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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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Searing Starlight (chapter two)

A/n Chapter twooo!! I cannot believe the support I’ve been getting on here im so excited to share my six of crows/shadow and bone fics with y’all!

Lmk if you’d like to be tagged when I update this story!! And just letting y’all know I take requests so if you have an idea you’d like to see me attempt feel free to comment it or send it in :))

At least Kaz’s claimed ‘wraith’ (which is such an odd thing to just have) is a girl, and a seemingly kind one at that. She was quick to find me, body pressed into wooden shelves and glass bottles, and subtly gesture for me to follow her. It had been difficult to keep track of her flighty form through the crowd, but I think there was a point in her strange raveling, to make sure no one was following me.

She’s not particularly talkative, but she doesn’t seem bothered by me. She tossed me a random oversized shirt to pull over my dress when she saw how I kept adjusting the fabric and crossing my arms. That was kinder than she needed to be. I think I’ll like her.

“So you’re a wraith,” I manage, breaking the nervous silence, “Like a full time, constantly on-call wraith.”

The question seems to puzzle her, dark eyebrows drawing together. “Yes.” The corner of her mouth twitches up slightly, a smile. “A full time, constantly on-call wraith.” She hesitates, perfect stance adjusting. “What were you doing before?”

Great. This question. “Nothing important.” It’s not a fair cop-out. Especially since she answered my question. “I um...I’m indentured to Rollan Kenya.”

I watch her reaction to the name. Some know of him. Some revere him. Some loathe him and everything he’s associated with. “His religious interpretations are controversial.”

“If you think what he says to the public is bad you should hear what he says in private.” I push myself further into the chair I’m in.

Something strange flickers over her features. “I can imagine.”

Shaking my head, I hope I’m ending this conversation. “What’s your name?”

A hesitation. “Inej.”

I nod once, “I’m y/n.”

“Do you need water, y/n?”

I scratch my still exposed knee. “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

She’s quick to leave, feet making no noise. A minute later she returns with a cup. I have no reason to suspect her, but I still sniff the cup before taking a cautious sip. I wonder if Anya made it back home. I wonder if she’s worse off for it.

Before I can fall into a pit of debating despair, the door to the room Inej took me to squeaks open. On instinct, I snap my gaze towards the door, tensing. The first person I notice is Kaz, entering the room with a determination too intense for this time of night. Jesper is quick to follow, and I drop my stare. I’ve never had to interact with anyone I’ve lied to after taking their money.

“Are they gone?” Inej asks, clearly accustomed to such brooding tension.

Kaz nods once, “It took too much convincing--the Inferni’s more than she’s letting on.”

I’m literally in the room. “I’m not--we’ve spoken two words to each other, sorry my abilities didn’t come up.”

He turns towards me with a deadly grace. My grip on the cup tightens. What the hell is wrong for me? How deeply instilled is that god complex Kenya wanted in me? It must be as part of me as my name if I felt comfortable enough to speak that way to Kaz Brekker.

I keep my eyes on his cane, waiting for some kind of physical retaliation. “Maybe the grisha hunting you would appreciate your sense of humor more.”

It’s a bluff. He needs me. He’s desperate for something that can mimic a Sun Summoner. Still though, I’m not in the mood to poke a bear with a stick. “Speaking from experience,” I clear my throat awkwardly, “They tend not to.”

“Then I suggest you begin explaining before I decide I’d rather take my chances and you lose your worth.”

Maybe if I hadn’t spent the last eleven years of my life with Kenya, his words would haunt me. I keep my expression set, but the lanterns in the room flicker. “It’s not as impressive as they’re making it seem--Inferni can produce fire, regular, red, bright fire.” I pause, feeling energy in my palms. “I can do the same, but I can also,” I extend a flat palm, “Do this.”

I focus my energy on restraint, forcing the fire on my skin to remain there, covering my palms in a cold, blue glow. “It’s still fire, just blue--and that matters to them because blue light is the only kind you can use in the Fold.” Do they know anything about the fold? “Kenya, the man I’m indentured to, believes that this ability makes me eligible for Sainthood. He specializes in collecting people he thinks are eligible for Sainthood.” The low flame coating my palm licks upwards as I remember what disappointing Kenya means. “And if you don’t meet his standards, he’ll find a way to make sure you do. That’s why the grisha want me. He made me more and they believe that if they give me to someone who can give me an amplifier I’ll be able to produce enough blue light to protect an entire fleet.”

“What do you mean ‘he’ll find a way to make sure you do’?” Inej’s voice is cautious. An attempt to be respectful.

I drop my palm, letting the fire disappear into nothingness. “I wasn’t born with the ability to control the blue light so well--It’s difficult enough to produce for longer than two seconds let alone keep it from burning everything in sight. By the time I ended up in Kenya’s control he had learned that certain stimulants. Some scientists are working on a more grisha-targeted kind, but Kenya has managed to work with the generic well enough.” Hands shaking, I wipe the condensation off the side of the cup and hold out my wrist. Using the condensation, I begin to wipe at my wrist and forearm, smearing my makeup and revealing the needle bruises. “The key is withdrawals.”

Thoughts of begging Kenya, crying and screaming for another fix as he promised to give me that as soon as I showed some control of my abilities, make the shaking in my hand worse. I clasp my hands together, squeezing them in hopes of hiding the signs of withdrawal.

I stare at the ground, not wanting to take anyone’s reaction in. I handle pity as well as I handle kindness.

“Do you think you could produce enough blue light for one ship?”

Looking up, I take in Kaz’s measured expression. I’m glad he’s sticking to business. I’d rather that than deal with unpacking all of that with a group of strangers that don’t care if I live or die.

“I could try.” I’ve never tried to protect anything that large. “Even if I can, it doesn’t mean a voyage like that will be safe.”

“There’s no real safety in the Fold,” he replies easily. Realistic expectations. That will make this easier. “No one finds out about her--especially not Pekka Rollins.”

I pull my arm towards my body, glad for the opportunity to hide the bruises. Signs of my weakness. The worst part was always the way Kenya would speak to me after. Pathetic. Weak. Trapped within the restraints of my flesh.

“Who’s Pekka Rollins?”

Kaz briefly turns his head in my direction. “No one that will ever concern you.” He ignores my annoyed huff. “We’ll use the Inferni to get to Alina Starkov.”

Alina. Alina Starkov. “What do you want with Alina?”

At that, the room seems to drain. I feel weirder than when they were seeing my abilities.

“You know her?” Jesper’s surprise reveals more than Kaz wants him to. I don’t miss the glare he receives.

I half-shrug. “We were in the same orphanage for awhile.”

“How did you get to Ketterdam?” I don’t trust Kaz’s urgency.

“I don’t remember, I was a child and I--I hit my head that night I think. I just woke up and I was with Kenya.”

“How well do you know Alina?”

There was a point in time in which she was my best friend. We learned how to braid hair by practicing on each other, we would draw maps together, and I was the only one who knew about her crush on Mal. “Not that well.”

He takes a step forward, eyes almost squinting. The touch of distrust is evident on his face. “If you’re lying I’ll find out.”

I owe Alina at least this. “Well then it’s a good thing I’m not.”

I’m not naive enough to believe that I’ve convinced him, but his intense gaze does not remain on me. I’m relieved when his attention is off of me, but he’s only moving on to start planning the riskiest thing I’ve ever done.

Taglist: @ambrosia-v-black

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somethingwritey · 3 years

Text

sneak peek: “run to you” - a rangshi longfic

💖 i am currently working on a rangshi longfic (50k words at the moment) that i’ll eventually publish on ao3. it takes place directly following the events of The Shadow of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee.

💖 my writing commissions are open! message me with commission requests or questions!

💖 here’s a sneak peek of “run to you”!

---

Kyoshi had blood on her hands.

Quite literally, at the moment.

She stared down at her palms and fingers, hoping they didn’t shake as badly as she feared.

She knew she needed to wash the weight of Rangi’s blood away, watch it swirl down her arms and out of sight, as if that alone could wipe away the pain she’d caused her girl, but for some reason, Kyoshi couldn’t seem to move her feet.

Every part of her felt heavy and languid, and it was hard work to imagine that these were the same limbs that had carried, defended, and healed only hours ago. Kyoshi wanted to curl up into a ball and wait for someone else to save the world for once.

Because that was the oh, so incessant problem about Avatarhood. No matter how many messes Kyoshi cleaned up, there were still new terrors cropping up the moment she sat down to catch her breath. It was exhausting. Behind all the makeup and armor, she was still the servant girl in the mansion - tasked with the never-ending job of cleaning up.

“You saved her life.”

Kyoshi lifted her head to see Hei-Ran, standing only a little less poised than usual. The teetering fate of Rangi had taken a toll on even the most rigid members of her group.

“I did my duty.” The words came out defeated, as if Kyoshi had lost instead of won. Then again, with Yun’s grey body lying somewhere inside the ruined mansion waiting to be put to rest, and a bloodied Rangi being tended to by Atuat, maybe she couldn’t claim victory after all.

Peace comes at a price.

She heard the words in Lao Ge’s voice, although she was fairly certain he’d never actually uttered them to her.

“You did far beyond that, Avatar.” Hei-Ran thought about it for a moment, then took a seat beside her - flicking her robes out behind her as she did. “You should be honored for what you’ve done.”

“Yeah, except no one will even know!” Kyoshi slammed her fists down on the ground, causing a small tremor beneath them. “Zoryu’s made sure of that! He gets all the credit, and all he’s done is sentence an innocent man to death!”

This outburst probably wouldn’t win her any favor in Hei-Ran’s eyes - the woman so committed to her duty that she’d willingly sacrificed her hair and honor to acknowledge her failures - but Kyoshi couldn’t help it.

Her first choice for a confidant would’ve been Rangi, of course. Or maybe Kelsang. But with the latter dead and the former barely conscious, she supposed the old headmistress would have to do. The woman had claimed Kyoshi as a daughter back in North Chung-Ling. Perhaps that warranted a bit of sympathy or at least a listening ear.

“The Fire Lord’s job is complicated,” Hei-Ran stated. “As is yours. You’ve both been tasked with the impossible: governing a world that does not wish to be governed by you. Chaos is the natural order, Kyoshi, as much as we pretend it is not. The Fire Nation must go to great lengths to maintain our control. Even if it… requires some bloodshed.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” Kyoshi shook her head. She no longer felt the dull aching in her chest that used to come with a reminder of her station, but that didn’t mean the Era of Kyoshi hadn’t been stained with blood and confusion and deceit.

“The Spirits chose you.”

Why?

The plaintive question would’ve made her sound like a child, so Kyoshi sealed her lips and kept the pleading inside. She wanted answers. And since Hei-Ran would understand nothing more about the mysterious methods of the spirits than she did, Kyoshi decided to at least start with something the woman stood a chance at knowing.

“Was Rangi mad?” She rubbed the side of her face and dried blood flaked off, fluttering towards the ground. “When I left, I mean.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Hei-Ran’s face. “Enough to shoot flames out of her ears.”

For a moment, Kyoshi tried to picture it - a steaming mad Rangi, with her face boiling red and fists clenched into tight balls. The last time she’d gotten that upset, the Firebender had flipped a table off a balcony. For a moment, the memory tugged at the corner of Kyoshi’s mouth - lifting it into a lopsided smile.

And then the moment passed.

“I’m sorry I killed your daughter.”

Hei-Ran frowned. “You healed her, Kyoshi.”

Only after Rangi had traveled to fight alongside the girl who’d locked her into the ground and put her mother on a possible death bed. “Because I put her in danger. It doesn’t count. Doing right by her after that was just… canceling out the bad.”

Kyoshi felt like she’d been doing that her whole life: making mistakes and then fixing them. It didn’t seem right to take the credit for something she’d messed up in the first place.

You were the one innocent party, Yun had told her. Oh, if only that were the truth.

“Hei-Ran?” Atuat had emerged from the infirmary, traveling up to where Kyoshi and the headmistress sat. Hei-Ran was on her feet immediately, but whether to appear respectable in front of the doctor or out of fear for what news she’d bring, Kyoshi couldn’t be sure.

“How is she?” Kyoshi found her way to her feet as well, Atuat’s presence sending a fresh wave of worry down her spine.

“Oh good, Kyoshi’s here, too. Saves me a trip.” Atuat took her time reaching them and with each passing moment, Kyoshi found herself more and more on edge. By the time the Waterbender made it over, she could feel her body vibrating again.

“Well?” Hei-Ran demanded, clearly just as impatient as Kyoshi, but with better control over her exterior.

“She’s asleep.” Atuat’s manner always confused Kyoshi a bit. She never seemed exhausted by the threat of death. Perhaps she’d just become too acquainted with it, or maybe mastering the power of healing made her immune to the fear. Either way, she always emerged from battle hospitals like she’d finished a rather routine examination.

“Will she be okay?” Kyoshi remembered the crunch of earth as it impaled Rangi’s back. The way the blood had rushed away from her lips. How she’d looked up at her as the life drained away. “Is the damage permanent? I know I didn’t heal her right. I tried my best, but -”

“Kyoshi.” Atuat held up her hand. “Rangi is a strong girl. She’s going to be alright. In pain, certainly, but in the end alright.”

Kyoshi exhaled shakily, barely able to keep it together enough to thank her.

“You need rest, too, Avatar,” Atuat pressed, motioning down towards the infirmary. “There’s a spare bed down the hill.”

The last thing Kyoshi wanted to do was sleep. How could she just let herself clock out when Rangi needed caring for? When the Flying Opera Company was wounded? When Jinpa still hadn’t come down from his medicine high due to her own poor measurements?

As if Atuat could read her mind, the doctor narrowed her eyes. “That monk is off his rocker. You gave him too much.”

“Sorry, sifu.”

“Rest, Kyoshi,” was the only response she got in return. “And take off those clothes. You’ve got blood all over you.”

///

“I can feel you staring at me.”

Kyoshi jumped a little, hurriedly switching her gaze to the other side of the room and away from Rangi’s bed before deciding hiding it was futile. The Firebender hadn’t moved in over two hours, but apparently, the wounded girl was more perceptive than Kyoshi had anticipated.

“I thought you were sleeping!” Kyoshi whispered, doing her best not to disturb Kirima and Wong, who were asleep in their respective wooden beds.

“I’m resting.” Rangi still hadn’t opened her eyes. “A concept you might not be familiar with.”

A hum of relief ran through Kyoshi’s arms. If Rangi was well enough to give her shit, then maybe that meant the girl would be alright after all.

“I know how to rest.” Kyoshi crossed her arms and did her best to look wounded.

“Yeah, and Jinpa’s a murderer.”

Kyoshi glanced over at her secretary, who was propped up against the wooden headboard and still singing to himself in dulcet tones.

“Kyoshi, please try to sleep,” Rangi pleaded.

Easier said than done. Sitting still seemed too difficult for Kyoshi at the moment, let alone actually falling asleep.

“Yeah, well,” Kyoshi mumbled offhandedly. “I’m not really keen on seeing you die again in my dreams.” It came out sounding more dire than she’d meant.

Only then did Rangi open her eyes, staring at Kyoshi from across the way. “I’m fine.”

It would’ve been a lot more convincing if her hands weren’t locked tight around the thin cotton sheets, compensating for some sort of pain she must be feeling.

“Fine?” Kyoshi stared at her incredulously. “You were stabbed.”

“Can you two please keep it down?” Kirima suddenly cut in, gesturing to her splinted leg. “Some of us are trying to heal!”

Apparently, her ability to tell who was asleep badly needed fine-tuning.

“Noise won’t delay that process!” Kyoshi shot back, trying to keep her smile at bay. She really had missed her friends.

Silence fell back over the infirmary, and Kyoshi allowed herself to lean against the headboard for the first time all night. She drew in a shaky breath, basking in the safety she felt around the Flying Opera Company - even if their legs were broken.

It was a few minutes before Rangi spoke again, lowering her voice to whisper in that raspy way of hers. “You’re pretty far away, you know.”

At first, Kyoshi wanted to protest that of course her energy was distant - she’d killed one of her closest friends and nearly lost the other one - before she realized Rangi was speaking literally. She closed her mouth. Hard.

A little too hard, actually. Her jaw still ached where Yun had thrown the discs.

Rangi even managed a little grin. “Do you think Atuat will kill you for sleeping with a patient?”

Giddy with the idea of lying beside Rangi again, Kyoshi slid out of bed and made her way over to the other side of the room. She’d flirted with the idea of climbing in before, but with Rangi’s fragile state, she hadn’t wanted to cause any more damage than she’d already done.

“You’re not gonna break me,” Rangi mumbled, but Kyoshi still saw her struggle to make space in the small frame.

“This is a bad -”

“Will you quit worrying and just crawl in, please?” Rangi did her best to pat the bed beside her, wincing horribly. “I’ve suffered worse.”

“Mmm, what a terrible fate,” Kyoshi grinned, finally allowing herself to gingerly lie down beside Rangi. “Sleeping next to Kyoshi. What an awful - hey!”

Rangi had elbowed her in the ribs. She tried to laugh, but it barely masked the tremor behind it.

“Stop hurting yourself,” Kyoshi hissed, laying an angry kiss on the Firebender’s cheek. “I mean it.”

In response, Rangi moved to curl up closer against Kyoshi’s chest, her eyes falling shut again. For a long while, they stayed just like that - Rangi in too much pain to move and Kyoshi too nervous about causing her any more. It felt awfully reminiscent of the first time they’d shared a bed, with Kyoshi awake all night inhaling the smell of Rangi’s hair against her lips.

Kyoshi had vowed to protect her then, and she still wanted to protect her now. She didn’t miss the way Rangi’s face screwed up as she slept, sleep inhibiting her ability to hide the discomfort. A couple of times, Atuat came to check on her. She clicked her teeth together at the sight of Kyoshi in the bed, but didn’t seem altogether surprised. The doctor didn’t force her away either, something for which Kyoshi was eternally grateful.

In the blue-grey hours of the morning, Kyoshi finally succumbed to the heaviness in her eyelids - letting them shut as her head fell back against the headboard - at last, too tired to worry about any new dangers coming for them that night.

-----

💖 that’s all for now :) i might post a little more soon! i’m very excited to get this up on ao3 in the near future!

💖 if you enjoy my writing and want to commission me, send me a message! my commissions are open!

💖 keep an eye out for more commissioned pieces coming soon :)

#kyoshi #rise of kyoshi #rangshi #rangi #rangi x kyoshi #shadow of kyoshi #avatar the last airbender #writing commissions #my writing #longfic #sneak peak #writing #wlw #avatar kyoshi #atla #fic

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jay4firefic · 3 years

Text

Last Train Home

Summary: When a train crashes just outside of LA, Buck doesn’t expect to find his ex-fiance Kelly Severide searching the wreckage for Shay. And this close to the anniversary of Andy Darden’s death - the event that broke them both, and their relationship with them - he’s not willing to stand by and watch any more old friends die. 3x18 rewrite for anon.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Pacific West 1135 from Phoenix to LA has derailed somewhere near the LA County line. Whatever your mass casualty protocol is, activate it. I need fire and rescue, USAR, local PD - everyone you can send, as fast as you can send them.”

“I’ll call them now. It seems like you’ve done this before.”

“I’m a firefighter out of Chicago. Dealt with a train crash before. Look, I’m going back in--”

“Sir, I need you to stay on the line. Help is on the way.”

“Help’s gonna be too late for a lot of these people.”

Click.

------

Buck dozes restlessly for most of the hour long ride to the county line, jerking awake every time Mason hits a pothole or flips the sirens on to speed through traffic. He’s exhausted, has barely slept in days, because every time dreams pull him under he sees a wall of fire rushing toward him and a burning body on the floor. He knows from experience that the rest of the week will be just as bad.

Four years and the anniversary of Darden’s death hasn’t gotten any damn easier.

“Hey, Buckaroo,” Hen calls through the headset, her hand on his knee. When Buck cracks his eyes open he can see her leaning toward him in the darkness of the cab. “You alright? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Am I supposed to be cracking jokes on the way to a mass casualty?” he asks, and regrets it immediately. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m fine, Hen, just having a bad day.”

She opens her mouth as if to speak again, Eddie leaning in on Buck’s other side to eye him with concern, only to be cut off when the truck shudders to a stop in the dirt. Buck is first out the door just to get away from those looks. He stops dead just outside and doesn’t move until Eddie runs into his back.

The headlights of the trucks and a few hastily set up flood lights are the only thing illuminating the scene outside, throwing deep shadows and obscuring a good chunk of the wreckage. It still looks like something that belongs on a film set rather than in real life. Twisted plastic and metal litter the ground, smoke is pouring out of one of the train cars, and even in the darkness Buck can see bodies - pieces of them, at least - scattered in every direction.

“Jesus,” Buck breathes, while Eddie mutters what might be a curse or might be a prayer in Spanish beside him. A moment later they turn in unison at the sound of Bobby’s voice.

“Buck, Eddie, go have a look. See if there’s a way to secure that car so we can get those people out.”

Buck nods jerkily as he moves away to pull the rest of his gear on and picks his way across the debris field in Eddie’s wake, trying not to look too hard at what’s under his feet. He’s seen more than his fair share of mass casualties before - the earthquake, the tsunami - but he’s always been in the middle of them, experiencing it right alongside the victims. Something about showing up to pick up the pieces after the worst of it is over hits him differently.

He’s shaken enough that he doesn’t even register the shouting at first. A man’s voice, hoarse and desperate, raised above the more measured tones of another pair of firefighters. He would have walked right past if Eddie hadn’t led them toward the scuffle.

“Get out of my goddamn way, I need to get back into that car!”

Eddie steps forward, lets the other guys escape back to doing the real work of saving people. Buck lingers several feet behind him to continue surveying the precariously tilted train car, but no matter what angle he looks at it from one thing is clear. There’s no good way in. Not without risking the whole thing coming down on them.

“Sir, I’m sorry. We can’t let you inside. It’s too dangerous.”

“I know it’s dangerous, I’m a fucking firefighter. I need to get into that car. My girl is in there.”

“I hear you,” Eddie says, hands extended and voice level. There’s something so familiar about the other voice that Buck finally glances over his shoulder at the argument. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” the man stumbles forward in the dark, grabbing Eddie’s sleeve. The light finally catches the silver in his hair, the piercing blue of his eyes, the blood dripping down his face from a ragged cut across his brow. Buck would recognize that face anywhere. “Are you from the 118?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, voice full of confusion, as Buck’s voice cracks around a soft cry of, “Kelly?”

Kelly’s gaze snaps to him immediately, eyes going wide as Buck pulls off his helmet and turns toward the light. “Buck?”

And suddenly Buck’s feet are moving without his consent and the handful of yards between them have disappeared. His gloves are off and his hands are cupping Kelly’s stubble-roughened cheeks before his brain catches up with his body, and by then it’s too late. He inspects the cut on Kelly’s brow, the way he’s cradling his left arm across his torso at an implausible angle, and barely even sees the strange look Eddie is giving him in his peripheral vision. “You were on the train? Why the hell aren’t you collared and backboarded?”

“I’m fine,” Kelly bites out. He shakes Buck’s hands off and tries to push past him, hissing in pain when their shoulders collide.

“Kelly, we need to get you checked out.”

“No, I’m fine. I need to get back up there. I need--”

“That’s crazy. No, no, Kelly, stop.” Buck hauls Kelly back by his good shoulder, forces him to sit on a nearby piece of rubble. The fact that it’s so easy to move him is proof enough that he shouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Shay is still in there!” Kelly’s voice breaks as he tries to gain his feet again only to wobble and sit down heavily. Clearly concussed, and still too stubborn to stop trying to be the hero. “Shay is still--”

Buck sucks in a sharp breath and feels his heart rate spike with panic. Shay is still in there. Shay is still in there. Andy died four years ago this week and Shay is still in there. “Where were you?” he manages to ask around the lump in his throat.

“We were in the top car, all the way in the back.” Kelly uses his good arm to point to the upended train car, because of course that’s where they were. The only person Buck has ever met with worse luck than himself is Kelly Severide. “She fell asleep. I went to get a drink, and…”

“We’ll find her.” Buck looks up at the groaning slab of metal and glass and swallows back bile. “Eddie and I will find her, alright? But you have to stay here.”

“Hell no--”

“Kel, if you go into that train you’re going to end up another victim we have to rescue. And every second I spend pulling your ass out of the wreckage will be another second Shay isn’t getting help. I’m going to find her. I’m going to bring her back to you. But you need to stay here, alright?” When Kelly keeps fighting him, Buck plays dirty. He smacks Kelly’s shoulder - dislocated, he’s pretty sure - and watches all of the color drain out of his face. “Stay here. I’ll find her.”

Kelly’s glare might frighten someone else - is enough to have Eddie stepping up to Buck’s shoulder to back him up - but Buck knows better. He crosses his arms and glares back and when Buck doesn’t back down Kelly finally folds, nodding his head and then wincing when it clearly pains him. Buck is already starting to turn away when Kelly catches his sleeve and somehow, the look on his face when Buck glances back at him is worse than the glare. Raw and painful and scared like Buck has only seen him a few times.

“If you can’t get her out…”

“We’re going to get her out.”

“Evan,” Kelly says, low and desperate. “If you can’t get her out, tell her I love her, okay? Tell her I love her.”

Buck tugs his sleeve free of Kelly’s grasp and shakes his head stubbornly. “I’m going to get her out.”

------

“So, Kelly, huh?”

Buck knows Eddie is just looking for something to distract them both from crawling over dead bodies to get into the crumpled train car. He just wishes Eddie would pick literally any other topic. Instead of answering he keys his radio, reports, “two black tags at the entrance to the car.”

“Is that the Kelly I’m thinking of, Buck?”

“My ex-fiance Kelly?” Buck replies, because there’s no way he’s getting out of this conversation no matter how much he doesn’t want to have it. “Yep. That’s Kelly.”

“You didn’t tell me he was…”

“A guy? Yeah, well, I didn’t tell you a lot of things, Eds.” His bitter laugh comes out breathless as he starts climbing the seats like the world’s most awkward ladder. There’s another lifeless body halfway up the car - Eddie stops to confirm her obvious death while Buck keeps going, dragging himself a few awkward inches at a time up toward the cascade of blonde hair barely visible at the top of the car. “Shay? Shay, is that you?!”

A pained groan echoes through the train and one of the pale hands hanging over the edge of the furthest seat twitches. Buck’s heart is in his throat as he scrambles up the last few feet to brace himself between a steel beam and a half-crushed seat, reminding himself all the while that it might not be her. It might not be her. But--

It is.

Buck sags with relief as Shay lifts her head to look at him, blinking hard when her eyes won’t seem to focus. “Buck?”

“Hey, Shay.” Buck nearly sobs, covers it with a shaky laugh as Eddie approaches. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this?”

“Dunno.” She looks around as much as she can without moving her head, her eyes widening as she takes in Buck, scraped and covered in grime already, and the disaster behind him. “Shit.”

“Yeah. How are you feeling?” Buck takes one of her hands in his and is relieved when she winds her fingers through his. He yanks the glove off of his other hand with his teeth and checks the pulse in her neck - it’s racing, and he doesn’t like the sound of her breathing. He tries not to look at the way Eddie is frowning as he climbs behind Shay to inspect what’s keeping her pinned.

“Hurts when I breathe,” she replies, squeezing his hand weakly. “You sure I’m not dead?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Weird. Could swear I’m looking at the face of an angel.” There’s blood on her teeth when she smiles, and her eyes still won’t focus on his face, but Buck grins anyway. A moment later it melts off his face when her expression turns to panic. “Kelly--”

“Is fine,” Buck cuts her off. “Busted his arm and he’s gonna need a few stitches, but he’s fine, okay? We’re worrying about you right now. Eddie?”

Eddie grimaces as he slides back down to lean against the seats on the other side of the aisle. He thumbs his radio, speaking to Buck and Bobby at the same time. “Cap, we got a passenger up here. Looks like the support beam from the observation deck broke through the floor. Need you to send up the jaws.”

“Copy that,” Bobby’s voice crackles through both of their radios. “Coming right up.”

The waiting is always the worst part. Shay’s breathing is labored and uneven, her eyes taking longer and longer to open between each blink. Buck cups her jaw and rubs his thumb across her cheek until the forces herself to look at him again, asks, “What the hell are you two doing on a train in Los Angeles anyway?”

“Andy loved trains,” Shay mumbles, leaning her head heavily into his palm. She doesn’t seem to notice the way Buck flinches at Andy’s name, but Eddie sure as hell does. “Kelly found this old list - bucket list, that they made when they joined CFD. Kid stuff, y’know? Buy a motorcycle, marry a beautiful woman, hike the Grand Canyon...we decided to check some things off the list.”

“The train was coming from Arizona.” Buck only remembers bits and snatches of Bobby’s briefing as they had all piled into the truck, but just like always it’s the random pieces of trivia that get stuck in his mind. “Let me guess, Grand Canyon?”

“It’s very grand.” Shay coughs - wheezes, really, because she can’t get enough breath in to do anything more. Buck is pretty sure her ribs are busted, among other things, but as long as the beam is pinning her to the seat it’s impossible to confirm.

“What’s next?” Buck asks, sending a panicked glance toward Eddie when her eyes drift closed again. He can hear someone climbing up below them, hopefully bringing the requested equipment, and sends up a prayer to a God he long ago stopped believing in that it’s soon enough to save her. “What’s next, Shay? Marry a beautiful woman? We’ve got plenty of those in LA.”

Shay shakes her head without opening her eyes. And fuck, her lips are turning blue. “Hollywood Walk of Fame. Surfing in California. Then Mexico.”

“Hey.” The seat Buck is braced against shudders as Bobby uses it to haul himself up the last few feet. “Take this, Buck. Eddie, what’s going on?”

“Think she might have a collapsed lung from the blunt force,” Eddie replies as Buck releases Shay and scrambles to get the jaws in position. “I can relieve the pressure, but we gotta move the beam off her.”

Buck growls in frustration as the jaws shudder and fail to make any progress toward that goal. “Still too heavy, Cap. It’s not gonna budge.”

“Alright. Let’s try the hydraulic ram.”

Buck braces his feet against the seats and grunts as he takes the heavy piece of equipment from Bobby and jams it into the space between the upturned floor and the beam. He determinedly doesn’t pay attention to the way Shay’s head has sagged forward against the seat again, or how Eddie is frowning at the O2 sensor he just slipped onto her finger, his mutter of, “Oxygen levels are dropping. Definitely a collapsed lung.” All he can do is move the damn beam.

With the horrible sound of warping metal, the thing finally starts to move. Shay takes a deeper breath as the pressure holding her against the seat begins to relax - and then the screaming starts. Buck stops the ram before Bobby’s shouts even register, watches Eddie and Bobbie drop down a few seats, and has maybe the most selfish thought he’s ever had in his life. He wishes there was no one else alive up here, because every second they spend treating someone else is a second they aren’t rescuing Shay.

Buck closes his eyes, tries to breathe through the panic as Eddie announces the girl’s broken leg, the fact that it’s still receiving blood flow, over the horrible wet background noise of Shay’s breaths becoming more labored. It takes all of his willpower to put his back to Shay and move down to meet them halfway between the victims, and when he speaks his voice comes out hoarse and breathless. “What’s going on?”

“They’re both trapped by the same beam,” Bobby announces, and Buck’s heart drops into his stomach. “We take the pressure off one and we’re squeezing the other. Which one has the better shot?”

Eddie glances up at Buck once before shaking his head. “Injuries are different, the risk is the same.”

“Wait, what are we saying?” Breathe, Buck reminds himself. Nothing is decided yet. Shay is still getting out of here, she has to get out of here alive. “We gotta pick who to save?”

Bobby looks at him pityingly and Buck is pretty sure his heart stops beating for a second. “I’m saying I don’t think we can save ‘em both.”

“Fuck.” Buck slams his fist against the nearest seat.

“Look,” Bobby says, holding one hand up placatingly while balancing himself with the other. “We’re gonna give them both some pain meds and try to figure this out, okay? We’re not giving up yet. But we have to be prepared.”

Buck nods mutely while Eddie reaches for his bag, climbs back up to Shay so that Eddie can get past with a handful of medical supplies. He takes one of her hands and watches as Eddie pulls his gloves off and then takes the other, looking for a vein in the light of his helmet lamp and making a small triumphant noise when he finds one. “You’re gonna feel a little pinch.”

Shay lets out a shaky exhale that might be a weak attempt at laughter. “Not my biggest concern right now, buddy.”

“I know,” Eddie replies. He gets the needle in on the first try and pushes the painkillers only moments later. “Alright, Shay. This is for the pain. It should hit you pretty soon.”

“I sure as hell hope so.” If she’s got energy to be snarky Buck has to believe she’s got the energy to hang on a little while longer, even if she can’t really lift her head anymore.

“Keep her talking,” Eddie commands as he passes Buck on his way back down to the other woman. Buck determinedly doesn’t listen to Eddie’s low conversation with Bobby and the victim, doesn’t want to know what her chances are because if they’re good it means Shay’s aren’t.

“It’s her...or me, isn’t it?” Shay wheezes, managing to roll her head to the side and watch Buck’s face. Her eyes are dull and tired beneath a tangle of bloody blonde hair, almost resigned.

“No,” Buck says, with more confidence than he feels. She just smiles sadly as he reaches up to brush the hair out of her face - she’s always been able to see right through him. “No, that’s not what we do. Tell me about your trip.”

“God, I missed you, kid,” she says instead, too quiet for anyone else to hear. “Every day. He does too, you know?”

“I know,” Buck replies, even though he doesn’t. If Kelly had really missed him all these years it would have been easy enough to fly out to LA and tell him that, or even just call him - everyone at 51 knew where he was the whole damn time. Hell, Kelly even knew what house he’s with. He’s spared from having to listen to Shay insist by Bobby’s grunt. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, I’m calling it,” Bobby says as soon as Buck has joined their little huddle. “We start with this girl, we get her out.”

“Copy that,” Eddie says, like it’s any other order on any other day, while Buck’s world collapses beneath him.

“No!” He feels sick. He feels dizzy. Andy died four years ago this week and Shay is being crushed by a beam right in front of his eyes and… “No, it’s gonna crush Shay’s other lung. She’ll die.”

“I am aware of that. The protocol dictates that we save whoever has the better chance, and Eddie’s saying that’s the girl.”

“No.” Buck can’t wrap his brain around the concept of a world without Leslie Shay in it. He hasn’t seen her in over three damn years, but she’s always been there on the other end of the phone - sending him pictures of Kelly and the stupid cat he still pretends to hate, updating him on the latest gossip from 51, asking when he’s going to come home. What the hell is he going to do without someone to remind him that he’s always got a home to go back to, no matter how bad things might get in LA?

“Her vitals are stronger, Shay’s starting to decompensate. If we have to choose--”

“We do,” Bobby interjects. “We can’t move that steel beam.”

Buck has his mouth open to argue when the whole train car shudders and tilts. He grabs onto the nearest seatback and risks a glance over his shoulder at Shay, at the way her shoulders are shuddering with every inhale, at the blood on her lips, at the knowing look in her eyes. “Okay,” he says, “okay, you’re right. We can’t move the beam. But the skin on this thing, the skin is stainless. That’s much thinner. I could go outside, I could cut a piece out, pull the girl through, and that will buy us enough time to save Shay.”

“No.” Bobby’s frustration is clear - he thinks Buck is wasting time. And maybe he is, but he’s trying to buy enough of it to keep Shay alive. “This car hasn’t been secured, that’s why we’re working on the inside. If this thing topples, we can ride it down. But if you’re on the outside…”

Buck cuts him off. “Yeah, I know. I will be crushed by 100 tons of train car, and I know that is a lot heavier than a fire truck.” He says it matter of factly, like the thought of being crushed between another piece of metal and the cold, hard ground isn’t making his stomach twist up in knots. Like he doesn’t still wake up screaming and clutching at his bad leg at least two nights a week. Because right now, none of that matters. Only Shay does. “But Bobby…”

“Buck, stop,” Eddie says. Endlessly reasonable Eddie. “I know you made a promise.”

“What promise?”

“To Shay’s boyfriend,” Eddie clarifies, and Buck doesn’t bother to correct him. He’s got bigger problems at the moment than whether Kelly and Shay are still getting mistaken for a couple after all these years.

“I promised I would bring her back to him,” Buck says instead.

“What?” Bobby’s expression is caught somewhere between horror and anger.

“To Kelly,” Eddie says, and his expression is just disgusted. “Her boyfriend is Kelly.”

Shock flickers across Bobby’s face, then resignation. “Okay.”

“No, look,” Buck reaches out one hand desperately, trying to keep Bobby from turning away. From killing Shay. “She’s one of us. She’s a paramedic in Chicago, okay? She saves lives every day. We can’t just let her die.”

“Stop,” Bobby says, finally raising his voice. “You are too close to this. This is too risky.”

“Well, I am willing to take the risk.” Willing to trade his life for his, if that’s what it takes.

This time Bobby snaps. “It’s not yours to take. You can’t just rush into any dangerous situation and assume it’s gonna be okay. ‘Cause sometimes it’s not, and I am tired of being on the wrong side of those hospital visits.”

And Buck is - he’s just sick of it. He’s not a child running headlong into danger because he doesn’t understand the consequences. He’s been a firefighter for nine fucking years, he’s watched friends and strangers die right in front of his eyes. Nearly died himself more than once. There’s no way he would rather go out than saving someone - anyone, but especially a friend.

“Bobby,” he grits out. “I am not Athena. And I am not your son.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Enough!” Eddie shouts over the both of them. “We don’t have time for this. Buck, come on.”

“No.” Buck doesn’t look away from Bobby. Wills him to understand that he has to do this. “Nobody has to die, okay? I can save them both. So stop wasting time and let me do it.”

Bobby switches to a different tactic, visibly pushing his frustration down and reaching for the expression of a disappointed but hopeful father. “Buck, you don’t owe this to Kelly, alright? You don’t owe him your life.”

“This isn’t about Kelly!” Buck can feel his voice raising, hear the other girl crying and the way Shay has started whimpering with every exhale. “This is about Shay. I would dig her out of here with my bare fucking hands whether Kelly is here or not. And I am not going to let her die because you’re more worried about risking harm to me than guaranteeing her death. I’m going out there whether you like it or not - so either help me, or get the hell out of my way.”

Buck turns and scrambles back up the seats to Shay and his gear. He has a harness, rope, a saw. He can do this on his own if he has to, though it would be easier with Eddie’s help. Eddie who is busy having a furiously whispered conversation with Bobby that he doesn’t care to listen in on. If he has to listen to them weighing the value of his life against Shay’s he’s going to start screaming and he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop.

“Buck,” Shay whispers, watching as he ties the rope onto his harness and starts searching for an anchor point near the window he intends to go out of. “I can still hear, you know. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Buck replies. A thrill of triumph runs through him as Bobby shouts up that he’s going down to see if they can stabilize the car and orders Eddie to ‘help Buck, before he gets himself killed.’ “I know, but I want to. No place I’d rather be than between you and certain death.”

“Kelly will forgive you.”

“It’s not about Kelly!” Buck snaps at her, wincing when she flinches away from the noise. He feels Eddie at his shoulder, passes off the rope to him and starts working on busting open a window instead. “I am not going to watch any more friends die, Shay. Not this week, not ever if there’s anything I can do about it. Don’t ask me to do that. And don’t ask me to walk out of here without a scratch and tell Kelly the love of his life is dead either, okay?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Shay sighs, quieter with every word. Buck can barely hear her over the sound of the window shattering. They’re running out of time. “That’s always been you.”

It’s not true, Buck knows. It’s always been Kelly-and-Shay, it always will be Kelly-and-Shay, and he was never jealous of that. They love each other, are meant to grow old and gray and die together. They loved him too, once, and maybe they still do, but it’s not the same.

“Just shut up and let me save you,” he says, as Eddie finishes rigging up the rope and pulley.

He makes the mistake of looking back at her one more time and sees tears cutting tracks in the blood and grime on her face. “If I don’t make it out of this--”

“Don’t.”

“If I don’t make it out of this, Evan, just...tell Kelly I love him, okay?”

“You’re going to make it out of this.”

“I love you too, kid. Never stopped.”

Buck exchanges a tense glance with Eddie and hauls himself and the saw out the window without another word.

------

“That’s Buckley, isn’t it?” Kelly demands of the man wearing Captain’s gear and barking orders into a radio. He had come out of the upended train car looking tense and pissed off, and isn’t any happier when he rounds on Kelly. “What the hell is he doing?”

“Kelly, right?” Captain Nash asks, and he looks a little like he’d rather be punching Kelly than talking to him. “Your girlfriend is alive. And she’s going to stay that way, even if it kills Buck.”

Kelly doesn’t bother to correct him, or to respond to the barely veiled accusation in his words. He only has eyes for Buck and the shuddering, creaking train car he’s descending on a rope, putting his life at risk to save someone else’s. Just like Kelly has watched him do dozens of times before. Except it’s nothing like before, because he can’t stop thinking, I sent him in there. I sent him in there and now he might die. But it was for Shay, and it’s - it’s an impossible choice, Buck or Shay, the woman who’s never left his side or the love he chased away because he couldn’t see past his own grief.

He would trade places with either of them in a heartbeat.

“Come on, Evan,” Kelly murmurs. “Come on. You’ve got this.”

Second half coming later this week.

#chicago fire fanfiction #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 on fox #evan buckley #kelly severide #leslie shay #eddie diaz #buck x kelly severide #my fic #3x18 rewrite

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Soulmarks, Part 18

First part

~~~

Tim hugged himself. He was, in a word, shaken.

In many words, though, he was absolutely terrified of what Inamovibi-Lady had become. From dropping him and Bruce off a building to murdering Harley and Joker in gruesome ways, she was extremely amoral in how she achieved her goals. Sure, he’d known that akumas have their own moral code, but it had never really sunk in until he’d been faced with it.

And the akuma had told him that Marinette was inside there, and that she wasn’t particularly against anything she was doing.

But how true was that?

It appeared that she was just now starting to process what she’d done. She was shaking a little bit, her eyes wide. He hesitated and detransformed momentarily to get his jacket and then draped it over her shoulders. It wasn’t a shock blanket, but it would have to do.

She looked at him for a second and seemed to smile a little more (it was hard to tell) before looking down at her yoyo.

He went back to standing a careful distance away, his eyes wandering to his family. Everyone seemed a mix of sickened and frightened by what had happened.

Adrien was full on crying, curled up on the floor with his head in his knees. Fair enough, this really wasn’t his night. He’d found out his father was the supervillain he’d been fighting for years, had his best friend akumatized, had difficulty communicating with everyone, and now an akuma that he’d helped create had brutally murdered two people. A breakdown was pretty much inevitable.

Dick sat down next to him and pulled him into his side. Adrien didn’t seem to know what to do with the affection for a second before burying his face in his shoulder.

“Master Fu’s house, please,” said the akuma, bringing his attention back to her.

He hesitated slightly.

He was definitely going to be alone for this one. Even if he could break the moral barrier keeping him from taking a crying Adrien along to fight her, he doubted that he would be of much help.

But it wasn’t like he was really getting any choice in this. Her next target after the ‘Master Fu’ person was definitely going to be Hawkmoth and, though he could admit that she was stronger than normal, they definitely weren’t prepared to fight him. He had to beat her.

How, though? Sure, he at least knew that she wasn’t trying to hurt him (he’d just found out what would have happened to him if she had actually wanted him dead), but that didn’t mean much when she went to drastic measures to ensure that things went her way. He didn’t know how lenient she would be with him if she actually thought him a threat, because she obviously didn’t --.

He felt a hand rest on his arm and pulled himself from his thoughts to send Inamovibi-Lady a smile.

“Sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest. He tried not to think about the bloody handprint now on his arm as he glanced at his family. Still no help. Great. How dare they be in shock?

He gave Inamovibi-Lady an awkward smile and opened a portal underneath them.

When they dropped into the tiny shop it took everything in Tim not to slam his head against a wall. Master Fu was just sitting at the table, drinking tea and eating sandwiches. He’d had a five hour warning, why the fuck hadn’t he even tried to run?

She twirled her yoyo, her black eyes narrowed to slits.

“Hello, Marinette.”

“Inamovibi-Lady,” she corrected. Her head tipped to the side. “You’re not going to run away?”

“If you’d like to air your grievances, I would love to hear them.”

The akuma, if possible, looked even more suspicious. “Really?”

Master Fu shrugged and gave a tiny wave of his hand before leaning back. “Mhmm. Go on.”

“I…” Inamovibi-Lady began, then stopped. There was a few times where she opened and closed her mouth, unsure what to do in this type of situation, and then she shrugged and brought her microphone to her hand. “Right, um… citizens of Paris! I’m back, and I’m here to do hearing number five! Well, four for you guys, but five total! With us today is Wang Fu!”

The old man caught Tim’s gaze and then flicked his eyes to the side quickly. Was Tim sure it had meant something? Yes. Did he have any clue what this guy was trying to say? No.

“Now, what he did was particularly messed up. Imagine, you’re a kid on their way to school, and you see this old man about to get run over. You help them. And, because of this, this random guy decides to give you the responsibility of making sure the entire city of Paris never falls to a superterrorist!”

“You must understand --.”

“Shut up. I’m not done.”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and took a few short steps back so he could hopefully stay out of this conversation.

He also took the chance to detransform out of Inamovibi-Lady’s view. He didn’t know if Hawkmoth could hear and see everything that the akuma could, but he wasn’t going to test it. Kaalki floated over to Master Fu and stole the bread off of his sandwiches before settling herself on Tim’s shoulder to eat.

“Let’s skip over the fact that you asked two thirteen-year-olds to protect an entire city for now, because let’s talk about the fact that I didn’t have a choice!”

“You could have refused at any point.”

“Like hell I could! The city was under attack and it was obvious no normal person could do it, and then after that I was too popular to just disappear! At least the Americans recruiting kids ask them if they want to do it before they set them up as vigilantes!”

Tim transformed again and crossed his arms over his chest as he considered what to do.

He kind of wanted to let her attack the old man -- he knew first hand exactly how stressful being a vigilante is, and the idea of being thrown into it without warning was enough to make him wince -- but, at the same time, letting her do that would be kind of messed up of him.

Also, he had no plan at all, which was kind of a problem if he was going to be trying to stop her.

“So, now for your judgement.”

Shit!

“How about…” She tapped her finger on her chin as if in thought for a moment before smiling widely. “I take those miraculi off your hands. You’re clearly too old to make proper decisions about who to give them to, and I have someone better in mind.”

He needs a plan! And now!

Ah. There’s one. A bad one. But one nonetheless.

He launched himself at the akuma from behind and they both cursed as she stumbled and threw them off-balance.

But, instead of just falling to the ground for a wrestling match, her back hit something invisible and they screamed in a mix of panic and confusion as the illusion broke to reveal that they were in the turtle miraculous’s shield. They had bigger problems, though, as they rolled through the room.

They came to a stop when they hit the wall, which was unfortunate considering they were at the top. They fell the few feet to the bottom of the hamster ball and groaned.

Tim peeled his face out of her stomach and slowly pushed himself up and looked around.

Master Fu was wearing both the turtle and fox miraculi.

Well, now he knew what he’d been trying to tell him earlier: to move so he wouldn’t be caught in the hamster ball, too. Wow. Wish there was a hand motion for that or something, because Tim was not eager to be back inside, and especially not with a particularly angry akuma.

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, she was taking this remarkably well (for an akuma). Inamovibi-Lady laid back in the hamster ball and started doing tricks with her yoyo.

“You can’t keep this up forever, Fu. You have to sleep. I don’t.”

Oh. That made sense. Unfortunately.

“Besides, since Hawkmoth knows you have miraculi here, I’m expecting him to come by at some point. Gonna protect yourself and the miraculous box or keep me in here?”

Can she please stop making sense? Just for a few minutes?

He sighed and covered his ears. He needed to concentrate. He needed a plan. He had quite a bit of time, he assumed, but the faster he fixed this the faster everything could work out.

Well, not work out, they were long past that point, but at least it would be over.

His eyes found their way to her yoyo. Of course they did, it was moving around wildly, and the human eye is attracted to movement. But…

Tim shrugged to himself. A terrible plan came to him, it was really too bad they were desperate. He grabbed the akuma’s arm and opened a portal underneath them.

And they were falling.

Inamovibi-Lady screamed obscenities as they plummeted towards earth, the Eiffel Tower whizzing past them at lightning speed. He pulled her actual yoyo from his belt just in case he was wrong in how he thought this would play out...

She pulled him to her side and he breathed a sigh of relief as she threw her yoyo. She hooked it around a beam and their fall came to a jerking stop that he was not ready for. He swore he left his stomach about ten meters up.

But no time to think about that! He wrapped his arms around her as well.

“That went to plan,” he said.

“Really? Your plan was to almost die, then?” He couldn’t tell for sure, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. “You’re literally so stupid. You and Chat should have a stupid-off.”

He grinned.

She looked around for a safe place for them to land. “You might need to climb the string to get up. How good are you at that?”

He gave a tiny shrug and made a move to push himself up, only to pull the earring from her ear.

Relief flooded through him as purple and black engulfed her and her weapon. Done. Finally.

He only came to realize his mistake the moment her yoyo started to disappear.

And they were falling again.

And she was barely conscious.

And he had no idea how yoyos worked as weapons or grappling hooks are you kidding me?

He looked at the one in his free hand and shrugged mentally. He either doesn’t try and they both end up dead, tries and fails and they both end up dead, or tries and actually succeeds. He hooked his arm and legs around her as tightly as he could and prayed that it was even slightly like his grappling hook as he threw it.

They swung to safety. Kind of. He caught them pretty close to the ground, and the yoyo didn’t really hook around the beam all that well, so it mostly just slowed their fall, but outside of a few bruises they’d probably be fine when they took off their suits.

He groaned quietly and crushed the earring in his hand and caught the akuma.

And then he let himself lay down beside a confused and groggy Marinette.

Tim watched the sun start to rise and sighed, bringing an arm up to cover his eyes.

It had been a long night, but it was over now.

~~~

Next part

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna @fusser90 @indecisive-mess-named-me @rosesgonerogue @celestialsiren @bluesimani @loysydark @trippingovermyfeet @goblinwhoships

#timinette #timari #soulmarks #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #maribat #adribat

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huearmy · 3 years

Text

Life is Beautiful - III

Summary: You are a glass half full person, your life motto is “Life is too short to… Insert something and anything here”. During your whole life you wanted something more, and even not knowing what it is, you put yourself to find out and get it, experiencing everything brilliant that the world offers - within the measure of what is safe, of course. The curious thing is that your way of living ended up rousing the interest of two vampires. One who sees beauty in everything and loves to exist, currently working with suicide prevention; and another one who no longer sees grace in things, in that boring immortality that never ends, and only complains about the Netflix catalog all the time.

Pairing: Jimin x reader / Taehyung x reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, mature (not really a smut i guess?)…

Words: 8k+.

Rating: +18

Warnings: As much as my writing is soft and light, and as these are not the main topic of the story, treated in a non-descriptive way, there are sensitive themes from the beginning of the first chapter to the end of the fic that can trigger sensitive people, like depression, suicide, addictions in general - Jimin literally works at a suicide prevention center here. SO PLEASE! Read responsibly, my intention when dealing with topics like this is always 1) dealing with them in myself, as a way of putting out part of my own healing process 2) generating identification in other people, so they can go through the difficult time a little less alone. THIS IS A STORY THAT SEES THE WORLD WITH POSITIVITY.

Chapter I Chapter II -

As soon as Jimin left for his date with you, giving one last thanks kiss on Taehyung's cheek, the house suddenly became darker and too huge, all the colors and brightness going away with Jimin's presence.

Even after a few minutes Taehyung was still on his spot in the middle of the living room, where he wished his best friend luck. What should he do now? How should he spend his empty time? He looked around, bored eyes not fixing on anything in particular. He slowly walked to the kitchen, just because it was the first door in front of him, and without thinking at all, opened the fridge. Since it was the refrigerator of two vampires, obviously there was only one thing inside, a few bags of blood labeled by type, and nothing more but empty space. It had been a few days since the last time Tae had eaten, and it was nowhere near as much as he was used to consuming, or as much as Jimin wanted him to take. He could feel his stomach empty, but he had no desire to take even a drop, almost feeling sick at the idea. He closed the fridge.

He sighed. A whine caught his attention to the floor, a tiny, cute, confused Yeontan looking up at him.

"You would never leave me, right?" Tae asked with a pout. The puppy just whined again. Tae picked him up, right in front of his face. "I need to find a way to turn you into an immortal creature."

With the little dog firm in his arms he got back to his room, seeing no other option on what to do than play video games till Jimin's return. His colorful neon set up welcoming waiting for him. Games are just uninteresting as series and movies, but at least playing online, with unknown, and often hostile, people, he feels a little less lonely. He has kind of some friends or so called, he doesn't really know any of them, never have met them in real life - he doesn't even want to - but it's been a while since they occupied an important part of Tae's existence, just for being his company.

He played with the loud people till around four in the morning, keeping himself silent in the call for most of the time, just hearing them teasing themselves and picking silly fights over nothing from time to time, talking only when someone talked directly at him. Then the mortals one by one go to bed, and he goes all alone again. Even Yeontan is soundly sleeping.

What should he do now? And why didn't Jimin come home yet? It had been more than ten hours since he left... He got into the bad habit of getting home in the morning, betting on running in the sun, almost killing Tae with worry. Maybe he had so much fun that he lost track of time, maybe there's another cat to find... But what if something bad happened? Should dates take so long to end? Should Tae call? He never calls, today shouldn't be any different... Maybe he would get in the way of something fun or important, the last thing he wants is to bother Jimin...

At the end Taehyung was standing by the front window, hiding behind the curtains, not moving a muscle, waiting, as usual. The street was empty, no light coming from the other big beautiful houses's windows, no cars or pedestrians to observe, yet that was what he was doing. The dark sky started to light up, his eyes adapting to it, the sun showing up painfully slowly. A movement caught Tae's attention, his side neighbor taking the trash out, like he always do on tuesday and thursday, and in the other days the old man still wake up pretty early and sit at his porch to watch the sun rise, drinking coffee, with his old cat on his lap. Taehyung saw him in this routine with three different old cats at different times. The old man practically dragged the black bag of garbage and himself down the sidewalk to the dump, with short and slow steps he went. As always. Maybe there was something wrong before and Tae didn't notice, maybe it was because of the wet grass and mud formed by the storm the night before that they still didn't dry, but the old man fell a few feet from the curb, and for some reason he wasn't trying to get up.Like, he was moving in some way, but wasn't getting up.

Taehyung waited, not blinking an eye as he stared at the man struggling on the ground, immeasurable torturing seconds. Then the man stopped moving at all. And something kicked inside Tae. He didn't even think, he couldn't. He was unable to stop and reason about it, or control his own body... To look out the window and notice that the sun had risen enough to illuminate the front door that he was now opening at full speed. When the sunlight touched his skin, it burned like hell, forming instant painful blisters, but he didn't hesitate and just ran outside. Straight to the old man, catching him without stopping and then crashing their both bodies on the porch.

"Hey, are you ok?" Tae choked, feeling his lungs burning. "Sir!"

The man didn't respond, instead he was emitting weird choking sounds, heart not beating the right way. Even before his self isolation, Tae didn't have too many experiences with mortals than casually knowing them and drinking from them, he knows they are fragile, but he doesn't study or get interested like Jimin, he didn't know what was happening. Was this man having a heart attack? A stroke? What should he do? He doesn't know the symptoms of their diseases... Jimin would know... But now Taehyung was all alone and half of his mind was focused on his aching skin that seemed to be melting into the sun itself. With his trembling hand Tae reached to his phone in his hoodie's pocket, already dialing.

"What is your emergency?" A voice came from the other side.

"H-hello... Good morning... I..." He stammered. "My neighbor passed out in... infront of his house. He is not ok. He is old."

"Noted. Please calm down. Can you tell me your address so I can send an ambulance?"

"Sure..." Tae recited the address he only uses to purchase things on the internet. "It's a big white house, with a big porch."

"An ambulance is already on it's way."

"Thanks..."

Taehyung tried to sigh in relieve, but now he couldn't stop thinking about his own bad situation. The porch was providing shadow for him to hide, but for how much time? And when the paramedics would come and see him like that, what would they do? He didn't have the strength to run back home, the morning sun is not so strong, but exposing himself to it's light twice is suicide. And he couldn't enter the neighbor's house, there was no one to ask permission to. There wasn't no one to ask for help. He was going to die alone. When Jimin arrived from his date all he would be able to find would be Taehyung's ashes... Nothing more...

"Jiminie..." Tae was crying now, dialing the only number registered in his contact list.

Just one second - literally - later his friend's voice greeted him.

"Yes?" Jimin's voice came like a whisper, a happy, satisfied smile audible in it.

"Jimin? Are you coming home?" Tae tried to sound calm, so he wouldn't ruin everything with Jimin date experience and all, but his voice betrayed him, showing nothing but the fear he was feeling. He just didn't want to bother.

"Tae, what's wrong?" Jimin mirrored his feelings now. Tae breathed once, the air burning inside, and then practically vomited the words of nervousness. "I'm outside, on our neighbour's porch. I can't go back inside... The sun will reach me, Jimin. I don't know what to do." He was panicking, the world around him was spinning, getting him overwhelmed.

"Keep on where there are shadows no matter what. I'll be there soon. Don't cry ok?" Saying to him not to cry had the exact opposite effect. Once again, vampire's tear ducts are basically dry - especially after almost being charred, their bodies retain all possible liquid - but the other symptoms of crying happen, and it can be quite dramatic from the outside, as if they were faking it. But the sobs and the lump in Taehyung's throat were very real.

"Jimin?" He called,he could hear Jimin and another voice on the other end of the phone, but he wasn't paying attention, he couldn't, instead his eyes fixed on the line of the sun on the wall, approaching him and the faint neighbor. "Don't leave me alone..."

"Just go, your friend needs you." Tae looked around, searching for a place to hide, finding nothing but the old man's rocking chair, it wouldn't do much to cover him from the sun, but was his only option. He crawled across the floor to the chair, knocking it over with a loud sound of wood hitting wood, and laid curled up like a ball behind it.

"Jiminie?" Tae voice sounded petrified, he really was. After decades not stepping out the house, the very first time was at minimum trumatic. "Yeah? I'm here."

"Can we stay on the call till you get here?"

Taehyung was terrified. They both were. If he was going to die he didn't want to be alone. He was feeling so pathetic.

"Of course, my soulmate." Jimin said, as soft as he could. "I'll be there in no time tho, so it'll be a short call. Don't worry."

"Please, drive safe." Tae whispered.

Jimin laughed, not a really fun laugh.

"I always drive safe, Taehyung, safety first."

"Liar." Tae pouted.

"Well, how can I save you if I don't pierce some red lights on this beautiful not so busy morning?" Jimin questioned, trying to bring some humor to the conversation.

Taehyung sighed, feeling the heat of the sunlight approaching him.

"You won't be able to save me if you get in a crash... How much time?"

"One minute." Jimin was tense.

"Ok."

Coming from the end of the street, around the corner, the ambulance with the siren on approached and stopped in front of the house. Two people in paramedic uniforms ran towards the porch with their equipment, heading straight for the old man lying by the door. Tae hugged his legs against his chest to get smaller, hoping they wouldn't' see him hiding behind the chair and just do their saving people thing. "Oh my god! There's another person here!" The paramedic woman said in horror, probably shocked by Taehyung's very burned skin. "Sir are you ok? Can you hear me?"

Tae whined. What if they try to put him in the light?

Before the woman could even get close to him, another high-speed car came from the end of the street, screeching, and instead of stopping beside the curb, like the ambulance, the sports car driver climbed onto the sidewalk parking on the neighbor's grass. Jimin came out of the car covered by a big black umbrella, stride and the jaw tight. "Ignore our presence and continue your work helping the old man. You won't remember us as soon as we leave." Jimin ordered, his eyes shining colorful shades as the paramedics got hypnotized and obeyed him.

Half a second later he was beside Taehyung, replacing the chair, covering his friend with a long black coat.

"Taehyung... I'm here."

"Jiminie... You came."

"Of course." He helped Tae to sit up. "Can you get up?"

Tae nodded and with Jimin's help he got on his feet. In silence they both walked below the umbrella to the car, and then Jimin drove back to their underground garage a few meters ahead. If time seemed to run desperately fast before, now it has stopped completely, leaving everything in slow motion and numb. As the large door behind them slowly closed they were swallowed by the darkness of the garage, their silhouettes static and tense, the only sound being soft aching whines. Gradually Taehyung's senses returned, he became aware of his surroundings, the other cars parked in a row, the light from the corridor coming through the door's frosted glass, the scratching of Yeontan on the other side waiting for them, the smell of a mortal someone who he did not know impregnating the whole car they were in... especially in the passenger seat he was in. He hadn't died in ashes, burned by the sun in a minute or less, and he didn't know what to feel about it, whether it was relief or awe.

After a long time Jimin sighed and left the car, one second later he was beside the other to help him. None o f them talked anything as both of them got up to the second floor, or while the bathtub filled with water and music was placed in the background to fill the silence.

"Take care as you wash that, and drink..." Jimin whispered, seating beside the tube as Tae got in, holding out a pack of blood to his friend.

Tea hissed as the water touched this burned skin, aches staying on its surface.

"Thanks." He took the pack, his voice little. Another long silence. "Aren't you going to ask what I was doing outside?"

"It hasn't even crossed my mind yet, to be honest. I was too worried about you..." Jimin pouted, resting his head at the side of the bath, facing the ceiling. "Thinking about it tho, is pretty obvious... Just be careful next time you help someone, please."

"I'm not good at it like you." Tae took a sip slowly, he was waiting to be scolded by Jimin, for some reason. "Sorry to make you come earlier, this way... I didn't mean to screw your date..."

It made Jimin smile. "You are the most important and constant thing in my life Taehyungie." He took a deep, full of emotions, breath. "And you didn't screw anything, Y/N was super understanding even if she was just half awake, and I can just talk to her later and make things out. She knows you are everything to me."

Tae just humed.

"How does she know I'm everything to you?"

"I told her. Silly"

"Cool." Tae's lips formed a tin timid smile, that's a nice thing to hear after such a stressful experience after all. "Hum... Can you wash my back? I can't reach it..."

Jimin knelt beside the tube and took a wet towel, taking all care to not put too much strength on his hands as he rubs Tae's injured skin. Almost like magic - almost - the water made the blisters to dismantle, releasing more ash on the surface, yet it would take a lot longer to heal properly. The better was just feeding and sleeping now, at least que floor was full of empty packs, perhaps as much as a healthy vampire should have taken in two months.Taehyung hissed when a specific one stung more when it burst.

"I feel like hibernating." He yawned.

"You should. Take all the rest you need." Jimin agreed, reaching for the hand shower, to also wash Tae's hair.

Tae closed his eyes as the water ran down his face.

"Will you stay close... taking care of me?" He asked in a small voice.

"Of course. We are a clan, we take care of each other hibernating bodies." Jimin joked.

And Tae laughed. What a rare, beautiful sound.

"A clan of two." ________________________________________________________________

You were waking yourself up with strong coffee in the kitchen, in pajamas - not that you slept in them, right, but it was your usual home clothes -, considering if you should spend energie making pancakes or just go back to bed and procrastinate to do all the house chores and study, and just daydream about last night instead, soon it would be lunch anyways... Your roommate, on the contrary, was in full swing, walking around with the vacuum. All her energy was draining yours, all you wanted to do was lie down and stare out the window with silly smiles gracing your face.

You drank all of your coffee at once before opening the latest rental listings you favored - all in the same region you already live in, or reasonably close to college. None of them make your heart warm as your current home, but you can't do anything about it, you need an apartment you can rent.

"Baby Y/N, There's a package for you down stairs." Lydia entered the kitchen.

"For me? I didn't order anything." You crooked your head in confusion.

She disappeared for a second on the corridor, then got back.

"I'm pretty sure it is for you... I'll get it for you." She smiled.

"Thank you, Lydia." You waved at her, calling her by the name she chose to herself inspired by the Beetlejuice movie.

Not wanting to be a vegetable all day, you got on your feet to wash your mug and then start your day properly. You have laundry to do, tons of assignments to catch up, and a new home to find. Maybe you should search for tiny student studios, you could live in just a claustrophobic room and bathroom for sure...

"The delivery guy was super cute. He told me it's a surprise someone sent you, that's why you didn't know about it."

"What the heck..." You laughed, feeling your heart skipping a bit.

Lydia placed a brown paper bag on the counter, clipped to the top of the package was a handwritten note in a letter you don't know, probably from someone at the establishment who sent it. You picked it, and as you started to read, a smile grew on your lips.

I'm still sorry we didn't have breakfast together, to make up for it I sent this little treat, I hope you like it, Sweetheart. - Jimin.

"No way, that's so sweet." Your roommate commented over your shoulder, where she read the note too, taking advantage of being much taller than you. You opened the package to find a beautiful slice of cake, it looked delicious. Apparently Jimin found the ultimate path to your heart. The part of you that like to be spoiled was dancing in happiness.

"You didn't tell me how the date went yesterday, but it must have been good..." She took the restaurant brochure from the bottom of the bag. It was an expensive establishment. "We did a lot of fun things..." You said with a smile with double meaning. "I'll eat this in my room! Bye!"

Said that you took the cake and ran back to your room on your tiptoes.You put it on the desk and took a selfie smiling beside it.

You: Thanx! <3 <3 <3

You sent the selfie and waited, unpacking the plastic fork that came with it, ready to taste. The reply, however, came faster than you expected.

Jimin: Can I call you now?

Could your heart burst even more? Instead of replying you called him already.

"Hey, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?" Jimin's sweet voice said.

"Like a baby. Thanks for the cake."

"Did you like it?" He was expectant.

"I don't know yet..." You were trying to open the plastic packaging with one hand, and failing miserably. You couldn't hold a self pity laugh to escape. "Just a sec."

You put your phone down and opened the cake packaging and taking a bite, a delicious bite. Still chewing you got the phone back at your ear.

"I like it." You decreed with your mouth full.

"Good." Jimin's voice dropped an octave, and it took him a while to continue. A very low music played in the background of the call. "You're not mad, are you? Because I ran out this morning..."

To be honest you were a little bitter, yes, at first when you woke up in the empty bed you didn't remember talking with Jimin earlier, the memory came to your mind just when you were brushing your theet minutes later, but because of the reason presented, and because Jimin didn't show signs of being a guy just interested in having sex with you and then disappearing right away, you pushed the feeling aside and gave the benefit of the doubt. He gave you cake!

"Not at all, Jimin." You smiled, so he could hear it in your tone. "How is your friend? What happened?"

"He got burnt... While trying to cook. Boiled oil." Jimin faltered. "He will be ok in two weeks."

You got a seat on your bed.

"Oh. It was bad then." You never had worse burns than sunburn for not using sunscreen, the kind that peel off for days afterwards, so you couldn't even imagine. "Tell him I wish him to get well soon."

"I'll tell him. He is a baby when he's not well. I already took two week out of work so I can take care of him properly."

"Two weeks?" You tried not to pout. You wouldn't see him at work for two weeks, if you would see him at all.

"Or until he tells me he needs me." Jimin didn't notice your swing of humor. "So I was wondering, since I won't be seeing you at work... What do you think about me picking you up at the end of your shift to take you home? So we see each other as usual and you get home safely, and faster too."

You were not expecting this. "Jimin, you don't need to... No need for you to wake up late at night because of me..."

"I've traded the day for the night for centuries now, sweetheart." He laughed "I won't be sleeping at this time, it won't cost me anything to pick you up. On the other hand, I'll be able to see you."

If before you were a little bitter, now you were just sweet.

"We can also hang out another time... If you're free." You suggested. "Is that proposal to meet your dog still standing?"

"Of course, sweetheart. We can appoint that."

"Nice..." You look around, searching for something to keep the conversation up. You were not fast enough..

"I'll turn off. Ok?" Jimin said.

"Sure. I have tons of clothes to fold..." You let a self mockery laugh out. "Till soon."

"Bye bye."

He was gone. And you were alone with your expectations and a piece of cake. Still, your whole mind was full of Jimin to think of, so you fought your will to spend the day in bed after a long and hectic week, and a long and fun night, and got up to do your chores, putting on the headset and playing on the list of lively songs to tidy up the house. Is a super fun playlist you have, would it be nice to send it to Jimin? Maybe you should make a playlist for him... Yeah it would be nice. ________________________________________________________________

Jimin turned off the phone and looked at Taehyung's sleeping face. After the bath, he made his friend drink some more packs before putting him to bed, and only after he promised once again not to leave Taehyung alone, that he finally closed his eyes and let the deep sleep take him. Hibernation is to make the vampire stronger, so that they can heal from wounds or even emotional trauma, to rest fully as almost no other creature on earth can... But it is also the most vulnerable moment for them too, so great clans have great dungeons very well kept. Now, these two young vampires only have each other.

Tae's skin was full of round spots the color of recent burns, a pale pink, not pretty, even if the boy himself is the most beautiful creature. His eyebrows were still tense, as if he's still afraid. "I'll be here when you wake up, silly." Jimin massaged the center of his forehead lightly, trying to make him relax, and brushing his hair out of his face. "I have nowhere to go."

At the very beginning, Jimin was alone, since his first memory. All by himself he lived as a wanderer. Until that man came and offered to take care of him, turning him into an immortal, in return all Jimin needed to do was call him a master and be loyal. There were others besides him, a girl very much like the master, a concun lady, a tall woman with long hair, a man with a serious face. The master called everyone a family, each had his role, as a joke, Jimin was the eldest son... Still, he was still alone. He never bonded with any of them, even if he tried.

One day he just walked away, all by himself, as a wanderer. The world was beautiful to see, to know about, to experience, even if all alone he would be happy living like this. He traveled and visited places he didn't even know existed, even after becoming a vampire the world was too small for him at first. Then he started to expand this world. Decades after his emancipation he met Taehyung on a train. The boy was a newly transformed vampire, lost, not knowing what to do or where to go, scared with all things that happened to him without warning. Unlike Jimin, who was a planned transformation, Taehyung had been an accident by a very inexperienced and foolish vampire, who didn't even see that his prey was not dead when he ran away. He was dealing with everything alone.

Jimin offered to take care of him, in return Taehyung should be his friend. They were the cure for each other's loneliness, and nothing in the world is more important than that.

So, for hours, lying next to his sleeping friend, Jimin stayed, and stayed. He would move from there only when the bloodthirsty sink in - or when Yeontan needed food etc. Never getting too far from Tae's room. ________________________________________________________________

Two days went by till Jimin felt his throat dry and stomach hurting and got down to the kitchen. The fridge was empty, literally, all packs ended after the incident. "I need to get more..." Jimin muttered to himself. "Dog food and snacks are also running out... And I could buy some... I'll make a list."

He pulled out a stool and sat down at the kitchen island, and opened his notes. Messages of yours popped up on the screen. You: hey. I wanted to make a dad joke.

You: about being tired

You: cuz im tired af

You: but im toooooo tired to think

You: [image.jpg]

Jimin opened the image of you with a sleepy face hidden by your hair and the hood of your hoodie, while you turns over a can of energy drink in a coffee cup. It was a cute fun photo. Since your date you both have been texting each other nonstop, as soon as you are awake and until you go to bed, your fun photos and not so fun jokes making him feel less lonely or bored or sad or weird. Jimin: I don't think this mixture is very healthy.

You: probably. but i didnt sleep.

You: tday is my shif!!!

You: i need to stay up :(

You: [image.jpg]

A photo of you in dramatic despair.

Jimin: I'll pick you up. Ok?

He put the phone down and stretched. Jimin is used to interacting with people every day, and having Taehyung when he gets home, and the last few days without that was enough for him to feel the change and be uncomfortable with it. He is a very friendly individual who needs other's presence, anything he has to do at home is too boring when there's no one to appreciate it. He likes to dress up stylishly to just go out to walk, just to feel handsome and gorgeous. Now he was bored. Still the idea of going out, letting Taehyung alone and unprotected, even for five minutes, was eating him inside.

You: r u sure?

You: you don't need

You: i said dat already.

Jimin sighed.

Jimin: Yes. I'm sure.

Jimin: I want to see you.

And he needed to get blood too. All he wanted you to say was something to motivate him to get out of house, or else he would be in this deadlock, not knowing what to do.

You: i want to see you too

That will do. Jimin's smile got wider.

Jimin: Then there's no reason to not give you a ride today. See you later, sweetheart.

He left the conversation with you and went to another whose contact was without a name or photo to identify. Jimin: I'm going to pick up my orders today. Please get everything ready.

As usual no answer. Jimin got back at writing down his “grocery” list, consisting of things for dogs, personal hygiene and cleaning products. ________________________________________________________________

Jimin finished dressing and looked in the mirror, beautiful as usual, but not feeling as good as always. He checked all the windows and doors in the house, to make sure they were tightly closed, emphasizing those in Tae's room. He checked if there was water and food for the doggie, and replaced the pee mat with a new one. Everything was in order, but he still felt anxious when he kissed his sleeping friend's forehead before leaving the house. "I'll be back soon... I'll just pick us some food." He whispered, feeling bad for half lying to Taehyung, even if he was unconscious, and feeling weird about the idea of admitting he was leaving to also see you.

He left, letting the room's door open so Yeontan could enter freely, and went to the garage. He still hadn't taken the time to clean up the ashes from the burnt skin that was left in the seats of the car he was using, so he passed by it, choosing another one, a model not so sporty, but equally expensive.

The streets were silent and empty, as the clock showed it was three in the morning. The only real movement he saw was of bars and clubs, as he crossed the center of the city. One or another homeless man lying under a marquee, with his old blanket and cardboard protection. In other circumstances he would stop and interact. He tried to focus only on the music playing on his phone, his favorite among those on the playlist you sent him.

Jimin finally arrived at his destination, parking in a vacant spot in a practically empty parking lot, in front of a private hospital. He wore a shoulder bag from the back seat of the car, and bypassing the front door of the emergency area, he entered through an exclusive entrance for employees. No one would see him or notice his presence. Having done this hundreds of times and knowing the way by his hand, Jimin guided himself through corridors all the same and antiseptic until he reached a pair of doors with a "Blood Bank" sign on them. "Good night. I have an appointment." He politely said to the nurse at the front desk. "Is Seokjin here?"

"Good night. Yeah, is his shift today." She held out a key to him, sleepily looking up. She was a human, but she knew what he was and why he was there for.

"Thanks." He went through the corridor behind her, passed by the lab and the blood donation collection room, and called the elevator at the end. The only option to go was the underground. Six seconds and he was in a very clean room with a too white illumination. There was no one to be seen beside metallic cabinets and refrigerators, and also an empty metal table.

Jimin waited.

From a heavy metallic door came a man. A really handsome and gracious vampire in resident doctor uniform. As he saw Jimin an enormous charming smile spread on his face.

"Oh, you are early. I was finishing to separate your order." He sang.

"Hi, Jin. Anything special today?" Jimin put his bag on the table, and his hands on his pockets.

Jin clearly noticed his bad mood and tension.

"Not really, there's a lot of O+ and some A+. We haven't had many different donations this past week." Jin cruzou os braços. "But as usual I kept the ones with the most delicious smell for you, the very healthy ones. As you and Taehyung are picky eaters."

"That's why I only negotiate with you."

Jin smirked and left the room with the bag, back through the same door. He used to help young vampires, teaching them how to hunt properly, as the centuries passed he started his little business of blood selling, good origin, discreet and without victims. Despite working directly with customers at the local point, his scheme is huge, practically a monopoly.

Jimin looked at his fancy wristwatch, you would be out of your shift in a little bit more of half an hour, and he should stop by the grocery store in the way.

Jin came back with the bag obviously full now.

"Everything is sealed and refrigerated but put in the fridge as soon as possible." He said as always. "And send my kisses to Tae, he doesn't respond to my messages for days now. Sometimes I have time to play with him."

Jimin considered telling Jin about Tae's condition, but opted for not doing it. This issue was something for the two of them to deal, and only them.

"I'll tell him. He loves playing with you on call."

Jin noticed Jimin's hesitation.

"I know. Bye." He didn't comment anything about tho.

"Bye, Jin. ________________________________________________________________

You like your job, you really do. Is something you feel needed as you do it, powerfull, helpful. Is something you believe in. But now, after a whole day deprived of sleep, full of stress on college, not finding somewhere to live next month, and mostly, after the last call - a situation you want to forget - you are destroyed, Crying pathetically in the bathroom was the most coherent thing you could do. You just hoped the mental breakdown would come in a place other than the office bathroom, and preferably it would be at home, where you could cry yourself to sleep in your flower pajamas, hugging your stuffed dolphin.

You stopped to wash your face and tried to breathe calmly. It wasn't the end of the world, you can handle this. Your supervisor already released you a few minutes earlier - because you were no longer in a position to work - so all you had to do was gather your stuff and wait for Jimin to pick you up.

As usual, your heart accelerated just thinking about seeing him again, especially now that you are a thing, this feeling compared to anxiety and stress is just divine. You: i'll wait at the lobby.

You: was released earlier today

You threw some notebooks and pens into your backpack and locked your personal locker before checking your belongings again - be careful is never too much - and went down the hall to the stairs. Jimin: No need to wait. I'm already here.

You almost jumped the last stair steps to the ground floor, passed by the concierge's empty space behind the counter, and before running out, checked through the glassy door if you could see Jimin or his car. At first you didn't find him, and was about to text him again, but then he lowered the window glass and you can see him in another car, different from the other night. You gaped at him - you're a very impressionable countryside girl - and got into the passenger seat.

"Good night, handsome." You said, putting your heavy backpack on the floor between your feet.

"Good night, sweetheart." He lost no time and reached to peck you in the lips, slightly holding you chin with his fingertips. The butterflies in your stomach were crazy. He studied your face closely. "You look dejected, did something happen?"

His care made you smile.

"Stressful day, lot of little things. It got hard on me today, but just it." You shrugged, an amused tone in your tired voice.

"Want to talk about it?" He cupped your face with both hands. You did the same to him.

"Honestly I want to sleep." You giggled. "What about you? You don't look the best either."

He sighed. Your care made him happy too.

"Just feeling lonely and stressed too." He licked his lips, thinking what he could or could not say. "I don't like to be trapped at home. I need to take care of Tae, but he is... not well to make me company, so I'll be lonely till he is ok."

You looked confused but tried to understand, choosing not to ask any more questions. Jimin didn't quite explain what happened to his friend, but it seemed like something serious, and if he didn't want to give you details, you wouldn't insist. "That's sad. I hope he is ok soon." You timidly pecked him, hoping this would make him feel better.

It worked. With a grin Jimin pulled away and started the engine.

"There is something I can do?" You asked, still wanting just to be sweet to him.

Jimin made thinking pout, and you wanted to take a picture of it, not fast enough.

"Spending time with me would be awesome." He answered, making you hum. Your routine is so busy and hectic that having time to see your friends is always a miracle, because you either have work and college stuff or you just want to sleep. You started to count on your fingers what your next break is so you can hang out with him. He continued, however, already having his own idea. "Why don't you come to my place to sleep with me?"

Your chin dropped, but it wasn't what you first thought.

"You want to sleep and I want company. If we cuddle it will be the best combination of our necessities being solved." He proudly smiled.

A soft smile fell into your face as you melted. Life is too short to deny cuddles with the guy you like on what you’ll now call your second date.

"Sure."

"Wait, really?" He looked at you with round happy eyes.

"Yeah. Of course. Just borrow me a pijama or something."

To get out of the way of your place he turned the wheel abruptly to enter a return that he was going to miss one second later, crossing all the lanes of the empty avenue. For a second you got startled but then you were giggling at how excited he was at the idea of taking you home. Well, you were excited to take him home too, nothing more fair. As you moved away from the city center, to more noble areas, full of beautiful houses and buildings, you started to expect that any one of them would be JImin's house, but he just kept driving, until you were no longer exactly in the city, and some mansions started to appear in the landscape. Looking at these huge, clearly expensive homes, you wondered how many bathrooms each has. Jimin, on the other hand, was considering what to do to feed you and make you comfortable, slightly freaking out because there's nothing to eat either in the fridge or in the cupboards other than a box of cereal he bought to win a collectible gift. Did he need to do something to make you feel more comfortable? He never received visits at home... "I need to tell my roommate and my mom that I'm not spending the night at home..." You murmured to yourself.

"Your mom too?" Jimin frowned. "Doesn't she live far away or something?"

You smirked looking at your phone.

"Our city is four hours from here, but I always ley her know where I am. So she is not worried. Besides, we talk all the time anyway..." "Oh." He thought about it. "You two are good friends."

You nodded.

"In the way of moms and daughters." You noticed the car was slowing down.

"Can I send her a photo of yours? Just so she knows your face?"

"Women have to be careful, right?" He commented, thinking that it is useful to know the face of the man that your daughter is seeing if something bad happens. He read a lot of things about it on twitter, and being a vampire himself he knows how bad things can happen too.

"Yep." You made a face. "But I want her to see how hot you are. She asked for a picture before but I didn't have a good one."

Jimin was between blushing and smirking. But vampires can't blush because the blood doesn't circulate, so you didn't see that reaction, just the burning look he gave you from head to toe. The butterflies in your stomach exploded and died. Before you could take the picture you noticed that you were now parking at a garage, and your chin dropped at the sigh of six more cars - seven in total, counting the one you guys were inside. The garage itself was bigger than the apartment you currently live in. Just the idea of so much money intimidates you a little.

"Take a selfie, then." Jimin passed an arm around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Ok." You did as said, the flash illuminating the inside of the car. "You are also photogenic."

"And you are beautiful." He looked at the photo with a cute smile. "Send it to me too. Come."

He left the car and you followed him closely behind, he carrying your backpack for you. He took off his shoes to get in, and so did you, wearing the pair of cloth slippers he offered you. You grabbed the sleeve of the black blouse he was wearing, despite the low light available looking at the whole house over his shoulder, the hallway, the living room, the stairs, everything huge and spacious, and you noticed too, with a very masculine yet artistic decoration. Definitely for you, only two people living in this whole space is strange. In your family you are in six occupying a much smaller house. Whas that a grand piano?

"It's a nice place." You thought you should say something. "Cool design."

"Tae is responsible for that. He's a very visual person."

"I see."

He took you to the second floor, straight to his room. He dropped your thing on an armchair and looked around, expectantly. It was cute, there were some plants and drawing like you sometimes see him doing at work, an ukulele on the wall... It was as you could imagine his room would be.

"I don't have a clue of how to make you feel comfortable... What should I do?" He was honest.

You smiled sweetly and took his hand on yours, and he knew if he had a beating heart it would have stumbled at the sigh.

"I'm ok. Comfy clothes to change would be nice tho."

He kissed your forehead with a grin.

"I can manage that." And he measured you from head to toe again, now really to get a sense of the size of the clothes he needed to get you. And then left through the pair of the closet's doors.

As you waited you kept looking around and took a seat on the king sized bed, you were tired after all, feeling your eyes heavy and feet hurting.

"Jimin where is the bathroom?" You barely articulated the words.

"What?" Jimin came back with some clothing in hand.

"Bathroom..."

He gave you a fondly look and deposited his clothes - a t-shirt slightly bigger than you and a soft fabric shorts that seemed to fit you - on your lap.

"Next door on the left, near the stairs to the attic." "Thanks." You picked the clothes and your toiletry necessaire and crawled out into the hall.

On the way there was only one door on the right side of the hall, which you hadn't noticed the first time you passed it. A door ajar with an ambar lamp light coming from inside. Without thinking too much you stopped to look and saw in a bed who you imagined to be the friend, Taehyung, sleeping in the center of another big bed. He looked like those illustrations of Snow White in the crystal coffin, beautiful, flawless, but pale as a corpse, the face emotionless. He looked so unreal, felt like if you touched him he would vanish away like a dream. You don't know how long you were looking at him, a few meters away, but you only managed to look away when your heartbeat became too loud in your ears. And only then did you realize that you had walked a few steps towards him. You hurried to the toilet and closed the door behind you as if something was chasing you. Looking in the mirror, you couldn't name what this feeling was. More than quickly and still shaking you changed, washed your face and brushed your teeth, and to go back to Jimin's room you were with his head down. He was already in bed waiting for you in a pair of silk pajamas, and frowned when you walked in. "Is something wrong?"

"Nope." You denied it too quickly, embarrassed to say something like 'I saw your sleeping friend in the other room and for some reason it made me nervous'. Then you smiled shyly and climbed into the bed. "Excuse me."

Jimin interpreted your fast heartbeat as shyness and pulled you close as soon he could reach you. You snuggled into him too, and your eyes felt heavy once again, the smell of him calming and slowing you down. Before you finished settling into a comfortable position you were asleep. ______________________________________________________________

Then you had your cute cheesy morning with Jimin, as you wanted. He was with his eyes open when before you, holding you tight as he scowled through his phone behind your head. You looked up and the first thing you thought about was how unfair life is. In addition to the slightly messy hair, Jimin was beautiful as always, without the sleepy face or puffy eyes of someone who just woke up, it gave you a mixture of emotions of ingenuity and admiration. You sure looked like a withered dumpling.

"Goomorning." You murmured against him. "What are you doing?"

"We have no food, neither me or Tae cook, so I'm ordering you breakfast. Did you sleep well?" He kissed your nose, as he added croassaints to his order - he couldn't let you enter the kitchen and see all the literally empty cabinets, the only exception being a very suspicious bag, full of blood bags, inside the fridge, that he put there yesterday without you noticing, using his superhuman speed.

"Babier than yesterday." You reached for your cell phone too. "Shit, I have a seminar about neuro-physiology in fifty minutes... Where's a bus stop nearby?"

Jimin looked at you confused, for not understanding the reason for your question right away and then for having no idea what to answer. He doesn't take a lot of buses to know where they pass. "Don't worry about it, I can call you a car. And so it's time for you to eat without haste." As much as you enjoy being pampered and cared for, you are the type of person who feels guilty when others do it in excess, especially when they spend money on you. And you're starting to feel that way with Jimin. On the one hand you want to accept everything he may have to offer since technically you have no reason to deny it, but on the other hand your paranoid mind can think of several uncomfortable reasons. Your insecurities also arise to say that at some point a handsome, rich guy with two degrees like Jimin will eventually be bored with you, a poor, broken, screwed to finish your first graduation, so why not enjoy it while it lasts? Damn, that also makes you very guilty... That's why you only have poor and fucked up friends like you. Jimin raised his eyebrows at you, and then you realized that you hadn't answered anything yet, and just debated the subject a lot inside your own head. "Ah... Ok. Thanks." You stuttered. Your brain just wasn't about to form full phrases.

He holds you tighter.

"Don't be shy. You are keeping me company, the minimum is to guarantee your transport." He took your face in one hand and kissed you slowly, lazily, and you returned it with a sigh. With his lips still on yours, he whispered in a hoarse voice that made you shiver. "And if I don't treat you well, you won't be back... And I want you to..."

You were about to answer the flirt, but a sharp bark interrupted you.

"Puppy!" You sang, rolling to the edge of the bed to see a little dog with pretty expressive eyebrows barking and jumping beside it. By the power of all the cute things in the world you spoke in baby voice. "Own... cute. Hi hi, buddie." "Come here, Tannie." Jimin whistled.

The puppy got rid of your anxious for pets hands and ran to the other side of the bed, and appeared a second later, jumping onto the bed and over Jimin. You rolled back, also leaning on Jimin to look the other way. "Do you have a ladder for him to climb on the bed?" Jimin smiled with your enthusiasm about it. "The whole house is adapted to be accessible to his little tiny legs." He said. You put your hands on your chest. "Oh, no. My heart." Jimin sat up to peck you again before getting up, stretching slightly. "He wants to eat, otherwise he wouldn't be here. Just a sec." He picked up the dog and left.

You pouted for not playing anymore, but you understand, you were hungry too, and you had to get up and get ready soon to go to college, or else you would get late. You jumped out of bed, got your things and barefoot even ran to the bathroom. The door to the other room was now closed, yet you felt a shadow of the feeling of the night before and went by it as quickly as possible, without looking in the direction. After that, you took a quick shower, ended up borrowing a t-shirt from JImin, because to wear the same shirt from the previous day was out of the question, you had a great brunch from a expensive bakery that you had never heard of, played a little - too little - more with Yeontan, and went to college by car, something totally new to you. The rest of the day you were chased by the desire to see Jimin again, to go back to his house and stay there, in the bubble of good things he gives you, by the feeling that you somehow don't deserve it, and by the almost scary feeling that you felt when you saw a complete stranger in his sleep.

Notes: I said I would update it before 2021! HAHAHA Sorry it took a whole life! IF YOU WANT TO BE ADD TO THE TAG LIST LET ME KNOW. FEEDBAKC IS GOOD TOO. ____________________________________________________________

Tag list: @ireallylikeyourwriting @angrygardenerr @depressed-dude20 @milktaetae95 @tangledsparkles @wlalsrkfla @minikolima @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @midiplier

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luisjuanmilton · 3 years

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ohhh, can you write number 4 with sewis? :))))

I love writing Sewis so much thank you for this (I also got really carried away sorry about that 🌚)

Sewis + “a hug after not seeing someone for a long time”

Send me a pairing and a prompt if you want :)

Sebastian was bouncing his knee up and down in a rapid motion, knowing that he was coming increasingly closer to have Britta snap at him but finding himself unable to stop.

The start of the bloody pandemic coincided with one of his visits to Maranello, and no matter how hard he tried to find a way out of Italy there was nothing he could do about it. He did have a house there so that part wasn’t the problem.

No, the problem was that he had left his husband back at their Switzerland home, and it had been almost four months since he had last seen him.

Obviously, they had been Face Timing literally everyday (even if it had taken a while for Sebastian to get the hang of it, since he was famously opposed to technology), but it wasn’t nearly the same as actually being in the same room as him.

Today was the first time they’d be seeing each other after spending so much time apart, and Seb literally felt like he would die if he had to spend even another hour away from him.

“Sebastian, I know you miss Lewis very much and I know how excited you are to see him, but please remember what we talked about”

He scowled at Britta’s words, not keen at all to follow the protocol she had told him about. Sebastian adored Britta, he really did, but right now he really didn’t want to do as she said.

“Sebastian”

“Yes, yes I remember. I’m not allowed to even shake my husband’s hand”

Britta rolled her eyes “It’s not like that and you know it. Most people don’t know about your relationship, so you have to keep socially distanced from him in front of the cameras”

Sebastian only scowled harder, and Britta let out a long-suffering sigh. Sometimes, she thought, he still acted like the twenty-year-old gremlin she’d started working with years ago.

Their car pulled up at the Red Bull Ring after what must have been 20 minutes at most but still felt like hours to Sebastian, and he was the first to get out of it as soon as they parked.

He ignored Britta’s voice as he quickly made his way further into the paddock, pursing his lips under his mask as he had to stop and get his temperature checked and slather antibacterial gel on his hands.

The rational part of him knew that all those safety measures were very necessary, but he was past being rational.

As soon as he was given the go-ahead, he continued to jog towards where he knew the Mercedes garage was, and he couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad about how he was literally ignoring everyone who tried to stop him and say hi.

When he finally reached the silver and blue garage he started to madly look around for his husband, and just as he was about to break about thirteen FIA rules and make a mad dash into another team’s facilities, he heard a very familiar voice calling his name.

“Sebastian!”

Seb turned around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, and as he caught sight of Lewis standing just a few feet away from him, looking as beautiful as he ever did even while a mask covered half his face, he felt tears brimming in his eyes.

“Lewis!” he called back, wasting no more time before running towards his husband and all but launching himself into his arms.

Lewis caught him with the ease of someone who’d being doing that very same thing for more than five years, burying his hands in Sebastian’s blonde hair, and letting out a shaky breath.

The German truly felt like his heart was going to implode by how fast it was beating, and he couldn’t help himself from running his hands all over Lewis’s back before moving to his shoulders, his neck and finally his hair, almost as if he wanted to make sure that he was actually there.

“God, I missed you so much” Lewis breathed out, the pained tone of his voice making Sebastian’s heart clench as he tightened his arms around him even harder.

“I missed you more my love”

After that Sebastian leaned backwards slightly, just enough so that he could see right into those brown eyes he loved so dearly.

Lewis brought a hand up to cradle Sebastian’s face, and the German sighed contently as he felt the coldness of his golden wedding ring even through the mask.

“I want to kiss you so badly, you have no idea”

And well, Sebastian had to use every ounce of self-control he had not to rip off both their masks and kiss him right then and there.

“Don’t worry darling, as soon as we’re alone I’ll make up for all the time we spent apart”

Before Lewis could answer a loud clearing of throat snapped them out of their little bubble, and when Sebastian turned his head to the right he gulped as he came face to face with a very angry looking Britta.

The couple smiled innocently out of force of habit, even if the woman wasn’t able to see it.

“Hey Britta” Lewis greeted sheepishly, dropping his hand from Sebastian’s face as he looked around them and noticed how every single camera was pointed towards them and how even many drivers had stopped on their tracks at their very dramatic reunion (he could make out Daniel exaggeratedly waggling his eyebrows all the way over at the Renault garage).

“Hey Lewis” Britta said after letting out a long-suffering sigh, and only then did Seb notice that Angela was standing a few feet behind her with her face resting on her palm.

“Just how much trouble are we in?” Sebastian asked, thinking it was better to rip it off like a band aid.

“I’ll have you two signing merch until your fingers cramp”

The two winced, knowing that she really wasn’t kidding.

But another look at Lewis’s face was enough for him to forget all about their imminent punishment, and he shamelessly linked their hands together, his stomach flipping around happily because of how right it felt to be able to do that again.

“Worth it” he declared cheekily, yelping as Britta slapped him across the head with the stack of papers she was carrying.

Even then, the sound of Lewis’s laughter made any pain he could have felt go away entirely.

#sewis #writing prompt #disclaimer: please follow health protocols lmao #sebastian vettel #lewis hamilton

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allycryz · 3 years

Text

WOL Challenge #3: You

[Prompt List Here]

[Filled Prompt List Here]

Haurchefant x Nerys, set immediately after Ardent [Ao3 Link]

Heavensward, right after Inquisition trial and before “Keeping the Flame Alive”

Rating: T for off-screen sex, sex talk

~*This is 2K words, most of it is fluff and I revel in it*~

The Fortemps library is a grand one. Haurchefant is not certain how it compares–he has only been in Haillenarte's with Francel–but imagines it is the finest in Ishgard. His father is a man of letters, a true believer in the power of words. And one who expected his sons to follow suit.

His education differed greatly from his brothers’ the day he became a knight’s page. Even still, his lord father sent him monthly parcels of books. He was expected to read them all and send detailed reports on the contents. Had he ever kept up his thaumaturgy studies, he would have been hard-pressed to find the time.

As it was, he’d stayed up often to fit in the poetry and novels not on the list. Count Edmont was a modern man and his syllabus reflected this–vetted popular authors and poets made it into the parcels. Never in the quantity Haurchefant would have liked. And never some of the one-gil books he bought in The Pillars.

When he was a boy, there were songs for sale about body functions and noises; exaggerated tales of heroes fighting all manner of beasts and foes. As a youth, these became long, violent epics of battles and bravery. As a young man: lurid poems and explicit romance novels. Some as grand and sweeping as the classical romances his Father promoted. Some were not.

He has managed to introduce some contemporary poets into the collection. Not all. Edmont’s tastes in poetry run more traditional. Some of the rising stars of the field are roundly rejected.

Haurchefant is working on that.

Today, he feels romantic in both classic and literal senses. And as his Father has ordered him to stay for a day and night, indulging in a novel sounds just the thing. It seems that getting trapped in a blizzard–even if things had gone fine, more than fine–means your noble father turns to such decrees.

At least, that is what it means now they are growing close, as they never had been. Another miracle Nerys has wrought with her coming. And as Haurchefant has full faith in Corentiaux and the rest...he allows himself to be thus ordered.

Someone else is in the library. He can sense it soon as he enters. A soldier learns to tell when others are near, even in safe environs such as this. Haurchefant softens his footfalls, peering about the shelves. There, in the alcove reserved for study, he finds the source of today’s romantic mood.

Nerys looks up, eyes turning soft. His heart swells in his chest, his mouth cannot help but smile. It’s unstoppable and he does not ever want it to cease. Was it really only yesterday? That she told me my love was returned?

It seems a dream now, albeit the sweetest one he has ever had.

Her hands sweep at the papers she has laid out, pulling them into a stack. Flips over the one on top. “Hello.”

“Hello, my dear.” How nice to call her that. “I thought you were on a shopping expedition with Emmanellain?”

“I was.” She touches her neckline. So caught up in her eyes, he hadn’t noticed the gown she wore.

Scarlet as the unicorn on his shield, set off with dangling garnets in her ears. The heart-shaped neckline shows off her elegant neck and collar bones. The sleeves are slashed to reveal white fabric beneath and the cuffs have delicate pearls. “I found this. For when I’m here at the manor and not about to fight Inquisitors or dragons.”

“You are breathtaking in it.” He circles the table to take her hand. Bows over it before pressing his mouth to her knuckles. Etiquette demands he should kiss the air above it but surely exceptions are made for lovers.

She is my lover now, he thinks in wonder. Her cheeks stain with a fetching indigo shade. “My lord is kind.”

Haurchefant drops to one knee before his lady and turns her hand. Her palm is just as lovely to kiss. “Your lord means everything he says. But if you require further proof of my ardor…”

Nerys darts a glance about before tilting up his chin. Her kiss is sweet and soft and not a little heated. Would that he might lay her upon the table in this temple of learning and know her better.

Alas, Nerys has asked for discretion. Time to better acquaint themselves as lovers before declaring themselves. They are still friends–always will be, if he has anything to do with it–but this dynamic is new and strange. Haurchefant can understand why the most public figure in Eorzea might want some measure of privacy.

Though, he reflects as he parts from her. Half the fun would be keeping quiet and avoiding discovery.

“I know that look,” she says. “You’re thinking of something lascivious.”

“When I had this look before I confessed, what did you think it meant?”

“The same,” she admits. “But that your love of innuendo was good-natured teasing.”

He heaves a sigh. Either he is not as obvious as Estinien always accuses him or she’d been in deep, deep denial. “Dearest love, how-”

The library doors bang open and the culprit whistles as he walks inside. Haurchefant rises, knowing exactly who it is before he comes into view.

“Old Girl! Old Man!” Emmanellain grins. “You didn’t tell me we were having a party in the library.”

“Impetuous Youth,” Haurchefant shoots back. “What if one of us was deep in study?”

“Oh I don’t deal in ‘what-ifs’. You two are having a conversation, not studying; ergo all is well.”

“He has a point. I think,” says Nerys. “By the by, if Haurchefant is ‘Old Man’, what do you call your eldest brother?”

The two men exchange looks. Smile. Say in unison, “Artoirel.”

Nerys groans and flaps both hands at them in dismissal. “Go fetch whatever you two were looking for. I am actually working on something.”

“Am I to be banished for my baby brother’s crimes?” Haurchefant presses a hand to his heart. “Mistress Eluned, you wound me.”

“If I must be quiet and meek like a mouse, so must you. After all, I am the true leader of our brotherly trio.”

“You are right of course. I could never compare to you.” Haurchefant shakes his head. “Very well, Impetuous Youth. As mice scurry to cheese, let us go to the books we seek.”

“Ordered to seek,” Emmanellian mutters. “I’m to review Ymbelet’s Theorem of Command and deliver a report. As if we hadn’t put our schooling well behind us.”

Haurchefant does his best to soothe his brother. They quiet down at last: the younger man taking his volume off to his chambers, the elder settling into an armchair within eyesight of Nerys. (Far enough away that she may stop hiding her work.)

His novel is a work of popular fiction he’d garnered approval to stock here. No erotic scenes, but romantic enough. Should he ever get his eyes to stay on the page.

Alas, the white-haired sorcerer-king and his beloved princess and his soul-eating sword are no match for the Warrior of Light. The curve of her cheek. The braided coronet of purple and white hair, crowning her while the rest of her curls are a lovely raiment over her shoulders. The quirk to her dark, sweet lips.

She lifts those golden eyes, meeting him. If he were not already lovestruck and bedazzled, that gaze would ensnare him. He smiles and lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. Haurchefant isn’t sorry for lingering before a sunset; and that natural wonder is naught in comparison.

“My lord,” says Nerys, her voice carrying. “May I help you?”

“Nay, Mistress.” He shakes his head. “Simply exist as you are and I am satisfied.”

That is when Alphinaud bursts in, looking drawn and pale. If Haurchefant is annoyed at another interruption, that vanishes at the sight. He jumps to his feet. “My lad! Are you alright?”

The youth shakes his head. “Nerys. Tataru has grave news about General Aldynn. We must be off at once.”

She rises, hurrying over in a rush of white and red silk. In an instant she has changed from playfulness to resolute determination. Always ready to become The Warrior, his Nerys.

“Do you require anything?” He asks them. “You know my sword is yours, as is any resource at our disposal.”

Alphnaud shakes his head. “No one must see us enter Thanalan or leave. As soon as we cross back into Coerthas, we’ll send word.”

“I thank you. If you needs must bring the General somewhere safe, Camp Dragonhead’s doors are open to you.” If he must return to his command rather than fight at her side, at least he might be of some use to her. He loves–truly loves–his role but lately, his dearest wish is to be a shield at her back and a sword in her arsenal.

Ah, well, even Sorcerer-Kings do not get all they want. Why should he?

He dips into a sweeping bow to them both. Alphinaud returns it before rushing out, every emotion writ upon his usually perfect diplomat’s mask. Should the General die, the youth will carry it as he does everything else that occurred with the Braves. Haurchefant sends a prayer to Halone, asking for mercy on him.

Nerys takes his hand. Squeezes it. He squeezes it back. She smiles before picking up her skirts and rushing afterward.

It proves impossible to focus after that, even more than before. For a moment he entertains armoring up and following. This isn’t Dragonhead and so none of the knights with orders to keep him safe are here. (That time with Iceheart, Corentiaux had actually sat upon him.)

But they have asked he stay behind. So he will.

Haurchefant can take care of Nerys’ papers for her. He means to pointedly not look at the contents. He truly does. But he sees a piece of paper with his name on top, another with his last name, and his resolve crumbles.

The first piece of paper is titled “Minako” in large, neat letters. Beneath are names like Mamoru, Umino, Motoki. Her Yellow Chocobo is named Minako. Therefore, this is for…

The next sheet of paper confirms his suspicions. Under the heading “Black Chocobo” are the names Endymion, Starlight, Twilight, Onyx. Below that, a subheading “Elegance” with virtue monikers: Noble, Dignity, Charming.

And so, when he arrives to the last three papers (titled “Haurchefant”, “Greystone”, and “Fortemps”), he cannot contain his joy. The little note scribbled atop “Haurchefant” tickles him further. He gave you the Chocobo and you adore him. Will he be offended? He might be offended.

Haurchefant is certainly not offended.

He delights in the candidates, even some of the ones she crossed out. Sadly, there is no option for “Haurchefant” or “Haurchefant II.” I suppose that might get confusing.

Grinning, he picks up her leather folio and tucks her work inside. Hopefully, she will forgive his snooping because he has some ideas about this.

The Lord Commander’s bed at Camp Dragonhead may be the most comfortable place in Eorzea.

Nerys should get up to clean, brush her teeth, all the little nighttime rituals. But she is so pleasantly exhausted and the blankets are so soft and warm. She stretches, luxuriating in the feel of them against her skin. It has been a harrowing few days since her abrupt departure from Ishgard. But all is well and now, she feels nothing but comfort.

The bed could be warmer with her companion. But then she wouldn’t get to see his bare bottom as he slips into the bathroom. Halone must adore him to bless him with such a lovely rear.

“My love,” he calls after a while. “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh? Should I be worried?”

“I hope not.” He returns with a washcloth, his black silk robe barely closed against the cold. The fireplace sends flickers of light across his sculpted chest. “I may be overstepping but...I must say that I truly adore the name Grey. Though Tempsy is charming. Also, may I suggest Haurchon?”

What does he...oh. Oh! Nerys groans and buries her face in a pillow. She had been in such haste to rescue Raubahn–rightfully so!–that she had left all her papers there. All face up, all in the open.

The mattress dips as Haurchefant sits beside her. One hand strokes her hair, gentle and sweet. “I should not have pried but Nerys–my dearest one–I am utterly and truly touched by the idea. Though of course, if you pick a different name I will not be offended.”

“I only...well, I wouldn’t have him if not for you,” she mutters into the pillow, heat filling her face. “And if not for him, we wouldn’t have been in Coerthas that day.”

“So we owe him a great honor, for bringing us together at last.” His lips press against her bare shoulder. “Of course, the truest honor would be to name him after yourself-”

She turns then, mortification at last leaving her. Cups his face in her hands. “I am not playing this game where we go on for hours about who is better. Let’s agree it’s you and end it there.”

“Oh my love,” he sighs, bending down to her. “Though you are wrong, I must obey if it proves to you the depth of my regard.”

“I know another way you could prove it,” she says, pulling him atop her.

Grey likes his name.

#seaswolchallenge #nerys eluned #haurchefant greystone #haurchefant x wol #emmanellain de fortemps #Alphinaud Leveilleur #they're cute!#I love them #I love writing him when he's in love #and he is so often in love #:3 #ally writes

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ktheist · 4 years

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wizard’s oath [2]

synopsis. instead of dancing with jungkook at the party, you end up dancing around the mercenaries that decided to infiltrate your village tonight of all night.

muses. wizard!jungkook x dragonslayer!reader x knight!jimin

words. 1.9k

chapters. previous | next

“one night,” you sigh, shaking your head, “i decide to leave my sword at home for just one night and that’s when the best mercenaries come to gather in our village for an illegal faery smuggling.”

the muted pleas of the winged creatures almost drown from the boisterous yelling and laughing of the group of men in the streets. subdued light shines from underneath the poorly blanketed boxes in the cart, no doubt cages where they keep the captured faeries.

“don’t worry, ___.” jimin smiles, brown pupils disappearing beneath his crescent shaped eyes, “i’ll protect you.”

he raises the silver sword in his hand, the royal family’s dragon crest peeking from his grip on the handle.

“no, you won’t need to protect her.” jungkook chirps in heatedly from your other side, “because that’s my job.”

“as i recall, ___ wouldn’t put her trust on magic to save her life,” the smile, if anything, widens just the tiniest bit, “just an observation, of course.”

before the wizard can form another retort - and you know you’ll never see the end of this if you don’t put a stop to it, you quickly speak over the hushed silence, meeting the eyes of the villagers that are cramped in old hedrick’s slightly-smaller-than a villa abode.

“don’t worry everyone, these two may appear unreliable but one is the king’s personal knight and the other is the brightest wizard of the century.” you offer them a tight smile, not because you don’t believe what came out of your mouth but because it’s the absolute, honest truth yet they are doing nothing to assure the people of their capabilities than argue who to play knight in shining armor.

if we’re talking about technicalities, then technically, jimin is exactly that.

“fear no more! i shall put a stop to the atrocities happening right in the streets of our homes.” jungkook rises from the ground, hands planted on either sides of his hips but it’s short lived when you pull him back down to hide underneath the window you’ve been peeking through.

“stay down. we don’t know if they have any enchantments or if there are dark wizards among them.” you hiss underneath your breath.

it’s a moment later that you hear a grating voice call from outside, “you there! hiding in that hideous house! come out!”

old hedrick looks like he’s about to leap out and prance at whoever insulted his home - the only thing stopping him is your hard stare that makes him cower behind his second wife.

“let’s go.” you’re the first to rise to your feet, patting off the dust from your dress that your sisters almost got into a fight about when choosing what color would match your eyes.

“stay close to me.” jungkook murmurs under his breath from next to you while jimin lets out a brief laugh just before you stop a good ten feet away from the men who seem to stiffen at the sight of jimin.

“what’s so funny?” the same man whose called you out steps forward, eyes burning holes inside jimin’s chest where the ghost of the dragon lies upon his armor, “you think you’re so tough? huh, knight?”

“no, not at all.” the aforementioned knight shakes his head, a cheeky smile adorning his features, “but supposedly, the wizard does.”

and just like that, all eyes fall on jungkook. “wizard, huh?” the man grins, golden tooth and all.

“y-yeah. you know it’s illegal to capture to magifolks, right?” he starts off with a stutter but takes one brave step forward, “if you walk away now, i’ll let you off the hook this once.”

they burst into laughter, almost as though it was a baby who said such threats.

“i’d probably believe that nice lady you’re with if she said that than you, boy.” the man towers over in laughter, slapping his knee.

“will you?” you ask in the midst of the subsiding humor.

“what?” one of them questions while swiping a tear off the corner of his eye.

“walk away. if i told you to.” you don’t know if it’s the ice cold tone you’re using or if it’s the way to stare at them, but their shoulder line begin to straighten as each of them begin to size you up.

“why don’t you come here and whisper it to my ear, yeah?” the man’s lecherous grin returns but there’s a sort of restraint that tells you he’s no longer perceiving you as the damsel in distress.

for one, there isn’t a single line of frustration on your forehead.

“oh, i wouldn’t do that if i were you.” jimin warns them but it’s already too late. you’re already walking in a straight line towards the man and before you know it, a familiar heat courses through your veins, focusing in the fist that you’re swigging towards the man.

a loud crack cuts through the night as the man’s gold tooth falls on his lap as he slouches against the broken wood of the card. for a moment, everyone and everything stands still.

“too late to walk away now.” you nonchalantly inform, meeting the eyes of the mercenaries one by one.

the first warrior-cry breaks through the night as one of them charges at you with a dagger, loomed with the shadow of the dark arts. you step aside, tripping your attacker and sending him leaping across the ground, right in front of jimin’s polished metal shoes.

you catch the man’s devious grin before he hits your attacker’s head with the hilt of his sword, sending the man unconscious. it’s then that they begin to charge all at once, bearing weapons much sinister than the last. jungkook helps thwart the weapons out of their hands so you can beat them to a bloody pulp with your own two hands without having to be wary of the enchanted daggers and swords grazing you.

they soon learn that they have to go for the wizard in the back to actually dismantle you and jimin.

“a little help here!” jungkook yells over the throng of mercenaries out to kill him.

“bit busy!” jimin yells back somewhere a few feet away,driving the hilt of his sword in the face of one of the mercenaries that was charging at him when he had his back on him “and quite literally, don’t care if you die!”

you shake your head at their banter, piling up your own body counts, ducking and sending blow strong enough to knock them out at once. it’s some time after your 13th hit that a morning star misses you by a inch.

the wielder is burlier and taller than the average men and sports a nastier frown as he gazes down at you like an annoying little fire ant that refuses to go down.

“___, catch!” jimin calls for you, just before he tosses you his sword and uses the same hand he’d held the sword to sucker punch the man who’s halfway blacked out as he claws at jimin’s wrist to release his shirt.

“thanks!” you grin when you feel the solidity of the dragon engraved handle and measure its likely weight with your own elven sword.

the burly man grunts when he misses you again by a hair’s breadth. eye twitching when you gesture for him to come to you with your free hand. when he does, you go for his forearm, slashing the sword through it and sending the weapon skidding on the ground while he growls in pain, clutching onto his decapitated arm. the heat warms up your entire body as you leap forward, smashing the hilt of the sword into his face, knocking him out.

“___, are you okay?” jungkook’s wide, round eyes are captures your own for a split second before they wander to your tattered dress, inspecting if there was any wounds.

before you can even say anything, his arms band around you and traps you in a bone-crushing hug. you have to take twice to make sure it’s still the same wizard that’s watched you slay dragons for the last seven years.

“i’m fine. the dark magic infused in their weapons weakened my powers a bit but i’m not all brawn, you know?” you chuckle, patting his back with your free hand while your other still grips jimin’s sword a little too tightly.

somewhere behind jungkook, you hear someone clear their throat. the wizard appears to be less perplexed when he turns around to face old hedrick and the rest of the villagers that poured out of their homes upon your victory.

the priest approaches you with a grateful smile, “dragon slayer and wizard, you have our humblest gratitude.” then he gestures for jimin to come closer and he does, sending you a cheeky grin when he stops to stand next to you, “you too, knight. there is evil lurking in every shadow but the three of you are what makes the world a better place.”

“it was part of my duty.” jimin lowers his head, arm crossed over his chest while you shift your weight on your feet.

“i just live here so.” you shrug.

it’s jungkook that steps forth, enjoying the fame and attention, “as long as i, your friendly neighborhood wizard, and my dragon slayer sidekick,” he gestures to you before announcing with his whole chest, “are around, you have nothing to fear. it is my wizard’s oath.”

you join the bouts of cheers and applause from the villagers, shaking your head at his antics. less inclined to worship a magical entity the way they begin to crowd him like an ant crowding a cube of sugar, you disappear into the shadows where you know the familiar route will take you back to your home. but before you get far, jimin falls into pace with you, his metal armor clacking in the dark.

“allow me to walk you home, my lady.” with the sources of dark magic gone, you’re able to use your powers to see his cheeky grin even in the dark.

“ladies don’t wield swords like a savage.” you remark, returning your own grin.

“they come in many forms.” he replies too smoothly, “but they all bleed blue.”

you feel your body freeze, step coming to a stop. “how do you-”

“the prince,” he offers, as though it’s the answer you’re looking for before he continues, “sends his invitation to you for dinner in three night’s time. that’s what i came here to tell you before the mercenaries begin to pour in.”

he doesn’t ask for your permission when he slips his hand under your stone cold one, bringing it to his lips. your tongue is tied but your throat itches to say something - to ask more about the dinner but before you can, you hear jungkook calling you not too far away and when you look back to where the knight is supposed to be, all you see is darkness.

“i can’t believe you’re leaving me to go home when we promised to watch the stars together.” jungkook huffs, lips pursed just the slightest bit.

“jungkook, how well do you know the prince?” you finally say after breaking away from your stupor.

“the prince?” he blinks, the remnants of his sulking now disappeared into thin air, “he’s a spoiled brat. whenever i get hired to escort him to one of his crusades, all he does is boast about anything and everything to the royal families whose castle we were staying at.” the wizard scrunches his nose, as though willing a bad memory away. “why?”

“he just invited me to dinner.” you inform, watching as his facial complexion drop and his hands grip your shoulders tightly.

“you can’t - mustn't go, ___.”

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 6

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics, by Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as good as it seems….

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror

CW: aggressive religiosity, deadname use, police questioning, hospital setting,

CHAPTER SIX: THUNDER AND PRAYER

Arch awoke upside down in the passenger’s seat of the blue truck. The midnight storm was still sweeping through the ranches and into the city and they were alone there. The man who had thrown them against a brick wall and threatened them into their vehicle had disappeared.

The seatbelt dug into the side of their neck and injured shoulder. The moment it was released, Arch would fall headfirst into the top of the cab. They tried the clip as best they could with their left arm. It tingled, threatening to combust in a fury of pain if it weren’t for the rush of adrenaline fighting the broken glass and seatbelt. It was stuck. The clip wouldn’t release. They could be here for hours, for ages... all alone.

Flashing lights came from above them- or was it ahead of them? And the shouts of a man and a woman could be heard overhead. Some kids were also talking and yelling.

“Call 911, Janey!” The man shouted. The passenger-side door was forced open with a crow-bar.

Arch cried with relief as he pulled them out, supporting their head as they dropped down. The wife was speaking to someone over the phone as she helped Arch lay down flat on their back in the over-grown wet grass. A blanket was placed rolled up under their head. The comforting cloth mixed with a strong sense of relief. If they had the energy, Arch might have started crying, but doing something even that simple was just too exhausting. Raindrops splattered against their face until the recognizable sound of an opening umbrella prevented any more from dropping down. The family spoke amongst themselves but the words were jumbled now and nearly incoherent for Arch to pay attention too. A little boy was holding the umbrella. He couldn’t have been more than eight. Arch managed the tiniest smile for him as they floated in and out of consciousness.

“You’ll be okay,” he said. “My mom’s a nurse. She’ll fix you up.”

His raincoat was dotted with little red and blue dinosaurs. Arch counted them. There were six red tyrannosauruses, eight blue triceratops’ and then-

There was a beep... And another... And another. Their throat was dry as a brick. Arch opened their eyes first. Glowing light of day from a veiled window to their right drowned everything around them in white. They blinked, becoming accustomed to the brightness.

In the corner of the small room was a chair reserved for visitors. Alarm bells sounded in their mind as Arch narrowed their gaze and spied on the person sitting there, still yet unaware that they had awoken.

He was reading a book; a used and reused copy of Meditations. Lyrem licked his thumb, and turned the page. The alarm bells calmed. Arch chalked it up to being beaten to a pulp and then waking up in a strange new place; a hospital bed.

“Save some for me, will you?” Arch spoke dryly, literally, as well as figuratively. They managed a crooked smile as Lyrem looked up from his book of yellowed pages and kindly smiled back.

In a fit of dry coughs, Arch tried and failed to lean up. They found the tubes leading to an IV out their arm and a blood-oxygen measure clipped onto one of their index fingers. Lyrem put his book down on a small side table and stood. He pressed a button on the side of the bed, and Arch was lifted to a more comfortable sitting position. He brought them a clear cup of water with a straw. Arch tried lifting their arm to accept it, but Lyrem shook his head at them and pushed it back down gently. He brought the straw up to their lips. Arch nearly drained the cup before finally nodding it away.

Lyrem leaned against the windowsill and watched them carefully. Their whole body had been battered. Whether it was entirely from the crash or something else, he couldn’t be sure.

Arch looked back at them curiously, and puzzled. Then they looked around the rest of the small room. The door to the hall was open and filtered through white noise from doctors and nurses all around.

“What are you doing here?” They asked, “where’s my mom?”

“She… was here. She called the store. She left to run a couple errands and said that she would return soon.” Lyrem grimaced as he answered. “I’m not sure what could have been more important than being by your side, but alas, I remain. I closed the store for the day.”

“What? Why?” Arch coughed lightly. “You make the most dough on Saturdays. You should keep it open.”

“I’d much rather not.”

Lyrem left his response hanging there. Without more to say on the matter Arch shifted in their bed uncomfortably. Relieved, they were, they were also troubled. Angry, even, but for what reason, Arch couldn’t say.

“There were officers waiting by the door for you to wake. Should I let them in for you? Tell them it’s an alright time?”

“Officers?”

“Well, nobody knows what happened to you or how you ended up on a rural highway flipped over in a truck”- Lyrem stopped himself. Becoming too passionate, he sensed.

“Huh. Right.” Arch nodded. Thinking back to the night before was causing a pain in the back of their eyes- like they were being pulled into the back of their head.

“What if you told me what happened first, then I’ll let the officers in and you can repeat it back to them. It might be easier for you,” Lyrem helpfully suggested.

“No, no, I can speak to them now.” Arch insisted. “I’d rather speak to them now.”

Lyrem nodded, and then stepped to the door, finding the two officers chatting down the hall. One blue uniformed woman with a tight, blonde pony-tail glanced in his direction over a steaming Styrofoam cup. He motioned for them to come in with a wave of his hand. The other, a tall, younger man with a thin chin pulled out a small notebook as he entered. Their name tags read Parsons and Grenn, respectively.

Detective Parsons began by explaining that the police were unable to find the driver of the blue Ford. The truck was both unregistered, and uninsured, so there was no trail to follow to know who it had belonged to. The last known owner died in 2003 and afterwards there was no trace of it anywhere in the system. The plates on the vehicle had been stolen, and if the driver was careful enough, its stolen plates would have gone unnoticed for as long as the registration would last on it.

“At the moment, we have no leads on finding this individual”-

“My attacker, you mean. They attacked me.” Arch spit out. “Labels are important, you know.”

“I know it can’t be a comforting thought. And I am sorry, but you must understand that we are doing everything we can to find the person who attacked you.” Parsons implored. Never once had her professional demeanor faltered under the scrutiny of the rightfully furious teenager.

“He was a man.” Arch started. “He was quite a bit taller than me too. Probably six feet at least… White. It was dark but I could tell he- he had dark hair. Kind of shaggy-like”-

Grenn had written it all down, and Lyrem stared at Arch in interest as they described the man. Parsons stopped Arch from continuing to describe him as she placed her cup down on the side table beside Lyrem.

“We’ll send this to the sketch artist. They will be flying in over the next couple days. With the disappearances of your classmates as well, we are pulling out everything in our arsenal to get a detailed picture of who attacked you. We will be calling you in a couple days and you’ll be coming into the police station to speak with them.” Parsons explained emphatically. “For now, we need a timeline- where did they find you? What time was it when they attacked?”

“Oh…” Arch felt rather silly for some reason. “I… I was pulled into the alley by the flower-shop...”

“Which flower shop?”

“Bloom Treasury, downtown. Half a block from Mystics.”

Lyrem looked concerned, or possibly angry… with the thickness of his brows and the wrinkle in his forehead, Arch couldn’t be quite sure what he was thinking.

“Mystics?”

“It’s just a store, where I work.”

“Were you working last night?”

Their heartrate started to increase. Arch carefully measured their breaths by seconds.

“No... No, I wasn’t, I was just walking.”

“What time were you walking?”

“I..” Arch had the strangest sensation of being back in the passenger’s seat of the blue Ford. The voice of the man rang in their head in an echo of a memory. Missing time? He had said. “I.. I think I’m confused.” Arch finished.

“It’s understandable. I know its very hard to think back to the incident, but for the sake of finding this man and bringing him to justice, we have to know what time it was when it happened.”

“It was after sundown.”

“Can you be more specific?”

It wasn’t long after dinner that Arch had left, and sundown wouldn’t have been until after ten. It only took a half hour to reach the downtown core from their house so where was the missing time? There was an hour, maybe even longer that was completely unaccounted for.

“I think it was just after ten,” they said finally.

Grenn made his notes again.

“What kinds of things did he say to you?” Parsons inquired. “Anything you can remember will be helpful.”

Lyrem gazed across the room steadily at Arch who met his eyes. It was hypnotically comforting to know he was still there, watching over them and keeping them safe.

“He was… kind of strange.” Arch said, almost in a mutter. “Though, he mentioned the other kids. He knew that the others were taken: Jess, Kyle, and … Marcus.”

“Did he tell you they were still alive?”

Arch shook their head slightly and winced.

“He said he killed one of them already. He couldn’t be sure when the other two would die- if they already were… y’know, dead.”

Parsons paused and turned to Lyrem who was laid back in the armchair deep in thought. She had noticed an odd connection. Arch had been darting their eyes to the corner each time they responded. Seeking approval, she surmised quietly.

“How did you escape?” Parsons asked turning back to them again.

Arch thought for a moment.

“I stabbed him… in the leg... with his own knife. That’s when he lost control of the truck.”

Grenn looked up from his notes briefly, with brown eyebrows raised.

“What kind of knife?”

Parsons looked at officer Grenn; surprised by the question.

Arch switched their gaze to them. “A hunting knife… the big kind with a dip at the end.”

“How does a guy walk away from a car crash with a Bowie knife in his leg?” Grenn asked allowed.

The question caused Arch a visible discomfort. They turned away from everyone and remained quiet.

“I believe that is everything for now.” Parsons gathered herself and straightened her uniform, “Thank you for your time, -----. We may have more questions for you when you come into the station for the sketch artist. You’ll soon be contacted with a date and time.”

Parsons handed over her card to the bedridden teen who was unable to lift an arm, much less retrieve it from the detective’s hand. Parsons placed in on the table beside Arch instead and then followed Grenn out the door, leaving her Styrofoam cup behind.

Arch took a long breath of relief as they left. For the first time, they stared down at themselves. Fresh cuts littered up and down their left arm, while their right was also cut up, but supported by a sling. Beneath the blankets, Arch could feel the light stinging of several more wounds against their legs. Their neck ached with every miniscule turn of their head and their back…

They wiggled their toes, thankful for the movement, but regretted it all as they tried mightily to bend one of their knees. The middle of their back screamed of pulled muscles and bruises that were carved into them. Arch seethed as they let their leg down gently.

“Don’t try to move.” Lyrem advised, picking up his copy of Meditations once again. “You can press the button next to you if you want more pain medication.”

“I don’t want more medication; I want to go home.”

“And you’ll get to your house of horrors again soon, but for now, just close your eyes, and get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep. He knew my name, Lyrem. How am I supposed to rest if he’s still out there?”

Lyrem looked up from his book, becoming impatient, but in his eyes, it was clear that he tried to be supportive. He steeled his gaze on Arch and opened his mouth to speak. He was interrupted by Arch’s mother, who peered in with a bouquet of pink lilies in one hand.

“Is she awake? Oh, thank the Lord.” She crossed herself as she entered and put herself directly next to the bedside. Letting the flowers down, she planted a hard kiss on Arch’s forehead that was too close to the rest of the injuries already planted there.

Lyrem rolled his eyes to the ceiling and stood up.

“Well, now that your mother is here, I suppose I should get going; leave you both in peace”-

“Oh no, you should stay,” Arch’s mother turned on her heels to Lyrem and ushered someone else through the door: a short balding man, recognizable to Arch as a family friend with a plain white collar around his neck. “I invited Father Ferley to lead us in prayer. Won’t you stay, Lyrem? The more hands we have lifting to the Lord, the better.”

So that was the errand, Arch realized.

Lyrem stared at the woman and managed a facetious grin. There was a bit of levity to the situation after all. Arch nearly burst out in laughter as he stood there, unsure of himself or what to say to the invitation.

The presence of the priest in the room was clearly putting him off. It wasn’t that Lyrem was nervous or humbled by the man, as much as it was like he had just drank a glass of spoiled milk and was desperate to get the lingering vile taste off his tongue.

“I’d prefer not to,” he stated simply.

“Ah, you read Aurelius?”

The priest lifted his thinly rimmed glasses, pushing them higher up the bridge of his nose. He inquired Lyrem innocently and continued.

“Quite possibly one of the wisest Emperors of Rome. ‘Live a good life,’ he said. ‘for if the gods are just, then they will not care for your devotion, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by,” the priest smiled to him warmly.

Lyrem regarded him with suspicion, but played along.

“You quote his Meditations like Corinthians,” Lyrem observed. The annoyance slowly drained from his face and he stood taller, squaring himself. “Tell me then, the next line of that heavenly wisdom. Do you recall what it is?”

Lyrem waited for a beat and met Father Ferley’s gaze with a coldness he usually reserved for the most wretched of people. He finished the verse himself.

“If the gods are unjust, then you should not want to worship them.”

“What the hell are you weirdos talking about?” Arch spouted rudely. “Can we please just pray and get it over with, if that’s what we want to do?”

“Yes, lets.” Arch’s mother pulled the two men by their elbows into a half circle around the bed. Lyrem stood at the foot of it, unhappily supporting himself on the bars of plastic and metal.

Father Ferley led the small group in prayer. The details of the prayer itself were unimportant, except for the fact that Arch heard their name being correctly used. That was a nice change. The other detail that was noticed by Arch before the ‘amens’ commenced, was Lyrem, white-knuckling the edge of the bed as he suffered through the words spoken.

The man didn’t offer an ‘amen’. He turned around as it ended, and picked up the Styrofoam cup that was mistakenly left behind by Detective Parsons. He bid the three farewell, and finally escaped them.

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

“I see it too,” Father Ferley fiddled with the edge of his glasses, as Arch’s mother breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s not uncommon for many older gentlemen to be wary of the promises of God. But I sense that there is a negative energy towards the Lord, and that Arch may be picking up on that.”

“Her name isn’t Arch- It’s”-

“Their name is Arch, Charlotte,” Father Ferley continued. “Your child has spent many years honouring you. Perhaps it is time that you also honour them. It may be this very thing that is driving Arch away from you and towards figures of authority that respect them. People like Lyrem. It is what drives them out of their home and onto the streets where they encounter devils like the one from last night.”

Charlotte buried her face into her hands although there was little energy to stop the tears from flowing. The hospital halls were still bustling with activity though they had left Arch in their room to continue resting for the night. She sniffed, and finally lifted her head. Then she nodded. Clutching the small gold crucifix around her neck, she lifted it to her lips and breathed a deep sigh- thankful that her child was safe from harm.

“What happened was not your fault, but if you want to repair this relationship with your child, you must accept them for who they are. If I were you, I would try to get to know this ‘Arch’. You might even like them better than who they were before.” Father Ferley smiled lightly.

With her spirits lifted, Charlotte followed Father Ferley out of the hospital. She was already planning her words carefully to her child for the next time they’d meet.

#whump #whump writing #creative writing #writing #whumpblr #mystics by Alpaca #mystics #caretaker Lyrem #caretaker #recovery arc

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talpup · 3 years

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Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 85

“You done heaving there, Teris? Good. Run.” Greywright barked, not waiting for answer.

Hands on knees Teris glared over at the Magic Knights Commander. Greywright sat on the ground, legs kicked out, ankles crossed. Straight arms propping him up, the Commander's head lolled forward, eyes closed. The only reason he knew she had stopped running was because one of the three magically created army men that stood guard around the fields perimeter had seen.

Even though it was an hour or so before sunrise and the spring air was chill, Teris was overheated. She was soaked through with sweat and exhausted. They all were. Greywright had them work till they were about to fall over, gave them a ten minute break, and made them work some more. They had been at it all night. Running. Holding their arms out at their sides. In Yami’s case holding weights. And all sorts of other physical exercises. There wasn’t a muscle in Teris’ body that didn’t ache. There were muscles Teris hadn’t known she had that ached.

One of Greywright’s army men appeared behind Teris. It grabbed her by the back of her tank top, her button up blouse long since discarded, and moved her along.

“Run.” Greywright commanded, mercilessly.

Nozel passed her as her feet slowly began to move. The cold, distant look he’d been giving her at the start of their torture session was long gone. The Silver Eagles eyes were now glazed over with fatigue, pain, and a dazed focus as he endeavored to put one foot in front of the other and not fall over.

Teris saw Yami up ahead. He wasn’t struggling as bad as Fuegoleon, Nozel, and she. Though Yami had slowed considerably and took multiple stutter steps as he jogged. Just before completing another circuit Teris paused to help Fuegoleon to his feet. Nozel reached them and extended a hand to the Crimson Lion, the two pulling Fuegoleon to his feet.

“That’s enough. Come on over.” Greywright called, seeing the charitable act.

Yami cut across the field and saw some of the gouges that Teris and he had made during their first year as Magic Knights training here with Greywright. He was so tired he couldn’t even smile at the memory.

“Cool down. Drink some water. And get some sleep. I’ll wake you in a couple hours.” Greywright told.

“How is this--”

Greywright’s eyes snapped to Yami, silencing him. “Run another ten.”

Yami ground his teeth and took his pace back up.

A ghost of a smirk pulled at the corners of Fuegoleon’s parted, panting lips. He cast Teris a sharp look as he shouldered passed her.

If the Crimson Lion thought he could get away with it cause Greywright wasn’t looking, he had another thing coming. One of his army men having seen, Greywright said. “You can run another seven, Fuegoleon.”

Yami turned back and complained. “Why do I get ten and he--”

“Make it twelve, Yami.” Greywright said.

Yami’s lip curled in a snarl. He glared at the Magic Knights Commander wanting to argue; but knew it would only lead to further laps.

One of Greywright’s army men saw Nozel’s smug pleasure. “Another six for you, Nozel.”

Teris was afraid to move least the Knights Commander send her back out.

“Have a seat, Teris. Catch your breath. Cool down. Drink up and get some sleep. We’re far from finished.” Greywright said.

85.1.2

Yami awoke to a splash of frigid water in the face. His arms were so sore he fumbled at unsheathing his katana. Seeing one of Greywright’s faceless army men standing in front of him holding a bucket Yami pushed the half pulled blade back into its scabbard. He smelled food and his stomach growled in response.

“Water. Bread.” Greywright clipped, his army men throwing them each a small loaf and water skin. “You want more than that, you have to answer my questions and earn it.”

The Knights Commander saw Teris shivering in the now muddy ground, and regretted the freezing temperature of the water he had doused her with. He had forgotten that her regular temp ran higher than normal and that extreme cold effected her that much worse than anyone else. Yami was the exact opposite. He ran lower and though he preferred it warmer than most, unnaturally higher temps got to him quicker. It was one of the things that made their ability to tolerate each others magical extremes of heat and cold that much more intriguing.

The memory of the disturbance last night washed away any urge Greywright had to apologize. The fact that his favorite had been part of such a ruckus angered and disappointed him. He knew Teris had a temper and quite a ways to grow yet. But if she was to have a chance of one day taking his position, like she wanted and he was silently rooting for, she couldn’t openly fight with her fellows. Events like last night could never happen again.

“Teris. Say something nice about Fuegoleon.” Greywright commanded.

Teris’ eyebrows knitted together. She cast a glare at her cousin then looked back at Greywright.

“I know you want more than bread and water.” Greywright urged.

“That’s not a question. You said— Son of a—damn it!” Yami cussed, in pain.

Greywright smirked at Yami’s twitching jerk, the Vice Captain's hair standing on end of a brief moment. He showed them the charm he held. “Small charge of lightening. Nothing fatal or injury inducing. But it hurts like hell. Especially if your wet.”

“You’re telling me.” Yami grumbled. His tongue smacked against the roof of his mouth. He tasted air. Could one taste air? Did air have taste? Not wanting Teris to suffer that thing, Yami looked at her. “Say something nice about your cousin.”

Teris glanced at Fuegoleon again. After a moments thought, she finally said. “He has pretty colored eyes.”

Greywright tried and failed not to sigh. He was use to managing the Captain's, who often bickered and acted like children in their own right, but this was ridiculous. “Let’s stay away from the physical. Focus on who he is. Traits. Personality. Try again.”

Teris glared at the Magic Knights Commander. “You could have been more specific at the—Ow! That hurts!”

Nozel and Fuegoleon tensed seeing Teris in pain. But it was Yami who moved. Greywright pointed the charm at Yami. Yami’s lip curled in a silent snarl, but lowered his bottom back to the ground.

The Magic Knights Commander looked across the four Vice Captain's. “You are here to learn how to behave, obey, and get along. And not a one of you is leaving until you all have shown me you are capable of these things.”

“I’m going to die here because of an ill tempered foreigner who—“ Fuegoleon’s mutter cut short in a sharp grunt of pain.

“Hurts doesn’t it.” Yami grinned, seeing the Crimson Lion get some. He was left gritting his teeth against the buzzing, burning sting. Yami glared at the Knights Commander.

“Teris. Say something nice about Fuegoleon.” Greywright said again.

“He’s a good older brother to Leo.” Teris quickly snipped.

Greywright sighed. That wasn’t what he was looking for, but it was good enough for now. “Fuegoleon. Say something nice about Teris.”

Fuegoleon looked at Teris out of the corner of his eye. “She’s smart. Most of the time.”

“Let’s not add any caveats at the end.” Greywright said. “Nozel. Say something nice about Yami.”

Nozel’s eyes widened. Why was the Knights Commander asking the impossible of him?

Greywright pointed the charm at him. “You heard me.”

The Silver Eagle blinked rapidly, trying to think. “He might be a brute but his strength can be useful.”

Greywright rubbed his forehead, resisting the urge to zap the royal. It was his own fault. “No stipulations of any form anywhere. Understood. Good. Yami.”

Yami looked at the Commander his expression one of expectancy.

“Your turn.” Greywright growled.

“Teris is a fine, strong, capable fighter and leader.” Yami said.

Greywright pointed the charm at the Black Bull.

Yami growled at the zapping pain.

“You deserved that one.” Greywright said, feeling a short burst of gratification. “About Nozel. Yami. Say something nice about Nozel.”

“He’s the epitome of what it means to be royal.” Yami said.

It wasn’t exactly something Yami considered a good thing and knew the others would know that as well; but there was little Greywright could do unless he was willing to go on record in front of three royals saying that calling someone a perfect example of royalty wasn’t a nice thing to say.

Greywright sighed, feeling tired and defeated despite the small measure of success. “Eat up.”

Greywright knew what the problem was between Yami and Nozel. There was no fixing the issue anytime soon. Hopefully once Teris turned twenty and the decision she had to make came to a head, things would settle down between the two men. Till then, the best they could hope for was Yami and Nozel not turning on each other on a battlefield and the most basic civility.

As for Fuegoleon and Teris. Greywright had no clue what they were fighting over; but he intended to find out and see that it was fixed. He might've blamed Teris for instigating something, given the smell of alcohol on her breath last night. But the fact that Fuegoleon had responded in kind meant there was more to it.

The Magic Knights Commander decided to give them the choice. “We can sit here and Fuegoleon and Teris can tell us why they’re fighting. Or you can run till you drop.”

Nozel looked up. “After eating, running would--”

“I didn’t say it’d be fun or good for you.” Greywright cut over the royal’s words. He looked over the four Vice Captain's. “Choose.”

“Hearing why they’re fighting.” Nozel said, eyes moving between Teris and Fuegoleon.

“It’s cause the Lion Cub’s an--” Yami fell silent seeing Greywright lift the charm.

“Yami’s right. It’s cause Leon’s a--” Teris snapped her mouth shut when Greywright pointed the charm at her.

“Running it is.” Greywright said, with forced cheer.

“Wait.” Fuegoleon said. “They’re not wrong. At least not completely.” He looked at Teris. “I was wrong. Lord Nova wouldn’t be ashamed of you.”

Teris’ expression softened.

“He would be ashamed of what you’re doing.” Fuegoleon went on.

Teris pushed to her feet and kicked a clod of mud at the Crimson Lion.

Greywright resisted the urge to zap all four of them. Damn the royals pride. They had been so close to making a positive step. “Run.”

“I hate you.” Nozel grumbled at Fuegoleon as they got to their feet.

“It was because of what you told me that I went there in the first place. I was doing it for both of your sake's.” Fuegoleon snapped.

Nozel spun around to face the Crimson Lion. “I don’t require your assistance! Teris is my Intended and--”

“I’m not going to marry you! Will you just stop! I have less than a year and a half left before you both finally see I mean what I say and hate me. Can we not--” Teris blinked, feeling woozy.

“Teris?” Nozel took a step toward her and fell over.

“Nozel!” Fuegoleon reached out and fell over as well.

Ahead of them, already at a steady jog, Yami stopped and turned around. As he did he noticed Greywright’s army men had disappeared. His eyes darted to the Commander and saw Greywright had fallen forward from his seated position on the ground. He turned to Teris to find Nozel and Fuegoleon were also on the ground. Thankfully they weren’t dead, his sense of Ki telling him so.

“Get them out of here!” Yami ordered Teris, unsheathing his katana, eyes and other senses scanning the field of their foe.

“I can’t.”

Yami was already sprinting back to her and their fallen comrades. “Don’t argue! Just do it!”

Teris wished the world would stop spinning at a blur. “No, Yami. I can--”

Yami rushed the last few steps, catching Teris as she collapsed. His heart hammered in his chest. He lowered Teris to the ground and cloaked his katana in darkness.

Teris had said she couldn’t light travel. Was that because she was weakening and loosing consciousness? Just because he could still use his magic didn’t mean that this wasn’t Calen’s magic. The Agents of Chaos had toyed with them before.

Yami saw movement in the distance. He counted three figures. They disappeared and reappeared six paces in front of him. It wasn’t spatial magic. It was some other form of travel.

“Unless you want to die. I suggest you leave.” Yami growled, trying to focus his fuzzy head.

A man pointed at Yami and Teris. “That’s them. I sensed their power last night. It had to have flooded at least a quarter of Castle City.”

“Pay him.” Said a woman with green glowing eyes.

Yami watched the second man form a shadowy spear and thrust it through the first man. It wasn’t that Yami had wanted to stand by and do nothing. But he couldn’t hold the dark magic cloak on his katana. He could barely even hold his blade up.

“You still using your toxin magic, Lila?” Asked the man who had killed the other.

Lila continued to stare at Yami. “Can’t you see my eyes glowing, Sorn? Why ask what you already know? He’s just that strong.”

Sorn tilted his head, inspecting Yami. “Interesting. There might just be something to those fanatics beliefs after all.”

“You can’t be serious. Magical science will explain this. Not magical religion.” Lila watched Yami stumble as he tried to fight through the toxins effects and stay standing.

Sorn nodded. “Of course. I only meant-- Never mind he’s fading.”

Yami fell to the ground.

Sorn looked down at the man he had killed. “He didn’t say three others would be here. What do we do with them? Leave them?”

The glow in Lila’s green eyes faded. Her grimoire snapped shut and fell into her hand. “Two royals and the Magic Knights Commander? We take them. Rayla will be pleased.”

85.2

“Light cannot survive without Darkness. For without Darkness how would one know what Light was?”

“I don’t have time for this Creepy.” Yami rumbled. “A man and woman took us out. I need to wake up.”

“You are the Lord of Destruction. The final end.”

“Can we not use that name. It reminds me of a certain dead bastard.” Yami said.

“Your time is coming. The Darkness grows within.”

“Yeah. I kinda figure we got it wrong and they didn’t want us for the Winter Solstice. If only we realized it sooner…” Thinking of Bronn, Yami muttered. “The things that happened didn’t need to happen.”

“You must possess the Ray of Annihilation if you hope to triumph.”

“You mean Teris? Yeah, even when I finally marry her I don’t see much possessing going on. She’s kind of her own person. It’s one of the things I like that about her. Anyway, if I’m this dark destructive force, why would I want to triumph? Wouldn’t that be a bad thing?”

The voice started up with another riddle.

“Stop! I don’t have time for nonsense I won’t remember. I need to--” Yami woke-up to someone tapping his cheek. His eyes opened to find an unknown face too close to his.

“There we are. Last to go down. Last to rise. Hello handsome. I’m Rayla.” She saw Yami pull against his bindings and told. “Don’t bother. Those are unbreakable.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Yami said, continuing to pull against the cord holding his wrists together above his head.

“Fine and feisty.” Rayla ran her fingers along Yami’s arms and chest.

“And taken.” Yami told. “Don’t go for older women anyway.”

“A shame. We older women know things those pure virgins don’t.” Rayla leaned forward and breathed into Yami’s ear. “Is she watching? Your girl. Does she look angry? Jealous? Let’s give her a good show, shall we.” She grabbed Yami from beneath his jaw fingers digging into his cheeks and pressed her lips to his, tongue trying to force its way into his mouth.

Yami bit her tongue. He jerked his face free of Rayla’s grasp, and spat out the blood and taste of her.

Rayla stepped back and pointed something at Yami. “Maybe later.”

Yami’s mouth opened to fling insults and demand what she wanted; but he found he couldn’t speak. He tired again. Tired yelling. But no sound came. He had wondered why he hadn’t heard anything from the others and realized Rayla had likely done the same to them. It was unnerving.

Yami looked at Teris who was bound against the opposite wall from him. Fuegoleon was tied in the same fashion to Teris’ right. Yami turned his head seeing Nozel to his left and Commander Greywright on the Silver Eagles other side. Even though they were all bound and rendered speechless, at least they were all together and alive. For now.

Rayla moved in front of Greywright. “I must say, you’ve turned into an exceptionally fine specimen. Though not as fine as those two.” She looked over at Yami and Teris, eyes closing and breathed. “The mana coming off of them is intoxicating. The young buck especially. Shame on you and your Wizard King for trying to keep them all to yourselves. Shame on my King for letting you.”

“Your King didn’t want his kingdom to face the consequences.” Greywright said, feeling Rayla give him the ability to speak.

Rayla laughed. “What consequences? Do you mean the threat that you’d use those two as the weapon they could be? Everyone, including my King, knew that as a lie.”

“So he let you have your way.” Greywright surmised.

“Hardly. I’ve learned there are times when it’s better to beg forgiveness, preferably with results in hand, than wait for permission.” Rayla said.

“You’ve made a grave mistake. Taking Yami and Teris would’ve been bad enough. But to take two royal princes? The Silva’s and Vermillion’s will want their heirs back untouched and unharmed. We would’ve sent select teams of Magics Knights to retrieve Yami and Teris. But for Nozel and Fuegoleon. There will be war.” Greywright told.

“I will be returning both you and your four Magic Knights. But I can’t guarantee they’ll be returned unharmed. That all depends on them. As for untouched...” Rayla smiled, wickedly. “I’ll have my hands all over all four of them soon enough. As for your threat of war. It won’t come. My King hasn’t sanctioned this. He isn’t aware I have you. Nor will he until I’m done. So you can come off your threats Commander. They’re as futile as the one Jorah gave my King about using those two against us should we make a move for them.”

85.3

The Black Bulls Captain had been fetched by Cob and told that Sir Jorah wished to see him. At first he had thought it was for a stern talking to about his Vice Captain's behavior last night. But at the sight of Julius standing beside Kess outside of the Wizard Kings office, he was no longer so sure.

Tapping down his concern, Jax stopped near the other Captain's. “What’s going on? Cob was smiley and useless as usual. I swear there’s something wrong that man. No one’s that happy all the time.”

“He’s behind you.” Julius said.

Jax turned and saw the Spatial Mage. “Shit. Sorry, Cob. Please don’t transport me into a volcano.”

Though his smile wasn’t as wide, Cob still wore one. He waved goodbye and turned away. “Have a good afternoon.”

Jax watched Cob disappear down the hall. “Yeah. That man’s not normal.”

Julius almost said it was because he was use to Bronn’s surliness but caught himself.

“I don’t know. I think he still might portal you to the bottom of the sea.” Kess smirked.

Jax turned to her. “Look at you. Making snide comments. Only a week in as Captain and you think you can disrespect me?”

“Leave her, Jax.” Julius turned to Kess and told. “It’s his way of saying he’s proud of you.”

Jax gestured to Kess. “Considering you’re here, I’m figuring our rowdy delinquents are to blame. What’d they do this time? Gang up on Greywright and escape whatever hell he was putting them through?”

Kess blinked. Nozel was far from rowdy and no delinquent. The royal certainly wouldn’t ever gang up on the Magic Knights Commander.

Julius shrugged. “Don’t know. But Mereoleona’s in there with Sir Jorah now.”

“Then why aren’t we? Don’t tell me Teris kill Fuegoleon.” Jax said.

Julius raised a humored brow. “Doubtful.”

“Nozel wouldn’t have done anything.” Kess said, in defense of her Vice Captain.

“Right.” Jax drawled. “Cause your little royal prince of a Vice Captain was innocent of any wrong doing in the first place. Well except for the spear of mercury Greywright said he had primed and ready above Yami’s head.”

Kess frowned. “If your--”

“Silence!” Jorah commended from behind his desk.

The three Captain’s turned to see the office door had been opened by Ellara.

“It’s no wonder your Vice Captain’s were caught behaving like heathens with you for examples. If we didn’t have something more troubling to deal with I’d personally give all three of you a lesson on decorum. Now get in here.” Jorah ordered.

The three Captain’s lined up beside Mereoleona who stood before the Wizard Kings desk. Ellara closed the door and moved to stand behind Sir Jorah’s left shoulder. She didn’t miss the way Julius and Jax watched her, though she was too upset to care.

Eyes on his Captain's, Jorah informed. “Mereoleona visited the training grounds Greywright had taken the four Vice Captain’s to. Instead of finding the Commander and Vice Captain's, she discovered an unknown dead man. He’d been speared through the head by some as yet unidentified type of magic. Leona reports there was no signs of struggle. Magic Investigations was immediately sent to the scene but so far have yet to find anything that would tell us what happened.”

Whatever nerves Kess had felt disappeared in her concern for her Vice Captain. “Are you thinking they were taken? All of them? Nozel. Commander Greywright.”

“That’s what it looks like.” Jorah said.

Julius glanced at Ellara, certain this was the Agents of Chaos’ doing. But the Advisor appeared truly unnerved. Apprehensive even.

The Wizard King looked at the four Captain’s before him. “We have not received any messages for ransom or any other kind. Neither have House Silva or Vermillion. With no messages and no clues found, we have no idea who took them or why.”

“To take all five of them without a fight, let alone a struggle. It had to have been done through passive means.” Jax said.

“Someone they knew?” Kess theorized.

“Sleep magic. Toxin magic.” Julius said, thinking aloud. “Spatial magic would have left a sign. Small almost imperceptible. But a sign nonetheless. Same with a dimensional shift. There’s marionette magic. Or even blood magic. But Commander Greywright has dealt with both enough to fight against it, if not break through such control. There surely would’ve been some kind of sign of him doing so.”

“Yami and Teris too.” Jax said, thinking Yami especially given his dealings with not just Iban but the Witch Queen.

“There are too many passive types of magic. And that’s if one was use. We can’t go rounding up everyone with such types of magic. We can’t even question them all.” Jorah said, concern for his Commander making him wish he could.

“Let me go, Sir.” Julius said.

Jorah knew what the Captain was thinking. “Magic Investigations timed the mans death. It’s been too long for you to see anything, Julius.”

“The least I can do is try. We have no leads. We have nothing. Please, sir. Let me try.” Julius pleaded.

Ellara held her breath, hoping the Wizard King would agree.

Jorah nodded and rose to his feet. To Ellara, he ordered. “Fetch Cob.”

Ellara nodded and exited the office.

Neither Julius or Kess made a joke about Jax being transported to the bottom of the sea. Ellara returned with Cob in tow.

“The scene if you will.” Jorah commanded.

Cob opened a portal and they all walked through.

Jax took in the barren field. The nearest hiding place was a tree line over three hundred meters away. Unless the abductors had an invisibility mage, or Magic Investigations had messed up and missed the sign of spatial or dimensional magic, there was no way anyone could’ve sneaked up on them. He wished he knew the range Yami could sense of someones Ki; though Jax knew it had a lot to do with Yami’s focus at the time.

Jax looked back at Julius seeing his friend had wasted no time in starting the spell. Depending how far back he looked, it would leave him exhausted and empty of mana. But if it gave them some clue as to what happened. Some direction to begin their search. It was worth it.

85.4

Useless as it was, Greywright pulled at his bindings. He’d do anything to protect his Magic Knights. “Rayla! Don’t do this.”

“It’s a simple test, Commander. Every hopeful in the Spade Kingdom must complete it if they are to become a Sorcery Lance.” Rayla smirked haughtily at Greywright. “Are you saying that your Vice Captain’s are incapable of surviving the most basic of tests?”

“We won’t play your sick games.” Nozel told.

Rayla’s eyes flicked to the royal. She left Greywright and stepped in front of Nozel. “Once you’re in there you play or you die, Handsome. While it would be a shame to lose you so soon. It really is no matter to me. But, I suggest you and Teris complete the trial sooner rather than later. For his sake.” She looked to Nozel’s right at Yami and moved to the Black Bull, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh my.”

Yami jerked at the touch, not having noticed Rayla coming to stand before him. He thrashed, trying to shake off her hand.

“You’re not doing so good. Are you?” Rayla questioned in mock concern.

Vision blurry, Yami glared at Magical Scientist. Taking in an unsteady breath, he panted. “I’m doing well enough to kill your ass. Your so fond of tests and trials. Release me and--” He blinked, spotty vision tunneling. His lolled.

“Yami!” Teris fought against her bindings with renewed vigor. She growled at Rayla. “What did you do to him?”

“It’s not what I’m doing to him. It’s what he’s doing to himself. You see those bindings are doing so much more than holding you in place. They’re holding your mana in place. Giving it no way to naturally breathe and release. Instead, it’s building up inside you.” Rayla turned to Teris. “You must be feeling it’s effects too. A feverish sense that’s making you tired, weak, and achy. Almost as if you’re sick with a cold.”

Teris paused, realizing Rayla was doing the same thing Cin had done. Did that mean Yami was close to losing himself and having the Darkness inside him take over? After everything Greywright had put them through she was naturally tired, weak, and achy. No doubt they all were. But the feeling had grown considerably worse. And now that she thought about it, this feeling was all too similar to how she felt when Cin had taken her.

Smiling at Teris, Rayla reached back running a hand over Yami’s chest and stomach. “Having a full store of mana is a good thing. Overflowing with mana is amazing. But having no way for mana to breath can be deadly. Think of what would have happened if the mana building in you on the Summer Solstice had no way of getting out. Beautiful sight by the way. Such an impressive display of power. Wish I had been there to see it, you must’ve been glorious. But, you had your time.” She turned, looking at the near unconscious Yami. “His time is still coming. While I don’t full understand it or agree with those nut cases, I intend to find the reasoning behind it. Magical science can and will explain this.”

Teris watched Yami. He was shivering, the beads of sweat on his brow frosting over. “Let the excess mana out of him and I’ll play whatever game you want.”

“Teris!” Nozel yelled.

Teris glanced at him. Nozel didn’t understand. She would’ve done anything for Yami. But in this case it wasn’t just about Yami. In a way she was doing this for Nozel. She was doing it for all of them. If Yami lost control and the Darkness inside him took over, they all might die. She looked at Greywright who gave her a less than pleased nod, seeing no other way.

“No.” Rayla said. “First you pass the test. Then I’ll give his building mana release.”

Teris pressed her lips together. Yami wasn’t looking good and she had no idea what this test of Rayla’s entailed. So much for bargaining.

With one last look at Yami, Teris fixed her gaze on Rayla. “Fine.”

85.4.2

Next thing Teris knew, she and Nozel were standing in an arena, hands unbound.

Wanting to explain, Teris scanned the place and apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s just--”

“Not now.” Nozel snapped. He stepped quickly to her, eyes darting about the arena. “Can you light travel?”

Even if Teris was willing to leave the others, she couldn't light travel. She shook her head, rubbing her raw wrists. That’s when she noticed it. A metal band around her right wrist.

Nozel frowned at the foreign item around Teris’ wrist and inspected himself, finding he wore a similar one. “Probably limiting or blocking our magic.”

Unable to pull the thing off, Teris raised her hand. She launched a blast of light that tore a hole through the arena wall. She tried to see passed the opening; but there was nothing. It was similar to dimensional space, but different too.

The wall rebuilt itself.

“Probably limiting us to a point.” Teris agreed. “It would hardly be an accurate test if our magical abilities were limited too much. And I think she truly wants to see what we’re capable of.” She focused properly on Nozel for the first time. “Are you okay?”

Though Nozel’s wound, where Rayla had cut a chunk out of him had stopped bleeding for the most part. It still seeped.

“Yeah, cause you look so much better.” Nozel said, looking over in her wounds.

Due to the nature of Teris’ magic her wounds had slowly cauterized themselves. At least that’s what Nozel supposed the reasoning was. But the gouge and two deep cuts still looked quite painful.

Nozel looked down at his cut opened, stained shirt. Beneath was the still oozing wound where a piece of him the size of a child's fist was missing from the left side of his abdomen. “As soon as I start moving this thing is going to open up. You think you can burn it closed without burning me to a crisp?”

With the heightened level of mana that was raw and storming from both her emotions and having been bottled up, Teris couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t burn more than needed. But she would do her best.

“The only way to know is try.” Teris said.

Nozel gave her an ill-humored look. “That’s hardly reassuring. Do it.”

Teris reached out tentatively. “You—uh. You need to lif—lift your shirt. That is unless you want fabric burned into your flesh.”

Nozel looked at her. His hands moved to the hem of his shirt and slowly lifted it, exposing a part of him he never thought he’d show her until they were married.

Teris’ eyes darted to the side, unable to stare into his crystal blue eyes any longer. She thought about Yami and how they had to hurry. “Ready?”

Teris gave Nozel a second to tuck his tongue and grit his teeth. She glanced at his uncovered stomach, looking away as soon as her hand was positioned over the wound. Her hand began to glow. Teris’ nose wrinkled at the smell of burning flesh that filled her nostrils. Just as she pulled her hand away, Nozel’s eyes went from a squeezed pain filled grimace to wide, worried surprise.

Nozel grabbed Teris. He pulled her into his arms and turned, shielding her with his body in case he hadn’t been quick enough and something got through his mercury shield. Teris didn’t even have a moment to take a breath before she sensed another attack coming. She pushed Nozel down and didn’t bother taking the time to raise her hand to aim, the light appearing out of nowhere to hit it’s target.

85.4.3

Rayla watched a projection of Nozel and Teris on a vaporous cloud in the center of her lab and explained to her captives. “Usually Sorcery Lance hopefuls will face such a test in teams of six or eight with one, maybe two individuals out of every dozen or so teams making it through unscathed enough to consider as having passed. But, seeing as these two are royals and Magic Knight Vice Captain’s I upped the level of difficulty and did away with the safety measures. At least one of them should make it through alive.”

Fuegoleon snarled. “You sick--”

Rayla turned to Fuegoleon silencing his voice. “Don’t worry, my Prince. You’ll have a chance to prove yourself soon enough.”

“Rayla! You have to let Yami’s mana release.” Greywright said, truly worried.

Rayla looked over her shoulder. “I set the rules, Commander.”

“Meaning you can break them.” Greywright said.

He knew he might’ve just set a dangerous precedent. But at the moment it didn’t matter. Yami’s body was burning up as his mana built. Greywright could feel the near overwhelming power. No physical form was meant to house that much raw magical force. No mortal body could contain it and survive. At least not for long.

Rayla tilted her head as if considering the Knights Commander’s words.

“Yami’s your greatest interest. If he dies all your questions go unanswered.” Greywright reminded.

The Magic Knights Commander had a point. With reports of Teris’ magic seeming to have normalized after the Summer Solstice. Rayla’s main interest was in Yami, and the connection Yami and Teris’ magic had. It was the entire reason she had gone against her King’s command and sent Sorn and Lila to the Clover Kingdom.

Looking at Greywright, Rayla walked to Yami’s listless form. “I tell you what. I won’t release the bind that’s bottling his mana. But I will give him a reprieve. It should afford Teris and the Silva Prince an extra twenty minutes to clear the test or die trying. After that, it’s up to them to save Yami’s life. And Yami’s willingness to hold onto that life until they’ve completed the trial I’ve set them. You understand how these things work, Commander. You’ve been in my lab before. Without consequences, even ones that disappoint me, there is no obedience.”

Rayla grabbed a fistful of Yami’s sweat drenched hair, pulling and lifting his head. Yami’s closed eyes barely fluttered.

She looked over her prized lab rat and cooed. “You really are bad off. Aren’t you, handsome?” Never taking her eyes off Yami, she told. “I was wrong, Commander. Your battling Vice Captain's have ten minutes, possibly less.”

Rayla lined up her mouth up with Yami’s. She pulled in close, centimeters apart. Mouth opening, she took in a deep breath. A dense, dark purple, almost black cloud billowed out of Yami’s mouth and entered hers.

Greywright relaxed. Even though Yami didn’t do more than take in a deep shuddering breath, Greywright sensed sizable portion of excess mana leave the younger man.

Rayla stepped back sputtering. Her body felt as if it were bearing an infinite weight. Her lungs burned from a biting cold. She coughed out the mana she’d taken in, gasping.

Fuegoleon’s breath caught at the sight of Rayla’s eyes. They were black. Even the whites of the woman’s eyes were black. Then she blinked and her eyes were back to their normal watery grey.

Shaking off the disturbing sight, Fuegoleon looked at Yami. The Black Bull still didn’t look good. Then again with as much as Rayla had cut into Yami, no one would. While Yami had received most of Rayla’s focus, none of them had been spared. None but Greywright that is.

While Fuegoleon wouldn’t wish such torture on anyone, he had wondered at the Commander’s exclusion. That was until Rayla mentioned Greywright had been in her lab before. If Commander Greywright had been in Rayla’s captive custody once before, that meant he had escaped. Though Rayla had likely learned from the escape and taken measures to stop it happening again, it still gave Fuegoleon hope.

He looked away from the vaporous screen that showed Teris take a hit that sent her flying. Turning back, Fuegoleon saw an attack break through Nozel’s mercury shield as if it wasn’t even there. He grimaced in sympathetic concern when three magical spears pierced Nozel’s side, thigh, and shoulder.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow, his vision blurred for a few heartbeats. Fuegoleon wondered if this was the first sign of the effects Rayla had mentioned. If his own mana was beginning to build passed his body’s tolerance. He looked at the Knights Commander to see him shivering with what he assumed was the same, only further along.

Greywright turned away from the image of a barbed chain wrapping around Teris’ arm and throwing her against the arena wall. His eyes met Fuegoleon’s, noticing the Vermillion's color and sweat. “You have to keep con--”

Rayla silenced Greywright’s voice. “Let the young ones learn to survive on their own, Commander. You did. Think you’re better than this fine royal specimen?” She moved to Fuegoleon. “I always wondered about you Clover Kingdom royals. Naturally endowed with such extraordinary mana and magical ability.” She placed a hand on his chest. “What else are you greatly endowed with?”

Fuegoleon jerked when her hand ran down his chest to his stomach.

Rayla plucked at the waistband of Fuegoleon’s pants. “Care to show me the full weighty might of a royal prince?”

Fuegoleon saw Teris take another hit, and glared at Rayla. “You’re dampening their magic.”

“I have to sweet one.” Rayla said.

“Because you’re afraid they’ll win your little game?” Fuegoleon accused.

Rayla bristled. “I fear no one and nothing. Not even death.”

“Funny you should say that. Shall we put it to the test?” A voice asked, their figure appearing in the middle of the lab.

Rayla spun around to face the intruder. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

“I am Death.” Alowishus said, as if that should’ve been obvious.

“Lila! Sorn.” Rayla called.

Alowishus gave a small, slow shake of his head. “They can’t hear you. They’re dead. Which conveniently answers your second question. How we got in here.”

Rayla’s eyes narrowed. “We?”

Alowishus looked to the screen which showed three others had joined Nozel and Teris in the trial arena. “No one can leave until the trail is complete or all the combatants are dead. Yes? I wouldn’t have bothered sending in three of my people. One would have sufficed in putting an end to your little game. But, I couldn’t trust that Teris wouldn’t end up fighting her helping hand. Even with her magic dampened to such a level. She is a force that should be respected.”

Despite his getting in, Rayla was dismissive in her magics attempt to control the intruder.

Alowishus stared at her. “You cannot control Death. No one can.”

Snarling, Rayla extended both her hands and tried again.

Alowishus looked back at the image of the fight. “My people are nearly done with your little test. And I’m done with you. Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s impolite to play with anothers toys? At least your King understands.” At Rayla’s expression, Alowishus raised a brow. “What? You thought your King feared that empty threat Jorah gave?” He took a step and was in front of her so fast it was like he disappeared and reappeared. “Yami and Teris are mine.”

Rayla fell back sensing the mans power. It was more than Teris’. More than Yami’s. Possibly more than the both of them combined. How had he managed to hide such a power; shield it from her senses until now? What was even more frightening was that Rayla didn’t know if this was the full extent of his power, or if he was only showing her a hint of it.

Rayla scooted away from him. “You—you can have them. I’m sorry.”

Alowishus stared down at her without expression. “No you’re not. But you will be.”

Rayla gasped and begun to writhe on the floor.

Fuegoleon watched the horrifying scene, unable to look away despite his revulsion. Rayla had experiment on them. Tortured them. She laid hands on and humiliated him. Despite all that, Fuegoleon struggled against his bindings with renewed vigor in an effort to free himself and help her.

Rayla deserved to spend the rest of her days in prison. She might have even deserved to be executed. But that was for a lawful trial to decide. She didn’t deserve to slowly wither and decay to nothing.

Rayla screamed and convulsed until she no longer could. Even after she stopped, her eyes moved in their hollowed sockets. Her body twitched, mouth still open in a silent wail of agony.

Fuegoleon watched Rayla’s eyes lose their sheen of life and stare vacantly at the man who had called himself Death. Just when Fuegoleon thought he couldn’t be repulsed further, Rayla’s form cracked and crumbled to dust.

“From the earth you came. So to the earth you shall return.” Alowishus intoned, staring at the pile of dust that had been a living human mere moments before. He turned and stepped to Yami, the hem of his cloak sweeping through Rayla’s remains. “Look what she’s done to you, my boy. Magical science.” Alowishus scoffed. “Unworthy, disbelieving fools. This wouldn’t have killed you. But it would have set you off before your time.”

He placed a hand flat on Yami’s chest and took in the excess mana. Alowishus shivered, wracked with pain as his body initially rejected Yami’s mana. A purple-black cloud billowed around him. Alowishus gritted his teeth forcing his body to soak the mana back in.

Slowly the dark cloud disappeared, drawn in by Alowishus.

“After being weakened from taking in the Light Bringers essence, I needed that.” Alowishus muttered. He looked over his shoulder at the scattered pile that had once been Rayla. “I suppose your foolishness was good for something after all.” He pulled off the charm on Yami’s bindings that stopped his mana from naturally releasing then made his way to Greywright and did the same. “I trust you’ll recover in time to see the Vermillion prince is released before he burns up and dies. Or not.” Alowishus lifted a shoulder. “It makes no difference to me.”

Greywright tried to break free of his bindings but was too weak. The built up mana released from him far too slowly for him to regain the physical power or clear thinking that would allow him to access his magic.

Three Agents of Chaos appeared with an unconscious Nozel and Teris.

Alowishus looked at Yami and Teris, and told Greywright. “Take better care of them, Commander. I’ll be forced to take them away if you don’t. Trust me. None of us wants them in my extended custody.” He moved to his followers and ordered. “Misandre.”

“Master.” Misandre lifted a hand, Bronn’s hand; and she, Alowishus, Himmel, and Yuric stepped through the portal.

Comments and reblogs are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day; so as a 'tip' for reading this free work please leave a comment if you enjoyed reading it.

Next chapter snippet:

“Death should not be here.” The voice said, sounding offended and confused.

Alowishus looked about the black void that was somehow both substance and space. Eyes fixing on Yami, Alowishus said in awe. “This is you. Or a representation of the force within you.”

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #julius novachrono #mereoleona vermillion #Black Clover #light in the darkness spoilers

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steve0discusses · 4 years

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Yugioh S4 Ep 17: Just Throw em on the Murder Pile

Ah, week one of the Stay-at-Home mandate. After a week of getting so little work done, I decided to get Animal crossing so I could get away from the people I live with to our own little virtual islands. So, I spent my time, fishing so many fishes and bugs for the the museum that wasn’t open yet, placing them all over the island so I could use them later. Went to bed having done all this wonderful work, my masterpiece, my beautiful island.

The next day I woke up an hour later than my brother, who spent that time logging into Animal Crossing, not realizing he was sharing an island with me (for some reason you only get one island per switch, which was a decision they made???) and he was like “the hell are all these fish everywhere?” So he sold all of them, made himself an Oricalchos shirt and a Yami third eye in the fashion editor, and then used all my fish money to buy so many oil drums and put them all over the trash side of his island.

I was asleep one hour. One single hour. It is all trash oil drums and fire and a poorly drawn Oricalchos t-shirt.

Ah, the irony when you get a game to escape the people you live with only to realize that you share the location of the game itself--with those same people. The irony.

So anyways, we found out that our efforts were futile anyway, long story short we sort of...soft locked this children’s game, and had to restart the entire island. lol.

So while I recover from that shock, lets talk about Yugioh.

They’re still on the Caltrain and Yami is still appearing to have a lot of difficulty remembering how to use cards without Yugi. But, we find out at the end of the episode, he’s mostly just pretending to have difficulty. We’ll get to why this bluff is so mind boggling later--Yami just has a lot of weird layers to him, and most are just so...so lovingly stupid.

Anyway, Timaeus doesn’t work with him now, but honestly it wasn’t clear why Timaeus ever did in the first place since Yami is both two people and a dead person at the same time. Yami shouldn’t exist.

This doesn’t matter in the end, because Yami is good at cards when he isn’t actively trying to get cursed to give himself a handicap like he did with Raphael.

Unlike Yami, Joey decides to reflect upon the moral consequences of Hella Killing a Guy, which youknow...should mess you up a little bit.

But obvi, Rex has to die for the plot to move forward, so RIP.

(more RIP under the cut)

Yugioh made sure to give Rex a big send off that took waaaaay longer than Gurimo, just saying.

Lololololol

Just two u’s, sleeping so pleasantly.

And I’m just guessing, ps, but I feel like it’s a good guess. I feel like this wasn’t like this in the original.

Back at the train that should be crossing the ocean at this point, Weevil has pulled out some misdirection. Knowing that Yami has been misdirecting Weevil this entire time, it is just so baffling that he’d totally fall for this.

If someone did this to Seto Kaiba--that I would believe, instantly. But to Yami? OK there, Yami.

Mind you, Yami is grieving, and he’s not mentally all there in both the literal sense and in the mental sense, but wow, Yami. You fell for that.

Yami has lost his entire mind and is just kind of winging it until he gets arrested.

He has no reason to be better than this. He’s like “FML. I’m gonna go ape, I don’t freakin care”

Like, Yami has this anger problem, which the show has said out loud a few times this season, but we haven’t really seen too often in previous seasons to a great degree. So we have to give him some places where he can demonstrate getting super pissed, to make up for the fact that Yami’s character developed has mostly been about “I’m too lonely and cursed to make friends, Yugi.” and “I’m DEAD, Yugi, I don’t want to learn about my history.” and “Gods why are you always making problems for me to solve for you, Kaiba?”

Not saying he hasn’t been mad and vengeful before this moment, but he hasn’t been as explosive before this season--it’s always been a chill anger, a quietly menacing kind of crazy, youknow? But...characters change. Yami’s developed to be different now and that’s fine. Being pissed someone killed your soul bud that you share a body with, I feel, is a natural thing to be pissed about.

But, Yami is permanently in a state of anger and brooding since Yugi left, despite being pretty chill for most of the past 4 seasons. It’s like the first time we get to experience Yami be Just Yami since the beginning of Season 1 and it’s a completely different Yami anyway.

I guess this is to point out that they really did rely on the other to complete their personality. Which is weird, but that is a thing you do with people that you’re spend a ton of time with--you kind of forget how to do things solo.

Like there was this interesting study where they took married people and asked them simple grade school questions, and they answered them fine when they were together in the same room. But, when they were separated--they suddenly would blank on random stuff. They couldn't remember capitals or multiplication tables--simple stuff. But people who were single, were able to do these things fine alone or with a friend.

People who spend a hell ton of time together learn to help eachother answer the questions as a team, and the parts of the brain you use to like...memorize capitals and multiplication might decay because there’s someone else who will just always do it for you.

So anyway, the takeaway I get from this is that the part of Yami and Yugi that could read if Weevil is lying was Yugi and that’s a lot to take in. Yugi might be smarter than Yami? Weird. Low bar, but weird.

So, Yami won’t need to justify to himself like Joey, he’s just gonna kill this guy outright. Immediately. There was some card shenanigans, and I guess he had the opportunity to beat him even further after he was dead? I didn’t fully pay attention to the card logic but it was so brutal that Tea had to get involved.

She was quicker to save even S1 Seto Kaiba, just throwing that out there. Tea was like “I’ll step in between you two, but I’ll be run really slow about it.”

I think she was more worried about Yami going dark than Weevil who’s...already dead. And again, you don't have to worry about Yami going dark. I say it a lot but he’s a dark wizard. This is kind of his zone.

And then, they actually touched for the first time in like--kind of a lot of episodes. I kind of forgot about this ship.

How come when she’s wrestling him it looks more like a hug than the few times they’ve hugged? These writers, man. They’re just...so close to figuring out how to write a ship but just so, so far away.

I just want to remind y’all that the Oricalchos broke Valon’s arm but Tea and Tristan just walked away because they’re that hulk IRL.

I just love that Yugi is so short that Tea has to be on a ladder below him in order to have this pose happen.

After that awkward moment that Yami lost his entire mind and killed a guy, he had another weird moment where he just...looked down at his hands and was like “I’m the real monster?????”

He didn’t think about the moral consequences until AFTER he killed Weevil. And honestly, that feels a lot more like the Yami I know. That was maybe the most Yami thing he did this episode. Reminder, they got into this train duel while trying to stop a runaway train, and they did nothing about that.

So anyway, how’s this train going?

(San Jose has over one million residents but don’t tell Yugioh.)

And then, sadly, I had to say goodbye to my penultimate favorite character in Yugioh, second only to the storyboarder. Goodbye, forever.

At least the death sequence for the Caltrain seemed appropriately long, as it should be. Rex’s went ON but the Caltrain? Lets get that slowmo pan for it. Goodbye, first train in Yugioh (that wasn’t shaped like a dragon.)

And I just figured it was Darts who did this, but apparently Darts was just as upset as I was when he saw that train derail and then soar 500 feet above the track like a figure skater.

Y’ALL

First off congrats to Darts’ fluffy as hell lower eyelash extensions, I’m lowkey jealous.

Second off, every year on the ballot we get a measure that wants to funnel money into the Caltrain. Every single year. It almost never passes, and when it does, the money sort of vanishes into the aether. It’s really annoying.

To think that THIS ineptitude is what helped Darts loose track of Yami and I’m going to assume save the whole damn world.

I can’t believe the auto lobby and the corrupt Caltrain management just saved the world like that.

I can’t believe that’s Canon to Yugioh.

My expression when I found out that after we just mercifully cut the cast by two, they decided to stick in this new guy?

Ugh a new guy.

So Yugi and Tea do say at the end “you ok?” “yeah” so it’s nice that Tea can survive a train crash off a cliff into a ditch. Tea, and this reincarnated ghost. God tier.

Anyway if you just got here, this is a link to read these in order

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

I feel like I say every week “ah, I finally have time to catch up” but I still post at exactly the same rate anyway but...I guess we’ll see, huh?

#ygo #yugioh #Yu-Gi-Oh #Yugi Muto #Yami muto #Tea gardner #joey wheeler #rex raptor #Weevil underwood #Darts #very sorry to the Dart enthusiasts who just want to talk about the game darts #caltrain #Wow caltrain I'll miss you #This episode is Yami acting like a crazy person for like half the time and I'm all for it #S4 #Ep17

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team-science-mega-nerds · 4 years

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Fictober Prompt: “You keep me warm”

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Alex x Sam

This isn’t her first choice. In fact, this isn’t even her last choice. Sam hadn’t really considered the idea at all until she’d heard that the vet’s office was all filled up on slots for the weekend and Sam would have to pay $75 more a night, just to board her pup at someplace fancier. It’s not that she doesn’t love her little guy more than anything in the world, but she barely had enough money to get home and go to her aunt’s funeral, she certainly couldn’t afford this.

And then it hits her. Literally, as it turns out.

Her neighbor is heading toward the apartment right across the hall from Sam’s and bumps right into Sam’s side with a homf. “Ohmygod!” Sam’s eyes widen when she sees that her neighbor, Alex, is carrying a large 3D printer. “Sorry,” Alex mumbles as she struggles to open her door while also balancing the printer.

“Oh. Hi. Do you need…?” Sam reaches for Alex’s keychain and sees that there are about fifty keys on the ring. “Jesus.”

“Yeah, I work in a lab. Lots of hush-hush stuff. It’s the small gold one,” Alex points out. Sam finds the key and opens the door for Alex. While Alex waddles her way into her apartment - which is a surprising mix of eclectic trinkets, bold colors, and three different coffee makers - Sam gets an idea.

“Hey, are you busy today slash tomorrow?” Alex puts the printer in the corner of the room and turns toward Sam with something that resembles suspicion in her eyes. “I...so my aunt’s dead.”

“Oh god.”

“Her funeral is tomorrow and I need to...but then there’s my dog and I kinda need someone to…” Sam runs her fingers through her hair. “Do you mind watching him for two days? I’ll pay you and he’s really good. Like really good. But needy. Like mother like doggo,” Sam pauses for a laugh, Alex continues to look slightly confused. “I can pack up everything and write what he needs, it’s just-.”

“Say no more. I love dogs.” Sam doesn’t exactly know that she can trust Alex but she knows that Alex organizes game nights at the apartment complex. And that she seems to have a stable - probably very weird too - job. But Sam doesn’t have much of a choice. Alex is so eager and happy when Sam brings her dog over that she thinks it just might work.

“Um, I should give you my number. Just in case. I mean...nothing will go wrong, obviously, but...just in case.” They exchange numbers while Sam’s dog walks around Alex’s apartment smelling everything. Sam gives Alex a warm smile, kisses her pup on the head, and gathers her things to go to the airport.

Which leaves Alex, now, in a bind. Alex does the only thing she can think to do which is turn on her phone, hit her speed dial, and wait. Elated brown eyes stare at her, so Alex seeks out treats to toss his way. “Good boy, who’s a good boy.” Alex knows that this is how it’s done because she’s gone to a dog park with Kara. Gentle head rubs, a little scratch of the ears, and dogs are all yours. “You are so cute, aren’t you, Chewy?” The tail-wagging seems like a good sign so Alex keeps scratching and feeding the dog treats until she hears a loud knock at her door. “It’s open, come in!”

“Are you on crack?” This is a totally normal thing for Lucy to say but the way her eyes are popping out of their sockets like she’s some kind of creepy rag doll unnerves Alex a little bit. “You got a dog?” Lucy flings her bag on Alex’s couch and walks over to survey the situation. “You’re allergic to dogs, you absolute moron.”

“I know that!” Alex continues petting Chewy. “Ignore her, she’s rude,” She tells him.

Lucy dramatically sniffs the air. “What is it that I smell? Is it the dog or…” Lucy gets really close to Alex and gives her a big whiff. “Is that the stench of you going out of your way for a hot girl?”

“I’m not going out of my way. I’m being friendly. Neighborly.”

“Okay, Mr. Rogers.”

“I called you because I need to go to CVS and get some allergy meds. Can you stay here for me?”

“Sure,” Lucy says, already laying on the floor and playing with Chewy. “What’s this big guy’s name?”

“Chewy,” Alex tells her. Then she remembers, “It’s short for Chewbarka.” Alex can still hear Lucy laughing even as she’s outside of her apartment and walking down the street toward the pharmacy. Okay, Alex will admit it, she thinks Sam is hot. In fact, Alex had mentioned it to Kara as soon as Sam moved across the hall. They occasionally interacted but never to the extent of anything substantial. Until today. She supposes that’s why she jumped at the chance. She didn’t have anything to do this weekend except play with her new 3D printer and she really did like dogs, even if they made her sneeze and itch like crazy.

Alex’s heart warms at the sight of Chewy getting his belly rubbed when she return. Just as Alex joins in on the action, “I’d stay but I have to get to work.”

“All good. I’ll be fine here.”

“Sureee…” Lucy grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder. “Exactly how hot is this woman?” Alex pulls up Sam’s Instagram and shows it to Lucy. “...don’t fuck it up with the dog and you might actually have a chance, Danvers.”

Alex prepares herself for the worst. She sets up Chewy’s bed, makes sure she gets the exact measurements of food correct, gives him filtered water, and takes him on a long walk. Alex wonders if this is what it’s like to be a parent. Constantly thinking about someone other than yourself and being too stressed to function. Alex is shocked that all Chewy seems to want to do is cuddle up next to her and watch Netflix.

At one point, Chewy is sprawled out on top of Alex, leaving her hardly any room to breathe, but it’s so damn cute that Alex has to take a selfie. And then...she sends it to Sam. “Why did I do that?” She mumbles to herself, waking up Chewy just enough that he gives her a big lick on her cheek. “What do you wanna watch? Maybe we can find a dog movie?” Alex scrolls around her Netflix. “Dogs always die in movies though…” Alex’s eyes find her printer and she smiles. “I can make you a bunch of dog accessories?” Alex suggests and Chewy gives her another kiss.

That’ll have to do.

The thing that Alex realized a very young age was that once she starts a task, she tends to go overboard. Her intention was making a little dog tag for Chewy but what she ends up making is a dog tag, armor so he can be a knight for Halloween, bunny ears in case he wants a second costume, a food dispenser, and sixteen different toys he could play with. “Oh shit, that’s...a lot.” Alex’s phone buzzes and she sees that it’s a text from Sam.

[SAM]: this is maybe the best picture I’ve ever received, you two look so cute!

Alex doesn’t dwell on the fact that Sam called her cute. There’s a dog involved, anyone is cute with a dog. “Chewy, what do I say?” Chewy doesn’t offer up anything but a nuzzle, so Alex simply likes the message and tries to move on with her life. Which is going really well until her heat cuts off at 11 PM.

Normally, she’d survive it. It’s California and Alex has blankets, but tonight she’s actually shivering and thinks she might have to go over to Kara’s until Chewy climbs onto her bed and cuddles up next to her. “Thanks, buddy. You keep me warm and I’ll keep you warm.” Alex gets a cozy night's sleep for the first time in five years and wakes to the sound of her phone ringing. She answers without even looking to see who it is. “Hello?” Groggy mumbling would probably best describe Alex’s voice right now. The fact that she’d, apparently, slept until 3 PM makes her feel embarrassed and confused.

“Wow, you sound adorable.” It’s Sam. Alex sits up and Chewy raises his head to see what’s going on. “I’m outside your door.” Alex climbs to her feet, sprints across her apartment, and flings the door open. “Wow, you’re…” Sam looks at Alex’s attire: sweatpants, fuzzy socks, a hoodie, and a wool hat. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, but...heat went out last night.” Chewy’s entire body wags as he rushes at Sam. “This guy was a really good heater.”

“God, Alex, thank you so…” Sam takes in the sight of all the new dog toys and costumes. “...much.”

“I might’ve gotten a little carried away.” Alex gathers the toys into a giant paper bag and holds them out toward Sam. “Also I love Chewbarka but my allergy meds are wearing off, so I should probably sneeze for a few hours.” Sam takes the bag with an awkward smile and then cocks her head to the side.

“Wait...you’re allergic to dogs?”

“Um...yes?”

“Well, why did you take him? I wouldn’t have asked if I knew he was going to kill you.”

“He didn’t kill me! The cold weather would’ve killed me. Chewy and I got along just fine, he’s a great Netflix buddy.” Alex scratches his head.

“If you say so.” Sam smiles a little brighter now. “Maybe once I unpack and you take some allergy medication, I could come over and we could watch Netflix and...chill?” Sam says the word chill with a wink before taking Chewy and all his new toys back to his apartment.

Alex closes her door and sneezes so hard that she nearly tumbles to the ground.

#danvarias #alex danvers #sam arias #lucy lane #and a cute dog #agentreign #supergirl #this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month whoops

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the-lady-bryan · 4 years

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harry potter/farscape crossover idea

okay so firstly, i’m NEVER going to develop this further. i’ve just got no muse. but here we are, with what little bit i did throw into notepad at one point.

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

Harry had stopped believing in coincidence centuries ago.

It didn't help that he was yanked for a while back and forth through realities - though admittedly that was partly his own fault because he didn't quite anticipate the level of power his magic had risen to after the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort. When he wished to be anywhere else than dealing with the press and the fans and the fame and oh Merlin damn it Ginny we're not even dating and you and your mother are picking out goddamned wedding china!

But he digresses.

His reality hopping had finally ceased and his magic had FINALLY settled down. It looked like this reality would be his permanent one provided he didn't fuck it all up again. Which he tried - he really tried because holy fucking hell some of this shit he had to deal with was absolutely insane! He'd seen Voldemort the Snake-Face but that did NOT prepare him for meeting the literal psychic bipedal lizards called the Scarans. And he'd rather not meet them again if he could help it.

To survive in this crazy universe he'd had to adapt and unfortunately that meant kill or be killed.

Harry had come to terms with the blood on his hands a long time ago.

Unfortunately it was right before he was picked up by the Peacekeepers - the military arm of a race called the Sebbacians. And that's how he ended up in prison for assassinating some asshole dictator in the middle of nowhere who, unfortunately had Peacekeeper connections roughly eight cycles - years - after the fact. He'd settled down on some other backwater planet that reminded him a lot of Earth. Well, one of the Earths he'd been to at any rate. So what if the people were slightly orange and melted shit when they screamed. He just got better at making up scream-proofing charms on the fly is all. They were called Interons or something of the sort. Didn't matter much to Harry. He'd found a place to settle down and live a quiet life for the first time in three hundred years.

And now he was being transferred from his comfortable cell on some planet to a prison ship. Oh joy of joys.

Another eighty years later....

Harry sat with his muzzle on like a good little prisoner when they came into his cell for the routine torture and supposed interrogations. How did he still look like a child after eighty years? How old was he really? Where did he come from? Who else has he murdered? Who all hired him? The usual really.

They left him alone mostly unless they transferred other prisoners off the ship and he was all that was left.

They'd killed him a few times, but they didn't realize it. He'd healed and awoken too quickly for them to notice.... But someone did. He was sure of it. He just couldn't quite figure out who...

At least until he'd been on the ship for another fifty years. That's when he felt her for the first time poking at the edges of his awareness. She called herself Moya. She was the ship. The Leviathan is what the Peacekeeper guards called her.

Harry looked up from his liquid meal, the straw still stuck in the hole of his muzzle that allowed him to drink and "eat" when he heard the guards outside his door. Curious, he silently asked Moya what was happening as a blue woman was taken past his cell. A new prisoner. A Delvian, Moya had said. Harry was just grateful the new prisoner wasn't another goddamn Hynerian. Horrible little bastards reminded him of horrifying mix of Mundungus Fletcher and Draco Malfoy. Not something he liked to imagine. But at least she should be much more pleasant company than Rygel.

He found he liked the Delvian. Her chanting was very soothing. Moya and her Pilot seemed to like it very much as well.

Harry was woken by the roars of a tentacle faced beast of a man? He thought it was a man at least... when they brought the Luxan on board. With the muzzle on though, he could hardly say anything to anyone other than Moya and Pilot. And that was only because whatever it was they did, it was similar enough to legillimency that he basically said fuck it, why not. Otherwise, he'd have gone crazy long before then.

And then... one day, he woke to sirens and the ship jarring about and oh dear heavens that's laser fire isn't it?

"Don't just sit there! Come on!" Oh it was that horrible muppet thing again. Harry just stared at him in annoyance before the blue woman ran past and it dawned on him... Oh, it's a prison break.

It didn't take long for Harry to subdue a couple of guards. With some of Moya's lovely little robots leading him around he was able to avoid most confrontations and make his way to a safe storage chamber and hunker down until the fighting was over. He quite liked the chamber, and made his opinion known to Moya and her Pilot.

Eventually when things have settled down and they've starburst away Harry is led by some DRDs to where the other escaped prisoners are. They were't really pleased to see a young man wearing a muzzle and holding a pulse rifle judging by the multiple weapons pointed at him.

"who the hell are you?!" "He was here before anyone else." "ship's manifest doesn't even have him listed." "That muzzle can't be comfortable. Here, allow me..." "Are you mad! You take that off him and he'll kill us all!"

The muzzle is taken off and the first thing Harry says for a couple of centuries is, "You, the blue one. Oh I have so much enjoyed your chanting. It helped soothe Moya and her pilot for a time. I don't... I don't quite know what had them so agitated for a while but it certainly did help them. And myself as well. I look forward to hearing more of that lovely chanting. Now can I get a decent cuppa tea? Perhaps a food packet? I'll take anything solid. I've been living on liquid nutrients for around a hundred and fifty years and I can tell you it's not a pleasant way to eat."

"You're speaking English. That's English! My translator microbes things not translating you! That is the god damn Queen's English!"

"Of course I'm speaking bloody English! I'm from bloody England you fucking yank!"

"you said fuck! Not.... You have no idea how good it is to see another human!"

"I can assume you're from Earth, Mr..."

"Crichton. John Crichton. Astronaut."

"Harry Potter. Wiz-"

"The Master of Death!" - The Hynerian.

"Well I was going to say Wizard but I suppose that works just as well."

"Peacekeeper legends claim you can kill a man with just two words. Is that true?"

"Yes. With the proper motivation at least. But I.... I turned from my calling a long time ago. I'm not exactly a man of peace or pacifism, but I just wanted to settle down and have a quiet life after all my travels and adventures."

"Wait a minute..... A wizard. Named Harry Potter. You've got to be kidding me! Next you'll be telling me you ride around chasing a little flying ball on a broomstick."

"you know about Quidditch? Tell me, Mr. Crichton, are there any wizards or witches on Earth still? What year even is this by your calendar?"

"Dear god he honestly thinks he's a wizard..."

"what did I say?"

Then a few days later, after Harry's saved Crichton's life, the man finds him sitting and staring out a porthole, floating a cup in front of him with just a wiggle of his fingers with a fond smile on his face. "There's these... books. Kids books, back on Earth. My friend’s kid was obsessed with 'em. Got on the pre-order list at the bookstore near the base so he could get the third book the day it comes out for her birthday." "Why are you telling me this, Mr. Crichton?" "The first book is called Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone. The second one that came out last year was called Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets." And at this, Harry closes his eyes and sighs. "And what was the third book to be called? Did you know?" "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Did you really kill a giant fucking snake with just a hat, a bird, and a sword?" "If I told you yes?" "What kind of world do you come from where twelve year olds are expected to know how to fight a giant fucking snake?" "It was over sixty feet long. Built like a brick shithouse. And for some reason facing off against that with a magic bird, magic hat, and a magic sword was... according to my senile headmaster, a good way to build character."

This starts a sort of ritual between the two not-the-same-earth-earthlings. Crichton knows all about the first two books because his friend's kid is fucking obsessed with them and so Harry gives him a first person "this is how shit went down" and "this is honestly what i was thinking at the time" and "yes, with my bare hands, i murdered a man at eleven and nobody thought to send me to a fucking therapist. It was all "here's some bloody candy, Harry. Don't ask questions. Also here's house points in return for killing a man at the tender age of 11." That should have been our first clue that Albus too many fucking names Dumbledore was crazier than goddamn Voldemort ever thought of being."

And when Crichton is captured and tortured with the aurora chair, Harry's there for him in equal measure as Zhaan. And he never asks him about it, but he's just like "Bro. I got your back. You ever need to scream at someone about it, you come to me. We can compare scary pale faced black wearing nightmare men any time." And when Harry finds out that his new best bro has a clone of Scorpius in his head, he starts teaching him occlumency techniques because he's like "even without magic, this shit is damn helpful. Oh, and if you ever find yourself kind-of possessed by the bastard - hey, don't look at me like that John I don't make the rules. This shit just happens when you've got someone else living in your head. Trust me. Remember what I told you about that fucking scar of mine? Right. So listen. You ever get possessed, you want me to, uh, off you? I mean, I don't want to. But I will if I have to. Sometimes if you die for a bit, it helps reset shit." "I'm not immortal harry! I can't just reset my brain like some fucking wizard!" "There! That anger! Hang onto that. Trust me. It'll help if you ever get possessed."

And of fucking course when he's possessed by Scorpius Harry's like "I know that's you, you fucking asshole. Let go of my best bro or I will fucking gut you like a fish." "no you won't. You kill me, your kill John." "that's right and i already had this conversation with him. I'm sure you were there for it, too. You've got 24 arns or the real you is going to get a rather nasty visitor after I forcibly rip that chip out of Johnny's head and fry your ass so nobody gets to have the wormhole tech in there. You understand me, lizard breath?"

#harry potter #farscape #crossover idea #no i won't be going further with this

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jane-the-zombie · 4 years

Text

Freefalling || Otto & Jane

TIMING: Before mimes. PARTIES: @gravityfissure and @jane-the-zombie SUMMARY: Jane fell off a cliff. RIP.

When she was off duty and not worried about being stabbed by a mime, Jane was a different person. White Crest, surprisingly, was more dangerous than she had anticipated. Between pieces of shit teenagers jumping in front of her car in the dark, mime stabbings, and the thick wild life… she wasn’t as bored as she was afraid she was going to be when transferred out of the city and to such a small town. Just a normal town, as they said. The rockwall had been found on a previous hike. Raising up about 40-50 feet, she was sure that getting to the top would give her the most glorious view of the ocean. Of course, the view wasn’t what had her attached to the wall, scaling it without any proper safety equipment. Falling didn’t matter. She started the climb probably fifteen minutes ago, leaving her backpack down at the bottom. She grunted quietly, pulling herself further up. Jane glanced down, checking her progress. If she fell from this height, she would die. Jane laughed, pulling herself up further, that fact just made her want to go faster, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and - Her foot slipped off it’s foothold and she was off balance. “Fuck!” Jane swore loudly, trying to correct herself. That just made it worse. Scraping her hands against the rocks, she was suddenly falling backwards and down towards a very unforgiving ground.

He’d settled faster than he’d anticipated into the small town of White Crest, it had been pure luck and desperation really that he’d fallen into the position he had. He could live off the money he had in the bank from all the jobs he’d pulled for the Tarot but that money had its limitations and he’d rather not splash those funds just yet. So the convenience of a job that somewhat suited his alchemical talents of mixing potions (albeit mixing drinks) with a magical flare helped keep him from worrying too much. It didn’t seem as though anyone had caught on to him here, and that suited him just fine, though it didn’t stop him from wondering just how long it would be before he could go home. To see his family again and pound the streets with those familiar faces. But a quiet voice in the back of his head answered his lingering thoughts, sewing doubts into the subconscious quiet of his mind. Not until you understand. Not until you control. But control was one of those issues. No matter how hard he tried to recreate the complex emotional situation he had yet to feel that surge of power, the tangling of invisible threads that had allowed him to quite literally reverse the forces acting on a bullet meant to take his life. It was this attempt at learning control that explained why he sat staring balefully with an extended hand at a pile of rocks under the shade of the trees. “Fuck!” he grunted at another failed attempt to move them shoving to his feet and stalking to the edge of the small private clearing he utilised for his practise.

It was looking out to the ocean that he suddenly saw something strange. A woman falling, picking up speed towards the ground from a height that would maim if not kill if she hit. The wash of panic and adrenaline that overtook him was instantaneous, his body and mind syncing simultaneously. A violet shimmer washed over his eyes as his hands were thrown up palms facing the sky before curling his fingers into tight fists as though grasping and pulling the air towards him. And suddenly, the woman no longer plummeted, instead, drifting slowly down to the ground as the kinetic energy of her fall was dissipated in a shockwave nearby sending a few stones skittering down the cliff. Otto barely felt the blood trickling from his nose as he skidded down the slope towards the woman, “shit lady, are you okay?”

It was funny. She heard from victims that survived dangerous falls that time seemed to slow down before they crashed to the ground, but not like this. Jane was disoriented when it hit her. She had been falling - plummeting to her ‘death’, really - and then she was… floating? Jane didn’t register that she was safely on the ground, small stones and rocks scattering off the adjacent cliff, until she heard a voice and feet skidding across the rocks. Brow furrowed, she pushed herself up to sitting position and immediately began to check herself over for injuries, confused. She wasn’t… injured, minus the scraping on her palms. That would hurt later, but it certainly wasn’t going to kill her. Jane realized that her heart was beating fast and she felt great - she never had a rush quite like that before. The feeling of plummeting down to the ground as it got closer and closer and closer until… well. She clearly didn’t die. She wasn’t craving brains, and she was fairly certain she wouldn’t have woken up right away either. She looked up at the man that approached and frowned at him.

“Your nose is bleeding,” Jane pointed at his nose, still slightly dazed and high from whatever the hell just happened, She wondered if she did it again, the same thing would happen. She pushed herself off the ground, her balance wobbly for a moment. Knees weak, probably with fear. Great. She may not fear death, but she wasn’t about to test her luck. Today at least. She went to grab her backpack off the ground. “I’m fine, I guess,” Jane said, looking up at the cliffside she had been trying to climb. “Did you see what happened? What was that?” She was fishing around for something in her pack now - where was it? The first-aid kit. She needed to put bandages on her hands, and rando here’s nose was gushing blood. “Are you alright?” Jane asked, finally pulling it out. “Did something hit you? Bad allergies? Come here.”

Otto knew the rules as well as the next person, but something about this had been instinctual. The shock of seeing someone plummeting to their imminent demise and instinct to act. The need to save them. It stirred lingering feelings of guilt as the memories that plagued him of the day he’d discovered these very abilities rose to the surface. But that was tempered for the time being by the mild horror of someone almost dying. Not to mention lingering underneath those cacophony of emotions was the surprise and returning frustration that he’d managed to summon these powers once more in a situation beyond his control. Was that the key? Shit. He really didn’t want powers that only thought themselves useful when shit was hitting the fan.

“What?” he questioned as he skidded to a stop on a few loose rocks not yet realising the twin streams of crimson trailing down from his nostrils. “You guess? You just fell like forty fucking feet,” he glanced at the cliff in question and then back to her as she shakily got to her feet. “I--” he gaped for a moment, the panic and shock leaving him feeling more than a little light-headed himself. “No idea, no fucking idea I guess… You just got lucky,” what else was there to say? I can do magic and saved your goddamn life and you owe me one for almost giving me a heart attack? He closed his mouth, wiping his nose with a slightly shaking hand and seeing it come away stained crimson he blinked. “Oh, shit” he muttered moving to pinch the bridge of his nose with a wince and leaning forwards slightly to stem the blood. “I’m… fine, this uh… happens when… I’m stressed. And that… was stressful.” He noticed the first aid kit she pulled out, “got any… gauze or something in there by any chance?”

“Well,” Jane considered, looking up at the cliff side, trying to gauge where she had been before she had lost her footing. “It was more like thirty. Maybe thirty-five? I still had a bit to go before I pulled myself up to the top. Ah, well, semantics.” Jane waved it off uncaringly as she brushed a piece of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. She glanced at him, examining him sharply. Gotten lucky? Lucky? “Lucky is one way of putting it,” she said, doubtfully. Something more was at work, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. It definitely hadn’t been her that slowed herself down. Hours spent grilling her ex-fiancee on what exactly he did to her hadn’t included magic pre-zombie you’re a wizard, harry crap, and from what Jason said, after she became a zombie, none of that shit would impact her anyway. Still, she guessed she was supposed to be thankful she was saved by something, since nobody else knew that dying didn’t really mean what it meant to everyone else. “Good thing, though.” She added, lazily.

Jane held the first aid kit out to him, not wanting to touch the gauze she had with her own bloodied hands. It was funny, he seemed to be more stressed out by her fall than she was. “Here, you need to sit down,” Jane pointed to a nearby rock. “Come on, lean forward and keep pinching your nose like that. Are you sure you’re alright?” He seemed shaken, and she almost felt a little bad. Well, she hadn’t known she was going to fall off a cliff today. “What’s your name?” She asked, casually. “I’m Jane. And what are you doing out here? Hiking? It is a nice day.”

“You don’t seem very fazed by… that, like at all” he waved at the cliff more than a little perturbed by this stranger's apparent lack for care regarding their own well-being. Falling from a height like that should have scared anyone out of their might witless, but this woman seemed more than okay and Otto couldn’t help but side-eye her a little in caution. Either she was some kind of immortal or something else.

As the first aid kit was offered, Otto took a couple of pieces of gauze with his clean hand and brought it under his nose to try and stem the bleeding with a muttered thanks. He nodded mutely, maneuvering himself to sit down on the indicated spot the horizon of his vision swaying a little with the intensity of the magic he’d summoned in such a short period of time. It was exhilarating but equal measures exhausting. “Otto… Name’s Otto,” he answered after a short pause, why had he left his bag up there with his trusty bottle of booze in it? He needed a drink to steady his nerves. “Hiking wha-” the confusion lasted but a moment before he caught on, “oh, uh, yeah… hiking. You know… since the sun’s back.” though in his current jeans and t-shirt he was hardly dressed for a long ‘hike’ through the trails in the region. His eyes flickered back to the cliff once more, “what were you doing? Seems kind of like a death wish to... go up there.”

Jane carefully followed him, waiting for him to take gauze out of the kit before grabbing some herself to treat her hands. Some disinfectant and a couple bandaids and she’d be good as new. She couldn’t believe some man that came across her was bleeding more than her and she had just fallen off a cliff side. “Ah, well… Maybe I’m in shock,” she said, doubtfully. Her legs were still wobbly, doing that damn leg shaky thing people did when they were anxious or hopped of on something. Her adrenaline high was quickly wearing off, probably because she was stuck worrying about a bloody nose - actually, she was kind of worried about the bloody nose because he sort of like… She didn’t know. Not alright. “It’s fine, no one died.” She shrugged.

“Otto…” The name sparked a memory, something that someone said online, but she couldn’t quite remember at that moment. He had faltered with her hiking excuse she fed him, she she raised an eyebrow curiously. And he wasn’t dressed for it either. She raised an eyebrow, and glanced up at the cliff side. “Rock climbing.” Then again, she wasn’t dressed for hardcore rock climbing either. Most people didn’t do that shit in athletic leggings and her old Colby College zip up hoodie. “Freehand. It is dangerous. You shouldn’t try it.” Jane advised. It was okay for her to do this shit, she was the one that would live forever. She rubbed the side of her neck, over the scar. “As you can see why. People fall.” She added.

Perhaps if he wasn’t so distracted by someone nearly splattering themselves across the rocks he would’ve reacted differently and maybe been able to place the name. But as it stood, Otto had other things on his mind and he felt some slight pressure in his temples that made thinking straight harder than it usually was. “That’s not shock,” he cast his gaze back to her, bright but stern blue eyes fixed for a lingering second. He’d seen shock plenty of times before, that definitely wasn’t it. “You could’ve...”

Otto could usually get on the ball rather quickly when he was working at full capacity, but the rush of unexpected and uncontrolled magic had tapped him. Eventually pulling the bloodied gauze away he sniffed, grimacing at the ache in his nose but another touch indicated it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Small mercies. So he looked back to this woman as he announced herself a rock climber, and then in a sense that left him staring at her as if she’d grown another head. “No shit it’s dangerous,” the sarcasm was dry on his voice. Otto narrowed his eyes a fraction standing up a little as he continued to eye her dubiously, the sunlight streaming overhead told him well enough she wasn’t a vampire. So something else or she was simply willing to risk her life for a thrill. When she rubbed her neck his eyes tracked the movement and narrowed further in suspicion, while the mark was a bit obstructed by the hoodie it wasn’t difficult to miss something so distinct. You didn’t grow up in a city filled with eight-million souls and not run into lots of different supernaturals and Otto had run into a fair collection by now. “You get bit?”

“No,” Jane agreed. It wasn’t shock, and by the stern look in his eye, they both knew it. She wasnt’ about to string it along or start pretending like she was in shock now. “I think I’m just grateful I’m okay.” He couldn’t call that a lie, even if it wasn’t necessarily true. “Because you’re right. I could have died. But I didn’t. Thankfully.” She wondered what the process of becoming a zombie was like. If she would just black out and wake up later, hungry for brains. Jason had a normal enough life - normal enough to fool her for years. She supposed it would be the same thing.

Otto didn’t seem to be too pleased with her. Or maybe it was the situation. She tired explaining why she did what she did to her brother and her father - the skydiving, the bungee-jumping, all the dangerous things she signed up for or did without proper safety equipment, and they hadn’t understood. Her little sister called it a midlife crisis and left it be. She watched as he stood, and half stood herself, not sure he was ready to get up yet. “Hey now,” Jane said, cautiously. Wait, what was he doing. “What? Stop looking at me like…. That.” Jane would have called it cop eyes, but he didn’t necessarily have the demeanor of a fellow cop - though she supposed she couldn’t judge a book by a cover, as the old saying went. She frowned slightly, tracking his eyes to her neck, and she let out a sigh. She had been self concious about the stupid scar at first. IT was ugly and noticeable, but once she figured out that she wasn’t about to spend all that cash on makeup and that she could just hide it with a few fancy side braids at work she didn’t care. What was one scar vs. living forever, anyway. “Yeah,” she said finally, settling back on the rock and reaching for her large metal water bottle. She held it out to him. “Got into a fight at my job and he got me,” she said. “Here. For your hand. And face. To get the blood off.”

“Hmph,” his gaze lingered for a moment as she gave her reasoning and he wondered for a moment whether this was the truth. But he couldn’t sense any reason to say that what she said wasn’t true in some regard, she had lived, she was still here and how could anyone not be somewhat thankful for that? “Was gonna say, would be pretty strange to not be thankful for that.” But then in a town like this who could really say what normal was?

Seeing her move to stand he waved his hand a little, slightly dismissive of her coming to his aid. He appreciated it but something about all of this didn’t add up. Though the pieces began to formulate in his mind as he took the situation and incremental bits he was discovering and put them together. “Like what?” an innocuous question by all regards, but the piercing curiosity couldn’t always be tempered or helped. But there was no helping his assessment, and his eyes lingered for a moment or two. Would it be better not to ask? But then again if you never asked the question you never got the answer. As she offered the water canister he took it and washed off his hand and used a clean bit of the gauze to deal with the blood on his face, “thanks,” he said, handing it back but his eyes returned once more to the mark and then the sun that streamed down overhead. His head tilted as she confirmed what he thought the mark to be and there was a stretch of silence. “So what? You’re a werewolf or a zombie?” it had to be one or the other. The other options simply didn’t fit.

It certainly wasn’t that she wasn’t thankful for being alright, it’s just that regardless of how things had plated out, she would have been just fine. She had a few near death experiences before - and hell, she had been shot at on multiple occasions at her job. Jane was indifferent. “Quite strange,” she agreed, going back to tending to her hands. There was the bottle of disinfectant. She grabbed it, putting a little on the gauze as she began dabbing at the scrape. Ouch.

Jane glanced back up at him. “Like that,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him. He knew like what. Like that. What he’d just been doing. “Like you’re going to try to interrogate me,” Jane said after a moment. She had continued to dab at her hand, and had just been reaching for the small box of bandaids in the kit when he asked the money question. She looked up at him, startled by the question. There was that damn thing about werewolves again. “Are you fucking with me?” Jane asked, automatically. She certainly wasn’t in denial about what was going to happen to her - she did that song and dance long ago, 5 stages of whatever. But Jason had pleaded with her not to tell anyone. There were people that murdered people like him because they thought he shouldn’t exist. Jane thought that made sense, even if she didn’t agree with it - no one should be murdering anyone. At all. - but zombies got a bad name, considering all the media about them. Other than her ex-fiance being a lying son-of-a-bitch, he was an upstanding citizen. He even paid his taxes. She looked to Otto, before grabbing the box of bandaids to continue what she was doing, thinking carefully. “I don’t know if I should answer that,” Jane finally said, but she held up a bloody hand. Zombies didn’t bleed. “But I’m certainly human.” For now, at least.

Another look was briefly shot over his shoulder to where he’d been working, hopefully no one nicked his stuff in the interim. But he looked back to Jane after a moment while she dabbed at her hand. His eyes remained narrowed, but they eased a fraction as she seemed to grow a little defensive. Understandable, but ultimately they could dance around this in circles all day. It really didn’t mean anything to Otto whether he learned the truth or not, but ultimately having tabs on one more supernatural - if she even was one didn’t hurt. “Depends, that was a pretty hefty fall you survived. Certainly not natural by any means...” he countered evenly as he stood there his posture relaxed as he studied her reaction which in itself was telling. No sort of denial to the fact. Interesting.

“Sure, right now… But a bite like that doesn’t come with some kinda consequence…” he tilted his head to indicate her neck once more. “You ain’t a vamp, you’d be toast by now if you were so it’s one or the other…” A slight sigh through his nose sounded at the evasive response. “Look you can answer it, I’m not gonna go full Van Helsing or Leon S. Kennedy on you if you are… Plenty of people in town are… different and it’s useful to know who you can trust when those people who don’t have quite so many qualms about the issue do decide to not be so liberal and get their weapons out.”

She glanced over to where he kept looking, and finally stood back up once the bandaids were on her hands. They seemed to be tiptoeing around each other, dancing around this hidden truth that none of them were willing to admit. “I would have died,” Jane said, dryly. “I was falling head first, so take that for what it is.” Jane brushed that stray piece of hair out of her face again, folding her arms over her chest, staring at him. Consequence. She knew what her consequence was, and she was fine with it. What human didn’t want to be immortal.

Her eyes narrowed, however, when he continued. Vamps - vampires. Great. So those were things too, apparently. Or the guy was a nutjob. Either one. “You’ll forgive me for being reserved,” she said, a little stiff. She glanced back up the small slope where he had approached from in the first place, gathering her first aid kit back up,and stuffed it back in her pack now that nobody was bleeding profusely anymore. “I’m aware of the town, though I haven’t met too many other who are… Also aware of things.” She eyed him suspiciously, the ‘cop eyes’ now turned on him. “What are you really doing out here? And why do you know about…” Jane gestured vaguely to the side of her neck. “Most people leave it alone when I say I’ve gotten bit. You came from up there, right?” Jane pointed up the slope, ready to go climb up and take a look at it herself. She paused though, to glance at him. “Not… Not a werewolf.” She would give him that to make his own conclusion. It was basically as good as telling him anyhow.

Otto knew the benefit of keeping his opinions about certain things to himself. And on some topics he had a rather lengthy set of opinions and thoughts. But around strangers he tended to err on the side of caution before he started to talk too openly. Though not being straight could often lead to length and time-wasting conversations that could be better spent discussing more relevant matters. So, he braced himself and took the leap of faith he felt was required.

“Well, one of us has to say it or else where are we going to get? I don’t have all day to dance around things...” As she packed up he figured that this would be it and she would go her own way… “Most tend to prefer their privacy… There’s a decent community of supernaturals but Hunters have never been particularly forgiving.” Her own suspicious look caused Otto to stiffen a little himself. “Minding my own until someone needed saving and interrupted me...” he gestured towards the cliff as if to bolster his point. And the moment she started in the direction he’d come from he opened his mouth to protest, before he hurried up after her. “Most people like to stand on precedence and respect people’s privacy… I like to keep myself informed” and alive by proxy of knowing. “Right… Not a werewolf” which was his way of acknowledging he understood what wasn’t being said. A glance to her hands further informed him of her current state, not turned either… Good. So his brains weren’t on the plate.

“I’ve heard of Hunters,” Jane said, a frown on her face. This was the second time she was discussing hunters with someone, even if she truly didn’t understand what they were. Or she hadn’t ever met one. Well, knowingly, at least. It wasn’t smart to shoot your mouth off about killing people in front of a police detective. If you don’t have all day to dance, maybe you shouldn’t ask, was what she wanted to say, but she didn’t because she knew as well as anyone that she would have been asking questions too.

And, well, she was going to ask questions because she was pretty sure he didn’t want her to go this way, and she was certainly going to do it anyway. “You make it sound like you’re the one that did the saving,” Jane replied back suspiciously as she got to the site and glanced around. Well, at least he wasn’t out here doing some weird cult shit with sacrificing chickens and goats or something. A strange rock circle, and some old books… Jane hummed, kneeling down to poke at them. “Keeping yourself informed is keeping yourself alive,” she reasoned, “So I suppose I can’t really blame you. What are these?” Jane glanced back at him curious if he would answer her or not. He clearly knew about werewolves and zombies and vampires, and she had to wonder if he was one himself. Though, maybe he was just some poor unfortunate human that got thrust with this shit. Then again... She looked between the old books and then back at him. “Out hiking, you said?” she asked, innocently.

“Hearing ‘bout them and experiencing them are two different matters… And if you are what you say you are, turned or not then they’ll be out for your head if they do happen to learn the truth of it.” Perhaps it was ominous or even a harsh reality, but Otto was giving her the cold hard facts of that situation. Whilst he spoke a hand raised to rub at his right forearm. “Just as a word of warning.”

Her suspicions were met with a slightly weary look, he didn’t particularly owe this woman anything to confirm that he’d saved her life though by this point it was pretty much a given. The clues were all there if you wanted to put the pieces together. “The point is, consider the impact your actions are gonna have on other people. I can’t afford the therapy needed for seeing someone’s head smashed in - zombie or not.” When they arrived at the site of his practise and seeing the look this woman gave his books, he narrowed his eyes. A sharp flick of his wrist followed, the cover flipping over and lock on its side snapping tightly shut. “My stuff,” he answered vaguely, going to pick up the books and tuck them into his backpack along with a couple of the focus crystals set out. The question earned a side-eye as he paused in his packing, “uh huh that’s what I said… Hiked out here to read.” Which technically wasn’t a lie.

“I know,” Jane said simply, looking at Otto with a matter of fact look on her face. “That’s usually why I try to keep it under wraps. You know, in case I ever run into one. Warning taken, thank you,” she said with a shrug. She wasn’t concerned about that anymore, however, because now she was more curious about Otto. He laid out the clues in front of her, and as she watched his book snap shut with a wave of his hand, and she concluded in her head. He didn’t really need to say it, just like she didn’t really need to say what she was (or what she was going to be) either.

“Your stuff,” she repeated, “That you lugged all the way out here to read.” She was amused now. Jane stood, hands on her hips as she looked him up and down. “Alright, sure. You hiked out here to read your magic books, where you saw me up there -” Jane pointed back to the cliff she had been scaling. “- did… whatever you did to stop me from smashing my head open. Is that what made your nose bleed?” she asked, curiously. How the hell did that work? How did any of that work? She considered his earlier words about how her actions would impact others, and she scoffed. “I didn’t know you were out here.” She pointed out. “If I had, I would have chosen another spot. But I’m not actively trying to die, you know. I slipped. It was an accident.”

Packing the last of his items away into his bag he side-eyed the woman again for a moment. “Yeah my stuff,” a backpack full of stuff was hardly that suspicious in the grand scheme of things “issue?” Though his eyes thinned for a moment as he shifted the bag up onto his shoulder. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that right?” No clarification was given but she’d figured it out for herself so there was no need for it.

“Magic has its consequences,” was the simplest and most concise response that summed up all the relevant answers into one. “A nosebleed is a rather mundane one.” Hearing her scoff Otto cocked his head to one side. “Yeah, well, how about next time you get some ropes?”

“It’s sort of my job to ask questions,” Jane said, a bit of a smug smile on her face. The truth, though maybe a little extreme in this case. A nosebleed was just a rather mundane consequence, was it? Jane considered asking him if he wanted to try it again, try to stop her fall. It had been fun, looking back at it. Like an extreme form of bungee jumping. Except she wasn’t quite sure he was going to go for that, considering his insistence that she bring ropes and gear the next time she went out.

“Right, ropes,” she said, and then gave a bit of a shrug. “Sure, I’ll definitely do that next time. Probably.” Jane gave him a once over, considering asking something else about magic, before she once again thought better of it. She shifted the bag on her back headed back towards the slope. She raised a hand in goodbye. “Well, have a good rest of your day with your ‘hiking’ and your ‘stuff’. Try not to not get another nose bleed next time.” She skidded down the slope haphazardly, back down towards the path.

#para #para otto #otto #freefalling #lmaooo

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