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katsukavi · 3 years

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"OH SHIT!" part 1

It's an Omega Jin-Woo x Alpha Male Reader. It's titled "oh shit" because they keep falling into more and more pain, but end up falling for each other. This is part 1!

THE STRONGEST HUNTER, Sung Jin-Woo was mistaken to be an alpha with his build and strength but he was an omega. It made sense back then when he was an E-Rank hunter, but now that he changed greatly and it was nearly impossible to distinguish him from Alphas from a glance.

That was the S-Rank (L/n) (M/n)'s mistake. He had thought that his best friend was an Alpha his entire life, going on a 'sleepover' and going out to drink. Stupid move yes, but male omegas are rare — making it less likely in (L/n)'s head for Jin-Woo to be an omega.

Anyways, this.. this was a horrendously severe mistake an Alpha and an Omega could do. Two idiotic adults spending time alone.

"What the hell?" (M/n) rubbed his eyes, his other hand trapped underneath Jin-Woo's waist. He could feel bare skin underneath the blanket, making him retract his hand almost immediately.

'What the fuck?! What the fuck!?!' he thought repeatedly, confused on why he and his friend were naked. Sung Jin-Woo groaned, taking the blanket and covering himself in his sleep; the only thing he could do to stay warm.

(M/n) took a deep breath, turning away from the sight and walking away. "Nothing happened. We just got drunk.. Definitely. 100%.." he told himself, trying to stay optimistic as he slid something on— continuing with his morning routine.

But it still lingered at the back of his mind, even while making breakfast. What the hell happened that night?

"What time is it?" Jin-Woo exited the room, groggily scratching his stomach. "It's 11am.. Aaand, it looks like you found my favorite black shirt.." (M/n) mentioned, putting eggs on his plate.

"My clothes are missing so I'm borrowing this for a while," Jin-Woo rested on the table, his head and body aching in pain. "Eat this. It's good for hangovers," (M/n) threw a banana towards him, Jin-Woo catching it easily.

(L/n) sat down, glaring daggers at Jin-Woo in silence. The Shadow Monarch didn't spare any concern, still chewing on his fruit. Or was a banana even a fruit? It was like (M/n)'s dilemma, was the banana sitting across him a fruit(Alpha) or a vegetable(Something else).

"H-Hey.. Jin-Woo," (M/n)'s hands trembled, doing his best to seem composed. "...What are you?"

The question was vague, both of them sitting in silence before Jin-Woo swallowed his meal. "I'm an S-Rank Hunter."

(L/n) calmed down, trying to forget his worries. It's impossible, someone as strong as Sung Jin-Woo couldn't be an omega. Besides, they were both male so it's not possible in the slightest. The possibility was slimmer than a sheet of paper.

Sung Jin-Woo, a powerhungry bastard did not know why his friend acted so unnerved that day. In fact, he just didn't care. With his immunity to alcohol, he could remember a few glimpses of that incident and just accepted it.

It is what it is. If it's not a fight, he does not care.

It's not like he could get pregnant. (L/n) (M/n) was more of a Beta-type person if he said so himself. He was neutral with everything and is less agressive than the Alpha males he's met. He was a chill dude overall. He calms Jin-Woo down like a beta would.

Besides, he confirmed that on (M/n)'s hunter wikipedia page. They were totally safe.

That's what he thought.

"Holy Fuck—!!" (M/n) stepped back, watching Sung Jin-Woo vomit his lunch right in front of him. "Are you okay?!" He dropped his rapier, immediately rushing to aide his companion. He used his skill, a bright red blast defeating all the monsters in the vicinity.

"My Liege?!" Beru shouted, worrying about his health. Other shadows gathered around, worried about their master's condition. "I'm fine.." Jin-Woo said, wiping the spew from his mouth.

"Yeah right! I just saw you vomit Niagra Falls right there. You're going home," (M/n) grabbed his shoulders in a commanding manner, feeling that someone so valuable shouldn't be in dangerous territory that moment.

"Igris, take him home.." (M/n) looked back, the aura around him turning heavy. "But Igris is my shadow—" Jin-Woo tried protesting, the dark knight obeying (M/n)'s order instead of his. Jin-Woo wanted to continue fighting too, but he couldn't defy (M/n).

"Eh? (M/n) Hyung, where's Jin-Woo Hyung?" Yoo Jin-Ho came from around the corner, seeing (M/n) alone in that cave. "I sent him home. The bastard was sick," he responded, grabbing his precious rapier from the floor.

He couldn't believe he dropped his beloved sword on the floor like that. He didn't even let anyone touch it with their disgusting hands.

"But he's an S-Rank Hunter too? This isn't even an S-Rank dungeon.. He's fine by himself."

(L/n) (M/n) froze in between putting the blade in it's sheath. Jin-Ho was right, why the hell did he send an S-Rank Hunter home? He even had his own system and multiple shadows, it wasn't like he would die in a measly A-Rank dungeon.

He knew how powerful Jin-Woo was based on his own experiences with a System. That's how they met in the first place. A system collaboration.

"...Just shut up," (M/n)'s voice was sharp, making the Beta tense in fear. "Y-Yes Hyung!" Jin-Ho responded, never seeing the laid back hunter so serious before. Was he finally acting like an Alpha?

[The Orion System applauds the 'Predator; (L/n) (M/n)']

[( ' ▽ ' ).｡ｏ♡]

"Why are you applauding me?" (M/n) glared at the yellow boards of notifications in front of him. He moved the screens away from his view, looking at his ceiling as he felt the empty space beside his bed. 'Jin-Woo was here just four weeks ago..'

His (e/c) eyes went wide, facing away from that empty space. 'He's my friend! I shouldn't be thinking of him like this. He'll probably think I'm weird...'

[You rn: (*♡∀♡) ]

[lol ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)]

"Fuck you Orion or whatever your name is... damn system," (M/n)'s face flushed, hiding himself under his covers. 'Jin-Woo's scent... It smells really good.'

Sung Jin-Woo's condition started to get worse. He drank a few health potions but none of them seemed to be working— only amplifying the effects of it. He tried looking if it was an odd debuff or curse, but none of them seemed to be the cause.

Since he could heal anything himself, he was almost sure not even the hospital could find out what it is. He was absolutely afraid this 'curse' could affect his work life.

"Have you gone to the hospital?" (M/n) asked all of a sudden, making him freeze. "That won't do anything.." he sighed, resting his head on the restaurant table — not feeling the least bit hungry.

"We should go just in case though," (M/n) grabbed some of the meat on his plate, deciding not to waste them. "It's a condition not even a health potion can fix. It probably won't be anything simple to fix by going to a hospital," Jin-Woo murmured.

"There you go with being negative again.. You've been really moody these days, huh Jin-Woo?"

"I wanna die.."

"Mhm, you've been saying that for the past week," (M/n) patted his head, comforting him a bit. "I'm going to eat the rest of your food," he said, trying to taunt some life into Jin-Woo.

"Okay, I'm not hungry.." he said, ignoring (M/n). 'Oh gosh, this is so serious that the power hungry Shadow Monarch gave up on eating??' (M/n) felt a little sorry for the male, continuing to eat his lunch. "Let's go to the hospital."

"You are 2 weeks pregnant. It looks like you have to get on hiatus for at least five months. I know you're an S-Rank hunter, but please think about the life inside you as well."

'What?'

'Pregnant?'

"Jin-Woo, you're an omega?"

"And you're an alpha?"

❝ OH SHIT! ❞

#solo leveling x reader #fanfics #sung jin woo x reader

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fallenlightsif · 3 years

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Oooh “I’m quite comfortable here.” With Orion and Cier poly babes plz?

“I’m quite comfortable here.” for Orion & Cier.

Post-game and late relationship.

You are nearly certain Cier is going to get tossed out of the carriage, either by you or by Orion.

"You can sit normally." You say, already giving in and scraping your nails gently over his scalp. His hair, buzzed and extremely soft, feels amazing on your fingers.

"Where's the fun in that when I have two lovely partners to make a bed out of?" He returns, smiling mischievously up at you.

Orion, who ended up with the elf's gangly legs tossed over his thighs, merely gives a put upon sigh and continues reading the report outlining your duties once you reach Marlun.

"Hey, c'mon, Ri." Cier props himself up in your lap, "You've been wound tight ever since you got wind of where we were supposed to be going."

"Where I'm supposed to be going." He corrects, not unkindly, "You two decided to tag along."

"I get a free pass." Your lips quirk into a smile, "What will they do? Tell me no? I'm Florian's advisor."

Cier laughs at that, bright and loud as always. He twists around in the small, moving carriage so he's leaning against Orion now. He gently extracts the papers from his hands, careful not to rip or tear them. He passes them to you, and you lay them safely on the floor.

"Listen, Ri." Cier begins, "We know this is about...well."

"My family." Orion fills in, "One could make that assumption."

"Don't do that." You carefully scooch over, nearly laying across Cier to take Orion's other hand, "We're here for you, even if you don't want to talk."

"Or if you want me to blast them all in a lake and then get the fuck out of there, we can." Cier smiles slightly, "That's always an option too, babe."

"Like he did my mother." You eagerly, grinning up at Orion, "Trust me, it's very cathartic."

"Saints, you're both lucky my parents are great enough for the three of us." Cier sighed, resting his cheek against Orion's shoulder and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in closer.

You oblige easily, nearly curling around both of them with Orion's hand still encased in your own.

"We also have Ezrah." You supply, "He can't cook for shit, but he's great with the whole love and support thing."

Orion grimaces and you remember with sudden clarity the first time your brother hugged him. The transition from enemies to family had been not as bad as you thought for them, in all honesty.

It likely helped that Orion couldn't care less about his former position and all but ditched Leydon the second you and Cier asked him to.

"Anyways, we probably won't even see them." Cier rubs circles on Orion's forearm with his thumb, "They might not even know-"

"My sister sent me a letter four days ago." Orion's jaw tightens, "To welcome home the family disgrace."

"I'll kill her." Cier says in the same cheerful tone as before, but his eyes are full of intent.

"I should've told you, but-"

"It's a sensitive spot." You say, "That's okay. You told us now and we appreciate that."

Cier nods eagerly in agreement, "Yeah, and we all forget things sometimes too. Remember that time when we visited Thiea for our honeymoon and I didn't tell you about-"

"Yes, I remember that quite vividly." Orion sighs, "It was...interesting, to say the least."

Cier reaches up and steals a quick kiss before doing the same to you, "Oh, you both had fun."

"After the initial shock was over." Orion protests.

You smile, probably looking a bit dopey but you just can't help it. You love your husbands so much.

Cier catches your eyes and smiles back just as sweetly before giving the same treatment to Orion. You see him soften immediately, the dark brown of his eyes soft. He relaxes minutely, his shoulders sagging as he breathes out, and he wraps an arm around Cier's form.

He squeezes your hand as your rest your head on Cier's leg.

"This cannot be the best way to cuddle right now." Orion points out.

"I don't know about you, but I'm quite comfortable here." Cier says.

"I must agree." You respond, eyes sliding shut as Cier strokes your cheek.

You have time until you reach Marlun. Until then, nothing seemed better than being tangled between the two people you love most.

#Fallen Lights #Cier Katsaros #Orion Morosov #short story

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narrans · 3 years

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The Orion’s Factotum | Ch. I | The Job

I was awake far before the first sun’s light. I couldn’t hardly sleep even though the summer night was cooler than it had been in a long time. The crickets were singing for most of the night in that soft, soothing way. There was a promise of rain. It was omnipresent like the first chill of winter, and goodness knew that was coming far too soon. I rousted myself and adorned the clothes they gave me; the guards that is.

My dear friend Caster had arranged the meeting which still played repeatedly in my head over and over. I didn’t say much. I didn’t need to; rather, they didn’t need me to. They merely snickered behind their helms and twisted their spears from side to side in the dirt like they were anxious to see what was to transpire. They handed me a tunic and a shift as well as undergarments not often worn by women. They told me I would need it for my work.

It was early, still dark, when I left my room and hurried down the stone streets to head to the castle and the dungeons below. They hadn’t let me go down to the prisons before. A light fog treaded alongside my feet as I traversed the unfamiliar path up the sides of the walls, down past the Low Towers, and further to The Turret.

The Turret was the prison; or, rather, where I was told to go to tend to my duties. It stood against sun, silhouetted perfectly as a lone tower. It was an ominous reminder, a warning – stay away lest you take your fate into your own hands. Some of the most dangerous prisoners in the realm were kept here – or so we were told.

I approached, I nodded to the guards who stood solemnly by the border. I had been introduced to them the day prior, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember their names. In fact, the only thing on my mind was my daughter. What was she doing this early in the morning? She had always been an early riser. There was a pang of guilt in my heart as I had not told her of this new position and the potential dangers that accompanied it.

“Oi! You!” The sound of a harsh female voice near me made my heart skip a beat. There, standing by the wooden door, were two guards I had not been acquainted with. “What’s your business here?” Her voice was forceful and direct, cutting through the air like the spear in her hand. Instantly, my nerves sent my mind reeling and everything I was told to say to them had vanished like the mist around my feet. I remember stammering when the male guard leaned over and looked me dead in the eyes. His eyes, a glossy brown, looked slightly red around the rims. They must’ve been on watch all night.

“I… erm…” I cleared my tensing throat to at least make it look like I was putting forth the effort to answer. “I’m… apologies, Sers, I am Raina. Raina Toro? I’m… um… supposed to…”

“Ahh you’re the new one, aren’t you?” asked the man, raising up with a keen and knowing look in his eyes.

“Who now?” asked the woman, giving me a suspicious stare. I shied away from the glance immediately, keeping my eyes low and grasping the cowl on my shoulders.

“You know who. This, Izett, is the Orion’s Factotum. You know, the new one?” he said with a melodic hint in his voice as if he were teasing me. I felt my limbs grow heavy and stiff while I kept my gaze averted.

“Ohhh! I remember now. They told us someone was coming, but I didn’t think it would be someone like her. Skinny shift of a thing, wouldn’t you say? I’m surprised they got the position filled so quickly; but, then again, it’s not like they last long anyway. Come on, we’re supposed to show you the ropes.” Something in Izett’s voice made me cringe. I was used to biting my tongue and keeping my thoughts to myself. This was also a position I needed. It was a good job. An honest job. I couldn’t let a few insults get to me, but that didn’t mean the other things she said weren’t worrisome.

Filled the position so quickly? Caster mentioned something like that, but he wouldn’t go to any lengths to put me in real danger, would he? And what was that other comment? They don’t last long? Who doesn’t? And why…

“Are you even listening?” the man’s voice sent my spiraling thoughts out of my head.

“Yes, Ser. Forgive me. My mind…”

“I don’t care about that. I care about not repeating myself,” he interrupted. “Really, you’re going to need to pay attention to our rules if you want to make it here. Now, let’s continue.”

They swung open the wooden door and brought me inside the Turret. The air was clammy and cold, lit only by a few torches. The Turret itself spiraled up revealing several chambers with heavy set bars in them. The guards paid this no mind and, instead, stepped forward toward a gaping hole in the ground with a strange wooden contraption hung over it. The ropes which held it aloft creaked as did the wood. There was an obvious smell of damp wood and the threat of mildew and rot.

“This is the Lock. You always need to make sure you close this gate around the platform before activating the Lock. To activate, pull this lever and the weights will drop or raise. Understood? Good. Moving on.” Neither of the guards gave me time to respond as they hastened their pace. I had to jog to keep up with the quickness of their steps, their leather armor creaking as they walked around the mechanism and continued to explain how I was to use it.

They opened the gate and stepped on without hesitation. I followed, nearly slipping on the slick wooden surface beneath me. They both snickered and threw the lever, plunging us down faster than I would’ve fallen. A scream filled my throat but came out only as a faint whistle before they threw the lever again, making me stumble. They chuckled again.

“You’re going to have a hard time of it if something like this frightens you,” said Izett as she stepped off of the platform.

“Yes Ser,” I muttered. They opened another large wooden door on the platform we stopped at, revealing the storeroom. Unlike most pantries with elements hanging like fruits and vegetables, cheeses and breads, everything resided in large barrels that came up to my waist. I dared to think that if I needed to I could probably fit inside one of them.

“This is the storeroom. You need to pick up five barrels here and two there. The two here are water and these here are assorted food stuffs. It doesn’t really matter which of these you pick. Just grab five and two. This is to be done twice a day. Understand?” asked Izett.

“I understand,” I said briskly. Five? Five barrels? My heart sank into the pit forming in my stomach. One barrel would easily tide a family off for a week if rationed properly. Five? Twice a day? Izett’s hand suddenly clasped my shoulder. Perhaps she knew I was feeling overwhelmed. Perhaps she saw the panic forming in my eyes. Whatever the case, what she said next didn’t sooth my quickly fraying nerves.

“You know,” she started slowly with a mischievous grin. “They’re bigger than you think. The Orion I mean. One hand could cover you from head to toe and no one would know where you’d gone.” I felt my shoulders shudder involuntarily at the words.

“Did you hear?” chimed in the male guard. “What happened to the last Factotum? Tripped and fell. It takes a second to get down to the bottom where the chains are; if you make it to the ground I mean. Orion are quicker than you think.”

So many times, I had heard of the Orion. I heard of their mannerisms and their civilization. I heard of their I heard of their immense size dwarfing towns and hearing it from them, now, was inconvenient and purposefully cruel. I needed this position. I kept telling myself who I was doing it for even as my shoulders gave away my fear.

“Don’t worry. As long as you don’t get too close to the edge, you’ll be alright,” grinned Izett, who proceeded to explain the remaining procedures including how the balances worked for the Lock and how to load the beams on the platform so it would not become unbalanced. Everything was explained so very quickly that I was hardly sure I would be able to retain it. All the while, they would mention things about the Orion known as Steele Veyne.

Steele evidently came many years ago and terrorized a few lands long the western coast, burning some of them to ash. He was tried and convicted, what it entailed I wasn’t sure, and sentenced to live out the end of his days below The Turret. The guards told me as they watched me struggle with the barrels that other Factotum of his didn’t stay long.

They said his behavior was like that of an animal, growling and grunting, raising his voice at the slightest provocation. They muttered among themselves as though I weren’t there, saying his voice was deeper than distant rolling thunder and twice as loud when he was trying to be quiet.

Finally, after I strained my arms and rolled over my toes twice with the barrels, it was time to descend the Lock to the lowest level. The weights were lifted, and we plummeted further and further into the darkness. The shaft was carved directly out of stone and narrowed as we descended. The rock was slick from where natural moisture gathered along the surface. The torch light gleamed against the rocks as though they were thousands of black, beady eyes.

The Lock came to a halt, sending my knotted stomach in a plummet and my heart in my throat. Every part of me tingled with a nervousness I hadn’t felt in years. It was an anticipation. A nervous anticipation. The two guards ushered me off of the platform, making no effort to assist with the barrels, and brought me to a metal door.

“Now, it’s very important you don’t go beyond the line. You can roll the barrels beyond the line, but do not cross it. Do you understand?” asked the male guard.

“Yes ser,” I mumbled as I stared at the barred door in front of me.

“Gervis, we can’t forget to tell her the most important thing,” reminded Izett.

“Right,” acknowledged Gervis, the male guard who failed to identify himself. “The most important thing is to not let him hear you. If he hears you, he will be angry.”

“Furious,” Izett chimed in.

“Inconsolably agitated. It is imperative you keep away from the line and do not make a single sound. Do you understand?”

“Yes ser,” I breathed. My skin tingled like I was a personal pin cushion for their teases and taunts, every jab and statement setting my nerves trembling. I could hardly breathe. The ache in my muscles from managing the hefty barrels was already going to be a challenge; however not as much as getting them into the room without a sound.

Trying to adhere to words I spoke to my daughter about keeping calm, I took one more calming breath, which irritated the nauseous spell in my gut, and let the guards pull the door open.

The chamber was completely dark except for two large cauldrons of flaming oil left hanging above a chasm of darkness. The ceiling stood many meters above my head, but it was the darkness below the rocky platform I was ushered onto that held my attention. It was against the wall, which was its only saving grace, but the edge was a sheer drop into the unknown.

There were no bars in the darkness below that I could see, but I could hear something faint that sounded like the rattling of chains; heavy chains. I didn’t need to see to know something was in that dreaded darkness that was immense. There was something rhythmic like the rolling of tide water against stone along the seaside. It wasn’t until I stepped into the chamber that I understood what it was – breathing.

I swallowed dryly and, with extreme caution, began rolling the barrels to the indicated spot Izett and Gervis told me about. I passed by what looked like additional platforms that descended into the darkness and continued further into the chamber. The length of each breath seemed to indicate that Steele was asleep. Perhaps this venture would go unnoticed.

The first and second went without incident. The third creaked only once, but the fourth made up for it. The final barrel was almost in place when I heard a sound that made me leap out of my skin and let out a yelp of surprise. The sound was the slamming of a door – a metal door. The thunderous clang of the hinges locking into place told me only one thing – they had closed and locked the door behind me.

There was an instant where the rattling stopped as did the breath. I held back every ounce of terror welling up inside me like a guizer preparing to burst. I clasped my hands over my mouth as if that would somehow keep the sound from erupting from my lungs. Every beat of my heart sent an terrible clenching ache through my veins. My mind raced but produced no thoughts. The air seemed to thicken with the damp moisture just as another sound rang out.

“STEELE! GET UP! YOUR BREAKFAST AWAITS!” The guards – those two wretched guards – were shouting through the small, barred hole in the door. The cauldrons of fire suddenly tilted as the sound of the chains in the darkness rattled. I dared not approach the door. I dared not move. I simply watched with my heart and scream in my throat as streams of fiery oil poured into several basins and began lighting the entire chamber. In the dim firelight which slowly trickled through the rest of the chamber, I could see him – the Orion.

I could only see his frame at first as I pressed myself against the rocks of the ledge. The guards had not lied to me. He was everything they said he was. Easily consuming a large portion of the chamber, his form lay on the ground, curled up into a kind of sleeping position. Hair which fell in his face came right to his shoulders if I could see correctly. There were elements of blonde, or dark blond rather, with fragments of silver lining where his ears were. There were years of smudge and grime caked into the beard on his face.

None of these things though were as terrifying as when his eyes flickered open, revealing two lightly colored violet orbs. They blinked once. Twice. Everything about him tensed as those eyes glanced to the platform where I had placed the barrels; and then to me. His entire body tensed, poised and ready to react.

Every impulse became second nature in an instant and seized control of my body. I turned and bolted toward the door, the sound of chains scraping the ground and a deep, ragged exhalation rumbled in his chest. I grasped at the bars on the small window, seeing only the giddy faces of the guards grinning sinisterly back at me. They were laughing, but I couldn’t hear it. I could only hear the primal growl that shook the very walls of the cavernous room I was now trapped in.

Tears pricked the sides of my eyes as I fumbled with the door. Yes. I was locked in. I was locked in a room with an Ordin.

“Trjahaka itdyom! Minyhar eemonspur!” The language was harsh and intense, rattling me to my soul. The very depth of his voice was like that of crashing boulders in a storm, an avalanche come to life. I tried blocking it out, hands flying to cover my ears. In that instant, the scream I tried desperately to hold back escaped and, not wanting the guards to have the satisfaction of seeing my fear, I turned away from the door and collapsed to my knees.

The chains rattled again and merely kneeling, was already almost eye-level with the platform. Was I going to die? Was all of this a trap set forth by Caster? The thought of being mangled or worse by this being was too much. A warm track of tears streaked down my face as I shuddered and shook, huddled in the corner like an animal knowing its fate to be slaughtered. Steele advanced. “Kevine! Doshti nool itsol qaathn…”

Steele was suddenly cut short by a harsh gagging sound. I glanced just over my shoulder, not sure if my heart could take any more by the way it pounded and pumped nothing but air into my veins. I was safe. A thick collar around his neck and chains against his wrists kept him from advancing and reaching me. The closest he could get, which I could now see, was the extended platform where the barrels were still set perfectly.

Our eyes met and, for the life of me, I could not bring myself to look away from those violet eyes lined with crows’ feet and a thoughtful brow.

The sound of howling laughter now filled my ears as the lock on the door was tossed to the side.

“Sorry about that Factotum, but we couldn’t have you come in without initiation,” grinned Gervis who stepped boldly into the chamber, freely meeting Steele’s eyes. “Don’t worry. He can’t get any closer than to barely reach his meals. Isn’t that right?” The Orion’s eyes narrowed in a seething hatred I knew once many years ago.

“Come along now Factotum. We have other things to show you about this place. Let the beast eat in peace,” grinned Izett as she did the only courteous thing she could and helped me to my feet. I shook like a fragmented leaf in a monstrous gale. If I had anything to eat, it would be making a second appearance. Fortunately, the only thing that happened was a few nervous coughs and the burning acidic taste in the back of my throat.

The low light kept the two young guards from seeing the glossy tears now streaming down my face. What a cruel start. What a miserable post. I could now see why others left the position in haste, not only for the Orion, but also for the treatment of the guards. Still, I needed this post. I needed to take care of my daughter. I shoved my feelings aside, knowing full well that afternoon I would weep into my cot of straw before returning later that night to my post as the Orion’s Factotum.

~~~~~

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #21

Orion Amari x MC

Warning: use of alcohol, underage drinking

A/N: Fabulous Judith belongs to @judediangelo75, KC is the creation of my favourite @kc-needs-coffee and Ira belongs to the queen of OCs @slytherindisaster

Word Count: ~ 3.000

_______________________________________________

Chapter 21: Seizing the Chance

Even behind the closed flaps of the changing room tent, the roar of the crowd was deafening as McNully fired the students gathered on the stands up for the match. Orion had seen the masses of making their way down to the pitch from high up above as the teams had warmed themselves up for what was to come.

It was almost time for the game to begin and Orion gathered his team around the blackboard with their key manoeuvres for their moment of vivification.

“My friends, the time to prove to ourselves of what we are capable of in the face of adversities has almost come. But before I will enlighten you with the wisdom I want you take with you into the air, one of ours has something to unburden her mind from.” He stepped aside and Skye, who had been tugging at the hem of her Quidditch robe while he had been speaking, stood up and took his place.

She took a deep breath before she tried to bury her hands in her pockets as she would often do with her signature jacket; when she realised her robe had none, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I’ll make this short,” she said brusquely. “I know I didn’t act the way a teammate is supposed to and I want to apologise. I’m not the only one with stuff on my mind, I see that now. It was wrong to let it out on you guys. Said some things that were not my place to say,” she glanced at Lizzie, who would have had every right to be mad at her, but she just smiled encouragingly, “and I hope that you accept my apology.”

She turned to Orion and rubbed her neck with her gloved hand. “Orion, you are a smashing captain and you’ll know what to do to make us win today. And if anyone is as stupid as I and disrespects you again,” her eyes flickered to Everett and her nostrils flared with indignation, “I’m going to shove a Beater’s bat right up their- “,

“Thank you for your heartfelt words, Skye, I think you made your point,” Orion cut her off hurriedly. Skye glared at Everett one last time before she sat down next to Judith, who muttered “As long as you don’t take mine, go ahead,” under her breath, making Skye grin.

Orion took his place in front of the semicircle of his teammates once again.

“There is little time left before we have to depart, so I, too, will make this shorter than usual. Every one of us knows what is at stake today. I don’t need to set your minds because I can see the fire burning in every single one of you. But beware, my friends, a single flame is not enough to build a fire; I ask you to join our flames together and make our fire blaze brighter than ever before. Let us show Slytherin that our House is not to be messed with.” He gripped the handle of his broomstick tighter as he looked at every single one of his teammates. “Let our fires burn as one, for we are one team!”

“One team!”

The team had taken Orion’s vivification speech to heart. Despite all of the problems they had had to deal with beforehand, the Hufflepuff team finally managed what had always been their greatest strength; they moved as one conscient being, every position complementing the others perfectly.

It hadn’t taken them long to carve out a comfortable lead; the tactic Orion had chosen was working splendidly. He had decided to take Skye’s concern into consideration and had assigned each Beater a specific task. Everett was perfectly suited to bang the Bludgers into the Slytherin Chasers with his brutish strength. As soon as they formed anything resembling a formation, he was determined to scatter them.

Judith, on the other hand, had an eye for the flight paths of the Bludgers and was a lot more experienced, so she was set to clear the path for their own Chasers to score.

And score they did; the Slytherin Keeper was known to be the strongest asset of their team. But fortunately for them, he didn’t seem to be in the best of forms today. More than one shot, that he usually would have deflected, found its way past him, the enchanted rings lighting up along with the roar of the crowd.

“And Amari scores with a spectacular off-hand throw!” Murphy shouted from the commentary box, “The score now stands at 100 to 40 for Hufflepuff! If the Slytherin defence doesn’t get these Chasers under control very soon, our chances at a new record score for this season lie at an impressive 68.9 %.”

McNully was right; the rut of their best player had unsettled the Slytherin performance gravely and Orion and his teammates were ruthlessly using their opponents’ disorder to their advantage.

Orion himself had scored quite a few times already. But Lizzie and Skye were a force to be reckoned with today; they were tearing around the pitch on their Comets and every Bludger sent after them was immediately deflected by Judith, who seemed to have her eyes everywhere.

It was unbelievable how well she and Everett were working together despite their differences. Everett had just beaten an attacking Bludger in Judith’s direction, who diverted its flight path into the forming formation of the Slytherin Chasers.

McNully completely lost it as he commented on the events unfolding in front of him. “What an incredible display of teamwork! The Hufflepuff Beaters show off their newest attack: Everett sends his Bludger over to Harris with force; Harris deflects with a well measured swing of her bat! The Bludger changes direction and oooh- “ he winced audibly as the crowd erupted in cheers, “that must have hurt! The Bludger’s change of direction was 82.5 % unpredictable and hits home as it scatters the wavering arrowhead formation of the Slytherin team! A tactical masterpiece if I might say so!”

Orion suppressed a laugh; as if McNully hadn’t made sure Judith and Everett had his new manoeuvre understood to a tee before letting them test it out in a real match situation.

One of the attacked Chaser had dropped the Quaffle and Orion raced towards it, snatching it out of the air only moments before the Slytherin Chaser reached for it again. They nearly collided mid-air, but Orion managed to lean sideways at the last moment; half hanging sideways of his broom, the other player zoomed over him without contact.

He swung himself back into an upright position and gripped the Quaffle tighter as he whipped his broom around on his way to Slytherin goalposts once more. But this time, the Keeper had guessed the ring Orion was going for and managed to block the Quaffle. He sent it back into the game with a well-practised kick of his foot.

It was too far away for him to reach in time, but he saw Lizzie react immediately. As the Quaffle flew over her head just inches out of her reach, she pushed herself off her broomstick and hopped onto the handle without giving it a second thought. Standing up, she was able to interject the pass and claim the Quaffle for herself.

Still balancing on her broom, she ducked under the Bludgers sent in her direction and started surfing back towards the goalposts at ridiculous speed. The Keeper looked surprised at her attack, but steadied himself as she approached.

Lizzie knew exactly what she was doing, though; crouching down low, she shifted her weight just enough for her Comet to change direction at the last moment. She held her stance as she performed a barrel roll, using the momentum to shoot the Quaffle through one of the rings.

With complete trust in her footing, he heard her cheer as she surfed past the screaming Hufflepuff stands. With a grin, Orion remembered how many times she’d fallen when he had taught her his favourite move all those years ago; unbelievable how far the tenacious girl with no idea about Quidditch had come.

“Jameson scores for Hufflepuff, raising the score to 110 to 40! And what a show she’s giving us!” Murphy jubilated as Lizzie zoomed past the commentary box.

“According to my facts, we haven’t seen Jameson score that way for seven House matches in a row. This marvellous feat of flying even sends the master of this technique into daydreams it seems,” McNully’s voice was vibrating with badly contained laughter before it grew serious again, “but they could quickly turn into a nightmare as a Bludger is headed on its way to see whether Amari can hold onto his broomstick quite as well as Jameson.”

Orion snapped out of his musings and had just enough time to dodge the Bludger that zoomed past his head. Judith followed it immediately to get hold of it; however, the Slytherin Chaser she directed it against still had the time to pass his Quaffle onto his teammate.

Before he could set after it, Lizzie shot past him, her hair trailing behind her in the wind. She turned around for a split second, her eyes meeting his.

“Focus, Captain!” he heard her snap at him before she concentrated on bumping into her opponent to relieve him of his charge.

Right she was; Orion cleared his mind as he set after her, catching the Quaffle she passed him with one hand. They had a game to win.

It only got worse for Slytherin as the match progressed. Although they did manage to score a few goals against Hufflepuff eventually, with every goal they received in turn, the confusion grew between them. They had been off track before, but trailing so far behind a team they had deemed an easy win had their own players turn against themselves.

Their youngest Chaser, a brutish boy named Marcus Flint, was on the verge of picking a fight with his Beater for allowing a Bludger to hit him, when all eyes on the pitch suddenly turned on Lucy and the Slytherin Seeker, who were in a head to head race for a tiny golden spec glittering in the sunlight below the Gryffindor stands.

“This match could find a preliminary end as the Seekers of both teams appear to have spotted the Golden Snitch!” Murphy exclaimed. The Slytherin Seeker was slightly in advance and if she were to reach the Snitch first, all their scoring would have been for nothing; Hufflepuff had a comfortable lead, but it wasn’t enough to cushion a boost of 150 points.

The stadium had fallen completely silent as everyone’s eyes were glued to the two girls racing for the Snitch. The Seeker in the emerald robes already had her hand outstretched, when all of a sudden a Bludger from Everett hit the handle of her broomstick, knocking her clean off. Luckily, they weren’t high enough to do her much damage as she fell to the soft lawn underneath her.

Lucy didn’t miss a beat as her opponent fell; she was lying almost flat on her broom to get all the speed out of it that she could. When her fingers were only inches away from the Snitch, she pushed herself against the footrests of her broom to give herself the reach she needed.

Orion couldn’t see properly what she was doing but was spared further guessing when Lucy’s scream of triumph carried through the air and the whole stadium went into a frenzy as she presented the gleaming Snitch in her raised fist.

“O’Connell gives it her all and succeeds! The match is over!” Murphy’s voice almost cracked as he shouted over the noise of the crowd. “Hufflepuff gains 150 points and wins with a crushing score of 310 to 70. Dear spectators, if you allow me a calculation on the top of my head, I’d say we have a new contender for the Quidditch Cup!”

To nobody’s surprise, Murphy’s calculation had been completely right. They had been able to score so many points against Slytherin that Hufflepuff was back in the game for the Cup. As Gryffindor had been able to rack up a spectacular victory against Ravenclaw in one of the shortest matches Lizzie had ever seen, their last game of the season would simultaneously be the final showdown for the priced trophy.

When the team had entered their Common Room after properly celebrating among themselves first, they had been greeted by thundering applause and chants. Contrary to the last post-match party, everyone was pumped and the atmosphere exhilarated. Tulip and a few other Ravenclaws had decided to join their celebration as well; it wasn’t particularly difficult to gain entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room after all. She and Tonks had wasted no time and had poured some Firewhiskey into the gigantic, self-refilling bowl of punch in the middle of the room.

Lizzie had already drunk more than her fair share of it. They had celebrated with a round of butterbeers in the Changing Room directly after returning from the pitch and by now, her head felt fuzzy and her cheeks were flushed from both the heated air in the room and the Firewhiskey warming her from the inside. She was glad the alcohol numbed the countless bruises and cuts littering her body; it was no secret Slytherin knew how to play rough and the frustration at the course of the match hadn’t improved their physical gameplay.

Ira, one of the other Hufflepuff girls in Lizzie’s year, had lectured Lizzie, about her carelessness when she had patched her up, like she always did. She had a natural gift for Herbology and healing and often took care of the minor injuries all of them brought back from the pitch. Her abilities and Penny’s secretly brewed Wiggenweld Potions had more than once spared Lizzie a trip to the Hospital Wing.

Lizzie and Penny were standing near the refreshment table with Skye and a few other Hufflepuffs. All the attention was fixed on Skye, who was recounting the highlights of the match under full usage of her body; just like Lizzie, the combination of adrenaline and alcohol had gone straight to her head.

She was just now replaying the way Lizzie had scored her goal whilst broom surfing, mimicking McNully’s commenting style as she re-enacted the scene. Feeling embarrassed at the praise, Lizzie dropped her eyes.

“You’re exaggerating, Parkin,” she mumbled.

“Only a little,” Skye shrugged, before resuming the show for her onlookers.

“She’s right,” Penny agreed, “you were amazing today, Liz. Rowan and I were screaming our heads off when you scored that goal.”

Lizzie blushed. “Where is Rowan anyway?” She hadn’t seen her friend since lunch.

“She’s got prefect duty tonight,” Penny answered. “She left before you guys came back.”

To say she wasn’t a little bit glad that Rowan wasn’t here would have been a lie. For whatever reason, Rowan had been in a particularly good mood ever since yesterday evening. And while it was good to see her so happy, Lizzie wasn’t in the mood for her ramblings right now; especially if they revolved around Orion, like they so often did these days.

She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and was really starting to feel the effects of the alcohol; she felt lightheaded and wondered if it was a good idea to get as wasted as she already was. Lizzie knew she was prone to rambling about things better left unsaid when she was drunk and she had amassed quite a collection of things that had better stay a secret. It took a lot of concentration from her side to not lose track of what version of the truth she had told to whom and her hazy mind didn’t make things easier.

But Rowan not being in the Common Room tonight meant she could relax just a little bit more and Penny was right; she had performed really well today and earned herself a bit of laid-back fun with her friends.

Her eyes scanned the crowd for Orion without really thinking about it. The last time she’d seen him, he had been with Murphy and KC, who had been amongst the Ravenclaws that had arrived with Tulip. A smile tugged at Lizzie’s lips as she saw the red haired Beater sitting on Murphy’s lap, engaged in a little bit more than a heated discussion.

As the door leading out of the Common Room opened, the movement caught Lizzie’s eye. She could just make out the familiar figure of Orion before he vanished in the darkness of the tunnel that connected Hufflepuff House to the rest of the castle.

Penny had seen him leaving as well. “Seems like Orion needs a break from the adoring masses.”

Lizzie only hummed in response, her eyes still fixed to the now closed door.

“Maybe he’d like some company,” Penny suggested with a smirk.

Lizzie tore her eyes from the exit and turned to her. “What do you mean?”

Penny only raised her eyebrows in response.

Lizzie gripped her cup tighter. “I’m not sure that’d be a good idea.”

Gently prying her cup out of her hands, Penny nudged her in the direction of the door. “Just go.”

She stared at the encouraging expression on Penny’s face. It was a bad idea; she should really stay here where she couldn’t do anything stupid.

With an inward curse, she grabbed her drink back from Penny’s hands and downed the remains of it in one go. She shuddered from the strong taste as she put the empty cup down on the table.

Such a bad idea.

Before she could change her mind, Lizzie pushed herself away from the table and through the crowd, slipping quietly through the round door.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #orion amari #quidditch #orion amari x mc #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #sorry to all slytherins I love you

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does-this-look-logicality-to-you · 3 years

Text

words: 1952 universe: human au characters: Logan, Patton, a bunch of random original characters pairings: romantic logicality (it’s not the main focus though) warnings: brief mention of suffocation, language, otherwise none i can think of a/n: i owe this idea to my good friend lilia, aka @croftersjam15 on pinterest. a huge thank you to her for the idea, and i hope y’all enjoy.

Logan stood at the door. Just ring the doorbell. It isn’t hard, just reach out and touch it. Why aren’t I moving? It’s so simple! Logan, you pathetic idiot, why can’t you do this one simple thing?

“Lo? You okay?” Logan was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of Patton’s concerned voice and the feeling of his hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine.”

Patton gave him a doubtful look. “You don’t look fine.”

“Just… nervous.

He looked up at him, sympathy and worry flooding his expression. “Oh no, why?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Logan reassured him.

Patton frowned. “Yes, it is. Is it about meeting my family?”

Logan hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, I know it’s all I’ve been worrying about all day, but—”

“Logan,” he interrupted gently. “You don’t need to apologize for feeling things, remember? It’s normal to be a little anxious about things like this.”

He sighed. “You’re right.”

“I know I am. Now, do you want me to ring the doorbell?”

“Please do.”

Patton gave his boyfriend a reassuring smile, and Logan felt his muscles relax a little as he rang the bell. Almost immediately, the door swung open. Both of them immediately recognized the woman on the other side.

“Mama!” Patton swept her into a bear hug, and Logan couldn’t help but smile fondly as he watched.

“Hi, Pattycake!” She peppered his face in kisses, making him giggle, before pulling back and looking at Logan with a smile that shared an almost perfect likeness with Patton’s. “And Logan! It’s so wonderful to see you again. Come in, come in!”

Logan stepped inside, doing his best to mask his nerves. “Hello, Mrs. Morris. It’s nice to see you too.”

“You know you can just call me Miranda.”

Great. He hadn’t been here for a minute and he’d already made a mistake. “Right. I’m sorry, Miranda.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. Come on, let’s go see everyone else.” She started toward the kitchen. Patton took Logan’s hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze before the two went after her.

There weren’t many people there yet, as far as Logan could see. There was a small group of adults in the kitchen, but that was about it. Logan recognized one of them as Simon Morris, Patton’s father. “There he is! Hey, Patty!” Simon greeted him. Patton hurried over and hugged his father tightly. Not even thirty seconds had gone by when Simon caught sight of Logan and let go of his son. “And what do you know, Logan’s here!” He held his arms out. Logan felt his stomach flip, but he came over and hugged Simon anyway. The older man’s grip was tight, nearly suffocating Logan, but he managed to hold on until Simon finally let him go. “I should introduce you to the rest of the family, eh? That’s Miranda’s brother Rick, and his husband Carlos.” He pointed to them as he said their names. Rick looked somewhat like his nephew, while Carlos was shorter and had more sharp and angular features. Nevertheless, both of them looked friendly enough. Logan recalled that Patton was very close to them both, and considered them to be secondary parental figures.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Logan held his hand out to shake one of theirs, but was pulled into another hug by Rick.

“You must be Logan! Patty’s told us all about you!”

“He has?” Logan’s voice was choked by the tightness of the hug.

“Oh, absolutely!” Carlos piped in. “We ask about you every time we talk to ‘im, and he always has so much to say!”

Logan couldn’t keep a small smile from crossing his face. “Oh. Well, I’ve heard quite a lot about the two of you as well.” Rick looked pleased, before realizing that he was still squeezing Logan. He released his grip.

“Sorry ‘bout that, I got excited.”

“It’s alright.” He stepped away, allowing Patton to hug his uncles. Once they released him, he looked around.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re not here,” Miranda replied. “Looks like you guys were pretty early.”

“So are you,” he pointed out.

“Oh, we’ve been here for hours helping with preparations.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Nope! Everything’s good to go.”

“If you change your mind, let us know.” Patton went back to his boyfriend, slipping Logan’s hand into his own.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

“Ooh, our first guests!” Miranda exclaimed enthusiastically. “Pat, could you let them in?”

“Of course? Lo, you wanna come with?”

Logan hesitated for a moment. Did he want to come with him? He certainly didn’t want to attempt to make small talk with a group of adults he barely knew, and this was a good way to avoid that. “Sure. It was nice to meet you, Rick, Carlos. And it’s nice to see you again, Simon and Miranda.” The four of them smiled at him, before he and Patton went to the front door. Patton turned the handle and had barely pulled the door back an inch before a horde of small children exploded inside and immediately swarmed Patton, hugging him and climbing on him.

“Uncle Pat! Uncle Pat!”

“Hi, Uncle Pat!”

“I missed you, Uncle Pat!”

“Pick me up, Uncle Pat!”

“Look, Uncle Pat! I lost my tooth!”

“Well I lost two teeth!”

“Do you like my new dress, Uncle Pat?”

“Uncle Pat, do you remember me? I was five when I last saw you, but now I’m six!”

“Uncle Pat, guess what? We got a puppy!”

“Are you gonna take us to get ice cream again, Uncle Pat?”

“Uncle Pat! Lookit my new plushie!”

“Yours is ugly! Lookit mine, Uncle Pat!”

Logan was beginning to regret not staying with the other adults, feeling his anxiety come rushing back. He knew there would be children, but he hadn’t imagined this many of them.

“Hi, everyone!” Patton giggled. “I missed you guys too!”

One of the older ones turned to look at Logan. “Who’s that, Uncle Pat?”

All at once, twelve pairs of eyes locked on him, the previous excited energy disappearing abruptly from all of them, and a jolt of fear travelled up his spine. He had never been very good at socializing with children, especially of the younger variety like these ones were.

“He’s my boyfriend!” Patton told them cheerfully, either completely missing Logan’s panicked expression or ignoring it. “Everyone, this is Logan.”

“He’s tall,” one of them remarked.

“Taller than you, even,” added another.

“Isn’t he the guy on the news in the morning?”

Logan’s stomach twisted. He had been hoping to not be recognized for his work. He didn’t do what he did for the public exposure.

“That’s right, Max!” Patton replied, looking impressed. “He does the weather!”

“Why?” Max asked, tilting his head. “Isn’t that boring?”

“Max!” one of the older boys scolded. “You don’t say that to someone!”

“No, it’s alright.” Logan forced his voice to be even and calm. “I do it because I’m interested in what happens in the sky.”

“Like space?” a little girl asked him, her eyes wide.

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “Especially space. I’ve always found it fascinating.”

“I think it’s fas-i-cating too!” she squealed.

“Fascinating,” Logan corrected. “But you like space?”

She nodded eagerly. “What’s your favorite planet?” she wanted to know.

“Pluto.”

“Like Mickey’s dog?” one of them asked.

At that, one of the children started barking like a dog. The others joined in, and Logan gave Patton a puzzled glance. He just shrugged.

“No, not the dog,” Logan tried to say, but the barking drowned him out. Lucky for him, the little girl who had shown interest in space before heard him.

“Hey!” she yelled, and all of the others went silent again. “I wanna hear what Uncle Lo’s saying!”

Uncle Lo? Logan couldn’t tell if those words made him feel uncomfortable or touched.

“As I was saying,” Logan continued. “Pluto is the farthest planet from the sun. It’s so far away, in fact, that many scientists don’t consider it a planet. But I haven’t given up on it yet.”

What do I say now? Shit, shit shit, I don’t know what to say? Uh… why don’t I ask her about her favorite planet? That’s a good idea. Do that.

“What’s your favorite planet?” he asked.

“I like Jupiter,” she told him. “It’s the biggest.”

“That’s right. Did you know it’s made of gas?”

“Woah, really?”

“That’s right. It’s what we call a gas giant.”

“Is it the only one?”

Logan shook his head. “No, it’s not. Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune are all gas giants.” He ignored the chorus of giggles when he said the word “Uranus”. He’d laughed at that when he was younger, too. “And did you know that Jupiter has rings, just like Saturn? It isn’t as famous for them, but they are there.”

As Logan rattled off facts, the children listened intently, as if he was telling the most engaging story they had ever heard. Some occasionally asked questions or made comments, which Logan didn’t hesitate to answer. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

~~~

“And those stars over there make up Scorpius, the scorpion. Some myths say that Artemis sent it to kill Orion after he boasted that he could kill all the animals, and Zeus put it in the sky when it won the battle. Others say that Apollo, Artemis’s brother, sent it after Orion when he said he was a better hunter than Artemis. Zeus put them both in the sky.”

Logan was lying in the backyard, all twelve children surrounding him.

“I bet I could beat it if I tried,” Max mumbled.

“You could not,” murmured Heidi, Max’s older sister. “It’s way bigger than you. It’d totally crush you.”

Logan glanced around them, a soft smile spreading across his face when he saw most of them were asleep. It wasn’t very late for him, but it was for many of them.

“Hi, guys.” Logan looked up to see Patton standing above them, grinning.

Max’s energy returned, and he leapt to his feet. “Uncle Pat! Guess what? Uncle Lo taught us all about the stars!”

“Oh yeah?” Patton looked at his boyfriend with an adoring expression.

“Yeah! He told us all about Ursula Major and Aquarium and Scorpiss!”

“What?”

“Ursa Major, Aquarius, and Scorpius,” Logan explained. “And many more.”

“Ohh. That’s so cool!”

“Mhm! Is he gonna be here next time?”

“Maybe. Did you like hanging out with him?”

“Yeah!”

Patton smiled warmly at them. “I’m so glad. Uncle Lo and I have to go now, okay?”

“Do you have to?” Max looked up at his uncle with wide puppy-dog eyes.

“Sorry, buddy. It’s getting late.”

“Awww.” He pouted.

“I promise, we’ll come visit you, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” Logan stood, and Max hugged his leg. “‘Bye, Uncle Lo.”

“Goodbye, Max.” He patted his head.

Patton leaned down and kissed his nephew’s cheek, then took Logan’s hand. Max reluctantly let go of his leg and plopped down on the grass, watching them walk inside.

“‘Bye, Logan!” said Miranda, who was in the living room. “It was nice seeing you!”

“It was nice seeing you too.” He gave her a polite wave, before he and Patton went out the front door and to their car. Patton got in the driver’s seat, while Logan got into the passenger’s.

“Sorry I left you,” Logan told him.

“No, no, I didn’t mind at all! It was cute! You looked like you were having a lot of fun.”

“I was,” he admitted. “I hadn’t expected to.”

“I know you didn’t.” Patton leaned over to kiss his cheek before starting the engine. “But I’m happy you had a good time.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #ts patton #ts logan #logicality #romantic logicality #language #language tw #tw language #tw: language #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

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Heartbreaker- Part 3

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Female character/ reader (She)

Word Count: 6332. Yikes.

Warnings: Sexual content, language, angst

Moodboard@peterquillzsblog

AN: The third part of this thing I did for @youbloodymadgenius 400 Followers Writing Challenge. I’m a bit insecure about this part, and it was hard to write but I hope ya’ll like it. Shout out to my girl @shannygoatgruff for helping me and encouraging me with the writing process. You da best.

Part 1, Part 2

...

The stars were mocking her, she was sure of it.

Her eyes were glued to her ceiling, the stupid LED’s sparkling brighter now that the sun had completely set and the moon had taken its place. She started learning her constellations when she was 10, the age when shit at home started to hit the fan. It was her attempt at an escape to avoid her parents fighting in the other room. She ignored the yelling and banging against the walls by running to her tiny window and staring out into the sky in the hopes of catching sight of Orion’s Belt or any of the dippers. The stars were nicer then, comforting her as she did her best to drown out her mother’s screaming. They weren’t so visible now that she lived in Oslo, the city lights blocking everything that glowed in the sky. She had to settle for the cheap projector she purchased off amazon when she first called the city home, and it had been enough for her to get by until now. It ridiculed her, the fake stars shimmering together as if to form a smirk.

Fuck that.

She reaches behind her nightstand, yanking the cord from the wall with force, cutting off the starlight and leaving her ceiling pitch black. The candles were still flickering as the only light source, the scent of roses still strong. At least it smelled nice. Flopping back against her pillows, she runs her hands down her damp face from her salty tears, dropping her arms to her sides and dragging the sheets over her still naked body. She hadn’t moved since he left. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. Her body felt rooted to the mattress, her skin glued to the sheets. She gives the dark ceiling one last glare before rolling to her side, burying her face into the pillow where Ivar’s luxurious hair had left the fragrance of his coconut shampoo and his Armani cologne. She was fucking pathetic.

Sending him away felt like a mistake.

She wanted to feel powerful kicking his ass out. She wanted to feel in control and confident watching him leave, but she didn’t. He wasn’t even angry. As soon as she told him to leave, he silently gathered his wrinkled clothes thrown about in their haste. In rigid movements he dressed himself, grabbed his crutch, and turned to look at her over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the shape of her body under the thin sheets. He said nothing, just stared at her with this look of longing, like they were the most unfortunate pair to grace the earth. It certainly felt that way. Then he reached over, holding her head gently to place a kiss on her temple before leaving her bed. All she wanted to do was to cry and call him back as soon as she heard her front door close with a soft click.

The facade immediately collapsed and the smirk slipped from her lips, settling into a deep frown. Her eyes welled up with tears and cascaded down her cheeks without so much as a fight. She had felt a heaviness in her chest, a burning that ached over her as if Ivar himself had reached inside her and ripped out her heart. He had broken it, so why did it hurt just as much when she tried to hurt him?

Because she loved him. She loved Ivar.

She was in love with him. Completely and hopelessly and stupidly in love. Like a fucking idiot. She loved him when he visited her at the museum. She loved him when he took her home. She loved him when he took her to bed. And she loved him more when she watched him leave, his expression forever implanted in her mind like a photograph. She’d never seen such a look on him before.

When the hell did it start to get to that point? She wasn’t too sure. It started simple enough, boundaries were set, and they were both happy with what they had. The sex was great, and even greater still when she realized her feelings were getting involved. She found love in the simplest things. She felt it in their little touches whenever she handed him something, in the smile that lit up his face when she made his favorite meal of steak and potatoes, or the way he looked at her when he knew she was wearing something particularly naughty under her clothes. Or maybe she loved him from the moment they met at that fucking party. Apparently it only takes the brain 2 seconds to fall in love with someone. She couldn’t even remember where she’d read that. Probably from that corny lifestyle magazine she picked up while waiting her turn at the dental office. Whatever. The damage was already done.

She fights to ignore the delicious throbbing between her legs, her body craving more of him and his touch. It bothered her, how her body was betraying her. With a sigh, she shifts away from Ivar’s scent, curling into herself and making a mental note to wash the bed sheets as soon as possible. A bath would be nice, preferably with lots of bubbles, but she was too lazy. She’d just have to wake up earlier.

She takes even breaths to calm her heart rate as she watches the candle on her nightstand flicker, hoping she’d find sleep soon.

Morning came a lot quicker than she hoped.

She was the epitome of a zombie, which meant she’d need her morning coffee. Her eyes were sensitive against the morning light and her body ached from more than just a sleepless night. She took a quick shower, fed Benji, and made her caffeinated drink. She was in complete autopilot, that is, until there was a knock on her door. Irritated at the early disturbance, she goes to the door with half a mind of what was on the other side of it.

Pink daisies. Twice as many as before. This time, they were arranged in a stained glass vase, much like the windows of a cathedral, with vivid colors of green, blue, and red, depicting a simplistic design. It must have cost him a pretty penny no doubt, but money was never a problem for him. It was lighter than the porcelain vase, but still heavy in her hands. She places it on the counter, her fingertips skimming over the silky petals as gently as she could without damaging them. They were beautiful, but she found herself unable to admire them. She had a melancholic view of them now. They couldn’t be her favorites anymore.

There was that white card again, hiding within the stems of the bouquet. She hesitates, her fingers grasping the rough textured paper, reluctant to peer inside in fear of another hurtful message. With a shaky breath she flips it open.

I’m sorry.

Love, Ivar.

The words were written messily, unusual for him as he had perfect penmanship learned from his years in boarding school. Again, the water from the vase dotted the card, causing the black ink to bleed a bit. Her fingers follow the streaks down to the edge, picking up some of the faded pigment. It was as if he were the one crying this time, asking for forgiveness with fucking flowers. Either this solution worked for him in the past or he was just really fucking stupid.

She bites her lip, fiddling with the card before opening her junk drawer and tossing it inside. She didn’t have the strength to get rid of it. She carefully takes the vase in both hands, setting them down on her coffee table and arranging her candles and other knick knacks around it until it pleased her. She sits on her sofa, watching Benji put both his paws on the surface of the coffee table, curious of the new scent in the flat. Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she searches her contact list, going to her blocked numbers. Ivar’s name was the only one on that list.

Unblock?

She pauses, her finger hovering over the button. One tap, and she would be signing up for more heartbreak. Then the image of the blonde appeared in her mind, her in bed with Ivar, smirking and devious. Mocking.

It wasn’t worth it.

With a sigh she tosses her phone onto the table with a loud clack, the corner smacking against the edge of the vase and spooking Benji. She sucks her teeth.

Forget it.

…

Ivar runs his large thumb over the smooth cream colored domino piece, watching Hvitserk deal the pieces out to him and Sigurd. He’s been in a foul mood since the night he left her flat and he’s been hugging alcohol and cigarettes to his side like long lost friends, specifically Patrón and Marlboro. They dulled whatever strange feeling he felt that fluttered in his chest whenever he thought of her.

Normally, women were never a problem for him. It was always the same routine. He’d find himself a pretty girl, date her for a bit, and find another one when he got bored. He’d tell them that love was out of the equation and that was it. There were a few that grew attached, but he’d nip it in the bud before it could escalate. Others were understanding. They’d have their fun and go on their merry way to do it over again with some other asshole. It was supposed to be simple. So why was she making things so fucking difficult?

Well, he wasn’t being entirely fair, he had to admit. They were both difficult. She had fallen in love with him after he warned her not to, and he couldn’t bring himself to keep away from her after he’d sent her away. He had a routine, dammit, but now all he finds himself wanting is a fucking routine with her. Like maybe a normal one. He had gotten use to her, her smile, her touches, her scent, fuck. How long had it been? A year? The longest he’d ever been with a girl. Seriously. And now Freydis was up his ass for attention. He knew the bimbo didn’t feel anything past physical attraction for him. It was just for his time and money, which he didn’t mind at first, but the bitch was terrible in bed and an unpleasant person to be around.

And so he hoped she’d appreciate the flowers. Women loved flowers, right?

Ivar gives the longest sigh he could muster in order to keep his thoughts at bay, deciding to stare at the domino in his hand. It had 2 giant black dots, and the longer he stared at it, the more they appeared like scrutinizing eyes, judging him and his decisions. He slams the piece face down on the table with a glare. Fuck, he was going crazy.

"Where'd you even get these?" He grunts, snatching up his forgotten beer and taking a sip. It wasn’t tequila but it’d have to do for now.

"Bjorn bought them for me from Cuba." Hvitserk says pointing at the little wooden box they came in with the Cuban flag expertly painted on the surface.

"He brings domino's but no cigars?" Sigurd grumbles, arranging his pieces away from the prying eyes of his brothers, “I’d rather cigars.”

"Domino's are way cooler than cigars, Sig," Hvitserk argues, "And maybe Bjorn doesn’t like you enough to bring you fucking cigars, but forget that. What I really want to know is why our baby brother here looks like fucking shit." Both the older brothers turn to look at Ivar with knowing looks, ready to tease if need be.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ivar argues, slamming his first piece down to commence the game. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping much these last few days. And maybe he had bags forming under his eyes and wasn’t eating much, preferring his alcohol and chimney sticks, but he wouldn’t go as far as to say he looks like shit. Then again, he wasn’t looking into his bathroom mirror much either.

“Hvits is right. You look like a kicked puppy, and not even a cute one.” Sigurd snickers, placing his own piece down with that stupid little smirk on his face.

“There is no such thing as ugly puppies.” Was the grunted reply.

“Point is, you look like shit. Have you been sleeping? We know how much you love your beauty sleep.”

“And fucking,” Hvitserk chimes in, placing down his domino, “I think Ivar has us beat. He’s competing with Bjorn at this point.”

“Or maybe it’s that little vixen of his causing trouble. How is she doing by the way? We haven’t seen her in a while.” Ivar flares his nose at the nickname that Sigurd had given her. He fucking hated it now more than ever.

“Shut. Up.” He snarls, sliding his domino piece hard enough to push the rest off the table.

“What the fuck, Ivar! If you break my shit, I’ll-”

“So this is what you guys do when I’m not at the office?” Ubbe bursts in through the door of their little lounging area, a frown forming on his lips as he eyes them in pure displeasure before they settled on the game pieces, “Who’s idea was it to play dominoes when we have clients blowing up our fucking phone’s? And drinking beer? That’s just brilliant. Assholes.”

“That’s why your girl is the secretary, Ubbe, she can handle it.” Sigurd waves his hand around, glad that Ubbe’s outburst overshadowed Ivar’s. When the youngest got mad, it wasn’t pretty, but it was fucking entertaining.

“It was my idea, by the way,” Hvitserk chuckles, placing all the pieces that fell back on the table top, “Wanna play? There’s more beer in the mini fridge.”

“You’re all fucking garbage.” Ubbe mutters, but heads over to the fridge to pull out a beer before plopping down on the empty chair beside Ivar with a sigh, “Before I forget, Ivar, Torvi says some guy just came by to drop something off for you.”

“I’m not expecting a package.”

“You sure? I’ll tell her to bring it in.” After a few minutes, Torvi peeks her head in through the crack of the door before fully opening it, a bouquet of wilted pink daisies in her hands. The color drains from Ivar’s face as the blonde approaches, handing him the flowers with this odd look on her face. Who would send Ivar fucking flowers anyway? And dying ones at that. His brothers immediately start to laugh at Ivar’s stunned look, another session of teasing on the way.

“You have another admirer, little bro?” Hvitserk chortles, mixing the domino pieces for a quick shuffle before dealing them.

“The flowers look like shit.” Comments Sigurd, leaning back against his chair. Ivar, still bewildered into silence, blinks stupidly. He stares at the wilted daisies, the petals easily falling off when he brings his fingers to touch them. They really did look like complete shit. Just like how he felt.

“There’s a card clipped in there. You gonna read it or what?” Ubbe taps his youngest brother's shoulder to elicit some kind of reaction from him. Ivar composes himself before quickly snatching the white card. It was one he had already written a message in by the looks of it. The card was bent at the edges, and he recognized the black ink from his favorite fountain pen.

Finally summing up the courage to read the message, he flips the card open, his previous simple apologetic words were crossed out. A new message was written below it that had his little cold heart hammering in his chest. He bites his lip, his blue eyes scanning the 4 words over and over again.

Sorry isn’t good enough.

…

The Tune ship is a fast sailing vessel able to transport passengers quickly across 100 meters. It is speculated that the vessel was a warship, able to carry its passenger and light cargo farther distances at a much faster-

“Ahh, there you are. In the library just as I assumed.” She quickly removes her eyes from her laptop screen in favor of the intruder that addressed her. She immediately stands, pushing it aside and placing her hands behind her back. The museum director, Mr. Kent, chuckles at her nervousness, smoothing a hand down his pale beard. He must have been a blonde in his youth as his hair had a faint yellow glow when under sunlight. He was a decent man of English origin, specifically from Winchester, who had taken over as the museum director about a year ago. He was a man who loved to dress well, fancy suits and shoes to demonstrate his abundance of money, but it wasn't haughty, not like the Ragnarsson’s. Mr. Kent came from even older money, and apparently from a line of kings that ruled England centuries ago. He had a massive reputation, to say the least. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m actually in need of a favor. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Mr. Kent, what can I do for you?”

“Please,” He chuckles, “Ecbert is fine. As for the favor, my grandson will be moving from Winchester in a few short weeks, right before the gala for the Tune ship exhibit. I’d like for him to shadow you during your tours, if that is alright with you?”

“Oh! Yes, of course. It would be an honor.” Fuck no, it wouldn’t. The last person that shadowed her was super fucking annoying and ended up getting fired anyway, but since this was Ecbert’s grandson, it would be different, he’d have privilege. Hopefully he wasn’t douche.

And shit. The fucking gala. She’d almost forgotten about it. It was the only event that the museum held in which she could attend, dress up, and feel pretty, but it was the one event that made her more nervous than anything else. She’d be surrounded by the richest people in the country, patrons of the Viking Ship Museum and other prestigious institutions and universities. And champagne, lot’s of champagne. Rich people knew how to party.

“Excellent,” He smiles, clapping his hands together as if to solidify their agreement, “Don’t let me take up more of your time, I know you're doing your research for the new exhibit. I’ll be happy to give you access to the archives if you’d like? You might find something of interest that isn’t in the scholarly journals online.”

“That would be fantastic, Sir, thank you.”

“Have a great day.” She watches the older man leave, before plopping back down onto the cushioned seat with a sigh. He wasn’t as intimidating as their last asshole director, but she still treads softly around him. You can never get too comfy with those above you.

She did some more research for another half hour before checking her watch. Another tour of the Oseberg ship was scheduled in a few minutes and she would be free to go home and feel sorry for herself and her love life. She puts away her laptop in her purse, quickly rushing over to her office to freshen up before the tour. It was a busy day at the museum as they were now at the start of tourist season, which meant the museum allowed for bigger groups to be guided, and more people meant more noise and more irritation. Walking toward the entrance of the museum, she scans her eyes over the group of the afternoon, suddenly hoping to find a pair of blue eyes looking back at her. But that wasn’t the case. She frowns. He wouldn’t come looking for her after that fucking stunt she pulled. She shouldn’t want him to look for her anyway.

She sighs, plastering the fakest smile on her face before greeting the group.

Her phone was truly the devil. Honestly, did it intend to constantly notify her on Ivar’s posts and images? And since when did he post so damn much? She’d have to turn off her notifications, or block him off of Snapchat. Actually, why not just throw the whole fucking phone away? Ridiculous. She grumbles to herself, wondering why she hadn’t deleted him off of any social media apps yet. There was an answer to that, she just didn’t care to admit it. She was never into that stuff anyway, just keeping her accounts for communication purposes for her friends and family back home. It was getting rather lonely. Her time was mostly spent with Ivar, and now that they’re having their little rift, she realized her lack of friends. Had she really revolved her life around him? Shit.

Stretching her legs down the length of the sofa, she makes herself comfortable for the stupid shit she was about to do. She grabs her phone, scrolling through her apps and goes on Instagram. Ivar had posted 3 new photos. He was out at some bar in the city having a good ass time it seemed. His best friend, Heahmund, was in all of them, probably as a chaperone since Ivar couldn’t handle his liquor much. Heahmund was a good friend for that and Ivar was lucky to have the British fuck look out for him.

Ivar’s story was filled with clips of him goofing off. He was totally drunk, she could tell by how lidded and unfocused his eyes were, and how pink his lips were from constantly pursing them over a glass. His hair was all fucked up and out of its usual bun, as if he were fucking someone right before the video was recorded. Almost immediately after the thought, a drunk Freydis comes into the shot. That explained it. She should really throw her phone away.

Freydis giggles at the camera before placing her lips to his cheek, trailing them down his neck in sloppy kisses.

A rage boiled within her and she felt her fingers tighten around her phone. She needed to calm down. He was doing his own thing and she might as well do hers, though it was much easier said than done. The other videos he posted were of him taking shots of whatever it was, most likely tequila, and grinning into the camera like an idiot. Or maybe she was the idiot. Why should she mope around while he was having the time of his life? She knew how to have fun!...Right? Well, sometimes. Okay, maybe not. That party she met Ivar in? It was an invitation she had refused countless times. She couldn’t be bothered with the guy who begged her to go, but she went anyway due to her lack of socialization at the time.

Going out and partying was never fun when she was always the sober one. She did drink of course, but her tolerance was a lot better than most, say, like Ivar. She couldn’t count with her fingers the amount of times she had to call an Uber to get his ass home. The very few times she’d gone out with his brothers, it always ended with the same outcome, except Ubbe would end up saving their sorry asses.

Ubbe was the sweetheart, why couldn’t she have felt this way about him instead? Right, he had a girlfriend. She grumbles to herself, thinking she's better off alone.

…

“Where are you going?” The scent of alcohol had rooted itself deep within Freydis’s pores, her breath tickling his ear in an unpleasant manner. She stops him when he slips off the bar stool, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her side. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like how her hands felt on him or the look she wore. He didn’t like any of it. The loud trap music that blared from the speakers had activated him earlier that night, but now it made his head ache something terrible. The bass seemed to be vibrating right through him and he rubbed the side of his temple to subdue the growing headache. He reached out to stabilize himself on the bar counter. He was so fucking drunk.

“I gotta pee. Get off me.” Ivar grumbles, pushing her away with little grace. Clingy bitch.

“What?” The blonde scowls, her eyebrows arching and her lips set in a tight line. Shit. He said that out loud?

“Nothing.”

“I think he called you a clingy bitch, actually.” Heahmund repeats Ivar’s demeaning words, a chuckle escaping his red stained lips from the wine he was drinking. This was the fun part of the night for the older man. Ivar had no filter when he was drunk. Well, he never really did have a filter, sober or not, but it was a lot funnier when he had alcohol in his system. He could be ruthless.

“I fucking heard him, asshole.” Freydis snaps, seemingly sobering up now that she was angry. Heahmund breaks out in a smile to which she glares in return.

“I gotta pee.” Ivar announces again, not bothering to look at Freydis before stumbling towards the restrooms. He belches after letting out a series of hiccups, pausing to place a hand on the wall to steady himself. He was so fucking drunk. How many shots of Patrón had he taken? 3..4..? He started counting out loud, bringing his unoccupied hand to his face in order to use his fingers. Wait, there weren’t enough fingers on that hand. He stumbles again when he lets go of the wall, using the other hand to make his calculations. 5...8? Shit, he lost track. Forget it. It was a lot of Patrón.

Using his shoulder, he bursts in through the restroom door, mumbling an apology when he runs into someone. Ignoring the blurry image of the guy scowling at him, he makes his way into a stall and pisses his life away, his head resting against the cold tiled wall as he scrambles to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t happy. The alcohol wasn’t making him happy. Freydis wasn’t making him happy. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was a simple man with simple pleasures yet for some reason, a basic routine and a basic girl weren’t enough anymore. This was all her fault. Why was she torturing him without even trying? In his intoxicated state he could still remember how her voice trembled when she cried and how her eyes looked when they glossed over with tears. How drunk did he need to be to admit that he had hurt her? Really fucking drunk. Like now.

He slams the red door of the stall open, not even flinching when it banged against the stall beside it, maneuvering himself clumsily over to the sink. Gripping the porcelain, he leans forward to get a good look at himself through the streaky mirror. His eyes were so low he could barely see himself, cheeks flushed bright pink and lips matching in color. When did his bun get loose? He looks at his wrist hoping to find a hair tie but scowls when he finds none. He grunts in annoyance, turning on the tap to wash his hands before dragging his wet fingers through his hair. The cold water felt good on his heated face and he closed his eyes for a moment. He gazes at himself one last time before coming to a decision. He needed to talk to her. Right now.

Digging in the pocket of his simple denim jeans, he whips out his phone, struggling to find her contact name before pressing the call button and bringing the device to his ear.

You have reached the voice mailbox of 45-

Fuck. He forgot. She blocked him.

He wanted to throw his phone in frustration. Why did she block him? Did she not understand that he needed to talk to her right now?

Oh wait. Snapchat. Snapchat has video calls. That’s it. Ivar immediately takes a fat finger to scroll to the app, forcefully pressing down on the little ghost in haste. Finding her name in his contacts list, he presses the little video icon, hoping she’d answer. After a few seconds he almost gives up, but then his screen lights up, and he is rewarded with her tired eyes.

“Hey,” He breathes, noting the dim light in her room, “Were you sleeping?” He slurs, and immediately curses himself for sounding so stupid. He clears his throat in the hopes of gaining his language skills back.

“Ivar?” Her voice was heavy with sleep. It was exactly how she sounded when he used to wake her up in the morning with soft, lazy kisses to her shoulder. He missed that. “It’s like 2am. What are you calling me for?”

“I...I don’t know. Missed...your voice.” The words poured out his mouth like vomit. Actually, he was shocked he hadn’t gotten to that point. He threw up at least once after a hard night of drinking. His eyes fell shut as he leaned his head back against the wall beside the sink. God, this speech impediment was bad. He hears her snort tiredly on the other end.

“You’re drunk.”

“Mm...noooo, no. Mm not.”

“I can smell the tequila from here.”

“Wait, really?” His eyes pop open as he brings his phone closer to his face. He couldn’t focus all that well, but he could make out her sleepy features. Those pretty lashes of hers brushed over her cheeks with every lazy blink, and her messy hair was placed in a high ponytail at the top of her head.

“No.” Was her flat reply, pure irritation seeping through the word. Ivar stares at her displeased look for a moment longer, sighing in an almost dream like manner.

“You look beautiful.” He answers back, sliding down the wall to sit in a much more comfortable position. He didn’t care if the floor was dirty, he was drunk, and he didn’t want his legs to start hurting like a bitch.

“Shut the fuck up,” She says, “Words of a drunk.”

“I’m being serrrrious,” Ivar whines, “You always look amazing, you know that?”

“Right. Is Heahmund still there?”

“Yeah,” He pouts, “Why? You’d rather talk to him? You like him or something?” Ivar had never been the jealous type, but he was whenever it involved his brothers or Heahmund. When he had started seeing her, their interest zeroed in on her like fucking hawks, and so he made it abundantly clear to them that she was off limits. She was his conquest, no one else’s. So no, he wouldn’t consider himself the jealous type, but everyone else needed to stay the fuck away from her, even if she wasn’t his to play with anymore.

“No, Ivar, to make sure you’re gonna get home okay.” She sighs, shifting in her sheets and rubbing her face in frustration, “And it seems you will.”

“Aw, you worry about me?” He grins stupidly, his mood shifting wildly as he rubs his phone on his sweaty cheek as if to send her affection.

“No more than you do for me. How’s Freydis by the way?” The bitterness in her tone was enough to bring him down from whatever high he was feeling. Ivar scowls, shifting the phone back so they were now directly looking at each other. He blinks, trying to clear his head again. Freydis. He forgot about her already. And he didn’t really care anyway.

“Clingy bitch,” He muttered his words from earlier, “I don’t wanna talk about her. I wanna talk about you.” He almost laughed when she pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

“What about me, hmm?”

“I dunno,” He shrugs, his eyes searching hers through his fingerprint covered screen before passing them over her visible form again. She was wearing that one t-shirt she favored, the comfy one with the large neckline that always slid down enough to expose one of her smooth shoulders. Her messy hair and tired eyes reminded him of the many nights spent together tangled under his sheets. It made him swallow thickly as he brought a hand down the center of his jeans to ease the growing ache. Fuck, he needed to get his shit together. Still, in their silence he conjured up images and ideas in his head that he certainly shouldn’t at that moment, but fuck it. He licks his lips, feeling the sly grin stretching across his face at the words his brain had given to him, ready to spill from his mouth, “Maybe I just want to talk about the way your back arches under my hands, or the sounds you make when I-”

“Ivar,” She stops him immediately, her face blooming that pink color he loved, “Kindly shut the fuck up.” She looked like she was about to say something more, something much harsher and meaner, but she stopped herself. Instead, she takes in a breath, rubbing her eyes, and suddenly, she didn’t seem all that tired anymore. “Did you like the flowers?” She asks instead.

“Huh?” His eyebrows curve in confusion as his hazy mind tries to decipher the meaning behind the question. What was she talking about? Flowers? What flow-Oh. Right.

Sorry isn’t good enough.

He sighs, leaning his head back against the tiled wall. He could hear the transition of trap music out in the bar to some basic pop he hadn’t heard on the radio in years. He was in no mood for Kesha.

“I hated them.” He mutters truthfully. The wilted daisies made his heart sink. He’d never felt that way before. Was that how he made all those other women feel? He chews the inside of his cheek, ignoring the pulse behind his eyes and the ache in his head. Finally, the nausea kicked in and his stomach churned for the inevitable. He swallows thickly, running his hand through his messy hair, her eyes following his every movement trying to read his expression. Even in his intoxicated state, he made it hard for her to read him.

“This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.” He says miserably. Why does he fuck everything up? If he had never gone to that stupid party in the first place, he would have never met her, and he wouldn’t be feeling that way he does now. Like complete trash.

“What a shame,” She says, cocking her head to the side, her ponytail brushing against her cheekbone, “Just take your own advice, and try not to fall in love.” She gives him one last look before she hangs up, having him stare at his screen for a few seconds to understand what just happened. He remains seated on the dirty bathroom floor for a few moments longer, continuing to ignore his churning stomach and the tightness of his throat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Heahmund bursts in through the door, immediately grabbing hold of Ivar’s arm and helping in lifting him up to his feet, “You’ve been in here for 20 minutes. Freydis left in a cab.”

“Good for her.” Ivar grunts, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He pushes Heahmund away, going back to stand in front of the mirror. He looked sick, sweat building up near his hairline.

“What’s wrong with you, hmm?” The older man questions, crossing his arms and using that tone on him as if he didn’t have 4 fucking older brothers already.

“Being a fucking idiot, that’s what.” Ivar says, closing his eyes as his chest burned with that familiar sensation.

“Finally feeling bad about what you did, huh?” Heahmund questions, “You know, no amount of fucking flowers and alcohol is gunna fix anything or make you feel better. You needed a reality check. She gave it to you.”

“And you call yourself my friend, traitor?” Ivar managed to say before pushing past him and into a stall, heaving out all the contents from his tequila filled stomach.

…

The Tune ship exhibit was coming together.

The fragments of the ship were strategically pieced together to form the remains of the ancient ship to its former glory. Well, most of it anyway. It was a fraction of what it once was in the past, but it was still an impressive archeological find, and although it wasn’t as massive as the Oseberg or the Gokstad, it was still considerable in length. She felt like a speck of dust standing beside it despite its lack of framework. She observes the rotted wood and the grooves within each ancient plank, wishing she could reach out and touch it; to feel what they must have felt like a thousand years ago. It’s been 2 years since she began working at the Viking Ship Museum and she still found herself in awe at every artifact that entered their exhibits. She supposed it was the bookworm in her. Ahh fuck. That’s what Ivar calls her.

She immediately frowns, her face twisting in displeasure. Somehow, her thoughts always went back to him, and that irritated her greatly.

“Hello?” The unrecognizable voice echoes throughout the empty exhibit. She looks over her shoulder at the intruder, her gaze gravitating to meet the clearest blue eyes of a boyish young man. The blackest hair she’d ever seen frames his blushing cheeks and the tips brush softly over his shoulders. She blinks at him, cocking her head.

“Uhh, hi?”

“I’m sorry,” He lets out a nervous chuckle, looking around the unfinished exhibit to avoid meeting her eyes from his embarrassment, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He had a gentle voice, a hint of shyness in the undertones. And extremely British.

“No it’s fine,” She approaches him, sticking out her hand to greet him with a handshake and a small smile, “You must be Mr. Kent’s grandson. I wasn’t expecting you so soon…?”

“Alfred,” He answers, grasping her hand and offering her a timid smile back, “It’s a pleasure.”

...

@a-daydreamers-day @heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @leilabeaux @shannygoatgruff @syrenak @soleil-dor @walkxthexmoon @zuxiezendler @homeyzeus @redenzione @mariaenchanted @laricebabe @hecohansen31

There are some of you that Tumblr won’t let me tag! They are in bold. I’m sorry 😭

#ivar #vikings #vikings ivar #alex hogh andersen #ivarfanfiction #vikings fanfic #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 6, Ch. 2

PART 6: THE YEAR WHEN EVERYTHING FALLS INTO PLACE Chapter 2 - The Captain and the Quit

Nova

I couldn't believe I thought we had more time this year than the year prior. We had fewer subjects but they were more demanding so the free time was just on paper. I still attended Advanced Transfiguration with McGonagall and I was now officially a proud owner of a Salamander named Pyro.

The first day after the classes began, I went to talk to Professor Kettleburn to show him my O.W.L. result for Care of Magical Creatures and to convince him to let me take care of a Salamander. He was over the moon when he saw my results and took me to see one immediately.

I jumped for joy when I saw the little guy and I couldn't help but fall in love. Kettleburn told me that they are a big responsibility and if I will take good care of him, I would get extra credit in his class at the end of the year. I assured him that I would be good with the animal even without the extra credit and I was sure that is exactly what he wanted to hear.

With our lessons being so demanding and the ton of homework we got in each class, I've made a decision to quit Quidditch. Andre wasn't happy about it and neither was Orion. But after I told him that I didn't bring them that many wins last year due to that Bludger hitting me in the back, he stopped trying to get me back on the Team.

I knew Charlie was going to be disappointed as well, as he couldn't wait to play against me this year. He talked about it a few times when we were at the Burrow. I, on the other hand, realized that I don't miss it all that much and that I have other talents that are much better than my flying.

After telling Orion, I wanted to find Murphy and tell him as well. I felt so bad the other day when he asked to hang out with me and I turned him down. I didn't do so just because Charlie was sitting right next to me but also because I don't know how I feel about him anymore. He still gave me butterflies and I still couldn't get enough of his blue eyes but the problem was, the same thing was happening to me with Charlie. I was so confused the entire Summer as I didn't know what was happening inside my head. Truth be told, I still don't know.

I thought about Murphy and I felt my cheeks flush red but being around Charlie made me feel something entirely different that I haven't felt before and the way he was acting around me made him more attractive each day. I liked his calmness and the fact that I couldn't figure him out. It was like he was hiding something from me all the time.

I caught myself daydreaming about him almost every day and when the boys were playing Quidditch at the Burrow I couldn't take my eyes off him. I was ready to admit to myself that I have feelings for my best friend, for which I am not sure how I feel about, but then Murphy asked me to hang out and made my heartbeat raise and that confused me even more. I can't like both of them at the same time, can I?

I couldn't find Murphy anywhere so I decided not to push my luck. He will find out at the tryouts anyway and I didn't know if I wanted to be around him or not. I didn't want to give him false hope in case he fancied me because I didn't know where I stood with my feelings and it wouldn't be fair to him in case I would realize that I don't like him like that anymore.

The day I quit Quidditch I sent Charlie an owl to meet me down by the Lake. I wanted to tell him in private and I wanted to know if he was made Captain of the Gryffindor Team. He was their best player and I doubt they would pick anyone else.

“Pip, I can't always draw you.” I smiled at my owl when he hooted rather disappointingly when he saw I was drawing a Salamander. “He is not going to replace you. I am only looking after it. I promise.” Pip was skeptical and I knew I was going to have to visit him a lot this year to stay on his good side.

“Here's my favorite person!” Charlie sat down next to me on the blanket.

“Hi.” I greeted him, moving my pencils.

“I meant Pip.” He said with a serious face. At this point, I really couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Pip obviously didn't care as he hooted cheerfully and started picking at Charlie's hair. I couldn't stop myself from wanting to go through his hair too, it was so soft.

“Nova, I'm joking.” He said gently when he saw my stunned face. I shook my head. I have to be more focused around him. “I'm happy you invited me to hang out.” He smiled and I felt like melting. FOCUS!

“Pip wanted to hang out not me.” I teased him back.

“Then Pip and I will take this elsewhere.” I stuck my tongue out at his smug face as he was pretending to get up and leave. Pip was hooting happily, enjoying this as much as we were.

I knew we were both glad things went back to normal between us even though I still had a feeling something changed in the Forest. We had this energy whenever we were together that I am not quite sure I can explain. It's like everything is falling into place and I feel more comfortable around him than I did before.

“I actually have to tell you something.” I didn't know why I felt nervous, I knew he was going to understand.

“Go ahead.” He turned to me, reached for my hand and placed it in between both of his. Was I reading too much into this or was he more affectionate?

“I decided to quit Quidditch.” He let go of my hand.

“Why?” He asked concerned.

“After last year's accident, I kind of got scared. I still need healing sessions with Madam Pomfrey and I don't know...I guess I lost interest.” I shrugged and looked into his eyes to see how he was feeling about this.

“Okay.” He said, gently. “Is that the only reason?” He knew me too well.

“No.” I shook my head. “After everything that happened with us last year, I am trying to manage my time better. You know how much school work we have this year and between taking care of Pyro,” his lips curved as I said my Salamander's name, “and Advanced Transfiguration, I would rather spend more of this year with friends and with you.” I smiled and I knew there was no way to hide my red cheeks.

“You have to stop blaming yourself for last year, Nova. It's behind us, we're good.” He pulled me into a half hug. He always smelled so nice. He smelled like home.

“I know.” I sighed. “But I'm not changing my mind. What I did to you last year was horrible and I will never forgive myself.”

“I forgave you.” He pulled away and looked at me. His eyes were full of understanding as if last year didn't happen. I, on the other hand, still couldn't get over how much I hurt him. How could I do that to my best friend?

“Thank you.” I tried looking him in the eyes but I kept looking away. Suddenly his gentle smile turned into a smirk.

“Look on the bright side, you will have one more match to stare at me.” He winked and my heart skipped a beat. Why was he doing this to me?

“Oh, no! You found out my real reason for quitting.” We both started laughing.

Every moment I spent with Charlie, I held close to my heart. I know I am never going to take him for granted again. He was the most wonderful person I know and I was the luckiest girl to call him my best friend. He was understanding and always put his friends before himself and the fact that he was able to find it in his heart to forgive me last year was something that I don't think anyone else would be able to do.

“What did Orion say about it?” He asked. I think I was beginning to freak him out by staring at him so much.

“He wanted to persuade me to stay, of course.” I chuckled. “But I made it quite clear that I wasn't the best Seeker and they will probably do better without me. When I reminded him of every time I didn't catch the Snitch, he gave up.”

“And Skye?” He mocked. He knew Skye and I were usually not on the best of terms. She was shouting at me more than smiling and I never knew if she was serious or if I could relax around her.

“She didn't want to show that she was pleased to see me quit, even though she did a really poor job hiding it.” I laughed.

“I am really curious who they will pick to replace you.” He laid down on my legs, looking at the sky, probably wondering who it will be.

“Oh, I didn't tell you!” He said suddenly. “I was made Captain.” He said casually as if predicting the next day's weather.

“What?” I screamed in excitement. “And you let me go on and on about me quitting!” I poked him in the ribs.

“Your thing was more important.” He smiled.

“Nothing is more important than you being made Captain, Char!” I was so proud of him and I knew he was being modest telling me so casually as I knew he wanted the position.

“You are.” Seriously, when did he get so smooth? It was moments like this that made me question my feelings for Murphy.

“Well, congratulations! I am so happy for you! When are you holding tryouts?” I ruffled his hair. He chuckled as I changed the topic back to him.

“Saturday morning. I am really curious about my applicants. I am thinking of keeping all of the teammates as we work really well together, but I do need to find a new Keeper, John was a Seventh Year like Bill.”

“I'm sure you're going to do great, Cap!” I smiled. “And I can stalk you with Penny from the stands.” I smirked.

“I'm counting on it.” He grinned.

Even though we had so much work and at this point, I was dreaming about McGonagall and Transfiguration, I found time to spend with Charlie and all of my friends. Even though I barely saw Tulip except in our dormitory and Penny was Merlin knows where, probably with Andre. I felt like I was studying more than her this year! And Tonks was so busy developing a new product with Bilton that I don't even know if she was sleeping in her dormitory.

But I didn't mind. It gave me time to focus on my studies and suddenly I had more time to draw which I don't remember when the last time was. I also visited Pip at the Owlery more and invited Charlie to tag along when I went to take care of Pyro. I was feeling more like myself than I did in two years and I promised myself I will do everything to keep it that way because last year, I was a disaster.

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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Hey guys! Many, many apologies for the delay in this two-part update to the POTC AU! I won’t bog down this with too many notes, as I know I left y’all on a cliffhanger last time, sooooo...

Previous part is here! Full tag is here! Rakepick’s hair here is modeled off the outline of a Lion’s Mane Jellyfish! Zephyr (or Zephyrus) was the name of the deity of the West Wind in Greek mythology, just as Calypso was a Greek nymph of the sea that first appeared in The Odyssey! And MCs referenced in this section are Jules Farrier-Weasley @cursebreakerfarrier; Finn McGarry/Davy Jones @theguythatdraws and Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts!

x~x~x~x~x

It had started to rain. Aboard the Clearwater, the tide of battle had turned in the pirates’ favor. Even though Charlie was injured, he was able to rally the crew of the fallen Phoenix against the Navy, beating them back so they could take over the ship. Many Navy men were so afraid that they defied orders and fled to the jollyboats in an attempt to escape the pirates’ onslaught. Charlie was perfectly willing to let them go -- he consistently ordered his crew not to retaliate, if the soldiers surrendered or retreated. After all, the ship was all they wanted -- they didn’t necessarily need to kill, in order to get that.

Everything was going right when all of a sudden, one particularly brave Navy soldier with a blond ponytail -- upon surrendering -- abruptly changed his mind, unsheathed his sword, and charged at Charlie. Charlie was able to block him with his own dragon-hilted sword, but because he was too injured to properly stand, he was unable to dodge or step the way he normally could have, so he was immediately put on the defensive.

Charlie clenched his teeth, trying to power through the pain in his leg, and blocked all of the soldier’s next five blows. It wasn’t easy to try to sword fight while staying stationary -- the form almost required being able to weave around and lunge toward your opponent, if one wanted to win.

The blond soldier, clearly wet behind the ears but determined to win, took advantage of Charlie’s injury by kicking him right in his broken leg.

“ACK!”

Charlie collapsed onto the deck with a pained hiss.

Samantha, who’d been just tossed another soldier overboard on the other far end of the ship, heard Charlie fall and hurried to try to help, but she was too far away. Charlie just barely managed to keep a hold of his sword and was able to block the blond soldier’s next blow, but struggled to push the other blade back away from him.

“This ends now, pirate!” said the boyish soldier in a show of misguided conviction.

THUNK.

The soldier instantly froze up, his eyes going wide and his head falling forward in response to something having collided with the back of it. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed.

Standing just overhead with his sword hilt where the blond soldier’s head just was a freckled young man dressed in a blue and white captain’s uniform and a damp white-powdered wig.

“Percy?” gasped Charlie.

The third-eldest Weasley was very pale as he stared from the hilt of his sword, which was smeared with some blood, to down at Charlie.

“...I reckon I may have hit him a bit too hard,” he said rather weakly.

Wiping the blood off on the inside of his coat, he then quickly sheathed his sword and hurried to grab onto Charlie and help him to his feet.

“Charlie, I’m -- I’m so sorry -- I never should’ve let you and Bill go without me -- I’ve been such a - ”

But Charlie didn’t need to hear any more. In an instant, he’d thrown his arms around his younger brother and squeezed him in a huge hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Perce,” he said lowly.

Percy’s eyes prickled with tears as he squeezed his brother in return.

“Charlie, I think Carey’s in trouble,” he confessed.

Charlie pulled back enough to look Percy straight-on in the eye as Samantha reached them at last. “She is. Davy Jones plans to commandeer her into his crew.”

“What?!” Percy was scandalized.

“Bill and Jules are on the Revolution right now, with Carey’s brother -- ”

Charlie indicated the Revolution and Flying Dutchman, which were still hotly engaged in battle.

“The only way we can stop him from taking Carey and get close enough to capture Beckett,” the second-eldest Weasley explained, “is if we can take him out.”

“If we can capture Beckett, we’ll have enough leverage to force the Navy to surrender,” said Samantha. “We don’t have enough firepower to stop the fighting any other way.”

Percy’s brown eyes too faced the sea, instead flicking over to the HMS Lion. His eyes widened when he took in what he saw.

The jollyboats were being lowered...?

He darted over the railing, taking out a telescope to look out.

“Perce?” asked Charlie. With some help from Samantha, he joined his brother at the railing.

“They’re evacuating,” said Percy, dumbstruck. “Everyone’s heading for the HMS Swallow.”

Charlie’s eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“But why?” said Samantha. “If they wanted to retreat, couldn’t they use their flagship to do it?”

Percy shook his head. “Not if the flagship was going to be used to signal the rest of the Navy...”

He combed the jollyboats with his eyes through his telescope. He saw Beckett lingering on the deck of the ship overlooking the jollyboats, but there were no familiar manes of ginger red hair.

Percy gave a start. Suddenly Carewyn’s words from before made sense.

“Don’t try to protect me or my reputation -- those things won’t matter much longer anyway...”

“...Carey,” breathed Percy. “Carey’s leading the retreat. She must’ve openly rebelled against Beckett’s orders -- ”

Charlie’s face went a lot paler. He understood the gravity of what that meant -- after everything she’d done to stay with the Navy, Carewyn had thrown away her safe position with Beckett at a chance to stop the fighting...meaning that she now also effectively opened herself to being tarred with treason.

Percy lowered his telescope, his jaw clenching anxiously as he looked out at the Revolution and the Flying Dutchman. The water under the two warring ships was burbling and swirling ominously.

The ginger-haired Navy captain bowed his head, looking very solemn.

“There’s no way that Beckett will let her get away with that,” he murmured. “He’ll do anything he has to, in order to destroy all of you. If we give him the chance to contradict Carey’s orders to the ships out here and rally the HMS Swallow and the rest of the fleet in a counterattack, then it’s all over.”

His brown eyes narrowed as he looked from Samantha to Charlie.

“If you need Jones out of the way in order to get at Beckett,” he said firmly, “then we’re taking the Clearwater straight to the Flying Dutchman.”

Underneath the Flying Dutchman and the Revenge swirled a terrible, turbulent current -- one that bent back in on itself in a demented, sickening spiral. It soon ensnared both ships in a slowly circling, deepening, descending whirlpool, illuminated largely by the cracks of violent white lightning that crashed through the sky.

Calypso was clearly not pleased about the Dutchman’s new captain.

Meanwhile, on the HMS Lion, Beckett had Orion and Carewyn cornered in the hull of the Navy ship, standing in front of the one and only staircase they could’ve used to quickly escape.

“I didn’t think I could dislike you any more, Admiral,” said Beckett with a icy cold smile as he quickly reloaded his pistol to shoot again, “but for the second time today, you’ve served to only give me more reason.”

His eyes flickered over to Orion, darkening with even further hatred, as he raised his pistol again.

“Don’t do it, Beckett,” Orion said, his voice very low in his throat with both solemnity and disapproval. “Destroying us would only destroy yourself -- ”

“You may skip the philosophy lecture, Amari,” said Beckett, pointing the pistol right at his head.

His eyes swept over the scene, analyzing it.

“If you’re here...I daresay you’ve sabotaged this ship -- just like you did my fleet of slave ships, several years back. Given your tenseness about me using my pistol, I can only fathom it’s something explosive -- I’d most assuredly have to get back in the jollyboat quickly, to escape that. And since the Admiral and you are in league with each other, it’s only logical to presume that she sent my crew away because she knew of it and didn’t want any harm to come to them. Your nobility truly is unparalleled, Carewyn Weasley. It’s just a shame you place men at such a higher value than property -- or your own self-preservation.”

His eyes flashed at Carewyn, looking if possible even colder than before as he took a few steps backward up the stairs.

“Truly, this is nothing personal,” he said in a very unconvincing voice. “Making sure that both of you can’t get in my way again...is just good business.”

His pistol, which had been pointing at Orion’s head, abruptly changed aim toward the barrels behind him. Carewyn lunged forward, but her lack of height made it so her strides were too short to reach Beckett fast enough, and since Orion was so focused on dodging, he wasn’t able to shift gears to follow Carewyn’s lead in time.

BAM.

The Clearwater had just come up on the Flying Dutchman inside the swirling maelstrom when the ship’s crew’s attention was drawn to the huge, flaming explosion that within minutes overtook and consumed the HMS Lion.

The sight alarmed Percy and Charlie, who were both convinced Carewyn was still on-board. Charlie, refusing to believe that Carewyn was dead, nonetheless harried Percy into action. They had to defeat Jones and capture Beckett to stop the battle -- it was the only chance they had at getting to Carewyn, since the maelstrom’s current was now way too strong for them to pull out of.

“Calypso wouldn’t drown you, though, would she?” asked Samantha loudly over the pouring rain. “You two get on, don’t you?”

“She was my friend when she was human, yeah,” granted Charlie with a weak smile, holding onto the railing so as to keep himself upright on his broken leg, “but remember, she sees things as a goddess now! Her anger’s clearly on the Dutchman and the Revolution -- I’m probably the size of an ant right now compared to her, I can’t assume she’ll be able to pick me out in this whole mess!”

He shook out his tricorn hat, which had gathered a puddle of water on the brim, and then slapped it back onto his head.

“I reckon the best way to save ourselves and the Revolution is to help deal with what’s gotten her so pissed off! Ready the lines -- prepare to board the Dutchman!”

At the exact same time, as either luck or fate would have it, the pirate called “Behemoth Ben” Copper had been trying to convince the soldiers aboard one of the other Man O’Wars, the HMS Royal, that he’d been sent with orders from Lord Beckett that they were to evacuate to the HMS Swallow, as the HMS Lion’s crew had. When the Lion blew up, Ben, in a rather brilliant move, took advantage of the flaming wreck to bolster his ruse.

“You see?”the tall blue-and-white-disguised pirate shot at them harshly over the pouring rain. “The Lion was compromised! That must’ve been why it was evacuated! And that’s why we’re being ordered to evacuate now as well -- the Lion is not the only one! Now stop stalling, or you’ll lose a lot more than just your rank! Abandon ship! To the HMS Swallow! NOW!”

Once the Navy officers had left in the jollyboats, Ben and the rest of the ex-Navy pirates easily commandeered the HMS Royal, following along behind the Artemis as the smaller white sloop headed for the remains of the Lion. McNully had not seen either his Captain or the Admiral escape the wreckage -- Ben prayed with everything in him that they somehow had.

When Percy left the wounded Charlie and Samantha in charge of the Clearwater and swung over to the Dutchman, he found Bill and Jacob hotly engaged in battle with Patricia Rakepick. The pirate-turned-privateer did not look like herself at all -- there was no light in her dark blue eyes and her long ginger hair flowed loose around her, the strands flicking at the air like tiny tentacles that seemed to crackle with unnatural electricity. Her blouse also gaped open at the chest, exposing a long-sealed up scar right over her rip cage, and she bore down on Bill and Jacob with ferocity, slashing at them with the intent to kill. Percy immediately yanked out his own sword and blocked Rakepick before she could land a blow on Bill, his brown eyes flaring and his teeth bared in an oddly fierce expression.

“Stay away from my brother,” snarled the Navy captain.

Bill’s face lit up in shock and delight. “Percy?”

Rakepick, however, didn’t give the two any time for a proper reunion -- instead she immediately engaged Percy, beating him back with her sword while also holding off Jacob, who continued to cut at her with his own blade.

“This sibling is not the one you should be protecting, boy,” said Rakepick very coldly.

Once she’d successfully fended off Percy and Jacob for the moment, she went after Bill again, hacking in the direction of his head with her sword.

Percy was about to chase Rakepick, but just before he did, another voice called his name over the rain.

“Percy Weasley!”

Percy turned, to see an unusually striking, clean-shaven and well-dressed pirate with brown eyes and a brown ponytail fending off about three different fishy members of the Dutchman’s crew. When their eyes met over one of the cursed pirates’ shark-shaped head, Percy felt like the clean-shaven man was somehow able to see right through him, and yet it was an oddly relaxing feeling, rather than anything intrusive. The man’s eyes narrowed upon Percy, as if he’d determined something important just by looking at his face.

“You’re needed here!” Ashe said firmly. “Come here, now!”

Percy wasn’t sure why he followed that direction, but he nonetheless dashed over and helped Ashe beat back Jones’s old crew members. Once he’d reached that side of the deck, he found Jules knelt down on the deck behind Ashe, holding a very familiar wrought-iron Chest with a heart-shaped lock in her lap and a make-shift lock-pick in one hand.

“Percy!” breathed Jules.

Percy immediately bent down beside her, his freckled face very pale. “Charlie and I came to help -- Jules, I’m s -- ”

“It’s all right,” said Jules very quickly, almost dismissively. “Percy, we have to get the Dead Man’s Chest open -- Rakepick’s heart is inside, it may be the only way to stop her -- ”

“Rakepick’s?” said Percy with a start. “What happened to Jones?”

“He’s dead!” said Ashe very curtly, having to project his voice to be heard over the rain. “But now Rakepick’s got it in her head to tear down both our and your fleet, with the power she’s accrued! Worse still, that shark-headed feck threw the Key overboard, and there’s no way we’ll get it back in the middle of a raging storm! You know this Chest, don’t you?”

Percy had no idea how Ashe knew this, not knowing anything about the merfolk’s ability to sense the emotions, desires, and memories of humans, but the Navy Captain looked down at the Dead Man’s Chest with a rather surly expression.

“Yes -- Beckett asked Carey for help in opening it, since she’s great at picking locks! She and I were able to manage it after a while, once we’d tinkered with it enough...”

Percy reached up into his coat, tearing one of the ornamental buttons off and bending the hook into a long wire, like he’d seen Carewyn do once before when she didn’t have a lock-pick on hand.

“I think I remember how she did it -- Jules, help me!”

It seemed like the new captain of the damned was more focused on Bill than anything. Even though she obviously loathed Jacob and was clearly being given a run for her money by him despite her immortality, she still seemed to be actively trying to get around Jacob in an attempt to kill Bill.

Meanwhile, Cutler Beckett and the crew of the HMS Lion had just about reached the HMS Swallow in the jollyboats when all of a sudden, something massive lurched out of the raging waves. The crashing of the dark waves that slammed the jollyboats aside was so violent and large that the ocean seemed to roar almost as loudly as the monstrous mass that had emerged from its depths -- one so large that one could really only make out tentacles and a black-hole-like mouth framed with about a hundred rows of sharp teeth.

It was the Kraken -- brought back to life one final time by Calypso, to take its revenge.

Beckett very shakily clutched onto the overturned boat he’d been riding in a moment ago. His tricorn hat had fallen off and his powdered white wig was drenched, but he barely even seemed aware of it. “This -- this is impossible,” he breathed. He looked out at the other overturned jollyboats and the fleeing soldiers being yanked aboard the HMS Swallow and other ships a good ten miles away, with an endless, thousand-mile stare. His face was pallid and as blank as a doll’s as he very, very slowly turned his gaze up onto the wide-open jaws of the Kraken bearing down on him.

“Seems my little pet remembers you.” Beckett’s eyes widened. He whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice, but instead of being faced with the barnacle-encrusted, octopus-bearded Davy Jones, he was face-to-face with a very tall, translucent, glowing cloud of mist -- like a shadow, if it were made of light instead of darkness. Its form was nebulous enough that it couldn’t be considered solid, but one could still barely make out the face of a pirate with a slash-like scar over his eye and a cold smile framed by a beard. It hovered leisurely over the ocean waves, occasionally slipping in and out of the blackened water with ease. “He’s come back one last time just for you, Beckett,” said Finn McGarry’s spirit, his eyes flashing with satisfaction. “You should be flattered.” Beckett’s mouth hung open slightly like a fish. He seemed unable to speak as he looked from Finn to up at the Kraken’s open jaws. “Wait -- you -- you can’t -- ” Finn began to laugh. It was a very loud, harsh sound. “Calypso has made my soul one with the air, Beckett,” he spat in intense satisfaction, “transforming me into Zephyr -- the West Wind over her raging sea. Neither you nor your precious stooge Rakepick hold any power over me now.” In an instant, the incorporeal white light that was Finn -- now the West Wind itself -- exploded, encompassing Beckett in a concentrated dome of swirling air. The head of the East India Trading Company tried to move, but Zephyr was so strong that he rivaled a hurricane and he held Beckett down in place against the overturned jollyboat with little effort, so he couldn’t even try to swim away. “And since you have nothing to offer me that I could possibly want -- money -- status...hell, my own life -- you can hardly expect me to have any reason to spare you,” Zephyr’s voice breathed cruelly. “‘It’s just good business.’” No one on the HMS Swallow, the HMS Royal, or any of the other neighboring Navy or pirate ships nearby, heard whether or not Beckett screamed before he died. The Kraken’s jaws and tentacles ensnaring the jollyboat and pulling it down into the depths in one gulp blocked out any possible sound he could’ve made.

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sshbpodcast · 3 years

Text

Tales from the Holodeck: DS9 Fanfic: Chris’s Story

Not only has A Star to Steer Her By wrapped all of Deep Space Nine, but your podcast hosts are also celebrating our fifth anniversary of bringing you through all of Star Trek! As a treat, we’ve concocted DS9-themed fanfic stories and teleplays in our much-celebrated “Tales from the Holodeck” series that you can listen to us cold read here (this one starts at 39:05). Read on for the transcript of Chris’s Weyoun-Ee’char story below, that might pilot a whole new series we’re all asking for!

[images © Paramount/CBS]

“Dude, Where’s My Ee’char?”

By Chris

Random picks: Weyoun, Ee’char

“Tea, earl grey, hot?”

Miles O’Brien instinctively glanced up at those words. Surely not. Sure enough, a lanky Andorian walked up to the counter and accepted the drink that had been called out. Admiral Picard – well, not Admiral, anymore, but even thinking of him as “Jean-Luc” was bizarre to O’Brien – had less than no reason to be hanging around Starfleet Academy. Or Starfleet anything, for that matter.

“Not that I can entirely blame him,” he mused to himself, going back to the PADD containing last week’s warp field dynamics exam. “Nothing’s felt right since Romulus was destroyed. And then Mars…maybe Keiko’s right. Maybe it’s time to retire.”

He sighed and put down his stylus. Twenty years of teaching at Starfleet academy and even he could see how things were shifting. The students grew less and less enthused, dropout rates going up, those that did stay becoming so by-the-book when it came to everything that it was maddening.

“They’re just lacking in imagination,” he’d moaned to Keiko one day. “If I’d thought like them we’d’ve never got the Defiant working like she did. They think the deflector array is just for deflecting things.”

He had immediately realized how ridiculous and old-mannish it had sounded. But even his wife had been on Starfleet ships long enough to get it. Everything on a ship potentially had a purpose no one had ever dreamed of, and dreaming it up in that critical moment could be the difference between getting the ship home and a warp core breach.

“Professor O’Brien?” came a strangely-familiar voice from behind him. He turned and saw what he thought, at first, must have been a Romulan because they were smiling. And there was a sardonic edge to the tone that didn’t seem terribly Vulcan, either. But the fellow had that waxlike pallor that was unique to the latter, something their cousin species had evolved away over their centuries apart.

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“No, but my employer believes he can help you.”

Well, this was shady. Was Section 31 out for belated revenge? Maybe someone had finally slipped in Starfleet Intelligence and the Orion syndicate found out he’d worked undercover against them? Could it be that some T’Lani was still cross about what he and Julian had revealed about their corruption? The grudge could’ve gone further back; someone related to the incident at Setlik III had tracked him down. Christ, for someone who’d only ever been an engineer he’d sure managed to pile up a list of old enemies that could come calling. Ought to at least make him an honorary Commander for that.

“And he would be?”

“An old friend.” The mystery man reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, red figurine. The coonskin cap was unmistakable. “He said this would explain. He remembers the hours you and the good Doctor spent on this.”

So it wasn’t Julian, but someone who knew how they’d passed their time in their DS9 days. Didn’t rule out Section 31, or necessarily a few others, but it did make him feel a little better. He realized the man was still holding out the figure to him, so he reached out and took it, putting it in the bag he’d been carrying his PADD and some miscellany in.

“My employer understands that you’re too cautious a man to just meet somewhere.” The man’s voice – what was it that was so familiar? – had dropped even further. “Be at your desk in twenty minutes. A signal will come in. Use the code on the bottom of the figure.”

The man turned without another word and strode off. O’Brien raised his eyebrows and watched him go. He’d have to tell Julian about this next time they talked; he’d be jealous. Goodness knows how long it had been since his old friend had been involved in any cloak-and-dagger shenanigans.

Despite everything O’Brien was a little surprised when, back at his desk, his computer began to chirp. The text on the screen read “incoming external transmission”. External transmissions were always supposed to go through central comms; only an Admiral could bypass that procedure, normally. He turned the little figure over and punched in the numbers he saw there.

“Ah, my dear Professor O’Brien!”

“Ga-” O’Brien stopped himself. For some reason he felt if he said the full name of the Cardassian now grinning at him from the screen it would just summon the whole of Starfleet security. Just behind him and to his left stood the mystery Vulcan/Romulan from the cafe.

“You look well, Professor,” Garak continued, not acknowledging whether or not he had caught the Engineer’s odd outburst.

“Having you call me that is a bit weird,” O’Brien admitted. “How about Chief? I think that’s still technically my rank.”

“Very well, Chief. I believe you know my associate?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Oh, how silly of me,” the man said, reaching up. “I still have the mask on.”

His hand slid down his face, and the telltale webbing of a holographic disguise flickered to life as the pallor, eyebrows, and eyes vanished. Instead there was a very different kind of pointed ear, skin like powder, and violently violet eyes.

“Weyoun…”

“Yes, it would seem there were, in fact, a few leftover despite what we had been told.” Garak smirked in that old, familiar, entirely unsettling way of his. “It seems they just meant their Alpha Quadrant supply.”

“Of course, I’m now the actual, final one,” Weyoun added. “Garak here found me right before I was…discarded. My predecessors had not been quite so lucky.”

“Is that where you’ve been the past two decades then?” O’Brien asked. “The Gamma Quadrant?”

“Mostly.” Garak raised his brow briefly. “Someone has to keep an eye on the Dominion. Starfleet Intelligence can hardly be trusted to do it on their own, the Romulans are too busy trying to keep their culture intact, and Klingons have never had a spy agency in their entire recorded history.”

“I see.”

“I came across a story that I thought might interest you.” He glanced down and pecked a few buttons just off-camera, and a ping sounded on the Chief’s computer. “Look particularly carefully at the upper left-hand corner of the screen. It was a pleasure to see you, Chief.”

“Wait…”

But Garak was already gone. O’Brien knew there’d be no point in asking for a trace. Should he report this? He was supposed to, certainly. But this was Garak. O’Brien…well, okay, to say he trusted Garak would be a staggering lie. But he certainly felt like both the Federation and he personally owed him enough that he could be allowed this little indulgence. At least once.

Decision made, O’Brien opened the message he’d been sent. He winced when he recognized rather quickly the world of Argratha. It had all the appearance of a news story of some kind. But the Universal Translator hadn’t caught up to the shift, so he started over and paused it.

Argratha. He’d been twice. The second time some fifteen years later, to testify at a public hearing about his experiences the first time. What his false-memory twenty year imprisonment had been like. There was talk at the time of abandoning the practice; it made the judicial process too casual, too many false guilty charges because, for those who’d never experienced it, what was really lost? The Chief and countless others had told them. How real the time felt, and how cruel the simulation was. He’d told the Special Envoy who’d arranged for him to go that he felt he deserved a medal for how calm he’d been during his testimony. The Envoy had chuckled until the Chief’s expression had told him he had very much meant it.

He started the story up again. When he’d not heard anything for months after his testimony he’d assumed the reforms had failed and the sick practice was still going on. But in fact it had simply taken a bit of extra time and work. The story was about the closing of the final facility that had run such incarcerations. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to weep or go celebrate. He was going to call Keiko straightaway, that much was…

The upper left hand corner.

“No.”

He had almost forgotten to look.

“No.”

Despite it being the entire reason Garak had dropped by.

“Fuck.”

Ee’char. His “imaginary” cellmate. Standing among the crowd of politicians and other self-congratulatory types formally shutting the program down. Almost identical to the twenty-year-older Ee’char from his memories, though one that had clearly lived a somewhat less wretched life. One who’d gotten proper meals and sleep and care, just like O’Brien had.

But did he have the false twenty years that still occasionally wafted into his nightmares and had him waking in a cold sweat? Did he still, on rare occasions, almost set aside a bit of his meal before realizing saving it wasn’t necessary?

“In short, friend,” the Chief said aloud. “Who the fuck are you?”

He was glad the stopover at DS9 to switch transports had been short. None of the old crew were there, anymore, but he was fairly certain he was at least vaguely acquainted with some of the Stafleet staff that still maintained a presence on the Bajoran station, and the last thing he wanted to be was some old man wandering around his old posting looking worn and nostalgic. Even Quark had shipped out for Freecloud. A part of him had been tempted to see if Morn was still at his usual seat in whatever the bar was called now, assuming it was even still a bar. But he had just stayed in the docking ring and then made his way to the next leg of his journey.

He spent the flight through the wormhole standing by a window with just about everyone else. He realized that he’d never gone through it after the War had ended, so it was his first time making the journey in ages that he wasn’t expecting to potentially die on the other end. It was so nice to just watch it, to get lost in its beauty, and vaguely wonder if Sisko was watching him just then.

O’Brien stood in the space between two homes, watching as a car slid noiselessly from the sky and halted in front of the house. Finding his old friend had been much easier than he’d expected; Garak had encoded everything he needed to find the man in the newsclip he’d sent. A door hissed open and the old Argrathan stepped out. He exchanged inaudible words with someone in the vehicle before the door shut and it lazily drifted back into the sky. O’Brien glanced around. No one else seemed to be coming. He watched as the other man walked towards the his home.

The Chief darted from the shadows and jogged across the street. If Ee’char heard him he showed no sign. O’Brien reached up, paused, and then gently tapped the other man on the shoulder. He gasped and spun.

“Yes?” he asked.

“I’m…ah…I’m Miles O’Brien.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, I remember watching your testimony.” He held out a hand “Ko’vax.”

“A pleasure,” the Chief replied, taking his hand and shaking it.

“But why did you come to see me?”

“We…well, we were cellmates, you see.”

“Were we?” He nodded slowly. “Well. Someone had quite the sense of humor.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been arguing against our mental prisons for a very long time.” His lips went slender and he glanced off. “Please. Come in, have a warm drink.”

“I…sure, thank you.”

“I never had the misfortune of experiencing what you or so many others did,” Ko’vax explained, putting down what seemed effectively to be a mug in front of O’Brien. “But my father did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He picked up his own mug, almost took a drink, but didn’t and put it down. “His story was similar to so many others. To yours. Adjusting was so hard. Too hard. They don’t offer any kind of help to reintegrate to society. To help you deal with the fact that you’ve not actually lost any time but it still feels like a huge swathe of your life is gone. That might be worse than actually losing time. I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. I’ve never had the real version.”

“He lasted…half a year. My brother found him.” Ko’vax paused and took a sip of his drink, and the Chief finally did automatically. Not that he took any note of the flavor. “I’d already started writing letters, but I got more active after that. Showed up at politician’s doorsteps. Showed up and shouted at meetings that had nothing to do with it. Became a real pain.”

“Must’ve been afraid they’d…well, you know.”

“Oh, sure. But I didn’t care. Let them. Let them put me in a fifty year dream, a century, I knew I’d be fine. I’d have my rage to see me through.” He sighed. “I was so angry for so long. I mean, I never stopped being angry, but you can’t be as constantly angry as I was at first. That would be impossible.”

“So what happened?”

“I lived my life. But I never stopped my campaigning. Whatever free moment I could scrounge up was spent talking with others who shared my goal. I guess someone thought it would be a good laugh to have a cellmate based on the man who hated them and their program so damn much.” He smiled. “But then I got to be there today. When it all ended. Thanks to so many people. Like you.”

“I…” The Chief paused. “I’m glad I could help.”

“So what made you come to see me?”

“I wasn’t sure who you were, to be honest. Outside of looking like Ee’char. That was his name.” He paused. “I guess a part of me was almost hoping you’d been part of it somehow. So I could let you have it. And feel less bad about…how things went between me and the other you.”

“We didn’t get along, eh?”

“We did, eventually. And then for a long time. But then, towards the end…”

“It gets particularly bad, yes. Everyone says that.”

“Well. Glad to know it wasn’t just me getting special treatment, I suppose.” O’Brien took another drink. Now that he was paying attention he realized it was very pleasant. He’d have to find out what it was and bring some home. “We fought. You…he…I killed him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for. I killed you. Sort of.”

“I’m sorry on behalf of a government that will never properly apologize fo anyone affected by their sick little program because they think it’s just fine. They are giving it up with great reluctance you can be sure.” He paused. “And I’m sorry you were driven to that. I know we’ve barely met but you don’t seem the type. So it must have been truly awful to drive you that far.”

“I guess so. I hope so.” He paused. “I don’t know. I’d killed before. Served in one war already by then. But this was something else. Something that still comes up at me in the wee hours. Every time I’d killed before then I could justify it as having been for my survival. And that’s what I told myself it was that time, but I’d not actually proven that first. I told myself it must have been so I could.”

“I wish I could help. I’m almost sorry I’m not who you thought I was.” He shrugged. “If it helps, well…I didn’t go what you went through, but I saw firsthand what it does to people. I know how real it can seem, even to those who go in knowing it isn’t. You had no idea. I’m sorry they used my face as part of your torture. But, if it helps…well, I forgive you. On behalf of the false me. And I only wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, nodded. “That actually is nice to hear, somehow.”

The wormhole again. Its eddies and currents and majesty unchanged even as the twenty years around it had entirely altered O’Brien’s world. Why had the gone all the way to the Gamma Quadrant? What would he have done if Ko’vax had been involved somehow? Certainly not killed him. Shouted for a bit? What good would that have done? But what good had this done? No. Time to move on. Figure out what’s next. He’d been in neutral for far too long, and…

“Oh, I know that look,” came a voice to his side that he scarcely believed he was hearing. “That is the look of the Chief when everything seems against him. When things have stopped making sense.”

O’Brien turned. There, not looking a day older when he’d last seen him, still in the now very out-of-date uniform, stood Captain Sisko.

“Well, Chief. It’s time for things to start making sense again. And I’m going to need your help.”

The End

—

For more DS9 fanfic, check out Caitlin, Jake, and Ames’s stories from this round of Tales from the Holodeck! And be sure to keep listening to new episodes every Thursday on SoundCloud, follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and stay out of brain jail if you can. Jay-sus.

#star trek #star trek deep space 9 #ds9 #fanfic #star trek fanfiction #ds9 fanfiction #weyoun #ee'char #miles o'brien #garak #hard time

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aquadestinyswriting · 1 year

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Puzzle of the Heart

Summary: After finally getting the book the party has been sent to Khull to find, Meredith finds she can't sleep due to her conflicted feelings for a certain woodling rogue-just-turned-Paladin. First person pov because that's the only way this makes any sense.

Words: 992

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @asher-orion-writes,@warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @blind-the-winds , @thesorcerersapprentice ,@writeblrcafe , @ashirisu

Warnings: None. Fluffy fluff is vey fluffy

Notes: Not entirely happy with the title, but it'll do for now. Set in an earlier part of the Destiny's New Servants Campaign, so Merri is still kind of feeling out Felix and Darius at this point. I recall that the fight mentioned in this one took place less than a week after Elowyn died to a giant dire weasel and was resurrected as a vassal of Kurtulmak.

I huff out a tired sigh as I turn over yet again. It's been a long and very stressful day, so why can't I get to sleep? I open my eyes and my gaze falls onto Elowyn's back. The lassie's fast asleep and has been for what feels like hours.

I can't help but feel relieved to know that she's still here, still breathing, still living. It was only thanks to Vespus' sacrifice and Father Remulos' intervention that any of us made it out of that crypt alive. It’s not like it’s an unusual situation for us, though – we’ve been in plenty of scraps where any one of us could have died before – so why did this instance bother me so much?

My mind flashes back to when we first confronted the half mechanical monstrosity that had taken up residence in the crypt. The way it had turned around and instantly started gibbering about revenge against Elowyn, for reasons only known to it. I don’t know why, but something about the way it only seemed to fixate on her had made me so incredibly uncomfortable. I mean, at least Enezeage had the excuse that he had been tasked with Elowyn’s safety as well as mine by Starhammer during our escape from Toreguarde. So why did I feel that swell of indignant and protective fury? I mean, I’d understand it if it were Yoruk, but why did it come up in that way with Elowyn? I’m not interested in her romantically. It’s not like I’m not protective of everyone else here either. Anyone threatens Darius of Felix, they’re getting a Flame Strike straight down the gullet, and I’d at least ask ‘Zeage if he needed a hand or some healing before stepping in. It’s no different with Elowyn… isn’t it? I let the thought sit for a moment and realise, no, it’s not. For any of the others I’ll do everything I can to make sure we all get out of it alive. For Elowyn, I would willingly die in her place if I had to.

I shift again as my arm starts to fall asleep, still keeping my bleary eyes locked on Elowyn’s back. My stomach squirms uncomfortably as I remember how I felt immediately after the woodling’s death at the paws of a giant dire weasel only a week or so ago. Perhaps it was because the deaths of Lorcian and Alphonse were still so recent, but I recall the way my heart shattered when Elowyn’s screams were cut off by that sickening crunch. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling of the church we were temporarily staying in. The symbol of Pelor greeted my eyes, almost glowing in the dim moonlight that seeped through the cracks in the windows. While I was no devotee of the Dawnfather, the sight of the symbol calmed my anxious heart. I reach for my holy symbol, taking it out from under my vestments and gazing at it with a weary sigh. Too much had happened in just the last month or so for me to truly process it all, but I needed to continue to dust myself off and carry on. Too much was at stake for me to wallow in self doubt and pity. And yet, I needed to figure out what was going on with my muddled feelings towards Elowyn if I hoped to carry out the duty I had been sent out of the mountain to carry out. From what little of the book we’d found in the crypt I’d read before we settled down to sleep, I needed to have a completely clear mind and conscience to even manipulate the God Clay properly. I couldn’t very well do that if I was still figuring out my relationship with one of my closest friends.

I take a deep breath in and whoosh it out as quietly as I can manage, turning my holy symbol in my fingers as I think through everything that had transpired between us. We worked well together, that much was brazenly obvious. Not just in battle, but in more day to day interactions with the rest of the world. We were basically sisters in all but blood at this point, given everything we’d been through so far. Alright, so I could at least say for certain that there were no romantic feelings involved. That was a good start all things considered; it would have made things incredibly awkward otherwise. Not to mention the agony of having to choose between the love I'd found on my travels and the love I'd already promised myself to. I lie quietly for another moment or two before an old dwarven phrase enters my mind; Cridhe-dàime. It wasn’t a phrase that was commonly used, especially to describe a relationship with another who wasn’t a dwarf. It was laden with so much meaning and was so specific to dwarven culture, was it really the appropriate phrase to use with regards to my feelings towards Elowyn?

The confused sea of emotions calms the moment I think of the words, my heart filling with the warmth of loving contentment. The little hammer in my hands grows warm to the touch too, an indication that Moradin clearly approved of the idea. Well, that settles it; if my own deity sees no problem with my referring to Elowyn as my Cridhe-dàime, then I had no reason not to. I look back over to the woman sleeping on the bedroll next to mine, a wave of sleepiness finally hitting me. I tuck my holy symbol back underneath my vestments, there would be time to sort out the rest of what this all meant in the morning. For now I’m just grateful to actually get some damn sleep before we have to find our way back to Fangthane. My eyes finally flutter closed and I sigh happily as I drift off into, hopefully, dreamless slumber.

#aquadestinyswriting #titan fighting fantasy #meredith gruksdottir #elowyn o'toreguarde #destiny's new servants #ttrpg fiction

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ldrmas · 3 years

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Part 2

A Pirates Life for Me: A Beetlejuice Pirates of the Caribbean Part 2 Part 1 Here - https://ldrmas.tumblr.com/post/647682697685237760/part-1 Character sheet for those who have questions - https://ldrmas.tumblr.com/post/647688946637324288/pirates-characters

- Please leave a comment or a reblogg telling me what you think. Again if there is dialogue that is a repeat of the movie I am not taking claim to it, I’m just admitting I’m not smart enough to come up with something better. Obliviously this whole plot and lines do not belong to me, they belong to the mouse, I’m just commandeering them for the story, savvy? But still enjoy, me hearties! -

“Come here, boy!”

“Come on please.”

“I have a nice juicy bone for ya.”

“Come here.”

Beej rolled his eyes as he leaned against one of the walls of his cell. One of his arms was across his chest while the other was what he was using as a cushion since the stone of the prison was unforgiving with its icy bite and he had already been cold enough today. “You lot can do that forever and the dog will never move.”

“Forgive us for not giving up and resort’ng ourselves to the gallows ‘ust yet.” One of the prisoners scoffed before they went back to calling for the mutt who held a large ring of keys within his jaws. Beej huffed at them before settling back against the wall. He couldn’t bother with them, though he did wish for some peace and quiet so he could think of an escape of some sort. He wasn’t looking forward to the gallows either, not that the lads behind him had to know that.

“There you go, Miss.” Barbara said as she slid the bed warmer under the several blankets that were tucked over the lady of the house. Lydia had been escorted home after Commodore Strong had asked her for the millionth time if she was alright. A bath had been immediately drawn for her and only when she had four cups of tea in her did her father cease his fussing. It was when he left the manor to return to the fort, did she feel that she could finally breathe.

“It was quite the day for you for sure.” Her maid went on and Lydia put down her book as she leaned back against the pillows. She merely smiled as the day flashed about her thoughts before she hummed.

“Well truth be told I suspected the Commodore to propose, but I still wasn’t entirely prepared for it.” Literally and figuratively, apparently. The more she thought of it, the more she was convinced that her body had been waiting for him to ask the question before she had lost consciousness, just so she wouldn’t have to answer. It made her laugh as she was sure that wasn’t the case, but she couldn’t help wishing it was just that.

“Miss, I meant you being apprehended by that pirate, it sounds dreadful.” Barbara added as she shuffled along the blankets making sure they were secure around her Misses. Lydia’s face fell as she suddenly remembered that she had indeed been in the arms of a pirate today.

“Oh…” Lyds commented as she nodded recalling the roughened hands pressing into her skin. His honey tone of mockery echoing in her pierced ear. Then those eyes. The description she had read about had failed to mention how haunting and beau- “Yes, it was …it was dreadful.” It wouldn’t do to finish that thought it was better to let the thoughts go.

“But the Commodore proposed!” Barbara gushed excitedly. “Now that’s a smart match, Miss, if it’s not too bold to say.”

“It is…” Lydia replied as she settled against the bed, but her eyes didn’t hold any excitement, nor did any part of her. She sighed as she realized she would eventually have to give Berthold an answer, if she could even figure out an answer to give. “He’s a …well he’s what every woman should imagine to marry.”

“Well, if I may,” Barbara hummed as she double checked that the lantern was good for the night. “…that Dominic Orion, he’s a fine man who fancy’s you as well.”

“Ha,” Lydia giggled as she rolled her eyes and good naturally shook her head. She closed her book losing disinterest in it as she fixed her maid with a dispassionate gaze. “Yes, Dominic is kind, but I don’t feel what he feels for me. He’s more my brother than anything. If those two are my choices of who is supposed to take my hand, then I rather not make the choice at all.”

“Yes, Miss.” Barbara nodded letting her misses have her thoughts despite how innocent they may be. She would have to marry at some time, and it might do her better to marry the fellow whom she considered her brother than a man she had no feelings for at all. It wasn’t her place to say so instead she left the room after bidding the lady a final goodnight.

Once she was alone Lydia sighed and plucked at the gold coin she was still wearing. She fiddled with it as she recalled the pirate had an interest in it. Why? Why did he care about a thing that was surely small compared to untold treasures he had seen in his life? He had looked he might have ripped it right off her neck had he been given the chance. She didn’t understand it and that made her all the more curious about what had happened today.

She suddenly resided from her thoughts as she realized the light was flickering. Her eyes traveled to her lantern that was indeed filled with enough oil for the night but as she squeezed the pendant in her hand the flame went out as if someone had purposely blown it out. There was no explanation for it and the air ceased in her lungs as an eeriness fell over not only her but the whole of Port Royal.

Well, that couldn’t be good.

The Commodore and Governor Deetz slowly walked along the walls of the fort. The Governor had returned for he wished to let Bert know that Lydia was indeed alright, also to continue talking with him for he hadn’t many chances at the party earlier that afternoon.

“Has Lydia given you an answer yet?” Charles casually asked with a gentle smile.

“No, not yet.” Bert replied as he sighed but returned the smile to the older man.

“Well, it’s been a difficult day for her. This ghastly weather is the fitting ending to such a day, don’t you agree?”

“It is bleak, indeed.” Bert nodded as he took a moment to fall back, glancing out to the dark water.

“What is that?” They both heard a faint whistle not instantly understanding what it was, but Bert jerked the Governor to the ground as a cannon ball struck the fort just behind him. He completely covered Charles’s body with his own and only when it was safe, he sat up again calling out orders to return fire.

“It can’t be…” Beej gasped as he jerked up from the perch in his cell, jumping to the barred window and looking down into the Cove of Port Royal. He was thankful that the window had a perfect view and his lips curled high as he was able to make out the black ship that nearly blended into the ocean that was colored coal from the dark night.

“My Kali…” He whispered as he watched the ship sent cannon shot after shot to the town and the fort.

“It’s the Kali!” One of the prisoners asked before he whimpered the name as he heard the Captain talk about the ship. They didn’t have a window like Beej did but there was nothing from stopping them from hearing the repeated cannon fire. “I’ve…I heard stories, she’s been preying on settlements ‘n ships for nearly ten years. Never leaves any survivors.”

“Ask yourself this, mate, where the stories come from if there be no survivors?” Beej mocked as he reluctantly took his eyes off the ship for just a moment to acknowledge the idiot prisoner behind him.

“Huh…”

Port Royal never stood a chance as the town was blasted to bits from the cannon fire. It hit every building, every structure, everything that was put together was blown apart. Men, woman, children scattered crying out and screaming into the dark night hoping to just possibly survive.

The cries of the town echoed all the way up to the fort where the navy was returning fire.

“Stash the muzzle flash. Stephen, more cartridges on the double man.” Bert commanded, before he stepped to Charles’s side touching his shoulder. “Governor, barricade yourself in my office.”

They ducked as a blast interrupted them before Bert growled. “That’s an order.” Charles gasped in deep fear but then nodded, knowing there wasn’t any way he could argue. He moved across the fort taking refugee in the office reluctantly.

Then it got worse as on the shoreline several boats filled with pirates stormed upon the sandy beach. They were here to raid pillage and destroy while two were on a special mission to find what their captain had demanded. A small shiny, invaluable to pirates despite its size.

Pirates flooded the streets and the ship circled around in the cove until it was further out and raining cannon fire down upon the fort. The people that weren’t lucky enough to get away from the damage of the cannon balls, they were attacked by blades of the pirates.

Dominic ran out into the streets grabbing axes and two swords from the shop, hoping to help. He threw an axe at a pirate that was chasing a screaming woman, it lodged into his back killing him. The pirate crumpled, giving the woman a chance to get away, Dom grabbed the axe before he jumped back into the fray.

Lydia ran out to the balcony of the house seeing the ship and the fort locked in an impasse of exchanging cannons neither willing to give up. She gasped as a lot of pirates stormed at the manor’s gates, having no difficulty with throwing it open and rushing to the door of the home. She ran back inside just as the pirates were knocking at the door. One of the butlers was walking across the foyer and sadly, just as Lydia screamed at him ‘Don’t!’, he already had and a gun went off. The butler landed back deader than a nail and Lydia shrieked at watching him die.

“Up there.” One of the pirates pointed at her. Lydia instantly took off for her room slamming the door closed and locking it. She was about to run into her main sleeping quarters when she ran into Barbara, they both screamed while her maid clutched onto her.

“The-They’ve come to kidnap you, Miss!”

“What?”

“You’re the governor’s daughter.” Lydia’s eyes widened but she jumped as the door rattled, the pirates were about to get through. “They haven’t seen you, so hide and the chance you get run to the fort.”

Then Lyds turned running back along the room just as she did the pirates broke through the barrier tumbling into the seating room and just catching the girl running into the next space. The shorter one gave chase but as he came to the threshold Lydia slammed the bedwarmer right into his face. Barbara ran through the door as she figured she wouldn’t get another chance.

The taller pirate captured the warmer’s handle before Lydia could swing it at him. They struggled until Lydia pulled the mechanism and hot embers fell upon the pirate like black rain. He screamed and jerked about as she dropped the heavy iron object then ran past them both.

“Hot, it’s hot. She burned me!”

“Come on!” The other pirate pulled him so that they both could give chase. One chased her down the stairs while the other jumped the landing trapping her upon the steps. There were other pirates about the home ransacking it for anything of value. A cannon was shot aimed perfectly at the house and it soared through the air hitting the nameless pirate and piles of gold in his arms square on. It was enough to weaken the support of the chandelier, so Lydia bolted passed one of the pirates as it crashed upon the floor, running into the dinning room.

She barred the door and instantly grabbed at the swords plaque that was above the fireplace, only it just decoration. The swords she hoped to use as defense wouldn’t budge so her head snapped around the room and then dove for a hiding place just as the pirates kicked passed her improve lock.

The two marched into the room one pointed at the opening window figuring they would have to chase her through the gardens yet the shorter one grabbed his arm and shook his head.

“We know you’re here, lassie.” He called out to the space. He slowly looked about the room while his friend remained quiet besides him. “Come out and we won’t hurt’cha. You have something that belongs to us, Lass. It calls to us.”

Lydia glanced down at the necklace. This. This thing brought them here. Why what was going on. “The gold calls to us.” Her hiding space went dark and she snapped her gaze up as the pirate was grinning right at here through the crack of the door.

“There ya are, Lass.” The doors opened and Lydia dropped the necklace as one word fell from her lips.

“Parley!”

The shorter of the pirates had pointed a gun to her hoping to shoot her but paused at the word. He glanced at his companion, but his gaze quickly went back to the lass. “How do you-”

“I invoke the right of parley!” Lydia repeated as she stood defiantly against the two, her palms shaking at her sides. “According to the Code of the Brethren composed by pirates Bartholomew and Morgan, you are now to take me before your captain.”

“I know the Code!” The smaller one growled as he was still confused on how a lady such as herself could recite the basic rules of the code as well as an old sea salt.

“Drop your weapon, then.” Lyds added as she glanced at the barrel of the pistol he was holding. “You know as well as I do, you can not harm me until the parley is complete.”

“To hell with the Code, Poppy, let’s just-”

“We must honor the Code, Vince, ain’t that right, Lassie? You want to go to the captain, fine, then you’ll come with us without a fuss.” Lydia complied as they grabbed at her and she could only hope they wouldn’t be hit by cannon fire before they made it to the ship.

“Watch out!” Beej yelled as he jumped from the window to the far end of the cell shoving his arms over his head. A cannon burst through the wall of the jail, shattering the stone wall as if it were simply paper, debris scattering like cockroaches along the floor.

Beej shook out his head, the explosion left a deep ringing in his brain, but dread filled him as he noticed the position of the new crater. The prisoners in the next cell over hollered in joy as one by one they climbed out until there was one remaining.

“You have me sympathies, mate. Better luck next time.” He teased before joining the others and escaped into the night. Beetle sighed as he came up to the small part of the crater on his side of the bars, there was no escaping for him. He couldn’t even put his head through the hole. It was then he noticed the bone on the ground and he rolled his eyes before grabbing at it.

He had to try after all.

“Come on, boy.” He whistled while flicking the bone back and forth. The dog got to his feet coming over to him. “That’s right, it’s just the two of us now. You and old Beetle. Come on, closer. That’s it, come on, you stupid mingy mangled cur.”

The dog was just out of reach, so close but so far, before there was a loud clash at the top of the stairs. The dog then ran off deeper into the jail and Beetle cussed as he couldn’t grab him let alone the keys. His eyes then jumped to the stairs as there was more crashing, then a soldiers body was falling down the steps, and not moving once it came to a stop. There was however two walking down after him, two fellows he knew all too well.

“Hey, Dan, look who we have here.” Leonard sneered as he strolled up to the bars. “Captain Beetle Kreaton.” He spat at the ground barely missing Beej’s arm who glared up at him from the other side of the iron cage.

“Last time we saw you, you were by your lonesome stuck on that godforsaken island, shrieking out like a woman as we sailed away.” Dan chuckled as he eyed the pirate with a grin that belonged on the devil himself. “Things haven’t improved since then have they, Kreaton.”

“Ya know, funny you should mention god, fellows.” Beej hummed as he dropped the bone before pulling himself up to his full height. “Because it’s not someone you’d be meeting soon, the deepest circle of hell is reserved for lot like you, mutineers and traitors.”

A hand shoved through the bars slamming upon his throat, near crushing his esophagus. That wasn’t the worst of it though, the arm that was now squeezing his skin was in the light of the moon and was nothing but bone. Bone and torn up fabric of the man’s otherwise intact jacket. Beej’s eyes widened in slight fright before he hummed.

“So, the curse is real.” He gasped as the skeleton fingers squeezed the skin of his neck. “Interesting.”

“You couldn’t even begin to understand hell, bastard.” Leonard sneered before he jerked his hand against the ex-captain’s neck once again then the two turned rushing back up the stairs from once they came.

“That’s truly interesting.” He hummed as he was alone once again.

She was rushed through the streets. Lydia had saw a glimpse of Dominic fighting among the several citizens but the pirate continued on to lead her through the streets and so she couldn’t tell if he saw her. She was guided to a long boat where they held not only her but countless arrays of goods they had obtained from the town. The pirates didn’t touch her other than the smaller one keeping a crushing grip upon her arm. He warned them all not to bother her since she had shouted parley.

They pulled her up upon the ship. They helped her crouch under the gunwale and take her first steps on board. There was so much going on, men running about, the echoing of the cannons in the air, it was madness. She could only gaze up at a man on the stern castle deck draped in a coat of ashen gray and a large hat perched upon his head decorated with unrecognizable feathers. A capuchin monkey swung on some random rigging before perching itself upon the Captain’s shoulder. He was surly the captain and who she would be negotiating with.

She was all confirmed in her thoughts as the two men who had guided her this entire way began dragging her to the stairs, only to be halted by a towering man with eyes of deep angry blue.

“We agreed, no captives.” He spat glancing at Lydia as if she were a thorn in his side.

“She invoked parley with the Capt’n.” Poppy barked as he tried to push past Sandy Marte, but the Lady got out of his grip, stepping closer to the First Mate instead.

“I’m here to ne-” A resounding slap echoed over the entire ambiance, silencing it and all the men stopped what they were doing to watch. Lydia yelped at the sting, covering the impact with her palm. She wanted to say something further, yet words died on her tongue as her eyes widened in slight fear.

“You’d speak when you are spoken too!” Sandy growled keeping his hand up just as a threat to hit her again before a hand soundly landed upon his forearm and long unkept nails dug into his skin.

“And you...” Sandy made to flinch and gulp as he listened to that chilling voice. “…will do good to remember that no harm is to come to those under the protection of parley.”

“Aye, sir.” The First Mate agreed retreating his sun kissed arm and backing up among the other lads, allowing the Captain to step forward. Lydia held her ground standing as straight and proud as any noble should. She would not let her fear show, she couldn’t. She eased her hand down as the imposing man stepped closer. He looked her over, down his pointed nose with his eyes of earth brown sweeping about her completely, as if he could read her very soul. His mouth crooked up into a disturbing smile once he looked back into her own hazel eyes.

“My apologies, Miss.” He said in more of a whisper, as if the whole crew wasn’t listening to their every word.

“Captain Brightman…” Lydia stated the name slowly, showing him the respect he deserved, despite what she thought of him, yet there was a growl to her tone as she continued. “I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal.”

“There be many long words in that, Miss.” The Captain quirked his lips before he began chuckling at her, in fact the whole crew was chuckling under their breaths. “We be humble pirates, so one more time, what it be that you actually want?”

“I want you to leave then never come back.” She out right demanded, never once breaking her gaze from the captain even as now the whole ship broke out into amused laughter. Her fists curled at her sides, doing right to keep her trembling at bay. She wished to silence them all, but she knew it be better to ignore them. Her focus had to be solely on the Captain, or she would lose her nerve.

“I am disinclined to acquiesce to such a request.” Brightman at last replied, his smile blooming into a full grimy toothed smirk, especially as he hunched by leaning forward right into her personal space when her face pinched in confusion. “Otherwise known as ‘No’.”

“Right, then.” She jerked the necklace off her neck then stormed over to the railing of the ship. Her hand shot out the chain dangling from her closed fist before she turned her eyes back on the captain with a glare. “I’ll drop it.”

“That small bit matters nothing to us while our hold overflows with swag,” Brightman casually chuckled as he moved closer to her eyeing the pendant with disdain though his face fell as his eyes returned to hers. “Why bother with the threat, Lass?”

“You’ve been searching for this, have you not?” Lydia questioned as she glanced about the pirates, knowing they needed this but wondering why they weren’t stopping her. “I know I’m not mistaken, you are the pirates that I saw after you all attacked the ship eight years ago when I crossed from England. I’d know this ship anywhere.”

“Oh, do you now?” The Captain taunted while he hid his surprise. Lydia glared at him as he seemed to be mocking her. She could easily play his game if need be. She sighed glancing over the pirates once more before shrugging.

“Very well, if it’s worthless then there is no point to keep it.” The necklace chain lengthened slightly in her hand, the coin slid closer to the water. It was an instant reaction. Every single person other than her jerked forward reaching out for the gold and her. Brightman had the reaction she strived for the most, he yelled out for her to stop, the desperate ‘no’ falling from his chapped lips sent a pleased smile upon her own.

He then laughed before gliding closer to her not stopping until he was invading her space once again. She pulled her hand back clutching the coin in her palm now. She made not to move back as his eyes swept about her again as if she be a puzzle he couldn’t understand. This close she could tell his eyes had a hint of yellow mixing in with the white, but it didn’t deter from the coldness of his brown irises boring into her. “You got a name, Miss?”

“Lydia…” She caught herself from saying her true name and dropped her head in a bow. “Lydia Orion, I’m a maid amid the governor’s staff.”

They should have realized that she wasn’t a maid by the state of her dress alone, but they were too focused on her name. “Miss Orion.” Brightman echoed so that all of his lads could hear the name as true as a bell. Murmurs burst from the pirates, all them now sporting smirks or grins, ones they knew to be filled with deep relief. Lydia pinched her brows as she heard the two pirates that had escorted her here in the first place.

“Doomed Doomie.” The shorter one had said to the other, who slowly turned about to gaze at her with more intrigue than before.

“Now,” Lydia snapped her eyes back to the Captain who was once again smirking at her and ranking his eyes over her completely. “how does a maid come to acquire such a thing? Perhaps passed down from a family member?”

“Are you inquiring I have stolen it, because I have not.” She questioned in reply. It seemed to be the answer he was willing to accept because his smirk fell into a simple grin as he held out his hand.

“Alright then, hand it over, and you have my word, we’ll put this town to our rudder and ne’er come back.” She reluctantly handed over the shiny, easing it into his hand. He passed it to the monkey who had been upon his shoulder the entire time. The monkey gripped the necklace before jumping up and disappearing along the rat lines. When she could no longer see the creature, her eyes went back to him before they settled in a harsh glare.

“We have a bargain?” The Captain said nothing just turned about on his boots nodding to his first mate. The man instantly called out the orders for those who were still on shore to come back and for the guns to cease fire. The Captain was walking away from her, but she was immediately at his heels calling out for him to take her to shore.

“You have to take me back for according to the code-”

“Firstly,” He barked as he turned about catching her against him as she bumped against his suddenly stopped body. She almost yelped as his body was unnaturally cold and his voice was mockingly ringing in her ear. “You didn’t request to be returned to shore, so I don’t have to do nothing. Secondly, for the code to apply you must be a pirate and you are no such thing, then lastly, Lassie, the code be more guidelines, not official rules. So welcome aboard the Kali, Miss Orion.” He released her and she stumbled back into the arms of the two pirates who had cornered her in her own home. They dragged her away to the Captain’s cabin, locking her within the room before joining their fellow mates to help with making sail. Captain Brightman stood at the helm where his companion jumped back upon his shoulder and he held the necklace once again.

After all these years, they had the final piece and even better the blood to be paid, once they cleared of this port they would finally break the curse upon them all. He shuddered as he guided the Kali out of the cove and a smirked curled his lips high. Oh yes, he could nearly taste it, freedom at long last.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice pirate au #beetlebabes pirate au #beetlejuice x lydia #beetlejuice pirate fanfiction #beetlejuice the animated series #beetlejuice cartoon verse #beetlejuice cartoon #potc #pirates of the caribbean #beetlebabes #musicalbabes #pirates of the caribbean fusion #lydia deetz #charles deetz #potc cotbp #curse of the black pearl

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unknowncountrygirl · 3 years

Text

The New Chaser Pt.6

Final part of this story.

They arrived in the Great Hall and it was alight with life. Students were everywhere, even on the tables. Quaffles flew threw the air like ping pong balls. Banners were hung with Gryffindor colors. Frosty mugs of Butterbeer were being passed around, and all but shoved into their hands upon arrival.

“Blimey, Face Paint kid wasn't joking. Look at the turnout from our house! And look at the pride in our Gryffindor Quidditch team. And look at how everyone's looking at the three of your like rockstars! And look at-”

“Yes, Murphy, we can see it all.” Iris smiled.

“Support can be quiet or exuberant, but it is always powerful.” Orion stated.

“Right, I'm glad we all came here together.” Skye admitted as she cheered a butterbeer and all but chugged it.

“Let us go and celebrate our Quidditch win with our Housemates.” Orion suggested, his arm once again seeming to wrap around Iris's shoulder, seeming a little tighter then previously. Murphy felt his blood boil. For the next hour, he tried to get Iris's attention, but she was quite the popular person at the party. People were wanting her autographs, wanting to talk, and interview her. He also had a few people coming to talk to him about the new strategy that was used in the game which he was more then excited to chat about.

The party was winding down and he found himself in a circle that consisted of himself, Iris, Skye and Orion again.

“Chatting with our house's Quidditch fans has got me excited all over again about the match!” Iris exclaimed happily, but her joy was short lived.

“So are you saying if you had to play all over again, you'd choose the same move in the match?” Skye inquired. The look that crossed Iris's face was one of thinly veiled anger and disbelief.

“Yes. I'd make the same choice.” She stated firmly. “We won, after all. Think of all those points we scored! Points are what matter if we're to win the Quidditch cup.”

“This time we won. We got lucky.” Skye crossed her arms over her chest, pouting.

“Let us not escalated any discord here. Remember, it is a Gryffindor celebration.” Orion tried to smooth Skye's ruffled feathers.

“Speaking of, look who just crashed our party.” Murphy muttered, nodding in a direction. Skye, Orion, and Iris turned to see a trio of blue.

“Erika Rath. She and her mates passed by me and Penny at the pre match party.” Iris informed them.

“And then what happened?” Orion asked, sounding surprisingly irritated.

“Rath stopped, looked at me, and then just walked away.” She shrugged.

“What!” Skye shouted, “Rath can't do that!”

“She can.” Murphy snickered.

“She just looked at me.” Iris stated, not seeing an issue.

“She and her Ravenclaw Quidditch mates can't just sit over there and ignore us!”

“They are.” Murphy stated, knowing he was just poking the bear. Iris kicked his wheel, trying to get him to shut up.

“What are you so bloody excited about, McNully?” The blue haired girl snarled.

“A relevant riveting rivalry to talk about! Ravenclaw is the team to beat this year!” He explained.

“Indeed, Rath and her mates are playing mind games.” Orion stated.

“Alright, so let's win. Put my decisions today, whether you like them or not, behind us. We need to be a united front.” Iris practically pleaded.

“I concur.” Orion agreed.

“Right! I'm in too.” Skye nodded.

“So what's next?” Murphy inquired.

“Practice of course!” Skye exclaimed raising a fist in the air.

“Right now?” Iris asked.

“It is a wise decision. Rath cannot play mind games with us if we are not here.” Orion nodded.

“Did Orion call me wise?” Skye questioned in shock. “This 'united front' idea of yours might just work out after all, Iris. Let's head to the pitch.”

“Um, I have other things to do. We didn't have a scheduled practice.” Iris admitted.

“I will allow us a brief rest before we practice, I'll call on you when the time comes.” Orion allowed them. Murphy had a feeling, by the way Iris darted out of the great hall, that she would have not shown up for practice even if he would have called for it.

Part of him wanted to follow her, but he decided against it despite his heart strings. Iris had a life outside Quidditch and he could live with that even though the voice of jealousy and inadequacy played with his mind.

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He actually was using the breezeway when he finally saw Iris again, with Charlie Weasley, and Barnaby Lee coming from the Care of Magical Creatures paddock. He breathed a relative sigh of relief because he knew she was not rushing off for a romantic date but a date to take care of some sort of animal. The trio was laughing and joking and he could tell by simple body language that there was nothing romantic about the situation, so his mind rested for the time being. When Iris got close, he waved at her and she beamed brightly, waving back.

It seemed her foul mood over the pressure put on her had lifted by time with friends and critters. She had turned to head towards the courtyard, and he thought that she was coming to see him, but saw a more golden haired blonde go bouncing her way, along with a raven haired girl.

Rowan Khana and Penny Haywood, his mind supplied. She looked his way and he gave her another wave and let her talk with her girlfriends. He wasn't going to rush over and interrupt, he wasn't that needy. Yet. So he decided to head up to the dorms and decompress a bit, and he was sure there was still a party going on in the common room over the victory.

Sure enough, there was still a party going on and a bunch of people approached him to talk about that move Iris used, which he was more then thrilled to talk about. The sun was starting to set, and he finally made his way towards his room. A shower and some freshly laundered pajamas sounded just right. He did note that Iris hadn't returned to Gryffindor Tower yet.

He rolled into his room and saw Orion looking rather beside himself, refusing to look up as he was meditating. Backwards. Back to the door and facing the wall. He though that was odd but really paid him no mind and went to grab his bathing things.

“Good win today Orion.” He stated just in passing to be friendly.

“Quality of wins are ever changing, much like the wind.”

“OOOOK.” Murphy nodded. “Well, unlike the wind, the win will move us closer to the Quidditch cup.”

“Perhaps. But is the Quidditch cup may not be what we are all chasing.” There was a bit of spite in Orion's tone that Murphy picked up on.

“Well, taking into consideration that all but myself are on the Quidditch Team. I'd say yeah, 97% sure that the Cup is what we're after.”

“And it is you who's motivations I question.”

“Excuse me?” Murphy immediately went into fight mode rather then flight. “What does that-” He shook his head, “is this about Iris? And the Thimblerig shuffle?” This was out of character for Orion, he was always mister balance and peace. Something about this entire situation had really thrown him off. Which would mean-

“I have made my peace with it, what gives me unrest is if her choice was unbiased and truly what was best for the team.” Orion stated, his normally cool and calm voice having some venom in it.

Murphy could tell it was there.

The only thing that could throw off balance, would be envy. At the root of envy was one's heart, which meant that Murphy wasn't the only one chasing more then the Quidditch Cup. The Chaser was chasing, and he was also chasing Iris.

He knew he should just ignore him, because he was being lead down a path that he knew better to engage with, but his feelings got the better of him.

“What are you getting at Amari?” It came out much more defensive the he had intended.

“We all know how you can talk, and talk, and talk. I'm wondering what you may have said to convince Iris to choose your untested maneuver rather then ones known to work. She has been nothing but team oriented, but she admitted to choosing with her heart rather then her mind.”

“Perhaps it was the fact that it was new and no one expected it? Wasn't that the whole point of you choosing her to lead and make the choices? To throw off the team with the unexpected.” Murphy replied sarcastically. “Or are you insinuating that I somehow showed her affection that she's so hard up on? Because I can assure you, she's not hurting for male affection, or hell even female affection if she swung that way.” Orion stayed silent, so the blonde finished with, “trust me, it wasn't my sexual prowess that won her over.”

“I am not saying that you and Iris had any sexual relations, I am stating that she chose with her heart. She is, in my opinion, an empath, and I simply wonder if you may have abused that character trait of hers in order to make her more empathetic to your plight.”

It took Murphy a moment to fully dissect what it was that Orion was getting at. He felt a swell of anger, and a bubble of dread and guilt.

'No, she chose the Thimblerig Shuffle because she cares for me, not because she pities me'.

He told himself like a mantra.

Like he was trying to talk himself into something.

That thought, hit him like the Hogwarts Express. Perhaps he was the one so starved for attention that when Iris showed him some, perhaps as simply a friend, he had completely misread everything.

He needed some fresh air. Without saying a word he turned his chair and headed towards the door, admitting his defeat in the argument. He rolled his way down the hallways, his mind running numbers, interactions, scanning over every word and smile that Iris had ever sent his way.

He had made it down towards the Great Hall, perhaps a drink and a snack to mull over his life choices would help. He was so focused on this, he almost ran into someone.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying any attention.”

“It's ok, Murphy.” The voice stated happily, causing him to look up at the blonde in front of him. Penny Haywood, and by the way Iris spoke, one of her best best friend. An idea struck him,

“Penny, you and Iris are close, right?”

“Yeah, she's my best friend.” She giggled gently. She was a pretty girl, Murphy thought, not as pretty as Iris in his opinion though. He thought it was a funny turn of events that the two prettiest girls in their year had teamed up and became probably the most intimidating duo to the male half, and probably some of the female half, of the Hogwarts dating pool.

“I was wondering, do you know if she likes anyone?”

“She likes everyone, Murphy.” Penny said with a knowing smile, teasing him a bit.

“Well, I- yeah-but-” He stuttered. She giggled and decided to end the teasing.

“Yes, she does like someone, if you are referring to the romantic sense.”

“You two have talked about it?”

“Yeah, what do you think girls do when we hang out?” Penny smiled. “I'm not the only friend she's confided in either. Honestly, I'm surprised you don't know.”

“Well I don't. You know who, though?”

“I do.”

“Would you tell me?” Murphy practically pleaded.

“I think that you should ask her something that personal, she's in the greenhouses working on her year end project.” She told him, and he could tell that she knew something he didn't and he hoped to God it was what he hoped for.

“I'll do that, thanks Penny.” He said as he started to head for the greenhouses.

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He opened the door to the third Greenhouse, where most of the Student projects were housed, and saw that he hadn't attracted her attention from her work. She was tenderly holding a flower in her left hand and dabbing at it with a paint brush before turning her attention to a second flower and dabbing it with the same brush, then placing a light net-like bag over the bloom.

Her hair was pulled up in a messy knot on top of her head, pieces falling down here and there around her face and neck. She had dirt up her arms, staining her skin and her rolled up sleeves. She had on a gardening apron with various tools and supplies stored in it hanging from her hips. She looked like a little garden fairy, and not for the first tie Murphy found himself running the percentage of how much Veela blood ran in her veins.

“Oh! Hey Murphy!” She finally had spotted him and smoothed back some of the hair in her face, smearing some dirt across her cheeks. “I didn't hear you come in, I'm a mess!”

“It's ok, I kinda snuck up on you.” He admitted as he rolled up near her. “What are you doing?” He had never really seen her immersed in her other studies or hobbies, and seeing her enjoying herself outside of Quidditch was refreshing.

“Oh, I'm working on my Dahlia breeding.” She said excitedly, “I'm working on crossing the Platinum blonde as the mother plant with the Polka variety and seeing what happens there. They're both anemone varieties, so I think it will just be more of a color variation then anything. Then over here I'm working on some zinnia's, I have the Senora here, it has more cactus like blooms, and I'm planning on crossing one mother plant with the Zowie and one with the Oklahoma Salmon.” She pointed out every breed of flower for him, delicately cupping the blooms in her fingers.

She practically beamed, she was so passionate about her flower projects he had a realization that this was where her passion truly was, and he wondered how many people actually cared to ask her about her Herbology and Botany projects. She was the Cursed Vault girl, constantly helping everyone and anyone, caring for Magical creatures with Hagrid and doing extra projects with Professor's and the Headmaster, she was also active in dueling club, Hippogriff, Sphinx, and Dragon club, she had also been a standout for her grades, AND she now played Quidditch. Flowers fell at the least interesting thing about her, for most people at least. If they made her this happy though, Murphy would buy her a entire field to breed and plant flowers with.

“Is this what it sounds like to everyone when I talk about Quidditch?” He asked with a sly grin. She laughed and placed her hands on her hips.

“Do I sound that dorky?” She teased, throwing him a wink and a playful smile. “My grandmother always had the most beautiful flowers, she grew iris's and bred them, won all kind of shows and accolades for her specialty blooms. So my mother grew up around them, which is how I got my name.” She told him proudly. He had never heard this story before, and the way she talked and the way her face had this wistful far off look, he knew she didn't share it with most people.

“I've always liked your name, it suits you.” He told her, hoping he didn't sound to corny.

“Thank you.” She smiled, and they fell into a silence that felt slightly awkward as she worked on a few flowers. “Is there something you wanted to talk about? You're not normally this quiet... Ever.” She asked. He let out a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Well, actually, yes there is.” He nodded, “I was having a disagreement with Orion.”

“Oh?” This peaked her interest and he could see a bit of nervousness cross her afce. “He does that, ha, I thought that would throw off his center or whatever.” Iris joked, pruning a dead head, slipping it into a pocket of her apron. She wasn't telling him something.

“He does have his moments, we've been roommates for years so I've seen him at some of his worst.” He cleared his throat, “it was actually about you.”

“Me? What on earth would you two be having a disagreement about-” He watched as the realization hit her. “He's still upset I didn't choose the inspired broom surfing, isn't he? Gosh, Skye doesn't even hold a grudge this long!”

“I mean, it was kind of about the broom surfing-”

“It was his freaking idea to put that pressure on me, did he think that letting me have the choice would make me choose his idea? If he wanted to do inspired broom surfing he should have just done it himself! He's the fucking Captain! Act like it!” He jumped, he had never heard a swear word pass over her lips. Iris vented to Murphy, angrily snipping at more dead flower heads and shoving them into her pocket rather aggressively.

“Iris.” Murphy called her name hoping to snap her from her angry tirade.

“He's just mad and taking it out on you because-” she stopped mid sentence and shook her head. Murphy moved his chair closer to her and reached out one of his hands to hers and grasped it gently. He had only seen Iris angry once, and he didn't like seeing her this upset.

“Did... Something happen between you and Orion too?”

“Yes.” She sighed, making no effort to take her hand from his. “He met me in the courtyard earlier, after I saw you, and we also had a disagreement. He was asking me why I chose the Thimblerig Shuffle and I gave him my answer, that didn't seem to satisfy him. So we continued to argue and... You came up, and I ht hmmm.” She mumbled the last part.

“You what?” Murphy asked, not really understanding what she had said.

“I said I hit him.” Iris stated.

“You what!” He exclaimed, not expecting that at all, 100% shocking to hear. Orion had not mentioned it when they had their words but it mad sense now why he wouldn't look at him. He probably had two black eyes and a swollen nose he was hiding.

“It hit him. I gave him a bloody nose.” Iris admitted. Murphy was speechless, he had come to talk about things of romantic nature and then the conversation had turned to Iris admitting she had decked Orion, seemingly in front of a courtyard of people. He wondered if this is why Penny had such a giggly attitude earlier.

“You hit Orion?” He asked again, just to be absolutely sure at what he was hearing. She nodded. “What on earth did he say that got you that mad at him? I unleashed pixies on you and you still didn't hit me.”

“He just, pissed me off.” She stated, and he felt like she wanted to drop it but he wasn't going to let her.

“Why? What did he say?”

“Just a back handed comment-”

“About me, that irritated you enough to give him a bloody nose.”

“He was mad that I rejected his advances, alright?” Iris blurted. “For some reason he couldn't accept it and drug you into it.” She explained further, “he insinuated that you basically used...” She struggled for the words and he knew what was coming. Iris was one of the few people that had seen him for himself, and not the chair first. “That you used your disability to control my feelings.” He nodded, and felt her fingers tighten around his and he saw her eyes begin to blink rapidly.

“Iris, if you feel like I did-”

“No! Absolutely I don't!” She shouted, pulling her hand away to wave it in the air then rub at her temples. “You were at least honest with me, saying you could actively petition for the Thimberlig Shuffle and be my friend. Orion used his past of being an Orphan to try and get me to use inspired broom surfing and it seemed forced, like he was trying to get me to feel sorry for him so i'd choose the surfing method. Theres no correlation between his past and inspired broom surfing other then Quidditch making him feel like he has a family. I'm not dismissing that, I'm sure it does, but his choice of scoring play doesn't have anything to do with that!”

“Iris, I'm sorry that he put you in a hard spot, it's not fair and-”

“I just feel like he put me in that position to manipulate me, not because he actually thought I was an asset.”

“No it was your assets.” Murphy coughed into his hand.

“What irritates me is that he doesn't act like I'm capable of thinking for myself! He completely just disregarded that I could actually just feel for you without being manipulated into it.”

Oh God. Oh. Oh. OH! Did she just-she just- his brain felt like it was short circuiting.

“Iris, I'm going to have to ask you to explain more, because there's a lot of information to process.” Was all he was able to get out.

“Orion misread me, ok? He thought that I had romantic feelings for him. I don't. So when he asked me to go out, I turned him down and apologized for any misunderstandings that I caused. He then became defensive and accused you of manipulating my feelings, when I just... I just care about you and he just can't understand that.” She looked down to his face and their eyes met, for the first time he saw vulnerability in her wide blue eyes.

“What you mean by care-”

“Oh my God Murphy! I like you! Everyone with eyes can see it!” Iris was beyond frustrated at this point. He almost wanted to snicker because she was waving her arms around and stomping her feet, and with her stature she looked like a child throwing a tantrum. “Maybe that did cloud my vision when it came to picking out a scoring drive, but I also thought it was the best out of the three presented to me!”

Murphy just looked up at her and batted his eyes for a moment, his brain feeling like it turned to mush. She had just fully informed him, and rather fanatically, that she did indeed feel the same way for him that he did for her.

“Iris. I appreciate you picking the Thimblerig Shuffle. But, fuck that right now.” He said honestly. “You truly mean what you said?” He watched her pick at the skin around her nails before she looked at him a bit nervously.

“Yes. I do.” She nodded. “I'm sorry I yelled it at you, that's not exactly how I imagined telling you.”

“I really don't care how you told me!” Murphy exclaimed, “I just care that you told me! You've invaded my mind ever since I met you on the pitch!”

“When you dumped books on me?”

“Yeah! Why do you think I spluttered, dumped, and ran? You intimidated me and I had no idea what to say!”

Iris laughed a bit and held out her hand to him, which she snapped up quickly. He had held her hand before but this felt so much different. She leaned down and gave him a swift kiss on his cheek,

“I got dirt on you.” She told him with a smile as she tried to duct it off, only smearing more on him. “Oops, I'm so sorry.”

“Just write your name on there, let everyone know you're mine.” He gave her a wink.

“So that's it then? That simple?”

“You like me, I am head over heels crazy over you, I think it could be that simple.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, feeling the graininess of dirt there, but he didn't care. “I can announce it at the next House Match if you want something over the top.”

“I mean, you might even if I say no.” Iris joked. “Whatever you want, really I am not easily embarrassed.”

“Well then, I'll have to practice, I might just roll around practicing all over Hogwarts.”

“I won't stop you, but people might get annoyed.”

“Just because they're jealous that the most amazing witch that ever walked through Hogwarts is officially my girlfriend.”

“Mmmm, that sounds nice.” She ran her fingers though his hair, “girlfriend, boyfriend.” Murphy tugged her hand and gently let her sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist, smiling like a love struck puppy.

“You have no idea how much I've wanted to do this.”

“Have me sit on you?” Iris questioned. Murphy nodded.

“I can't hug in a traditional way, so this is the closest thing, and I feel like it's a bit more personal this way.” He told her truthfully. Iris leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her nose touching his cheek almost tickling him, and her arms wrapped around his neck. He in turn wrapped his arms around her tightly and pillowed his cheek against her hair.

She smelled like Magnolia blossoms, grass, dirt, and crisp linens. He knew smelt like this because he had worked with some Amortenia not long ago, and when he smelled it he knew it was Iris. He could have stayed like this for the rest of time, holding her and talking about any small thing or any deep heavy conversation because he was truly happy.

He knew eventually he would have to return to the castle, bid her goodnight and go and face Orion which made his stomach turn. He knew it would hurt him, but it would have to come up sooner rather then later because he was not about to keep his hands off hers or not talk about as much as he knew he would.

“How are you going to tell Orion?” Iris asked, seeming to read his mind. He let out a sad chuckle.

“That's my problem, not yours to worry about. I think you've had enough put upon you today.” He told her, running his hand over her spine. He could feel her ribs under his fingers, and noted the way she jumped and giggled a bit. “Ticklish?”

“Very.”

“You shouldn't have told me that! I'm gonna use that against you.” He wiggled his fingers and caused her to snap and squirm, eliciting a cry of laughter. She planted her feet on the ground and stood up, noting the darkness outside.

“Oh, I think it's getting close to curfew.” She stated rather sadly. “I have to finish up.”

“Do you need any help?” Murphy asked.

“Sure! Could you held me take some notes while I clean up?” She asked and handed him a quill and parchment. She noted a couple tings, suggested a couple names, added that she needed to make some adjustments to her soil. He knew he was smiling like a fool, but he didn't care.

Iris finished and put everything away a few minutes later so that they could make their way up to the Gryffindor Tower before Filch came and strung them up by their toes. He couldn't hold her hand, but he would at least be as close to her as they made their way down the hallways. Their relationship would not be traditional, and it would take a lot of work and patience but he was fully committed to it like he was commentating.

He didn't have a new dream, but he had definitely expanded it.

#hphm #hphm murphy mcnully #hphm quidditch #hphm jacobs sibling #murphy mcnully

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zahneundklauen-retired · 4 years

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The Only Thing To Fear Is Fog Itself || Rio and Alcher

TIMING: Current PARTIIES: @3starsquinn and @zahneundklauen SUMMARY: A hunter and a wolf’s worst nightmares collide. CONTENT: Death mention, PTSD, Blood, Slight gore

With the fishy smell hanging in the air, and with the strange things happening around town, Alcher was prepped to head into her woods and see what she could discover. Following her nose would be easy enough-- the foul smell that hung in the air seemed to be everywhere, but it got stronger the farther she waded into the woods. It became almost overwhelming. Her heightened sense of smell often benefited her, but it sometimes became too much. Her vision had been fading fast the past few years, but she was still capable of seeing enough. So when her line of sight became ragged and blurred, she knew something was up. She hadn't’ been walking long, but as she did, the fog became thicker and thicker. This was not normal. These trees shared their lands with the Canadian wilds, and Alcher knew those better than anyone here, she supposed. Perhaps most in Canada as well. Fog like this was not natural. There was not enough moisture, not enough bodies of water to produce it. She paused.

A twig snapped.

Alcher’s head turned quickly in the direction of it. Laughter reached her ears next. She watched a shadowed form race by in the fog, disappearing quickly. “Wait!” Alcher called out, following after. “Are you lost?” who was out here? They were familiar, but she couldn’t figure out why. “Come back!” the laughter came from her left this time. Alcher paused, confused. “Hey!” she called out, this time in her native tongue. Hurried along down the path, as fast as her still healing leg would carry her. “Wait, where are yo--” But in the next moment, from out of the fog, came another form. A solid one, and she collided with it, hard. Her powerful stance kept her standing, but the other went tumbling. Alcher rubbed her chest where they collided and glared down at the very human smelling boy. “Who are you?”

Making poor decisions seemed to be a common occurrence for Orion now. Coupled with his affinity for hearing strange noises in the woods and investigating them, it was a miracle that Rio hadn’t ended up dead yet. Despite his seemingly unwavering fascination with them, Rio hated these woods. He had avoided them for the majority of his life. Only finally venturing into them once he had to in order to get to the Scribrary. The town was deadly enough, the woods even more so. Knowing what he knew about the supernatural, Rio could only imagine what all lurked in those woods. And what lost souls haunted it. The thought sent tingles down his spine. Yet despite all of these logical concerns and fears that should have sent him running away from the place, his hearing picked up on something out in the distance. If it was someone in trouble, Rio couldn’t just ignore that.

He was full of self doubt and regret. That only multiplied once the fog started filling the area. It had come out of seemingly nowhere, enveloping Rio from all directions quickly and thickening just as fast. Something was definitely wrong here. His hearing went haywire, picking up on subtle sounds and hushed voices. Rio was trembling, walking as lightly as he could as to not attract too much attention from whatever or whoever was causing this. His mind began racing, combing through hundreds of thousands of text as his mind tried to remember anything about a supernatural fog. But nothing came to mind right away, and his focus scattered immediately when he collided with something alive.

Rio fell to the ground screaming, the sudden company taking him more than a little bit by surprise. His elbows caught his fall, jamming against the ground and used to push himself away from the potential threat. When Rio’s heart rate stopped racing Rio realized that the person standing above him, a woman that Rio did not quite recognize, had asked him a question. “Oh uh right. Me. I’m me. I mean I’m Rio.” He jumbled his words before finally answering her and working to climb back up on his feet. “Sorry I scare easily. Clearly. You happen to have any idea what is going on here?” His fear at the sudden appearance had almost disguised the more than familiar tingling sensation that ran across his body. But eventually he realized that this was just like how he felt around Ariana or Layla. He slyly glanced around them. If these two were the only ones here, it was safe to assume that this woman was a werewolf.

The human was so...small. Alcher knew that most humans were feeble, but the one she’d run into looked somehow smaller than most. He was scrunched in on himself, as if he were afraid of the very air that others breathed around him. It was pathetic. Her brow scrunched together and she moved around him, ignoring his question for the moment. The air still smelled of must and condensation and fish. She recoiled. “None,” she finally answered, looking back to him. “How did you get out here? Did you follow someone? Did you see anyone else?” Because she was certain she had seen someone. Her eyesight might have been failing her, but she knew, without a doubt, someone else was out here with them. Or, perhaps...something else. Moving away from the human, she closed her eyes, listening again. Only to be interrupted by his footsteps and scrambling to stand. Irritated, she turned back on him. “Quiet,” she hissed, “we are not alone.”

Okay, so the woman wasn’t the friendliest person that he had ever met. Though considering the situation, Orion could give her a pass for not being eager for conversation. She began asking him questions, too many at once for him to answer coherently. His words felt jumbled, his tongue still caught from the stress and fear of the situation. “Uh- I heard a noise in the woods. And I was worried someone may be lost or in trouble so I came. But then this weird fog started building and-” He was cut off from talking soon after, the woman’s voice curt and demanding. It instantly silenced him, despite not understanding why he was being shut up since she had asked him the questions. Still, he obeyed and she informed him that the two weren’t alone here apparently. Rio had just assumed the noises he had heard had come from her and that the fear of being stalked was now gone. But as Rio tried to stare in the direction that she was looking, a shadow passed by in his peripheral vision. His hunter instincts kicked in quickly, his body jumping back onto his feet in a quiet flash. Far more efficient than he had been able to without the adrenaline rush. His senses were going haywire, picking up on every little sound or change in vision. He couldn’t tell if it was paranoia or if there were actually things happening all around them. “We should probably go right? Like we need to go.”

There it was again, that laughter. Alcher stiffened, but the boy kept moving. Kept jumping around. Kept talking. She swivelled on her heels again, glowering at him. “Will you be quie--” but her voice was cut off when she saw a familiar shadow. “Kleine schewster,” said the familiar voice. There was a familiar smell. But how? Alcher pushed the boy aside, ignoring him again. She headed straight into the fog, where the voice had come from. She didn’t even notice the world going dark around her, the multitude of eyes springing up around them, as if formed by the fog itself. The sound of her footsteps almost disappeared, to the human ear, she wasn’t even there. Fog circled her legs, swallowing her feet. “Klaus?” she called out tentatively. “Klaus, sind sie das?”

Orion was definitely being ignored. Whether that was from the stress of the situation or the woman was just not very talkative, Rio couldn’t be sure. But whatever the case, Rio definitely got the feeling that he was talking too much. It was all but confirmed when the woman turned on him suddenly and began trying to shut him up. But instead she was distracted by something that seemed to catch her attention, but Rio spun around and didn’t catch anything himself. Suddenly the woman was off, her movements swift and quiet. Rio followed along as best he could, figuring despite her less than warm welcome the two might be better off to stick together. Suddenly, the woman was calling out a name. Someone that she was looking for out in the woods? Was it what had grabbed her attention? He hadn’t seen anything. German wasn’t one of Rio’s stronger languages, but her phrase was simple enough to pick up on. “Is that who?” Rio found himself asking despite her willingness to ignore him and apparent annoyance by the sound of his voice, “You’re looking for someone named Klaus?” Rio sighed, still picking up nothing that suggested another person being around here. But he felt a sudden chill against the back of his neck as if something had rubbed up against him and his entire body tenses. He waited too long before finally spinning around, finding nothing but thick fog behind him. In the distance, he heard what sounded like a woman screaming, but it felt so far away. What the heck was going on?

“Don’t say his name!” Alcher snapped, turning on the boy again. He looked so small and frightened. Another laugh through the fog made Alcher turn away from him quickly, looking into the fog. “Klaus! It’s me!” she called out again, stumbling forward. Fog closed in behind her and when she turned to look back, the boy was gone. Blinking, Alcher felt a chill run up her back. Someone was watching her. She felt the hair on her arms bristle and her muscles tensed. “Who’s there!?” she growled quietly, reaching down slowly for the iron knife she’d claimed as her prize for killing that hunter. The one with the fae child. While she loathed human weapons, knives came in handy. Especially when she knew changing would be a bad idea. With someone watching her, they were bound to see. She turned in a circle, but nothing. Dark figures danced just outside of her peripheral vision as she did, but-- nothing. “Show yourself!” she shouted. “Cowards!” Another twig snapped. Alcher swerved on her feet. The knife was flying through the air.

It thudded into a tree next to the human boy’s head.

The noises were overwhelming. Orion couldn’t even tell what they were. His own fears were drowned out by the woman’s anger. A vehement insistence to not say Klaus’ name. Whoever he was, things must not have ended well. The screaming grew, both from the woman he could see and the voices from outside the fog. She seemed to hear a familiar voice, someone that she recognized immediately. So what was Rio hearing? Why did he get these agonizing cries for help instead? Rio covered his ears, but it did little to drown out the cries. Rio backed away, tripping over something and falling backwards into a tree. A glint of light and the whistling sound of metal was the only warning Rio had to push himself off of the tree, a knife just barely missing his head. Rio glanced towards the woman in shock. He grabbed ahold of the knife and ran his thumb across it. Iron. What would a werewolf be doing with a knife made of pure iron? “Listen I don’t know what you’re hearing or what- that was,” Rio began, his voice still shaking from nearly being impaled, “But this fog isn’t normal. Something’s wrong: we need to find a way out.”

Alcher went to grab the knife from the tree, but another hand grabbed hers. It was charred to a crisp. Melted skin clinging to muscle and bone. Alcher knew whose hand it was before she even looked up. “Why did you leave us, Al?” Klaus asked her. “You killed us.” Alcher screamed, yanking her hand away. Went to shove him as well, but he was gone. She stumbled back, looked at the boy. “What-- did you do that?” she rounded on him, a fist digging into his shirt. Teeth clenched. “Tell me now, boy! Are these your tricks, witch?” she growled, raising a fist to him-- but another voice caught her attention. She dropped the boy and looked around wildly again. This time, she came face to face with someone she hadn’t thought about in a long time. “You killed me, Alcher,” came her old mate’s voice. He was standing just beyond her reach, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his neck. The wound she’d given him. “I loved you,” he said and blood dribbled from his mouth onto the ground, “I thought you loved me, too.” Alcher lashed out, expecting the apparition to disappear again-- but this time, her hand hit something solid and she heard a crunch as her fist went through his chest. White smoke curled around her arm, pouring from his wound. She looked up at him, horrified. “Your turn,” he said, and reached up to grab her.

The screaming was growing louder, a mixture of voices that Orion could finally pick out the louder that it grew to him. One by one, the voices switched in and out. Blanche. Winston. Ariana. Athena. The list went on. They were guttural screams, tragic and blood curdling. It was the sound of them dying, as if something was hacking away at them at that very moment while Rio could do nothing by crushing his ears between his palms in a futile attempt to drown out the sound. The screaming broke when Rio was suddenly grabbed and lifting him from the ground. The woman with him was furious. Clearly blaming whatever was happening on him. But her grabbing him had broken the sound of the screams and cries from earlier at least. That had been the minimal good news in the sea of bad. “I didn’t- I’m not-” Rio began, but how could he prove he wasn’t a witch? Especially when what he actually was was so much worse. “I don’t know what’s happening either! I-” He was suddenly dropped onto the ground as the woman spun. There was a vision, one that Rio could clearly see. A man on the brink of death as it looked, with a nasty neck wound. She was moving towards him. Slowly, but surely. “Hey! Don’t do that!” Rio tried to call, but his voice must not be breaking through. He picked up the knife that the woman had thrown at him minutes ago and pulled himself up. If her grabbing him could break the illusion, then Rio could do something to help her, right? He ran up behind her, just as the illusion was reaching towards her and swung the knife at the illusion, disrupting the figure into smoke and then using his free hand to shake the woman, “We need to go. Please!”

The apparition disappeared with the swipe of a blade. Alcher reeled back. No, that wasn’t right. He’d been real, he’d felt real. She pressed her palms to her eyes, staggering in her spot. She felt pain shoot up her leg again as she applied too much pressure to the broken one. The boy was yelling at her to do something. She wrenched her hands away and looked down at him, and for a moment, all she saw was Klaus. He was a young boy again, looking up at her. And then slowly, his flesh began to melt away, dripping from his skeleton. Alcher screamed and hurled the boy away, toppling to the forest floor herself. Fog curled up around her and it felt heavy somehow. It pressed into her and stung at her skin, as if it were alive. Slowly, it began to consume her body. She pressed against the ground with all her might, but it felt like there was simply a weighted blanket thrown on top her. “Help me!” she called out desperately. She could hear Klaus’s voice, telling her to run. Telling her to hide. In the chimney, he’d said. You’ll be safe from the fire there. Don’t come out until everyone’s gone. “I’m sorry!” she cried out, feeling her body begin to shake. “Klaus! I’m sorry! You told me to run! You told me to save myself! I wanted to come back for you!” sobs wracking her throat as she gave in to the nightmare the fog was drowning her in. “I wanted to come back for you but I was a coward!”

It was the pain. Orion had figured that much out. This fog was messing with their heads. It wasn’t just normal fog. It had magic to it. Something sentient and something sinister. It wasn’t just dredging up visions, it was targeting them. For the woman it seemed to be pulling a very specific memory. For Rio it was the people closest to him dying. The sinking feeling that he was responsible for it. It was torturing them. Driving them into a further madness until one of them broke. Rio didn’t know what came after that, and he didn’t want to find out. But for Rio, the pain was enough to break the visions. He was reminded of that as the woman shoved him away again, the voices that kept closing in around him disappearing when Rio’s back collided with the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, and he laid there for too long. The voices began seeping back in, but when Rio opened his eyes he found that the fog had taken it even further. Decayed bodies, vaguely resembling those that Rio cared about rested just within view of the fog. The flesh was rotting, a mixture of mud and blood caking the bodies and little more than ratted hair to distinguish between the figures. Rio instantly felt sick, the combination of the sight and voices too much. It only got worse when the neck of the figures began turning in unison, all slowly shifting until they were looking directly at Rio. With a gasp, Rio stopped breathing all together, hooking his palm over his mouth out of fear. Slowly, arms started to move, boney fingers digging into the soil and dragging them forward and towards Rio. Rio sat upwards, crawling backward to get away. His hands caught rocks and roots on his way, slowing his progress as the bodies slowly sped up and inched closer and closer to him. It was the pain. Rio reminded himself. He needed to focus on something else. Anything else. The figures were too close now, the former body of a blonde grabbed onto his ankle proving that he was out of time. He shoved his eyes shut and grabbed onto his finger, taking a deep breath before forcing the finger backwards. There was a sickening crunch followed by instantaneous pain. Rio cried out into his arm, trying to muffle his yelping in an attempt to calm the pain. But when Rio finally peaked an eye open, the figures were gone. And falling out of view, the woman was almost gone too. “No, no, no” Rio mumbled to himself over and over again, forcing himself up and towards the woman. If pain worked for him, maybe it could work for her too? He found her against the ground and Rio fell to his knees beside her. “I’m sorry,” He tried warning before pulling his hand back and slapping her with everything his hunter strength could muster.

Pain rippled through Alcher’s face as her head whipped to the side. Blood leaked from her mouth, the rich, iron taste filling her mouth. She had felt pain a lot in her life-- it was, in fact, a very large part of her life. Her father had used it both as a tool of punishment and as a tool of encouragement. Punishment when they misbehaved or went against pack custom. Encouragement when they pushed themselves to their brinks and learned from their mistakes. Pain was just a tool. Pain made someone stronger. But this pain, this pain that tore through her face and shook her to her core and woke her from the foggy nightmare, it was not the same. It was chilling. It made her body jerk and her mind topple and when she finally had the wherewithal to turn her head back to look at the boy, her eyes were filled with knowing. The strength with which he had struck her was not human. She did not hear his muttered apology and she did not care to. Hands reached up, grabbing onto the lapels of his shirt, fingers curling so tightly she felt her nails tear the cloth. Teeth cracking as they grew longer, sharper. Her uncontrollable anger manifesting, bringing the monster out. “Jäger!” she growled, trying to stand. But she found both her feet could not support her weight, her broken leg surging with pain and her prosthetic leg unable to grip the wet, forest floor. “You did this!” The fog began to unfurl around them, but she barely noticed.

For what it was worth, it mostly seemed like the slap had worked, though he had maybe put a bit too much force into it. When the woman looked back over at him, a bit dazed but unmistakably angry, Rio saw and smelled the blood. “Crap. I’m sorry I didn’t mean for that-” He was cut off again, a pretty common occurrence tonight, by the woman grabbing onto his shirt and pulling it tight. Against the tight grip, Rio was finding it hard to catch his breath. But the woman didn’t seem bothered by this. Her teeth were elongating, becoming sharper and more dangerous while Rio was completely immobile too close to them. “No! No. Uh- Nein.” Rio’s voice was hoarse but insistent, “I am not a hunter.” Not by trade at least. “I don't even have a weapon. And I didn’t do this. I’m seeing stuff just like you. But the pain helped me break free from it!” He held up his broken finger as proof, still cradling it with his other hand. “Something’s wrong with your leg. Are you okay?” Rio redirected his questioning, noticing the way that she was struggling to get back to her feet.

Alcher didn’t know what to trust anymore. Her own senses were failing her, and her mind was reeling with questions. Slowly, she turned her head to gaze around. Looked at her hands gripping the boy’s shirt and saw-- blood? She pulled her hand away and opened it slowly. Red on her palm. She dropped him and began brushing leaves aside on the ground. And-- there. His blood. Cain’s blood, her old mate. Alcher swallowed. Or was it Klaus’s? She looked back at her hands and more blood stained them, covering her fingertips. Red and redder and more. Closed her eyes hard, concentrated on the pain, like the boy had said. She drew in a deep breath. “I cannot trust my eyes,” she said in a shaky tone, “if we are to make it out of this, I need you to guide me. I will be your shield, you will be my eyes.” With eyes still closed, she held out her hand to the boy. Hesitated, then said, “I will spare your life if you do this for me.”

Perhaps the only thing that saved Orion from being gutted was another vision. The woman saw something on her hands, but Rio couldn’t see it himself. The fog, whatever was behind it, worked in mysterious ways. Sometimes the vision and noises manifested for both of them and sometimes it was specific. Either way, it was more than enough to strike fear in the hearts of anybody it seemed. “Guide you? I don’t know, I mean… I don’t know if my own eyes can be-” Rio cut off when Alcher finished her sentence, more or less giving the boy an ultimatum. Rio backtracked, “Oh right uh yes. Well I mean, with a deal like that I guess I really can’t say no, huh?” Against the dire situation, Rio found himself nervously laughing as he wondered whether the fog or this woman was more deadly. “Okay. You got it. Just grab onto my arm.” Rio met her hand and felt hers wrap tightly around his arm. Rio looked around, knowing that the fog couldn’t be trusted. He found a spot within the fog that seemed lighter than the others. A welcoming path that Rio decided the two should avoid at all costs. Instead, Rio faced the spot where it seemed thickest, where he could barely see inches in front of him and started towards it. It didn’t take long before the voices started again. This time they were closer than they had been before, seemingly coming from right next to him. The words were hostile this time, angry hisses and insults shouting into his ear and making Rio jump whenever they appeared. It was starting to feel like voices were solid objects, curling up around his body and enveloping him whole. “The voices are back.” Rio warned, trying to ignore them, “I can’t focus. I need you to tighten your grip. To keep me distracted.”

“Ignore them,” Alcher snapped, as if it were as simple as that. As if she hadn’t fallen victim to this insidious fog herself. She complied in squeezing the boy’s arm tighter, nails digging in. “Focus on the pain,” she said, repeating her own father’s words. She could hear Klaus’s voice still calling in her ear. You let us die. She strained against it, bit her tongue, tasted the blood. She clenched harder. Focused harder. “Let the pain guide you, give you control.” As they walked, she listened, beyond Klaus’s voice, to her own footsteps, to the boy’s footsteps. Her the crunch of leaves, listened to the echo of their bodies. “Wait,” she said, stopping. Something ahead passed by them. She turned the boy in another direction. “That way. We’re close.” She could hear the edge of the forest beyond them, to where cars screamed on roads and metallic buzzing followed her everywhere. “Do not stop now.”

The woman’s response was scary enough to force Orion to listen, even if the request was far easier said than done. But she complied with Rio’s request, for better or worse. The pressure on Rio’s arm tightened, squeezing tight enough to cut off the circulation. As the woman’s nail pressed against his skin, he was fairly sure they were cutting into it. Focus on the pain. He was all too familiar with that phrase. He had told himself that so many times over the years. Sometimes it was easier to focus on than his parents. The pain helped keep the visions at bay, but focusing too much on it took away from his other senses. Luckily, the woman noticed something for him, shifting his pace and changing their path. He kept going, the fog getting thicker and thicker until it looked like Rio was about to run face first into a completely solid object. “I hear noises.” Rio perked up, the faint sounds of cars whistling by enough to elicit a triumphant leap in Rio’s heart rate. He picked up his pace, pushing farther and farther forward into the unseeable until finally the fog began to dissipate around them, thinning out until Rio could finally make out trees again. “I think we’re towards the edge.”

They kept walking, even as the fog parted and trees came back into vision. Alcher kept her eyes screwed shut, even as Klaus continued to whisper in her ear. She didn’t even notice the hot tears streaking down her face, despite how hard she’d screwed her eyes shut. When she heard the call of birds and the smell of dirt and wet leaves reached her nose, she finally, finally opened her eyes. They were out, but behind them, the fog seemed to be creeping its way toward them again. “Keep moving,” she said, but let go of her tight grip, dragging him along through the trees as she limped, painfully, against her broken leg, until they broke through the tree line and metal and tar joined the scent of the air. Panting, she let go of his arm and leaned against the fence post, gripping her chest hard. She did not look at the boy, shame wrought in her bones. She’d let a hunter help her, save her and her heart felt like solid plaster. After a long moment, she rasped out the word, “Leave,” and looked at him with sharp eyes from the side of her gaze, “leave before I change my mind about sparing you.”

Orion had never been so happy to get out of those woods. And that was actually saying something considering he had suffered more than his fair share of traumatic experiences out in this forest. But that fog was something else entirely. It had been sentient, feeding on their fears and insecurities in order to lead it deeper and deeper into its clutches. Rio had no idea what would have waited for them at the end. Would they have just wandered until their bodies came out? Or was there something even more sinister waiting in the fog waiting to catch its prey? Either way, Rio had no intentions on sticking around and risking the fog moving back towards them. The woman let his arm go and Rio held it gingerly, nursing the bruised and sore part from her tight grip. Blood had dried across his arm, dripping down from where she had dug her nails into his skin. “I’m not what you think I am.” Rio tried to defend himself, but it came out as more of a mumble than anything definite. Maybe it was because he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. Rio didn’t want to leave. He wanted to make sure she was okay and make sure she knew that he was different than whatever hunters she had experience with. But from the look on Rio’s face, he wasn’t sure that he could convince her that he was different. If he were to stay for too long and not take advantage of her offer, she may absolutely kill him. “I-” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Instead he crossed his arms, nursing the bruised one on top of the other and nodded, “Thanks.”

“Leave,” Alcher said with finality. She sunk to a sit by the post, rubbing her leg as pain shot up and down her calf. She needed to soak in hot water and some epsom salt, get another salve on her leg. What she didn’t need, was to pander this hunter anymore. She ran her hands through her hair, didn’t acknowledge his thanks. Whatever had happened in that fog, it would stay between them. “Tell no one what happened here,” she said after a long moment, before he walked off. She waited for him to leave, made sure his scent was far off, before she hoisted herself back up on a shaking leg and let out a long sigh. The trek home would be long, but it was doable. She turned to head off-- but out of the corner of her eye, a figure leaned in and Klaus whispered in her ear, “Hello, little sister.”

Yet when she turned, there was no one in sight.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: orion #the only thing to fear is fog itself #orion #tw death mention

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