuno just won the preliminaries. Every student screamed and chanted at them. You and a couple of other people ran down to congratulate. You ran up to Tanaka’s arms and squeezed him. He swung you around joyfully, and you pulled your face back. There was a moment where it felt like it was just the two of you. The adrenaline of winning finally got to you, and you impulsively kissed him. It lasted maybe around a second or two before you finally realized what you were doing. Mortified, you were rambling with apologies.

“Can you please just forget this ever happen-” he cut you off. Warm lips were pressed onto your lips. You were shocked at first but slowly sunk into the kiss. This was the start of your relationship with Tanaka Ryūnosuke.

Kiyoko never spoke about her feelings about her best friends dating. In fact, she hated it. But it was out of character for her to be so opinionated. She could not stand the fact that you guys would cuddle during movie night nor how he would hold your hand during the walk home. She did not necessarily like Tanaka that way, but she did miss the attention he gave her. Who wouldn’t want someone calling you pretty 24/7? And to reject them was a power move. No one would ever know, but he was the reason why her confidence shot up. The confidence to reject handsome men on different teams. All started because of Tanaka. Although, now that he was with you, the flirting stopped. She could feel herself start to become jealous and it started to infect her brain. During practice, Yachi would gush about how cute you and Tanaka were while Kiyoko just had to listen.

“Y/N is too cute,” Yachi cheesed. Kiyoko couldn't take it anymore, “Listen, I am way prettier than Y/N and Tanaka could do much better” it just slipped out. She was surprised at what she just said, and even more surprised that she didn’t even feel an ounce of guilt.

“Like you?” a voice appeared. It was Tanaka. “R-Ryo,” she muttered. “We should talk outside.”

Once they were both outside, Tanaka spoke first.

“You don’t get to do this. You rejected me countless times and now t-that I’m with someone you can’t just profess your feelings for me.” Tanaka hissed.

“I-I know, it’s just- I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. Imagine how I feel seeing you guys together, the man I love with someone else. Someone who is inferior to me.” Tears welled up in Kiyoko’s eyes.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? Love? Please. You don’t love me. You never will.” He bit his lip sharply.

Silence.

“Then look at me and tell me you don’t love me. Because not once have you said that you didn’t feel the same way, you only said that you were dating Y/N” Kiyoko sobbed.

“You know I can’t do that,” Tanaka whispered. Then, Kiyoko leeched on him, pressing her lips against his. He wasn’t kissing back, but he wasn’t pulling away either. He was conflicted. He was too dazed and decided to just give in.

Little did they both know, there you were watching at the scene. Well, now you were hiding behind a wall, peeking at them, kissing. You could physically hear your heart-shattering. After wiping the nonstop tears flowing on your face, you left.

Grief turned into anger. You threw every picture, gift, and sweater into the trash bag. Your eyes only saw red. Your room was left bare and cold. The bedroom door knocked in a rhythmic beat that only one person did. When he walked in, his eyes gazed at every spot in your room. It was empty.

You looked down at the ground, “I always knew I was second best in your heart.” You whispered, tears threatening your eyes. “What?” His face contorted in a confused stance. “I should’ve seen it coming y’know? But I just thought maybe— maybe he’d pick me.” You continued. He started getting worried, “What’re you talking about?” The fact that he was here, blatantly lying to you, gives you all the answers you needed.

“Please don’t act like that, not with me”

“Act like what?”

“Clueless. Ry-Tanaka,” you corrected yourself. “If you love her, then go for it. But don’t act like you’re still in love with me. It hurts-” Your voice broke mid-sentence.

“It was a mistake,” He pleaded.

“A mistake? No, mistakes happen impulsively. T-This whole thing with Kiyoko was premeditated. All my life, I have been trying to compete with her. Grades, appearances, and even you. And when I had you, I thought, I had won. I won the best prize ever. You. But now-” You dropped to your knees, “I don’t even have you.”

He wiped your tears with his hands, “But you do, you do have me,”

“No, no I don’t,” you denied.

“Yes you do baby, I’m right here. I choose you.”

You were not some decision, you were his girlfriend and yet, he thought that would make you happier. “Nonono, you don’t get it. I don’t want you anymore. These tears aren’t for you, they’re for me. Seeing you kiss Kiyoko? I felt nothing and that scared me. Maybe I wasn’t in love with you, maybe I just wanted to beat Shimizu that bad. Who knows? But, by the looks of it, I did win. I got to you first.” You punctuated every word, prying his hands off your face. Of course, you were lying your ass off. You’ve loved this man ever since that day in recess. Revenge had poisoned your heart though, and you wanted him to feel an ounce of you were feeling.

“We’re done. There I have let you go, now you are free to do anything you want with Kiyoko. Date her or reject her, it’s not my issue anymore.” Tanaka couldn’t even recognize you anymore. Though it was your voice and your physical look, it was like your soul had been drained, and in replacement was someone who was cold and emotionless.

A/N: I’m back! I’ve fixed my writing style so everything is capitalized properly. Requests are greatly appreciated! Just shoot a message. Also, this story was inspired by my drabble and a person actually asked me to write one for Tanaka, so here you go @aestheticno !

likes & repubs are greatly appreciated. :D

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #tanaka x you #hq tanaka #tanaka angst #hq kiyoko #tanaka fluff

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ladysyrinx · 2 years

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Lucifer's Match: Dragon, not Lamb part II

Chapter 1

Reality sinks in

This takes place directly after the events of The Demon in the Attic

In my rising panic everything looks big and dark and overwhelming. My racing thoughts and currently in-charge lizard brain prevent me from thinking well enough to find the quickest way to my room, but somehow some part of my brain gets me there without me noticing how. I practically fall in and slam the door shut behind me, the noise setting all my nerves on edge and causing my heart to beat even faster. Shaking, blind with panic, I lean against the door, panting and releasing quiet, tremulous whimpers.

What am I supposed to do now? How can I possibly fix this? Am I going to die like MC? The game downplayed that, but the thought of being killed, of dying, has my heart pounding as if it believes if it just runs fast enough it can escape the danger and this whole terrifying mess.

But it can’t. I’m stuck here, stuck dealing with this. Because if I don’t, I’m not sure what Lilith will do to me. I know she’s not going to let me just not help Belphegor. And I have no idea what she saved me from, nor how, nor what she is capable of doing to me should I go back on my promise or not fulfill it to her satisfaction.

I stumble forward so that when I collapse, it’s face-first onto my bed. I begin sobbing and reach desperately around me for something to hold on to. My fingers find the plush softness of a pillow and I drag it to me, curling around it like a child. I feel like a child, lost in a world without any sight of guidance or parents or help.

I shiver and sob and whimper until some of the panic begins to ease. I remember that I’m an adult. I can take care of myself, and I will. I can figure this out, as I have many other complicated and difficult things before it. Maybe those were slightly less bizarre and with slightly lower stakes, but I succeeded nonetheless.

I can figure this out. And I will. Slowly I rise to a sitting position, still clutching the pillow to my chest as if it is an anchor in a stormy sea. I suppose, in a way, it is.

“Lilith?” I ask quietly, looking around. I know I can’t see her, but maybe, somehow, I’ll get a whiff of her presence this time? “Lilith, we need to talk,” I say, looking around slowly.

Nothing. I try to think through the tired fog the panic attack has left in my brain. I don’t feel anything like her. Or I don’t think I do, anyway.

“Lilith, you owe me some answers,” I say sternly. Can she hear me? Out of ideas for what to do, I just start chanting her name in a sing-song voice, feeling a petty desire to annoy her after everything she’s done to me.

I go into a weird, trance-like state as I chant her name, zoning out almost completely. “Li-lith Li-lith Li-lith Li-lith Lil–”

“Oh for goodness sake stop that it’s super annoying! What did you need anyway?” Lilith’s voice fills my mind grumpily.

I smirk to myself. Being annoying worked. “Why don’t you sit down so we can have a nice little chat, hmm Lilith?” I ask. I’m speaking aloud, but softly enough that someone outside couldn’t hear me. I still sound crazy, even to myself. In my unsettled state of mind I’m honestly not even sure I haven’t gone crazy.

“I have things I do too, you know,” Lilith grumps again. “I was just checking on Belphie after the conversation you had with him.”

“Well, if you want me to help your brothers you’ll have to cooperate, won’t you? And I have questions that I need answered if I’m going to help.”

She sighs loudly, and I know it’s only to make a point because Lilith is talking in my mind, she can’t breathe to sigh. “Fine. What do you need to know?” She asks.

I smirk to myself. Now we're getting somewhere.

~End chapter 1~

Part I ~ Next

Thank you for reading! Please consider subscribing:) the chapters before this are in the Obey Me section of my blog:) You can also search the hashtag Dragon not Lamb. I also love comments, reblogs, and hearts:)

Also, please don't repost elsewhere without crediting me. You can reblog, or give links to my Ao3 account or my tumblr. Thank you<3

#obey me #obey me fandom #obey me fanfic #shall we date obey me #obey me lilith #Dragon not Lamb #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me gender neutral mc #obey me x reader #om lilith #mental health #panic attack

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theweasleysredhair · 4 years

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In The Darkness [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 1681

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: George is adjusting to life without Fred.

Tags: @dreamer821 @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: idk, I was supposed to write something completely different and then this happened

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

He was sat in a ball in front of the couch, knees tucked to his chest as he stared into space, the candle he had lit hours previous long flickered out. The dark held a lot of unknowns, a lot of what ifs, but right now, the dark offered him some comfort, a hideaway from the world. In the dark, he could be anyone. In the dark, no one knew him. In the dark, everyone was alone. Everyone was lonely.

Just like him.

Of all the tragedies he’d allowed himself to imagine over the years, not one came close to making him feel the way he was right now. Because he’d lost the person he adored the most. The person he relied on, his rock, his other half. He felt as if he was half a person, a shell of himself, as if he’d only be whole once he was reunited with his twin.

He’d thought about it, for a fleeting moment. As the reality dawned upon him and he felt his heart shatter. He’d thought about joining him - but one look at his mother’s distraught face and he knew. He just couldn’t.

He painted himself as surviving in front of his family, in front of his mother. Pretended he was fine, for her sake, for his brothers’ sakes, for his sister’s sake. He plastered a smile on his face from the moment he got to work to the moment he arrived back through the door.

George wished he was that guy - the guy who carried on, who pushed through, who could smile through the pain. He wished... Merlin he wished he was okay.

And as he sat in the dark of his living room, his lip trembling, hands shaking, he chanted the same mantra to himself,

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Yet with every repetition, he felt himself sliding deeper into his thoughts, deeper into the abyss.

Because the truth is, he had never had to live without Fred. He’d never known life without him - never wanted to know life without him. And now here he was, swallowing harshly and digging his nails into his palms as he willed himself not to cry.

Fred wouldn’t want him to cry. Fred wanted people to laugh - his whole life he’d revolved around pranks and entertaining people. But George couldn’t help it.

Because Fred wasn’t here. He wasn’t here to tell him to stop fussing, to stand up and be George Weasley, one half of the Weasley twins. And so George couldn’t help it when the first tear fell.

Because it wasn’t Fred and George anymore. It was just George.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sat there, hadn’t even realised someone had arrived at the flat until the candles that had gone out suddenly flickered back on.

“George?” A voice called out from the hallway. The ginger made no move to reply, or to get up. He only gathered the energy to look up when he heard a small, almost inconspicuous gasp.

Because the sight in front of you was not the George you’d known since first year. The man curled up on the floor in front of you was thin, pale, his eyes red raw, lips chapped. His jumper - with an ‘F’ stitched on the front, you noticed - seemed sizes too big and you knew he hadn’t been eating properly.

“Oh George...” you whispered. You placed your bag down carefully on the couch and sat beside him on the floor, holding your arms out.

For a moment, he blinked, as if he was unsure if you were really there, and then he let out a broken sob as he buried his face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him close and whispering reassuringly to him, almost cradling him as he cried in your arms. You felt the tears in your eyes falling down your cheeks as you pulled him closer, stroking his back.

You hadn’t seen him so sad, so broken, in all your time of knowing him. You’d seen him laugh, cry, smile... but nothing, nothing compared to this.

“I miss him,” you heard his voice, muffled by the sweater you were wearing, “I miss him so much.” You felt your heart squeeze as you pressed your lips together, staring at the wall ahead of him as you let your fingers run through his hair.

“I know,” you replied softly, “I miss him too. Sometimes I forget and-and then I remember and... He’d be so proud of you, you know? For how strong you’re being, for how well the shop is doing.”

There was a silence, and you wondered if you’d said the right thing. Was there a right thing to say? You didn’t know how to cope yourself, but seeing George made you wish you could take his pain and add it to your own. You’d give anything to see him smile - laugh - properly again.

“I just... I want him back,” he said after a while, pulling away from you slightly, but only to readjust his position so that he was now laying across your thighs, “I... No one understands. I look at myself in the mirror and I see him. I make a joke and-and he’s not there to join in. He’s not... he’s not there. And it hurts so much. No one calls me Fred anymore. I mean I hated it when people got us confused but... now they can’t. I’d give anything to trade places with him, he deserves to be here instead, not me. Why... why did it have to be him?”

And as you held him in your arms, you felt helpless. Because truly, you didn’t know why the world had to take Fred away. Maybe that’s why it was called a tragedy.

“I’m not going to pretend that I know how you’re feeling because I don’t. I know he means more to you than anyone and I- well, he was one of my best friends and if I’m feeling how I am then I can only imagine what it’s like for you right now George. You’re going to be okay, though. You are, I promise. It doesn’t feel that way now but you will. It’s gonna take time but I’m here, I’m here every step of the way, whatever you need, okay?”

You sat in silence for a while, just holding onto each other, the candles flickering around you. Glancing down at him, you saw his eyes start to droop and you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Should we get you to bed?”

Feeling him nod, you helped him stand and followed him into his bedroom. You pulled his duvet back and plumped his pillows as he got himself ready in the bathroom before he re-entered the room, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly as if he was going to smile when he saw you, before shifting his gaze away.

He got into bed and you turned, just to move his wand from the nightstand but he grabbed your hand and looked up at you frantically, as if he thought you were going to leave.

“Can you stay?” He asked, his eyes vulnerable and heart pounding.

“I- Well I- Yes, yes of course I will. Of course I’ll stay with you,” you replied, squeezing his hand and offering him a smile.

Because you knew he needed someone to be there for him, and by Merlin were you going to help him. Because you were not going to let him go through this alone.

You found yourself a few minutes later, not for the first time, beside George in his bed, wearing one of his shirts that he’d lent you as you were pulled into his arms. Your head was resting on his chest, his arms holding your waist as he squeezed you every so often, as if making sure you were still there, still with him.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the darkness, as he allowed himself to intertwine his fingers with yours, “for everything. For being here.”

He meant it. Besides Fred, you were the only other person to believe in him and the shop, to stand by him, to be there for him. And he loved you for that, just how he knew you loved him too, even if neither of you had said it aloud.

“Anytime, George. You know you can call me and I’ll be here, I don’t care what time it is. If you need me, you’re my priority, okay?”

He felt him nod, and silence overcame you both again. You closed your eyes, beginning to drift off when he spoke again.

“Every time I smile I feel guilty,” he admitted in a low tone. You wanted to ask why, to prompt him to speak but knew you couldn’t rush him. He’d speak when he was ready - if he was ready. He squeezed your hand before continuing, “I feel guilty for smiling but... I can’t help smiling when I’m around you. You’ve always been there for us - for me - and I’m sorry if I’m overstepping the line but... I think I’m in love with you. And right now I don’t know how to deal with that but I do. I love you and- and can’t do anything about it without feeling guilty for being happy but I will. I can’t expect you to wait for me but if- if you feel the same, I-“

“George, it’s okay,” you interrupted him softly, moving to catch his gaze in the dark, “I’d wait as long as you need. I’m here for you, I’ll always be here for you. We’ll get you through this, together.”

And you kept your word. Sometimes there were bad days, days you’d find him curled up in front of the mirror, sobbing, days you’d catch him throwing things at the wall in frustration, in anger... but other days you’d see him smiling - really, genuinely smiling and you’d know.

George Weasley was going to be okay.

#george #george weasley #george x reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #hp #harry potter

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 3 years

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Day 3 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!! 🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: Soul Traitors

Summary: Betrayal among soulmates is unheard of in all the free races of Arda, yet that’s exactly what Durin, King of Khazad-dûm, endures. Heartsick and angry, he damns the Valar for their choice and earns their wrath in return. He and his former lover will be reincarnated until the wrong between them is righted. Thorin, Durin’s lastest reincarnation, believes nothing can break that curse and instead mounts a quest for the Arkenstone to free his people of theirs. Gandalf, the meddlesome wizard, offers a Burglar for their quest. A hobbit burglar who will help Thorin uncover more than just a gem.

Warnings: Character Death, Gore (I mean, it’s not heavily descripted gore, but it does mention the manner of the character’s death so just to be safe.)

Each of the races have their own views on soulmates and how you go about finding them. However, all seem to agree that to find a soulmate is a very special thing. To find the one person who you can trust with your whole heart and soul. That’s why to the dwarves, they called these people, Ones. None would ever consider betraying their Ones as that seemed a cruelness beyond even that of the orcs. Which is why King Durin stood in the high chamber of the court of Khazad-dûm staring down at the small figure below with such shock and fear, many feared a light breeze could topple their usually infallible king.

The curly haired creature in chains returned the king’s stare with heartbreaking indifference. Many of the court began to chant prayers to Mahal that this was not to be so. That the One of their dear king wouldn’t dare do that which he was accused. Durin’s flat and breathless voice finally spoke, silencing all in the hall.

“Madoc son of Maloch of the Holbyta Tribe Fallohide, you stand before the King of Khazad-dûm as the sole conspirator and thief of the Arkenstone. One of the great treasures of our kingdom. What plea do you make in your defense?”

With no hesitation, no change in emotion, the small being stated the same line Durin’s heard since his capture.

“I love you.”

The king leaned forward to bow his head as he gripped the stone podium tighter.

“Madoc, this is serious!” Durin’s most trusted advisor, Gelbim, spoke up. “You have taken a sacred relic from our halls, and not just any, but the one that has the power to bring ruin upon our city and our people! Your crime is punishable by death. For the love of Mahal and the great Valar, please, tell us where you’ve hidden the Arkenstone.”

Durin slowly brought his eyes up as the silence persisted to see a small break in Madoc’s mask. His jaw trembled and a single tear leaked from his soft hazel eyes that Durin had loved from the moment he met him.

“I...love...you.” He sobbed.

That was the moment Durin’s heart broke. Not shattered completely though. No, unfortunately that particular pain would come later that week when Madoc’s sentence was being carried out. But this...this was the first of a pain that would never desist.

“How can you when you hurt me so?” Durin asked softly, yet his words carried through the chamber as Madoc bowed his head in defeat. “You are given a traitor’s sentence. Death with no chance to appeal. Your name will not be spoken aloud again, your hair will be shorn and removed of any braids and beads, and your body will be burned rather than returned to the land and stone. In the Eyes of Mahal, so mote it be.”

Gelbim, his dear friend, told him he didn’t need to attend. None would think less of their king. Durin wished he had listened. He couldn’t bear to watch, but the sound of the axe going straight through his One’s neck would haunt him for the rest of his life. As it was, he stumbled to his chambers to fall and not rise from their marital bed for weeks after. When he resumed his reign, the toll of losing heart and soul was apparent to all.

Durin became hardened in the final years of his reign. He demanded every ounce of mithril in the mountain to be pulled up and sold it to his allies for too high a price. What he didn’t sell, he forged. Weapons, jewelry, a particular handsome mailshirt, and if it were all the same size as his beloved holbyta? Well, none had it in them to point it out to their fading king. As demanded of a traitor’s death, the name Madoc was stricken from all records and replaced with the Amrâb Hufrel or “the soul’s betrayal of all betrayals”. The rest of the Fallohide tribe which was camped near the Misty Mountains was forced to pack up and resume their nomadic lifestyle west or face war with the dwarves. The sorrows of Durin were not to stop there.

“The goblins of the Deep grow bolder.” Gelbim remarked as they watched the latest battalion return battered and worse for wear.

“Without the Arkenstone, they will not stop.” Durin growled.

“Durin, my friend, we’ve sent quest after quest after the gem. Wherever M-the Amrâb Hufrel has hidden it, we may not ever find it. It may be time to consider...alternatives.”

“What alternative is there aside from leaving my mountain and my mithril!” Durin spat.

Gelbim raised an eyebrow at his answer. “And is that worth more than the lives of your kin?”

Durin froze before spinning around quick as a flash. “Leave if that is your wish! This has been the home of MY line since the reign of Durin I and I WILL NOT GO!”

Go, Gelbim did taking a third of his kingdom with him including the young Prince Thrain and his mother. Crown Prince Nain, Durin’s only stone son, could not be moved to leave his father to his fate even as he saw the heartless path he wrought. For in their quest for more mithril, an ancient evil slumbering deep below the rock was awoken. The king led a frantic charge against the beast and was slain almost instantly. The war against Durin’s Bane lasted a year longer, but when the newly instated King Nain, was slain, the mountain and its riches were abandoned. In the lore of Durin’s folk, this was the first great curse of the Amrâb Hufrel’s theft.

Durin, who welcomed his death with open arms, awoke expecting to find the Halls of His Father. Instead, the nervous face of his treacherous One amongst a starry plane was the first sight he was graced with.

“Oh Durin, my heart…” The holbyta began taking a step forward.

“You!” The king snarled, moving away as quickly as he could.

The Amrâb Hufrel looked miserable as his face twisted in anguish. “Please let me explain…”

“NOW YOU WISH TO EXPLAIN!” Durin boomed. “You had your chance! You had every opportunity to tell of your nefarious schemes, and instead you mocked me. You mocked my kingdom, a kingdom you once called yours. Well look at it now! All because of you!”

The creature before him was truly wretched and small as he hunkered against every blow Durin dealt. And the dwarf was yet to be finished.

“Peace, my son.” Came a great voice from above that Durin instantly recognized as His Father even having never heard it before. “You have made your point. Now let your Sanâzyung (Perfect/True Love) say his piece.”

“NO!” Durin roared against the very heavens themselves. “I don’t want to have anything to do with this...this...Amrâb Hufrel!”

Thunder rumbled, shaking the entire platform they stood upon. And while the holbyta trembled in the face of such power, Durin’s anger was too great to be cowed.

“You would reject this gift we offer, son of Aulë?” A female voice demanded, icy and iron.

“What gift?” Durin sneered. “Unless you offer me the chance to sever his head myself this time, I see no gift here.”

The other creature of blood released a gasp that was more like a sob, but Durin had no more patience for the likes of him. In fact, he had nothing left to give to him. Something that became apparent to the Valar watching.

“You have become cruel.” Another, softer female voice soothed. “You know only the truths you have seen with your own eyes.”

“And it is enough for me to condemn that thing and the Great Valar that thought to join my soul with it! Damn him and DAMN ALL OF YOU!”

If Durin expected the same booming show of power he received previously, he was sorely disappointed. Instead, it just all seemed to fade away. The stars, the platform, and the holbyta. His sorrowful face full of tears was the last thing Durin saw before he was swallowed by the darkness. The darkness allowed no sound, not even from Durin’s own voice, and no escape. He was unsure how long he wavered in that place: hours, weeks, years? He was utterly and completely alone until finally the voice of His Father broke through.

“You have shamed me, my uzfakuh (great joy). You have shamed me, you have shamed yourself, and you have shamed your Sanâzyung.”

Durin knew he could not speak back, but he still fumed at the Great Smith’s words.

“We have thought long and hard on how you can atone for the atrocities you’ve committed today.”

And what of the Amrâb Hufrel’s atrocities?

“Your path will not be an easy one, especially if you hold tight to the stubborn slights of your mortal heart. For a soul is worth so much more. You and your Sanâzyung shall be reborn over and over as many times as needed until you can right the wrongs between you and hear the truth of his soul.”

Durin felt a burning on his breast and looked down to behold a glowing oak tree being inked in chains.

“You shall carry this mark in every life of yours henceforth, and it shall know the mark of Madoc in return. Only free of the chains that bind your soul, will you be welcome in my Halls.”

The legend of Durin’s curse and the theft of the Amrâb Hufrel passed down through the centuries until it had inscribed all dwarven mothers with fear. For any child to bear the mark of Durin was to lead a loveless and empty life. Likewise, any “hobbits” as they preferred that met with the dwarves were met with open hostility. Especially if they bore their own mark, though none knew for certain if it was Madoc’s or not. Still, the hobbits learned fast and stories of their own circulated that any child bearing an acorn on their palm would be hunted and killed by the dwarves. So as the stories grew wilder and edged with desperation, Durin and Madoc were reborn again and again just as Aulë promised, but were no closer to breaking the curse that bound them so.

It was many centuries later when a young prince from Durin’s own line was born to the immediate wailing and disappointment of every dwarf in attendance. Not even a few seconds old, Thorin, son of Thrain, Prince of Erebor bore the heavy burdens of his ancestor. It steeled his heart as he grew into adolescence and forced him to throw his all into his duties as prince. He would love Erebor for none would ever love him. And when Erebor was attacked by the dragon, it was Thorin’s foresight and friendship with the men of Dale that was able to send Smaug away. Thorin grew from prince into a king his people could be proud of, and he never wavered from his vow to his kingdom. Never knowing that almost a century and a half later, a hobbit was born with the death sentence of his people on his palm and a destiny he would not be able to escape.

#birthdayplotbunnies #bagginshield #thilbo #starterdrabbles #because i'm clearly in a mood for overly angsty fics #twist on the soulmark trope

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tokoyamisstuff · 4 years

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Betrothred Ch. 2 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 2: Bonding

Summary: You’re slowly accomodating to living in your new household, but getting close to your partner is harder than expected.

Warnings: Self doubts, maybe.

Words: ~1600

Song used: Rise Against - Hero of War

Story Masterlist

The following weeks were uneventful, considering that you weren’t allowed to leave the Zoldyck property at all.

Since you were now considered a Zoldyck, a great deal of people would now see you as their target. An easy one too, because you weren’t even half as strong as the rest of the family.

Some would even go as far as to say you’re now Illumi’s weak spot - even though your husband was confident in his ability to protect you.

Anyway, you would need to spend your days on Kukuroo Mountain until the head of the family evaluated you to be strong enough to defend yourself even without Illumi at your side. Only then you’d be allowed to go on missions again.

Even though you had all comforts one could wish for, it was pretty boring in here with no one around except for this unsettling distanced family members. Most of the time they’d just mind their own business unless it’s about work.

There was also the crippling feeling of uselessness plagueing your mind. You tried to compensate for it through your efforts, though.

You and Illumi were living in the main residence, of course, yet had a wing completely build solely for the two of you. It was just like a small but luxury apartement, with a great bathroom, kitchen and whatever else one would need.

Especially the balconry was to your liking. You prefered to spend your time there, simply enjoying the sounds of nature.

It was a day like all the ones before, with you trying to pass time through educating yourself. Might be useful somehow.

You immediately heared a crack of the main door, jumping up from your seat to greet him.

Illumi had been away on a mission for three weeks already, and you just couldn’t wait to see him again. You stopped yourself in front of him, knowing close physical contact was discomforting to the man.

“Welcome home, master.” Just as you were about to take a bow, Illumi brought his hand to your chin and lifted it once again.

“No need to be so formal” he spoke, and you had to admit that the stoic sound of his voice had somehow become calming to you. “I’m your husband now. Just call me like you did before.”

“I missed you, Lumi.” You had just realized it yourself, yet had already blurted it out aloud. How embarassing...

“Oh? That’s good, I think.” He tapped his chin like he’d always do to muse aloud, trying to cover up that this much affection overstepped the limits of his emotional capability.

Trying to change the topic, you just now remembered the heavy storm that was raging outside. “You’re dripping wet!”

“So?” He tilted his head in confusion, still standing at the entrance as you wrapped a towel around his shoulders.

Hunger, cold, sleep deprivation, pain...

Even though none of these could hinder him from functioning, you assumed the feeling was still bothersome. The cold could still affect him that way.

For a second, you had to laugh at yourself. Worried, about him of all people? Ridiculous.

“Take your clothes off” you demanded, a warning finger swirling in the air. “I’ll run you a bath.”

In his free time, Illumi seemed even more like an empty shell. You could say he was pretty boring, even.

But it was fun to teach him all kinds of new stuff - things he was never able to experience or enjoy. Could he even feel something like that?

Since Illumi was raised to be absent of any hopes or desires, he obviously didn’t follow any hobbies either. Except for work, training and the well-being of his family, nothing seemed to be of real importance for him.

So he’d simply shrug it off, following your orders since he had nothing better to do anyway. “As you wish.”

When your husband stepped into the bathroom you had prepared for him, the air was scented with a floral fragrance. You even had lighted a few candles, enveloping the room in a dim light.

It was hard not to stare at the slender man, but you peeked a time or two: His porcellain skin was covered in several scars, and he was more muscular than you had imagined.

In an unconventionalway, he looked like a piece of art.

“Come on in!” you cheered, gesturing towards the perfectly warm water. As he sunk down into the tub, you chuckled at how stiffly he was sitting inside. “Lean backwards, like this!”

You adjusted yourself on a chair next to the bathtub, beginning to gently wash his hair. “Close your eyes” you cooed, gently massaging his neck before running your fingers along his shoulders.

And after a while, his rigid body slowly began to relax - a small feeling of achievement blooming in your chest.

Picking up a comb from the edge of the sink, you began to run it through his silky hair. It almost made you fuming again about how he once wanted to cut it off, because it was ‘a hindrance in battle’.

Yet you couldn’t help it, for the calming atmosphere made you start singing out of a whim:

“A hero of war Is that what they see Just medals and scars So damn proud of me And I brought home that flag Now it gathers dust But it's a flag that I love It's the only flag I trust”

Illumi’s eyes opened slowly, dark orbs pinning you as you detected some kind of wonder in them. “Y/N?”

“Y-Yes?!” The closeness you had craved so bad had you forget about who exactly you were trying to indulge.

“Why did you agree to marry me?” Now where did that question come from?!

"Huh? I- umm...” You began to stammer, frantically scanning your mind for an answer. “Because I like you, I guess.”

You didn’t dare to say love - not yet at least. Maybe someday...

“Mhh. I see.” Illumi turned his head away and closed his eyes again, almost as if zoning out. “I knew you were clinging to unnecessary sentiments, but I didn’t think they’d go this far.”

Was that a compliment or an insult? You didn’t know, but somehow felt offended.

"And why did you ask me to marry you in the first place?”

You just couldn’t help but pitying yourself right now. Of course you were sparring as much as your body could handle, yet at the moment all you could provide for your husband were kind gifts and actions.

“I thought I already made myself clear: You’re an extraordinary individual, and I thought you to be a fitting mate.”

Wow.

“You must be tired” you murmured as you softly rubbed his temples, trying to change the topic.

How stupid of you to think he was actually capable of feeling such a complex emotion - and yet you were disappointed.

“How odd” Illumi suddenly vocalized his cogitation, then falling silent again.

“What is it?” you inquired as you patiently encoated his hair with a towel.

“How very odd” he repeated once again, seemingly overchallenged.

No use in talking this over, huh...

“Let’s get you to bed” you chanted, still all friendly and he wondered why you’d bother yourself with things he could easily do himself.

Truth be spoken: Illumi Zoldyck would most likely forget to eat or clean himself way longer than necessary. Taking basic care for himself was just not present in his mind, and more than often he’d do it pretty sloppy just to get it over with quick.

Wrapping the heavy blanket over yourself, Illumi’s stiff posture was a huge contrast to the soft bed. Only looking at him made you uncomfortable.

And yet: Sharing this bed together, you were glad that he gave you the freedom to decide when you were ready to, well...take the next step.

There was no need to hurry, he once told you. Since you were now all his.

Even in the dark you could spot the emotionless black pit that was his orbs. But you saw something different: You liked to imagine the universe in them, and the brightw stars to be only hidden from plain sight.

“How do you feel?” you spoke softly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep for a long time anyway.

“Indifferent.”

You didn’t expect anything else, to be honest. “Well, I’m grateful.”

“What for?” Sometimes it felt as if he’d only fake interest, but even that you were happy about - because it gave you hope that at least somehow, he was trying to make you feel home.

Maybe you were just imagining things, though.

“Oh” you started, giggling shyly. “Many things: That you stepped into my life, for example. Chosing me as your partner. Or simply for you coming home safely, and that you’ve let me spoil you a little.”

The absence of an answer made you think he already fell into a dreamless slumber, so you decided to give him some rest. He probably had a harsh mission and right afterwards you had clung on him, almost as if he was a social experiment.

This whole day probably was a little much for someone who had never felt a single pleasant bodily contact before.

Little did you know that your husband was still wide awake, yet deeply buried in thought.

Yes.

Your presence seemed to be beneficial in other ways than practical, he concluded.

But how exactly? He was unable to put it in words.

Yet the rest of the evening, his mind was fogged by your lingering touch and the memory of your soothing voice.

To Illumi, the power you had over him was more dangerous than Nen itself.

___

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#Illumi x Reader #Illumi Zoldyck #Illumi Zoldyck x Reader #HxH #Self Insert #Arranged Marriage AU #Zoldyck Family #Writing #Fanfiction

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suwya · 3 years

Text

Proteus’ curse.

Summary: Emma woke up like any other morning in her bed ... to find out that the day would not be like any other.

This story takes place during the weeks between S4A and S4B.

Rating: G

Warning: gender swap

AO3

A/N: Apparently it's exactly eleven years of Tumblr for me. Hence a one-shot.

This is meant to be a lighthearted and funny story, or so I hope.

All my gratitude goes to my amazing beta-reader @thisonesatellite.

Emma woke up like every other morning in her bed, in the upper part of her parents’ loft. Henry was staying at Regina’s for a few days, so she knew she was alone in her room, that’s why she was surprised to see Hook’s hand first thing, after slightly opening her eyes.

She tried to remember the previous evening, and she knew that they had spent more time than necessary downstairs before separating, but she was sure he had left before she went to bed.

Had he come back, snuck into her room during the night? Well, that was a first.

But she wouldn’t complain if he had decided to sleep behind her, with an arm enveloping her waist.

She closed her eyes again, deciding to enjoy this little quiet moment.

But it was strange, she couldn’t feel his body heat.

She opened one eye again. His hand was still there, and it was definitely his hand that entered her peripheral view. With his characteristic rings, and some hair on the arm that peeked out the pajama sleeve, the same color as hers.

Wait… not only the same color, exactly the same pajamas!

That was even stranger. Bright pink was not something he used to wear.

She lifted her right hand to touch his, but at the same time, he lifted his.

Emma was finally completely awake. Sitting on the bed, her back leaned against the headboard.

She looked around, but she was alone.

She stared at her hands.

No. Definitely not her hands.

Those were Hook’s hands, or better, hand. Just one. The left sleeve of her pajamas ended in nothing.

No! No! No! Emma started chanting it inside her head. This isn’t possible!

Emma stood up and hurried towards a mirror hung on the wall on the right side of the bed.

She gasped as soon she saw her reflection, hand and blunt wrist lifted, trying to cover her face... or better, his face!

In the mirror, there was no trace of Emma Swan, just the image of Hook wearing her pink pajamas with little bunnies on them.

Ok, to be honest, the image was ridiculous, but she didn’t find the strength to laugh. “No! No! No!” She started to repeat, this time aloud.

Emma went running downstairs, but she immediately realized she was home alone. She had no idea what to do, it seemed like a bad nightmare or an awful b-movie where the main characters made a wish to be in the other’s shoes. But she was completely sure she hadn’t made such a wish. Had he?

She was pondering whether to call and ask Hook about this when the main door opened and David entered with a strange look in his eyes.

Father and daughter stared at each other for a few seconds. Emma didn’t know if she was blushing or she was going mad, but she couldn't imagine what kind of thoughts might be going through her father's head.

What he finally said was the last thing she was expecting. “Emma?”

He didn’t ask it as if he was wondering where his daughter was, he asked it as if he wanted to be sure that the person in front of him was really Emma.

“Dad?” Was her reply. But it came out as a question. Because if she was in Hook’s body, who was talking to her? She had been living in Storybrooke for quite some time now to know that everything was possible.

“No. Not your dad, honey. I’m your mother.” He… she… whatever… answered.

Emma sat down on the first chair she found and sighed. “What the hell happened last night?”

~·~·~·~

Killian woke up to the sound of an incoming message text on his phone. He turned around in the bed and before reaching for the device, he passed a hand over his face, trying to shoo away the nightly cobwebs.

What the hell? He thought, feeling only smooth skin, no trace of his stubble. He looked down at his hand, or better say, hands. Because he now had two of them. Delicate, neat, and very, very feminine.

He jumped out of the bed and went to the bathroom, noticing that he had to tie the belt of his trousers, now wide on his hips. When he looked up in the mirror, he cursed "Bloody hell!"

How is this even possible? He thought, reverently touching the blonde tendrils that covered his shoulder. In the mirror, there was one sleepy and somewhat unkempt Emma.

"Emma!" He exclaimed. Worries starting to fill his mind.

Killian went back, pacing his room at Granny's, deciding what to do, when he suddenly remembered the text message and grabbed his phone to read it.

"We need to talk." Was the short line from his love. Nothing more.

He didn't know if she was in the same dire straits he was. But if he was inside her body, she probably wouldn’t be in better shape.

A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts.

When he opened, the vision in front of him left him speechless.

"It's me. Emma." She felt the need to specify. "May I enter?" But she didn't wait for his reply and stepped in, closing the door behind her.

Killian was still looking at her, or rather, at himself, mouth agape.

Emma put her one hand on her waist and arched one eyebrow, waiting for any kind of reaction from him.

After what seemed an eternity Killian was only capable of asking "What the hell are you wearing?"

Emma opened some buttons of her shirt, revealing the pink pajamas with bunnies under it. "Do you think walking here in my pajamas would have been better?"

Killian shook his head.

"And thank God I always wear pajamas two sizes too big, because otherwise, I have no idea in which state of undress I would have woken up this morning!"

"I'm glad you just put some clothes over it." Was his reply. "I suppose those are your father's, aren't they?" He stated, indicating the large plaid shirt and the jeans she was wearing.

She nodded. "And, by the way, I brought you some clothes of mine, so you can change". She left a bag at the end of the bed.

Killian was wearing the same outfit he had worn the previous day. When he had come home at night, he had collapsed on the bed without taking anything off, apart from his black leather jacket and boots. “I do not intend to change.”

“Why not? You can't go out like this.” Emma pointed to the belt he was wearing, cinched tightly, and the way his clothes fell oversized on her thin body.

He shrugged. "I'm not going to undress until we are back to our own bodies."

Emma arched one eyebrow again. She was getting used to doing this gesture she had so often seen on his face. "Are you telling me that you're not going to have a shower until we solve this problem?"

"Are you?" Was his reply with a shocked expression on his, well, her face.

"I haven't thought about it, but I suppose I'll do it, sooner or later. Or do you prefer me to carry your smelling body around the town?"

"Emma, love" he started, struggling to find the best way of expressing what he wanted to say. "We're making progress in our relationship. That's a fact. But we haven't taken the next step, yet." He stressed the last “t” and made a pause letting his words soak in her. "Are you sure you want me to look at your fully naked body for the first time while you're not in possession of it?"

Emma could feel how the upper point of her, ahem… his ears became hotter. "Oh!" She was only able to say.

"Exactly my point. Oh! So no. I do not intend to bathe while I'm not back to be myself. My entire self!"

And then he scrunched her face in disgust.

"What is it?" She asked, touching her, his cheeks, "Do I have something on your face?"

He shook his head. "No worries. I just realized I don't like the way I blush."

“All right.” She sighed. “Let's get to business. David and Mary Margaret are waiting for us at the station.” After a short pause, she added, “And before you ask, yes, they have swapped their bodies as well.”

“This is going to be weird.” It was his time to sigh.

“Weird is the understatement of the year!” Emma exclaimed. “David ...no wait, Mary Margaret told me that not everyone in this town has been affected by this… thing. She has already met Leroy and Granny this morning and they seem to be their usual selves.”

“So why us?” Killian asked.

“My mother has a theory, she texted me a few minutes ago that she would like to talk with us in person about it, both of us.”

“All right, love, lead the way.” He gestured toward the room door.

But before leaving, Emma asked Killian to help her put on his hook because doing everyday actions one-handed was nothing easy. He had his doubts, worried that she would hurt herself or someone else unintentionally, but in the end, he gave in. "Be careful, it's sharp."

And he had to lace her hair in a ponytail with a rubber band she had given to him, because "If you don't want to wash, at least comb my hair, I don't want to become a Rastafarian". He had no idea what that was, but Emma's already categorical orders sounded even more threatening coming out of his lips.

~·~·~·~

When Emma and Killian entered the station, David, in the body of Mary Margaret, was already there waiting for them. He was wearing a soft pink sweater, very typical of his wife, and he was scratching his neck. "I don't know how Snow can live inside this!"

Killian suppressed a laugh "Was it indispensable for you to put on her clothes?"

"My wife thought that we should attract the least attention possible, given that this curse, or whatever it is, hasn't affected all the people of Storybrooke."

"Where's mom?" Emma asked.

"She said something about a matter at school, but she'll be here soon."

"I can use this time to relieve myself," Emma said.

"No!" Killian and David shouted simultaneously.

"Are you kidding me?" She was stunned.

They both shook their heads. "You'll have to wait."

"Come on girls, I'm going to explode!" As soon as the words came out of Emma's mouth, she realized her mistake, which was received by a scowl from the men. "Guys." She corrected herself. "Sorry, out of habit. But I really, really need to."

"Fine!" Killian exhaled. "I'll help."

"What do you mean, help?" David was annoyed.

"It's my bloody body." The other man cut short.

A couple of minutes after, Killian was standing next to Emma in the small toilet of the station.

She had a scarf tied around her eyes so that she couldn't see anything. "Is this really necessary?" She asked arms stretched before her to not hit anything.

"Aye, love, it is."

Killian positioned her in the right spot and she felt how the zipper of the jeans opened up.

She couldn't see, but her other senses were quite alive. When Killian took out her, or better said, his member, she jolted. "Whoa!"

"Everything alright?" Killian worried.

"Yeah, sorry, it's just... Is this what you feel when someone is touching you?" She inquired.

He seemed to ponder over it. "I'm not sure what you're feeling right now, but I suppose yes."

When Emma finished and was fully dressed again, Killian took the scarf from her eyes.

"Don't you have to...?" She asked, pointing towards the toilet seat.

He shook his head. "When you live on the ocean for so many years, you learn how to hold it. Facilities are not the strongest point of a ship."

"You may know how to repress it, but I know my body and believe me, you won't resist as much as you think."

He swallowed hard. "Let's go back to our duties."

~·~·~·~

When Emma and Killian went back to the main room of the station, Mary Margaret was already there as well.

She told them that a girl had locked herself into a class room and had no intention of coming out.

Snow had had to go check it out as sheriff, but as soon as she’d arrived she’d recognized the girl's voice as that of one of her ex-students.

A classmate had told her that the girl in question had come to school that morning crying and saying that she had done something horrible.

Mary Margaret knew the girl’s background, she came from a good family, and her parents were True Love, which made it likely that this girl was showing the first signs of magic.

“It could have been her, unintentionally causing all this trouble.” She explained. “And giving that she is the product of True Love, well, I thought that’s why this sort of curse doesn’t affect all the people.”

“I don’t follow you.” Was Emma’s statement.

“I mean that, maybe, it affects only True Love couples.” Mary Margaret stated.

At that, there were various looks exchanged between the four of them. But it wasn’t the time or place to discuss it.

Snow went on. “David, she won’t talk to me, because she doesn't recognize me. But I’m sure that if you could go to school and try to make her reason, we could probably find out what she did.”

“Me?” He asked bewildered.

“Yes, you. Because to the rest of the world, you are me!” And she crossed her arms indicating that the matter was closed.

David muttered something like “What would I say to her?” and “Why is it always up to me?” But in the end, he surrendered to his wife’s desire. With the condition that Killian would go with him, in his role of Sheriff Swan.

In the meantime Emma and Mary Margaret would go to talk to Regina, to find out if there was a possible magical cure to this curse, or whatever it was.

~·~·~·~

Regina opened her front door to see a very puzzled David Nolan, who was more interested in finding out if anyone was following him, and an unusual Killian Jones, who was wearing an outfit more typical of the man next to him. The mayor raised one eyebrow in question, looking at the couple in front of her. “Sheriff, Captain, what can I do for you?”

“Ah… we hope you could help us with a delicate issue.” The blond man said.

She left the door wide open for the others to come inside. “I see that being part of the Charming family is affecting you more than it should, pirate.” She was looking down at Killian.

“We’re not who you think we are.” Was his short reply.

Regina froze. “And exactly who are you?” She knew that glamor spells were never a good thing.

“Emma”. “Mary Margaret.” They answered in unison.

Regina relaxed a bit. “Well, this is…” She started.

But she was immediately interrupted by Emma “Weird.”

“Awkward”. Mary Margaret added.

“I was going to say: amusing.”

“Believe me, Regina, there’s nothing funny about this.” Emma snorted. “And by the way, why aren’t you in Robin’s body?” She asked.

Regina crossed her arms and lifted one eyebrow. “Should I?”

“Yes. Or at least we thought you…” But Emma didn’t finish the sentence.

“I supposed that this curse, or whatever this is, is affecting only True Love couples. But maybe I’m wrong.” Mary Margaret explained.

The mayor seemed to ponder that possibility. “You could be right.” She conceded. “Assuming that the Savior and the Captain are True Love.”

Emma didn’t let her go down that path. “But that doesn't explain why you are still…you!”

“Because magic only applies to Storybrooke boundaries, and as we all know, Robin is now out of town.” Regina clarified matter-of-factly. “That’s why his, I mean, her" she added pointing towards Mary Margaret "theory could be correct.”

Emma was not at all liking the turn that dialogue was taking, and went straight to the point. “Can you undo it?”

“I could. If I knew who made this curse and how. You should know that all magic has its counterspell, but we need to be sure about how it was created.” It sounded more like a reproach than an explanation. “And by the way, have you tried by kissing your guyliner boyfriend?”

“Regina!” Emma hissed.

“Alright, alright.” The mayor complied. “Let me know if you find out who did this. And I will work on a possible antidote.”

~·~·~·~

Meanwhile, the two men had almost reached the school grounds when Killian grabbed David’s arm to stop him. “There is no need to raise suspicions, we should behave like the people we seem to be.”

“What do you mean?” David wasn’t following his companion’s thoughts.

“Your wife doesn’t walk like that,” Killian stated.

“What?”

“It’s more like a fashion show than a march to war.” The other explained.

“I don’t know if I’m more upset by the fact that you noticed how my wife walks, or because you know what a fashion show is.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many surprises.” Killian winked smugly.

“I’m not going to punch you in the face, just because your current face is my daughter’s.” David started his stroll towards the school, even more at the full march.

“I never thought this situation could have some perks.” Killian chortled.

~·~·~·~

As it turned out, Mary Margaret was right. The girl was scared when Killian and David entered the room where she was hiding, but as soon as she recognized her ex-teacher she burst into tears.

She told them that the day before she had argued with her boyfriend, but her parents didn't seem to care about it, confident that sooner or later the young lovebirds would resolve it. She added that it was very difficult to be the daughter of a perfect married couple; it seemed that everyone expected her life to be the same.

That was why she had so badly wished that all True Love couples could go through some kind of misunderstanding so that her parents could see her point of view.

But, of course, the next morning, realizing the harm her wish had caused her parents had made her regret it, and now she had no idea how to fix the situation.

David tried to reassure the girl, telling her that they would soon find a cure to fix everything.

~·~·~·~

And that was exactly what Regina did. Fixed it. In no time she produced the antidote for the Proteus’ curse. That was the name of this curious magic that swapped True Love’s bodies. The mayor gave to all the couples affected some little bottles that they had to drink to reverse the curse.

Killian and Emma were standing in his hotel room at Granny’s. Facing each other. Two vials on the table next to them.

“So,” she said, “this is it. Back to our original selves.”

“Aye, that’s the idea. Are we sure Regina didn’t put anything strange into these liquids? I wouldn’t like to wake up tomorrow with a dragon face or similar.”

“I think we can trust her.” But she didn’t move to reach for the bottles.

He saw her hesitation. “What is it, love?”

“I was thinking about something you said this morning.”

She was clearly uncomfortable, so he tried to lighten the moment. “You shall have to be more specific, I said many things.”

“I’m glad you chose to not take a shower. Not until we’re back to normal.”

“No need to thank me.” He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, but it was strange for him to notice his stubble under the fingertips.

“Yeah, well…”

She was still hesitant, he could sense it. “Is there anything else you would like to tell me? Or shall we proceed to…” He said, indicating the vials.

She looked at him hesitantly and he nodded, to let her know that she could tell him anything, whatever it was that was worrying her.

“Uh… given that we haven’t taken that next step already in our relationship… you know… we could try things.”

This attracted his curiosity. “Define things.”

“I was thinking… what if we take advantage of this situation to get to know each other better. I mean… we could for example take that bath together.”

Killian was starting to understand what she was trying to say, but he wasn’t sure to be on the same track. “Even though I do find myself devilishly handsome, I’d rather be you, all of you, on the other end of my attentions.”

She laughed, releasing some of the tension. “But we have this opportunity to feel what the other would feel when we touch each other, isn’t it interesting? And I'm glad I'm not the one who has to get on tiptoe to be able to kiss you.” She grinned. “So, what do you say?”

She was being serious, she really wanted to try it. But what did he want? He stared at her for a few beats of their hearts. Then he shook his head. “No.”

“No?” She was surprised.

“No.” He repeated. “As much as it does sound intriguing and tantalizing, I still prefer our first time to be the way it should be. And believe me, Emma, when we decide to take that step, we will know what the other one is feeling, maybe not in the most literal meaning of the word, but we will know it. And it will be perfect. Just as I want it to be.”

A million thoughts seemed to cross her mind, but in the end, she understood his point of view and smiled at him. “Ok.” She went closer and tilted her head until she could feel his lips on hers... or vice versa. The kiss was short but still intimate.

“And by the way, I do not like to be the one who has to get on tiptoe to be able to kiss you,” Killian muttered.

She burst out laughing.

#cs ff #gender swap #my writing

33 notes · View notes

sheliesshattered · 2 years

Text

I was tagged by @catefrankie in a hanging-out-with-your-mutuals game. Thank you my dear!

💕✨create the illusion of hanging out with your mutuals tag game✨💕

are you a morning person?

Not even a little bit. I stay up late, rarely wake up before 9am, and need a solid 30 minutes minimum to read in bed before I can even attempt to impersonate a human.

ideal breakfast?

French toast with maple syrup and a side of bacon. There’s a local diner that makes my favorite version, but I’ve only been able to go once since the start of the pandemic. 😭

favorite warm drink, and how do you take it?

Hot chocolate, preferably made with heavy cream, but made with whole milk will do in a pinch.

sit in the sunshine or the shade?

Sit in the sunshine right up until the moment my skin starts to feel too toasty. If Jack and I are eating outside and only one side of the table is shady, I give it to him every time. Also he burns much faster than I do.

favorite baked good?

All of them? Sourdough bread, chocolate chip cookies, brownies, pies, croissants, cream puffs... All of them? All of them.

a song or album that makes you feel at peace?

Ironwood Strong by Becky Warren. I sing it to myself when I need to self-soothe.

take a walk with your friends or read a book next to a friend on the sofa?

Jack and I walk together nearly every day (gotta get out and see our crows, and it’s a good way to get at least a minimum amount of exercise), and we often end up doing our own things quietly in the same room. But if I’m going to read anything other than fanfic, I prefer to read aloud together.

what tasks do you gravitate to when making a meal with others?

Making the spice mix, chopping vegetables, and stirring boiling things.

a chore that if someone completed it for you you’d love them forever?

Anything involving making a phone call and pretending to be an adult.

favorite board/card game to play with friends?

A hand-made Set deck is literally the only board/card game I own.

what kind of snacks/candy do you want at a movie theater?

Popcorn, and something chocolate to counterbalance it. Peanut M&Ms is a solid choice.

bar with live music or bar with a pool table?

Not terribly fond of either, but a bar with karaoke as the live music can be a ton of fun.

go-to wine/cider/beer/cocktail?

Ruby port, moscato champagne, honey mead, hard apple/pear cider, or bourbon on the rocks.

go-to bar food?

Onion rings.

are you tending the fire, looking at the stars, or singing campfire/folk songs?

Rotating between all three pretty evenly.

a favorite Scripture verse or prayer?

I am decidedly extremely Not Christian or any other monotheistic faith, and my religion doesn’t have scriptures. My gods have prayers and chants, but those are just for me and them.

are you the person begging to go to just one more bar/sing one more song, the person staying up late talking about love and the universe, or the person who fell asleep hours before anyone else?

If I plan well, I’m the person staying up as late as possible and begging for just a little bit more fun, but the older I’ve gotten the more often I’ve been the one to toddle off to bed while the party is still raging. Napping ahead of time and pacing my drinking can help tho.

I’ll tag @tounknowndestinations, @druigs, @3221b-dw, @praetyger, @thebraxiatelcollection, and @twentysideddinglehopper, if you guys feel like playing. 😀

#about me #tag games #Tumblr life #2022 mood

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scenesandscraps · 4 years

Text

Steven and the Sleepover

Dipper yawned as he walked back from the bathroom. He really did need to stop with the energy drinks so close to bed, he reflected.. But piecing together this newest mystery took a lot of brainpower and he needed to stay alert.

He heard the muffled voices from Mabel’s room; her Gravity Falls friends had come for a slumber party, or whatever girls called it when they were teens. It barely merited his attention until a lower-pitched voice reached his ears. Even through the door, that… was that a boy’s voice?

On the one hand, Dipper knew it was none of his business. On the other… since when did they invite boys to their things? And why? (His buzzing brain instantly suggested several things that he tried hard to push down.)

Curiosity being one of his primary qualities, Dipper knocked on the door. “Hello?” came the reply. Dipper’s eyebrows raised. That wasn’t just a boy’s voice; it was one he knew.

“Just, uh, seeing how you’re doing in there.”

“Yeah, come in!”

Dipper wasn’t quite sure what he expected to see, but the sight that greeted him was not it: Steven Universe sitting on the floor, delicately painting Grenda’s toenails as Mabel stood over him, tying miniature braids into his hair. It was too short for proper ones, but she seemed to be enjoying the challenge. Candy was laying on the bed with a book in front of her, able to read aloud while watching the makeovers front of her.

“Hey Dipper,” Steven said casually, dipping the brush back in the bottle.

“Uh… heeeey?”

“Steven asked if he could join us!” Mabel gushed. With a look of intense focus, she tied another tiny rubber band around a curl of Steven’s hair.

“I’ve never been to one of these before!” Steven said, with an even wider smile than Mabel’s. “Don’t worry, I’ve got tomorrow off; I’ll be plenty rested before work.”

“Oh. Uh, sounds... good.” Dipper blinked. While Steven was certainly no Manotaur, Dipper had assumed that the older, bigger boy (a man, really) would have no interest in being “one of the girls”, even for a night, even with his clear affinity for all things pink. “You want a makeover?” Steven asked, so casually that he clearly expected an affirmative. “ I’m a pretty good nail artist if I do say so myself.”

“Nononono, that’s okay,” Dipper raised his hands in front of himself and backed away from the door. “I’m just gonna… go to bed.”

“Oh come on Dipper,” Mabel said with a grin, “Come get a makeover! Make-o-ver-! Make-o-ver!” The other two girls joined in the chant, and for a moment Dipper thought they might try to grab him, but Steven tugged Mabel’s arm.

“Now, now, if he doesn’t want to, we have to respect that. How’s my hair looking?”

Mabel sighed. “Okay, fine. Have a look.” She passed Steven a mirror, and Steven cooed happily as he admired her work.

Dipper decided to go to bed without another word.

#summer job au #steven universe #gravity falls #mabel pines #dipper pines

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evening-starlight · 3 years

Text

Chances {Chapter 3}

I have a problem and his name is Tom Hiddleston... midnight BABY

Master List

Edited in Grammarly

Not A Bot

Word Count: 1180

This is the chapter you've all been waiting for, Tom FUCKING Hiddleston asking me out on a date through Instagram. If you follow me on any social platform, you know I bring this up a lot. It's my favorite love story of all time. I might be a little biased because it is my love story, but you all seem to enjoy it.

Tom has also asked me to stop calling him Tom FUCKING Hiddleston in my book, so we all know that's the only name he will be known as now when I narrate.

A couple of weeks had passed since I bumped into Tom on the streets. Maybe a month or two? We were making significant progress on our album, the single we were stuck on was in production, and we were all high spirits in the studio the day it happened.

I laid with my feet in Naomi’s lap, head propped up on the arm of the couch we had in the studio, scrolling through Instagram mindlessly as Robbie recorded the melody to our third album song. We finished four songs, two of which are singles, off of our eight-track album. The last couple of weeks have been a blessing to us after our severe three-month block, and we had a lot of recording to do to make up for the time we lost.

A notification pops up on my phone that some Tom Hiddleston fan account had followed me and was now requesting a message. I chuckle lightly. These Instagram bots were fast; I liked a photo of Tom maybe three pictures ago. Naomi taps my legs and gives me the questioning eyes she's known to do. "Nothing really, just an Instagram bot saying they're Tom Hiddleston."

"Didn't you meet him like, last week?" Heather asks from her laying position on the floor.

"That was longer than last week, Socks." She rolls her eyes at me. "I'll bet you they're saying they're using their 'other account' and need my money to fly me out to meet him," I say sarcastically. I open it up anyway, just for a good laugh.

I can feel my entire body freeze at the message. It was not, in fact, a bot. I squeal, launching my phone across the studio floor, causing both girls to look at me in confusion. I can't bring myself to say anything. Instead, I stare at the phone on the floor.

Robbie comes out of the booth, looks at my phone, and picks it up. "I swear to god if this is another dick pic, I'm submerging your phone in acid." He jokes, cautiously looking down at the screen. I can see his eyes go over the words again and again. Just like I did. "No. Fucking. Way." Both girls sit up quickly, looking at Robbie to tell them what has me in a silent panic.

"Well, what is it, Dick Head? Stella won't tell us." Heather asks, getting irritated no one is talking to her. Instead of answering her directly, Robbie reads the text aloud.

"'Hi Stella, I know this may be a tab bit crazy, but I haven't been able to keep you off my mind for more than a few hours, at most. I feel horrendous that I spilled your coffee and would love to make it up to you. Much Love, Thomas.'"

The studio falls silent. Deafeningly quiet. Heather is the first to speak, "At least it's not a bot asking for your bank account information." She jokes. Naomi chuckles, slowly building into a full-blown belly laugh.

"What?" I snap. She holds her hands up in defense, knowing I'm not truly angry, just overwhelmed with the thought that Tom Hiddleston wanted to go on a date with me.

"Stella, you have to take this chance. It's not every day a god of a man asks you out on a date. It's Tom Fucking Hiddleston, for God's sake. That's not even once in a lifetime type stuff, that's," She pauses. "Once in a hundred lifetimes, type stuff." Robbie returns my phone to me. I stare at the message and the blue tick next to his name as Heather pipes up.

"I think it would be good for you. Obviously, you made an impact on Tom when he spilled your coffee. So he's asking you out." I shake my head.

"No, he's probably just being polite; that's who he is. It's not a date," I try to convince myself. Heather steals my phone, dashing into the booth with it before I can get my bearings.

"Only one way to find out," She yells, typing furiously on my phone. I leap off the couch to chase after her when I understand what she's doing.

"Heather, don't you fucking dare," I yell, yanking open the booth door. "You can't text for me, you use too many emojis, and he'll think it's weird." She giggles maniacally as she sidesteps me.

"Too late," She singsongs, handing me the phone. I look over the message. 'Like a date?' followed by numerous pleading eye emojis. I go to delete it before he sees it but get the dreaded 'seen' at the bottom.

"I'm going to murder you, Heather Long. Swear to God." I hiss, staring her down. She giggles and walks off, laying back in her position on the floor. She knows I'm all bark and no bite. But that doesn't mean she won't wake up with a dick on her forehead in permanent ink soon. My phone dings, telling me he replied. Everyone looks up when I gasp. Robbie chants, 'what did he say,' trying to get me to tell them what he said. "He said, 'that's exactly what I was hoping for, yes.'" The band cheers around me, Robbie shaking my shoulders in congratulations.

"Say yes," Naomi cheers. "Say yes for me, Please." Robbie looks over his shoulder at her, faking a hurt expression.

"Am I not enough for you, Naomi Bear?" He sniffles, making Naomi rolls her eyes.

"You're more than enough, Pudding Cup. But, it's Tom Hiddleston. Even you said you were a little gay for him." Robbie shrugs his shoulders with a head nod. Of course, we've all heard his drunken tangents about how hot the entire Marvel cast is.

My fingers shake as I type out the answer, taking my chance with this once in a hundred lifetimes type of guy.

And that's the end. I'm kidding; no, that's not even close to the end. We're just getting started. Heather did wake up with the permanent dick the following week after she slept over at my apartment. I will never feel sorry for that part. But I have thanked her numerous times for helping me take that step with Tom that I needed.

We still have lots of drama and toxic exes to talk about, so don't put the book down just yet. Unless it's past your bedtime, then go ahead. Or you're tired. Take care of you, Boo. But we have lots of pot-stirring coming up. And Tea piping hot from the kettle.

#Chances #tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfic #jared leto #Jared Leto imagine #jared leto fanfic #love #romance #fanfic #fanfiction #Original content #original character #tom hiddleston fanfiction #jared leto fanfiction #i got 99 problems and tom hiddleston could fix everyone of them

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