#times Despair has been done a frighten for today; 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedritobalmando · 3 years

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Running away - chapter I

Summary : Being Javier Peña’s on and off girlfriend has never been easy, but things becomes even more complicated when he leaves Texas to work in Colombia.

Pairing : Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings : maybe some cussing, and a lot of bad writing

Word count : 1,744

A/N : this is my first Pedro related story and english is not my first language, so sorry for the many mistakes I made ! Feel free to tell me if you spot any, I’d appreciate !

Next chapter {masterlist} {taglist}

Everything was perfect. You were wearing your fanciest dress, the one with an open back and your most extravagant low-cut neckline, a prohibitively expensive red lipstick your lover had bought you for your birthday of which the color matched your outfit, and heels you knew you could not spend the entire night in. As pretty as they looked, they clearly were the opposite of comfy. Still it was your favorite pair. You had taken a few hours to get prepared, from plucking your brows to shaving your legs, from stylizing your hair to putting on some perfume. Everything was perfect except for one little detail that changed everything. Javier was late. Again. So, no, everything wasn’t perfect. You were perfect, and he, he was ruining everything. Again. Yet, you were still waiting for him, embarrassed and frustrated.

You hated how he made every situation about himself though it originally wasn’t. You hated how he cared so little about your needs, desires and obligations that he didn’t even make the effort to arrive on time. Not even to please you, just to be a good boyfriend, a decent lover and life partner. But this wasn’t even about you either. It was about your family, your parents that were waiting for you both, not only to grab a simple lovely dinner, but to celebrate their pearl anniversary. 30. 30 years of marriage, and you, you couldn’t even get a linear relationship with the boy you loved the most.

Fuck, how many times had you asked him to pay attention to you, and he swore he’d listened but kept doing the mistakes again and again ? How many times had you broken up, only for him to plead you to get him back ? And how many times had it been the same with switched roles ? How many times had you tried without ever succeeding ? One more time, it seemed.

But this wasn’t just the preparation of a coming storm. Your exasperated sighs breaking the silence of the room, your fingertips rhythmically hitting the wooden table with impatience, it was more. At least you wanted it to be more. You wanted it to be the final act, the last time you’d be waiting for him, for his head to become conscious of all the harm he’d done to you these past couple of years. You wanted it to be more, because you wanted more from him.

You got up the chair you were sitting in, going to the phone and immediately dialed his office number. But he never picked up, you were left with incessant dial-tone. You hung up with rage starting to boil inside your veins, and after 3 deep breathing, you composed your dad’s number to ask if he could come pick you up.

You had almost forgotten about Javier when he finally ringed at your parent’s doorbell. “Uncle Javi !” Screamed your niece when she saw him entering the room, stopping the dance show she was giving you all only to run to his arms.

Javier chuckled, lifting the little girl up in the air and spinning around to amuse her before putting her back on the ground. His smile was wide when he greeted your family with a wave. “M’sorry to be late, got caught up at work.” Of course he did.

He kissed your mom’s cheek and shook your dad’s hand, wishing them both a happy anniversary before sitting beside you. “Hey.” He unconsciously put his hand on your thigh, stroking your clothed skin with his thumb. “You look stunning.” You didn’t care. Not one bit.

“You promised.” Javier’s brows furrowed at the words. “You told me you wouldn’t be late.” Your words sounded cold but you in fact felt really hot. You took your glass of champagne to take a sip, not even minding glancing at him just once. You’d had preferred him to stay home, you didn’t want to have another fight, especially not here, not now, but you didn’t want either to act as if everything was fine. Because it was not, and it hadn’t been for the last couple of years.

“I had work to do.” He repeated himself, to which you just hummed. Same melody, same lyrics. You grew more and more tired of it. “I promise I will make it up to you.” You would have seen how genuine his eyes looked if you had turned to him, but the intention was far from you. You knew the second your eyes would land on him you’d weaken, and you wanted to that to happen the latest possible.

You almost chocked on your drink, a sour laugh falling from your mouth. “Yet again an unkept promise.”

He sighed. “I think we should talk.”

He thought you should talk ? Wow, what a genius.

You immediately stood up and he followed you to the backyard. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t give silence any time to shine. “We caught a big one today, I couldn’t just leave.” You stopped by a tree, your bare back hitting its bark. “I can’t do what I want, plus it was a big opportunity !” The excitement in his voice only broke you even more. You were happy for him, you really were, but you couldn’t handle being alone anymore, and realizing you had nothing to do together. You simply weren’t made for each other, and it hurt deep. “Remember the guy who got arrested at the airport ? He’s a big one, he works for some Colombian cartel, it’s not just US anymore, we got our hands on-”

“Kiss me.” You cut him off out of nowhere. There he finally was, the silence. Javier frowned, not used to this. Usually you would have had said that it didn’t matter, screamed that you were as important as his work, yelled that you hated him. But you kept calm, and that scared him more than all the fights you both had entered into during your 2 years on and off relationship.

“What ?”

“Kiss me.” You repeated, grabbing his collar to pull him closer.

Javier couldn’t perceive any emotion in your tone, but still as frighten as it made him, he did so.

When he woke up the next morning, you were not in bed, not even in the house, and all the stuff you had left there even for months had disappeared. The only thing to be yours he found out was your spare key on the dining table.

He had tried to call you, had knocked at your door for days, but you never answered. So he just gave up, and a month past without any word from you. Javier felt miserable to say the least. You had never remained silent for so long, and leaving himself with his own thoughts finally made him understand. You deserved better. You deserved a man that would put you first, someone that could satisfy your smallest and stupidest desires, who could leave for 2 whole days without making you panic over the fact of if he will make it alive or not. You deserved someone who could love you and prove it. And he could never be that man.

“She misses you, you know.” Javier frowned at his dad.

“What ? How-”

“She came to see me, helped me planting some flowers.” Javier sighed. He knew just how much you loved gardening with his father, always happy to give him a hand. “She cried.” And right there, Javi’s heart twitched in his ribcage. He felt sick knowing he did this to you and it was far from the first time. “You should call her.”

The agent pinched his lips. “No, she needs to learn to live without me. It’s for her best. We both know that.”

His dad shrugged. “Ya know what they say. The heart wants what it wants.”

But Javier couldn’t keep torturing her. That’s why he chose the more pragmatic solution.

After a month and a half of radio silence, Javi knocked at your door one last time, and he was glad you finally answered him. But the smile you were wearing only made him feel even more guilty. Maybe he shouldn’t have minded coming.

“I’m leaving.” He wasted no time saying. He didn’t want to beat around the bush, not anymore.

“What ?” Your lips had fallen to a pout.

“I’m going to Colombia. For the DEA. I-”

“How long ?” He could see just how broken you were, because there was no light in your eyes, and they felt as cold as his heart.

“Months, years. Dunno.”

You felt sick, as if you were going to puke right on his shoes. “You’re kidding, right ?”

When he saw just how wet your eyes had become, Javier took a step forward and put his hands on your hips. It worsened it, and the tears started falling on your cheeks. A feeling of disgust fulfilled Javi’s soul knowing he was the monster of the story. He had always been. Your worst lover and best nemesis. Impossible scheme.

“My love, listen.”

“No !” You almost screamed, but your voice was muffled as you didn’t want to totally break in a cry. “You were supposed to come back to tell me you loved me, that you’re only happy when we’re together. That’s how we work, that is how we do it !”

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded even more broken than your heart. His whole world had shattered into pieces when he had accepted the job, knowing exactly what it would imply for the both of you, and he was desolated to make you go through the same pain. But it would be the last one, and it was all that mattered.

“I hate you.” You loved him. Though you loved him so much it hurt and you confused both feelings. Or was it just combined in one ?

“I know.” And with those last words, Javi slipped an arm behind your back and put his head on your shoulder so you would not see his own tears hurtling down his skin. Despair. That was what had pushed him taking the job, that was what was supposed to save your life from misery.

“I hope you never come back.” You muttered.

Javier froze. Still he understood your statement, but the way you said it was full of disdain, bitterness and disgust. It comforted him, in some way. He had made the right choice.

#javier peña #javier peña imagine #javier peña fanfic #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena #javier pena imagine #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #jp

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ga-yuu · 3 years

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~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 5~Part 1

Kurama is already in love with Yoshino, he just doesn’t realize it. Also yeah, I hope I did give a warning in Chapter 1.

Chapter 4

-----Part 1-----

Ibuki: “As usual, the powerful Onmyoji of this court is well experienced. As expected of my ‘master.”

Yasuchika: “Stop talking like a creep, you bastard.”

The tone of voice was harsh and unbelievable for a young child.

But Ibuki didn’t show any care....

Ibuki: “How can you be so cold to a cute child? Yasuchikaaa.”

Yasuchika: "Your catnip is too transparent. If you went to Kamakura, why didn't you just drink some of Yoritomo-sama's nectar?"

Ibuki: "That Shogun. Not bad for a playmate, but this time I found something cuter."

Yasuchika: "You mean Kura-rin? What would you have done if he found out we were messing with him? ......Well, you know what, I suppose it's no use asking you."

Ibuki: "You understand me very well, don’t you. I’m impressed."

Yasuchika: "That’s the worst and most disgraceful swear words I've ever lived to hear."

Without seeming to care Ibuki put one hand into his long sleeve and removed the heavy bracelet....

Yasuchika:"......................"

Ibuki: "Phew, I feel comfier in this body."

Ibuki sits comfortably in front of Yasuchika in his adult form, his well-groomed face intact.

His bright, wavy blonde hair was beautifully long, with two ivory-colored antlers peeking out of the gaps.

Yasuchika: "Take it on and off too often and you'll lose it, your charm bracelet."

Ibuki: "Captious as ever. In front of the court and the people in the Onmyoji dormitory, I have to wear the right disguise. .....No one should suspect that a demon is nesting in the mansion of the Abe family, a family of Onmyoji masters with a long history."

A sarcastic smile appeared in Ibuki's noble, slitted eyes.

Yasuchika: "That's enough. Now, where's the rest of the report? The original plan was to test the fox princess's strength and investigate her character, right?"

Ibuki: "And then Kurama poked his head in from the side. It's not my fault if he was there before."

Yasuchika: "Do you take me as a fool. You were aware of Kura-rin's presence, so you deliberately led the demon towards him."

Ibuki: "Have you been using those paper dolls to keep an eye on me? ....Geez, I can’t trust you anymore."

Yasuchika: "Why need a shikigami when I can predict how you’ll act based on my knowledge of your character."

Ibuki: "Are you also good at telling personalities?"

Yasuchika: "Well, of course. And your character is disgusting. You're irredeemable and love to play with people’s hearts."

Ibuki: "No more, or you’ll make me blush, Mr. Onmyoji."

Yasuchika: "Ibuki."

Yasuchika's dark eyes are filled with a murky gloom.

Yasuchika: "You're free to play as long as you don't bother 'him'."

Ibuki: "You really love him, don't you?"

Ibuki plays with Yasuchika's hair with his fingertips giving her a derisive look.

Ibuki: "Okay, don’t pout. Plans have changed, but we're still getting the bare minimum of information using remote monitoring techniques. Unfortunately, I couldn't listen to all the details of the conversation without Kurama noticing."

Yasuchika: "So?"

Yasuchika asked, not caring about the tousled hair and not blinking.

Ibuki: "First of all, our little fox princess is only taking baby steps towards using her powers. She didn’t even think about her fox powers."

Yasuchika: "But Yoshitsune-sama was able to make a wind blade, on the very night he made the pact."

Ibuki: "What I saw at that time, she was scared to be eaten alive, let alone face the demon by herself."

Yasuchika: "......I see."

Yasuchika murmured as if thinking about something.

Ibuki: "But above all that, she is a big softie and even tried to hide Kurama from her own allies. As a result, Kurama was intoxicated by it, so no one died."

Yasuchika: ".....Kura-rin being disturbed. That's something new."

Ibuki: "Isn't it?"

Ibuki laughs happily.

Ibuki: "Fox princess is the eye of the storm. If you play with it enough, it can send you into a tailspin, as I see it."

----Part 2----

Ibuki: "Fox princess is the eye of the storm. If you play with it enough, it can send you into a tailspin, as I see it. I'm sure it will be interesting to see Kurama, out of all people, would have anything to do with a human woman."

Yasuchika: "For better or worse, she's just a normal girl. I don't think she's got much chance of winning."

Ibuki: "It's true that she wasn't able to kill even one demon that time. Even Kurama thinks the same. .....But don't you know me already, Yasuchika? That I love to try humans."

Yasuchika: "I know. That's why I hate you."

Ibuki: "What? You too."

Yasuchika: "Yes."

Ibuki: "Anyways, do you have any interesting news?"

Yasuchika: "..... I hate to please you with all my heart."

Yasuchika picks up a letter from his sleeve and shows it to Ibuki.

Yasuchika: "----The Shogunate has asked me to help the fox princess who wants to practice slaying demons. Apparently, the brave princess is trying to overcome her fears herself."

Ibuki: ".......He...hahahaha...that's a piece of good news. This will be a most amusing game, Yasuchika."

Yasuchika: "Children who are absorbed in playing are apt to fall. You have to watch your step."

Ibuki: "I'll try my best not to fall."

With cold eyes, Yasuchika brushes his hair and looks at Ibuki.

Ibuki's eyes, on the other hand, were shining brightly.

Ibuki: "It's been a long time since I played with Kurama. It reminds me of the old days."

Yasuchika: "You've already harassed him enough when he was a child and you’re still greedy. If that's what you call love, then it's distorted. I feel sorry for Kura-rin."

Ibuki: "I don't need you to tell me about love. You are a misanthropic Onmyoji."

................

Yoshino: "Well, I'll be off then."

Yoritomo: "Are you sure about this, Yoshino?"

Yoshino: "Yes."

Kagetoki: "You really like strange things, don't you? Like going to wars."

The battle, said to be an outpost of Shogunate and the rebels, was about to begin.

Tamamo: “The war began between the Shogunate and the rebels’ respective countries. The two armies go to each other’s side of the battlefield, which has become a stalemate...”

Yoshino: “The two armies are not going all out ahead of the war. In other words...The aim was not to win the game outright, but to win the game in our favor.”

Kagetoki(smiles): “Well done.”

Tamamo: “Once again, I’m sorry I can’t be there for you.”

Tamamo’s shapely brows furrow languidly.

Yoshino: “That’s reassuring enough. Thank you, Tamamo.”

Yoritomo: “I’m sorry. I’d love to send him with you, but he’s got another job.”

Yoshino: “Yes. I understand.”

As a demon who has lived longer than Kurama, Tamamo has a wealth of knowledge about the other side of the sea.

Now under the pretense of being a guest from the Song Dynasty, he is helping to plan tactics for the war against the rebels.

(I’ll do the best I can with what I’ve got.)

Yoshino: “In a real battle against the rebels, you can’t rely on someone else all the time. It’s a good opportunity to practice.”

(Not only that.)

(If I, a pharmacist, go, I may be able to reduce the number of deaths on the battlefield.)

And the nursing regime we planned with everyone in the Shogunate.

If you can try it out on the actual battlefield it will be so much the better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. I’d rather be doing something....

2. I have to be strong...(+4/+4)

3. If I keep trying...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: “Because I have to be strong...”

(To fight that Kurama proudly someday.)

Black feathers fluttered brightly in the scene behind my eyelids.

At that time...

Morinaga: “Ready, Yoshino.”

Shigehira: “.............”

------Part 3------

Morinaga: “Ready, Yoshino.”

Shigehira: “.............”

(They’re here.)

Morinaga-san and Shigehira-kun, who are going to this outpost, are already finished wearing their armor.

Yoshino: “I’m ready as I’ll always be.”

Shigehira: “I won’t listen to you whining once you’re on the battlefield. Okay?”

Morinaga: “I’m counting on you, but don’t take any chances.”

Yoshino: “Yes!”

I follow them tightly and put my feet on the stirrup of the horse that is being pulled.

Shigehira-kun and Morinaga-san, also jumped on their horses, too.

Yoritomo: “---Come home alive. For the sake of the Kamakura Shogunate and yourself.” (Spoilers: she’s not coming home. Come on! even if I don’t give spoilers here, I’m sure you guys will already understand that this is foreshadowing.)

Yoritomo-sama’s eyes, which usually have a teasing tinge, were serious today.

Yoshino: “.....I will.”

I replied with a strong will and went with Morinaga-san and Shigehira-kun to the soldiers.

............

A few days later, on a battlefield, the two armies arrive almost simultaneously...

As if to add fuel to the smoldering fire, the battle situation suddenly flared up.

Rebel soldier 1: “Enemy attack! Enemy attack!”

Rebel soldier 2: “Damn the Shogunate! How did they find out about our supply routes?”

Shogunate soldier 1: “Go! Push through----!”

The rebel wielded their swords in a desperate attempt to prevent the Shogunate soldiers from breaking through.

Swords clashed, arrows whizzed through the air, and the shouts of the soldiers filled the air.

Rebel soldier 1: “Ngh....this is not right. It wasn’t supposed to be this intense.”

Rebel soldier 2: “Oh, this is not a prelude.---- What the hell is going on?”

Rebel soldier 3: “No, no, no----”

Just when the rebel soldiers were moaning in despair----

Shogunate soldier 2: “Gwaa”

Rebel soldier 3: “......!”

Kurama: “----What a mess, I can’t stand it.”

As soon as Kurama, who had ridden in on his horse, jumped into the fray, he cuts down several soldiers with just one swing of his sword.

Rebel soldier 3: “Ku-Kurama-sama!”

Kurama: “It is shameful that a soldier of Yoshitsune should kneel on the ground. I’ll let you choose whether you want to be killed by me before the enemy kills you, or to die in vain in the service of the enemy.”

The heavy voice, which seems to push aside the clamour, naturally freezes friend and foe alike.

Shogunate soldiers 3: “Nn...don’t be frightened! He’s not Benkei or Yoichi, we don’t know his strength....”

Shogunate soldiers 4: “Yes! Don’t let the unknown soldier get away with it!”

Kurama(smiles): “.....Ha. It’s just that I’ve never had a name to tell you before. Why should I tell my name to a weak bug that going to be crushed under my feet, anyway?”

The white blade danced faster than the words, and by the time he had, finished several of the Shogunate’s soldiers had been knocked down without a sound.

Shogunate soldier 5: “Ah.......”

A few soldiers of the Shogunate realized that he was stronger than any normal human, began to retreat.

Kurama: “Too late. Not only were you born weak, but you have a fragile instinct to recognize the strong. Weak and stupid, don’t show me any more abominations than you already have.”

Rebel soldier 4: “Ah.....Kurama-sama, gave us a chance to win!”

Rebel soldier 5: “It's his words of encouragement. Even if we die, we can’t be called weak----!”

Awe and mortal fervour made the blood of the rebel soldiers boil.

They regained their momentum and pushed the Shogunate soldiers back again.

Kurama(Making the ‘I can’t understand humans’ face): “......... Samurai are so annoying.”

Kurama stated and swung his sword again.

.................

(.......It’s funny, the number of wounded is much higher than planned.)

Yoshino: “Excuse me, please bring the most seriously injured ones to this tent!”

Shogunate soldiers 6: “Yes!”

Rearguard troops were coming in and out of my tent.

Injured soldier: “Nn....Thank...you, Yoshino-san.”

Yoshino: “You don’t have to say anything. Everything will be fine.”

(Aside from the wound medicines I’ve been making....)

(With such a crowded situation, it’s going to be difficult to get the water needed for treatment.)

I stop the bleeding of the wounded soldier and wraps the torn cloth tightly around the wound.

Then----

Shigehira: “Yoshino-san!”

Part 2

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden kurama #ikemen mc #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #main story translations

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jay-and-dean · 4 years

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Firefly Chapter 1. Five years old

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : future Dean x reader ?

Summary : 40 years in Hell, but he didn’t spend all this time all alone, he had her.

Prepare to know what happened during those years Dean never talks about. To immerge yourself in Hell, only lit by the mysterious kid growing here...

And to see some of your favorite villains again : Crowley, Lilith, Lucifer... And also Sammy and Jack...

Serie Warnings : Hurt!Dean, Hell (torture, even if we tried to not give it graphic descriptions, creepy demons, blood, violence), swearing, angst, future fluff and smut.

This story is in both Reader’s POV and Dean’s POV

Wordcount : 2645

Note : This is our second collaboration. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like we did for Same.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

This story will be around 10 chapters and we intend to edit it every Saturday if nothing delays it.

Roonyxx Masterlist

Jay’s Masterlist

_________________________

Reader’s Pov

She should have stayed in her room.

She should have stayed in her room for many reasons. Because her huge, warm and luxury bedroom was far enough from the horrible screams first. Desperate calls for help echoing everywhere, useless begging and strangled howls of infinite pain.

Because her room was neither burning hot nor cold like bleak ice.

Because there was no smell indescribably vile between the rock walls and along the velvet curtains…

But in her child mind, anything was better than eternal silence, even cries for help, better than the lonely torpor of comfort, than that unbearable loneliness.

And boredom.

So, as usual, she took Mister Teddy Bear in her arms, holding him close against her tiny body. With her finger she stuffed the foam escaping from the hole where his head should be, and smiled at his pathetic form.

She didn’t miss his head, for the same reason she didn’t miss the sky : because she had never seen it.

Hell was big enough to get lost forever but she never did. It was vast enough for her to never go twice in the same place if she decided too. And for now, she had only found one place worth going back, the rest was only screams.

She shivered a little, today was cold, at least in this area. And even if she was shaped to handle Hell, she could see the steam coming out of her mouth and taste the metallic smell of blood on her tongue.

When something moved on the wall of that infinite corridor, she took a step back, bumping the opposite sweating blood wall. It was the skin of a human being, empty and limply nailed on the wall, but somehow still whining and crying.

She looked down at Mister Teddy bear and noticed it had been stained again, by the thick smelly blood constantly seeping from the tall cold dark walls. She sighed and gave the shaking empty skin a reprimanding look, frowning her thin and small eyebrows.

And she kept walking.

A demon appeared at an intersection. He wasn’t wearing a human form, his giant body scrawny to the bones, with a crest of rotten wood along his visible spine, transparent skin, no eyes, and a huge pair of horns above him. His arms were long enough to touch the floor, and he was raising his legs too high while walking, which gave him something of a spider.

She recognized Jael.

He passed by, ignoring her tiny form as usual, leaving a trail of smoke and sulfur behind him. For him, she was probably not bigger than a cat would be to a human being. Annoyed by his complete indifference, she closed her tiny five years old fists and punched his leg in a grunt.

The demon didn’t even acknowledge her and she watched him walk or crawl away.

She stayed still for a moment, holding Mister Teddy Bear tight, looking around at the infinite numbers of boring corridors this maze had. She turned on herself in a little dance, her dress flying like there was wind, closed her eyes and stopped randomly, a little dizzy.

This way today.

She sighed in content, she had never been this way before. So she put her tiny patent shoe in front of her and started walking.

She walked for a while, going in any direction like a little mouse in an abandoned manor. Avoiding the walls and covering her ears when the screams were too loud. Once or twice she looked inside the rooms, her eyes meeting pieces of humans, arms reaching to her, eyes without eyelids following her tiny form while beasts with their demon faces or a human costume were feasting on their guts.

She turned left and found herself in front of a door opened on a large room with a man in the middle of it.

He wasn’t screaming.

Chains were maintaining him up and straight, his arms stretched toward the ceiling. The chain was going through his stomach and one of his thighs. Weights were at his hips probably slowly tearing his back.

She stopped in front of the door and held Mister Teddy Bear closer, studying his silhouette, hidden in the shadow of the corridor.

He was brighter, he was stronger. His silence made her shiver for she was so used to the din of despair.

Did he really belong here ?

Mesmerized by his noble aura, she took a step in the room and looked up. His face was held by a chain around his neck, his eyes closed and face unexpectedly calm, almost as if he was sleeping.

When she took another shy step, her potent shoe hit a piece of the chain she didn't notice and the metallic sound made him gasp. His eyes opened and their green light fell on her.

He stayed totally motionless, but it was not like he could really move anyway. Only his eyes weren’t still, trembling in her direction, struggling to focus. Like all the damned souls, he seemed really surprised to see her here, she was just a little girl anyway ; and there was no child in Hell. But his eyes had no expression of supplication, only a mix of distrust and pain.

Demons had never frightened her much, some of them were impressive and ugly, disgusting even. But they couldn’t hurt her. What made shivers run along her tiny back were the damned themselves. Their screams, their begging, their despair... And in her immature mind, she had come to think they were fouler than the creatures of Hell themselves.

Not him.

Her fascinated wide eyes were magnetized to his face, forgetting the chains and the pool of blood at his feet, everything broken about him. She just stared at his face and thought he was beautiful in a way.

She forgot her boredom for a second, and took another step. In front of her little form, with his arms almost reaching the ceiling, he appeared as tall as a mountain. She lifted her chin, frustrated a little to not be able to come closer to his face.

Despite his dusty and grimy skin, she could see little light brown stains around his nose, his eyes were very green and bright, and bloodshot only made their natural color lighter.

Her tiny hand moved a little, not sure what she wanted to do, maybe poke his thigh, like little children tend to do when they find something curious. But he flinched, and she got scared. The whole mountain of his motionless body suddenly making the iron of the chains scream.

She took a step back and put Mister Teddy Bear on the floor, away from danger, before she came closer again. Keeping her eyes on him to tame the reactions of this huge and impressive wounded beast.

This time, she showed him her hand. Her little palm raised gently, she stood there, tasting his blood on her tongue, and the smell of metal and pain.

His face was confused, and his eyes still trembling from the intense fear of being touched, but he kept them on her, going from her innocent eyes to her tiny clean hand.

Dean’s pov

His eyes followed her as she sat down cross-legged a few feet from him, watching him in silence, she took Mister Teddy Bear and put him in her lap.

Dean’s eyes flickered from her little form to the door, waiting for the next torture to begin, but it didn’t.

She just kept watching him, her eyes shining with innocence only a child has. Was she really a kid ? Was it a trap ? A trap to what, nothing could really get worse anyway… Trying to ignore the horrible pain, he focused on her eyes to try and read them.

Everything was weird about her. Her age, her beauty, like she came from another world, Earth or even Heaven… Nothing was dark or vile on her feature. She didn’t seem to mind that her little pink dress was getting soaked in his blood.

With one last glance at the door he cleared his throat, hoarse from screaming hours and hours, and from not really talking for what ? Years...

“Hey little girl?” he cleared his throat once more, surprised by his own voice.

Not controlling his tone perfectly, he spoke a little too loud which made her shuffle back a little. He really didn’t want her to disappear just now, maybe if he managed to talk to her a little, get a name...

“No stay, s-sorry… I’m not gonna hurt you.” His voice seemed to calm her this time, she held Mister Teddy closer to her chest.

“Are you, lost ? What’s your name?” He tried, but she just kept watching him not saying a word.

He gave her a little smile through the unbearable suffering. It felt foreign smiling, he hasn’t done it in years.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

It looked like she smiled back but he was too far to see it clearly, could she even talk anyway ? She looked human, but here… a kid ? Was she dead too ? How did she end up here ?

“Where you from, little girl?” he tried again, speaking was horribly painful but this moment was priceless to him.

How he would love to hear a voice other then the screams of Hell or the filth the demons spat at him. But she kept her lips sealed, taking her little bear by the legs, making him walk through the blood. She didn’t seem phased by the horror of it at all.

“I’m Dean” he said.

She looked up at him and slowly took the arm of her bear to wave at him. His eyes widened, so she could hear and understand him. If he had been able to, he would wave back, instead he chuckled lightly for the first time since the Hellhounds got him; almost forgetting the the chains in his back.

“What’s your little friend’s name? He looks badass.”

Still no answer.

He needed her to be real, to not be an hallucination caused by pain or loneliness.

“Well I guess I’ll give you a name then, is that okay ?”

She shrugged slightly, wiping her headless toy to her perfectly ironed dress.

“What you think of… Firefly?” She looked up at him, now he was sure he could see a smile gracing her little face.

“You like that ? You remind me of one” he tried not to cough at his dry throat, knowing it would be enough to break his back. “A little light in the darkest place…”

He started to look at her thoroughly. She didn’t look too skinny, she was a little dirty, blood stains on her arms, dress and shoes, but in a place like this that wasn’t surprising. Her eyes didn’t look heavy so she had a place to sleep, to rest… How he missed resting, to be able to close your eyes and just sleep, to not fear the never ending pain.

“How did you end up here ?” he asked more for himself, as she didn’t seem to talk at all.

Maybe she couldn’t speak at all. How old would she be, four ? Maybe five ? The blood stains on her face made it difficult to see her child like features.

She was so remarkable, in this screaming pit of misery and despair, there was not one ounce of fear in her eyes. She didn’t seem faced by the fact that she was covered in blood, that her teddy bear was missing his head, that he himself was dangling by chains and seeping the very same blood she was sitting in.

“You have been here for a while haven’t you ?”

He could tell she probably didn’t know anything else but Hell. The absence of fear, the indifference, like everything was just as it always had been... He was sure of it. But then again, how did she end up in the pit ?

A cautious dark chuckle left his mouth.

“I lost count of how long I’ve been here but I heard it’s been about 10 or 15 years.”

She looked up at him, her little E/C eyes shining with curiosity, he hasn’t seen that in years, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them. They remind him so much of Sammy’s eyes when he was younger.

A heavy door fell shut in the distance making Dean flinch, grunting loud when his cruel bonds rattled. She got up and came closer, inspecting the chain going through his thigh, her face showing little interest in it.

Then, her curiosity visibly winning against her distrust, she crawled between his legs to watch his back. And he closed his eyes in apprehension of her touching something. But she didn’t.

Reader’s Pov

He was different from everything she had seen in her short life, he wasn’t screaming like the others, or begging, he just… endured it. He seemed stronger.

She circled him to come back to where she could see his face. Her little hand reached for him again, but she remembered the damned didn’t like to be touched so she took her hand back.

Heavy footsteps suddenly echoed in the hallway.

She grabbed mister Teddy Bear from the floor and moved to stand beside the door, Jael entered, still in his demonic form.

“Dean Winchester, ready for your next session ?” his croaky voice came out of his mouth full of teeth in a strange way. “The master Alastair is waiting.”

He steps on the chain making it shift in Dean’s gut. When Dean groaned hoarsely, she moved to punch her little fist into the creatures leg again.

With a sulfur stenched sigh the creature looked down her.

“What are you doing in here” he said in a growl. “You know it isn’t allowed.”

His long bony fingers wrapped around her left ankle to pull her upside down into the air, she weighed nothing. She started to struggle but totally in vain, her palms clenched around Mister Teddy Bear to not lose him, and her free leg trying to kick the demon.

“I’m not a damn babysitter” the demon sighed, a cloud of smelly sulfur reaching her face, and making her sneeze. “I’ll tie you again if you keep wandering, child.”

He turned to leave the room, his creepy gait making her dangle left and right.

“I’ll be back for you Winchester, you’ll say yes to Alastair soon enough.”

Still dangling from Jael’s grip, she took her bear arms and waved it at Dean before the Demon turned in the hallway.

Jael walked back to where her room was, when he pushed the door he came face to face with a Demon in the shape of a man, wearing a suit and a brand new watch, Crowley.

“Sir, your filth has been wandering” he dropped her to the floor bluntly. “Again.”

“Careful Jael, that’s my daughter” the smooth, human voice of her father echoes with no affection.

Crowley bended to pull her up by the arm, grimacing at how dirty she was, and put her in the corner where he had put the chain a few times ago, that was a little to big for her fragile foot anyway, around her.

“Now sweet cheeks” Crowley bended to her eye level “You know you aren’t allowed to leave this room so do us all a favor and don’t?”

She stuck her tongue out to him.

“Just kill her already” Jael grunted.

Crowley stood up and ushered Jael out of the room, he locked the door behind them, while she already took her foot out of the too big chain to run at the door, failing to open it.

“Patience Jael, one day this girl will lead us to victory, you’ll see.”

___________________________________

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dragonblobz · 4 years

Text

Part 2 of the request from @lilfriezatyrant for a fic of caring for the injured lizard. Thank you girlie for the amnesia idea. Fits pretty well!

Injuries Part 2

Everything within your body is utterly frozen. Your blood. Your marrow. Your fingers are leaden and tingly as the nails bloody your palms. You’ve never been this close to a bear. And it’s muzzle alone is nearly as long as your fore arm. It’d take several copies of you to fill the circumference of its mammoth neck. It’s so close, the gamey wild smell of it brings terrified bile up your throat.

It isn’t looking at you. It’s looking at him. And somehow you’re thankful for this. You summon some ghostly remnant of courage and turn to look at him as well.

He hasn’t moved one iota. But the rage in his eyes has dimmed to something akin to disgust. As if the bear were some particularly grotesque insect.

His leg!! He cant move because of his leg! Your mind flickers with the possibility of escape. After all. The bear appears to be focused on him. This is immediately followed by guilt. Shame burns in your tummy. You aren’t like his people. His life matters just as much as yours does. But everything is happening so fast. Maybe if you hit the bear and run……..

It would be suicide. And the bear could simply return to finish him off after it’s done with you. You feel the first insipid tickles of despair.

He moves. Slowly. Every action as smooth and calculated as you’d imagined it’d be. The leg nearest you, his left leg, his good leg, slides from your cot, knee bending, to rest his foot upon the floor of your tent. He rotates the upper half of his body to face the bear. His back straightens. His left arm straightens and rises, in a slow blatant display of liquid grace, as his hand balls into a fist. He extends his pointer finger. His mouth creases into an angelic and confident grin which is directly negated by the evil crease of his large eyes. His tail curls behind his body like that of a scorpion.

The entire atmosphere around you begins to change. The hair on your arms prickles with static electricity. Your vision hazes. Your ears pop. You smell a scent that reminds you of when you were a child and lightning had struck a tree near you. Acrid. A metallic bloody taste saturates your tongue. Something is happening. You can feel it. It’s as if the very earth around you is erupting with power.

The bear can feel it too, apparently. It gives a frightened grunt and pulls its maw from your tent. You can hear brush crackling as it thunders away.

The thing on your bed. The alien. He hasn’t moved. But something is different. The air doesn’t taste wrong anymore. Whatever you had been feeling is gone.

His pupils flick to you now and you startle. In a smooth movement, he rotates his body, without moving or bending his arm, to aim that same finger at you. It reminds you of someone aiming a gun.

That same prickling feeling returns. But ceases again just as fast.

He’s wavering. His muscle structure trembles as his arm finally drops. He raises a hand to the bandage upon the side of his head and his body sways as if he’s dizzy before he falls back onto an elbow. His good foot is still on the floor of your tent. Whatever he has just done, with that odd change of energy in the air, seems to have taxed him greatly.

His voice is a shock to your system. Male. Higher pitched. Bored. Each consonant enunciated in a careful and precise way.

“Who are you?”

Your voice trembles and cracks, but you manage to answer.

“(Y/N). My name is (Y/N).”

A look of pain ghosts over his face and his pupils dilate as an elbow leaves the bed to place this hand upon his face to touch the bandage on his head.

“Well, (Y/N), I’m afraid you have the advantage here. I cannot seem to remember my own name.”

Doesn’t remember? Amnesia? From the head wound?

He reaches up and begins to peel away the bandage from his head.

“Oh no! Don’t take that off! If you get dirt in that wound, you could get an infection!” You scramble to your feet and hurry over to him.

He huffs and finishes removing his bandage, then reaches down to start pulling the bandages from his chest, before tossing them all carelessly upon the floor of your tent. He then returns those unsettling eyes to yours. Vermillion pupils assess you as if you are an errant child.

You are still for some time. Then feel shock as you finally become brave and look him over.

The wounds on his chest are completely gone. You lean, trying to look at his head, but he rotates it to follow your movements.

“Your head, sir. I need to see that wound.” You try, and fail, to sound authoritative.

He flops his free arm back to lean upon it as he is the other and looks at you as if he’s the neighborhood watch and you are the fresh pile of dog shit which he’s just stepped in. But he complies.

You cant believe what you’re seeing. The wound, which had been a deep ugly gash yesterday, is now a large scab which is well along in healing. There’s only a little swelling.

“Impossible.” You breathe.

You look down upon his leg. It’s still quite swollen. You insert your finger into the splinting, checking to make sure it’s not too tight. He hisses at this.

“You’re a bold one. Touching me without my consent.”

You feel a slight flare of annoyance but quickly subdue it. “I’m just checking your splinting. Making sure it’s not too tight.”

“I’m perfectly aware of this. You are still alive, aren’t you?” He’s glaring at you.

“Look. I’m just trying to help you, okay?” You try as hard as you can to subdue your ire. “Are you hungry?”

He doesn’t answer. Just that same unsettling gaze.

“I don’t have a lot.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “But I do have some granola bars. And some peanut butter.”

“This place is filthy.” It’s like he hadn’t even heard what you’d said.

“Well, your people kind of fucked that to be honest.” You simply couldn’t quite maintain your bedside manner. “It’s just you. And me. This piece of shit tent. And some peanut butter. Now are you hungry, or not?”

“My people?” His face looks confused for a moment before looking irritated. “Am I your hostage? Is this truly how you house your hostages?” You don’t know why he’s being so hateful. You certainly don’t deserve it.

“Like I said, buster. You. Me. Tent. Peanut Butter.” You realize the heinous quality of your own statement and blush, stammering. “N-no. You’re not a hostage. You can leave any damn time.” He doesn’t seem to care.

“Very well, maggot. Feed me.”

You glare at him for a moment. But you comply.

He takes one bite of a granola bar and his eyes widen as he looks at it and chews slowly before glaring at you.

“Passable.”

Your own stomach growls and you figure you’d better go try to find something for yourself.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He’s not pleased.

“I’m hungry too. And since you get the easy food, I’ll just have to go find something else.” You truly don’t mean to sound so bitchy. Not even with his attitude. But you’re hungry.

He studies you as he munches his granola bar, still very much propped on one elbow. And, despite your need to find food, you can’t help but watch. He hasn’t blinked. Not once. And he eats very carefully, the bar pinched between his slender forefinger and thumb. After he’s finished, he continues eye contact as he primly brushes his fingers upon your blanket.

After several more minutes of looking at you, he relaxes into your cot as his eyes close, the foot upon the floor of your tent slowly sliding back under your blanket. His voice sounds tired.

“Very well. Run along.”

This raises fresh ire, but you do not answer.

Your hunt is more fruitful today. Literally. A tree sagging with apples. It had taken hours to find it.

You eat till you feel almost sick. Then gather as many apples as you can in a knapsack.

You stop at a stream to fill your canteen. You’ll have to boil the water. But luckily you have some already at the camp which has been treated. You know that apples are a diuretic. But you had just been too hungry to care.

The sun is very low when you get back to the camp. He appears to be asleep. You are almost surprised he’s still there.

The breeze feels a little cooler today, so you stoke up the fire and boil that water.

You offer him some of the water you had already treated because it’s not hot. He seems very tired. Almost contrite, as he props himself on an elbow again and drinks it. Just as slowly as he’d eaten. And staring at you just the same.

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

You hadn’t expected this. Not in a tone so much softer than his earlier voice.

“You’re welcome……. Whoever you are.”

He seems amused by this, chuckles lightly. Allows you to take his cup and once again settles into repose, his eyes falling closed.

It’s now, quite dark. And quite chilly. You sigh and adjust your pack on the floor again, prepared to curl up just as you had the previous evening.

You’re going to have to move. The camp and him. But you’ll worry about that tomorrow. He seems to be healing quite fast. Maybe you’ll be ABLE to move him.

“It’s cold, (Y/N).” You openly startle at his voice. You can see that same purple flickering upon the top of his head as the night before. And his pupils glow like rubies in the darkness. He laughs at your jerking movement.

“Ohohoho! You needn’t be afraid. There is no monster on this globe which is more dangerous than myself. And the safest place to hide from a monster is, of course, behind a bigger monster.” He’s laughing at you. And although the words seem to be intended to comfort, you can’t help but be unsettled by them.

“So……….. you remember who you are now? Your name?” Your voice is trembling.

He laughs again.

“Not at all! I just know that I’m a monster.” You can hear the smugness, thick as cotton, in the darkness.

“Oh…… well…….. ok……..” you feel a little scared.

He repeats himself.

“It’s cold.”

“I don’t have any more blankets. I’m sorry.” You feel badly. You’ll be colder. But he’s injured and cannot help himself. Even if he IS kind of an asshole.

His chuckle almost sounds more like a growl in the darkness.

“Oh I wasn’t concerned about myself.”

At first, you prepare to deny him, thinking that he’s about to offer you the only blanket. But this is not the case.

“There’s plenty of room under here, (Y/N). Unless…….. you are too frightened of me?” His amusement is palpable.

You blush madly. The offer is innocent enough, but the TONE of his voice…. The sinister predatory quality…… is enough to make your thoughts shift to frightening things.

“No….. no thank you. I mean….. thank you but…… n-n-no thank you.” You flop down on your pack. Curling away from him.

He sounds almost annoyed. And bored.

“Very well. Suit yourself. Squander my generosity. I’ll not make this offer again.” And he finally falls silent.

And the ground is already cold and uncomfortable under the floor of the tent. You’re already shivering. You hug your knees. Try to adjust yourself.

“If you’re going to shuffle and move all night, please take it outside. I can’t rest with all your racket.”

You nearly snap. Sitting bolt upright, you turn to him, doing your best to keep a scathing reply from issuing forth. But your retort dies as you realize that you can see his perfect glimmering teeth in the darkness. The bastard is laughing silently at you.

“That does it!” You fumble at your boots, untying them and kicking them off your feet. You stand, hugging yourself with your arms, still shivering. And as you march towards your cot, your bravado goes cold.

He isn’t laughing at you anymore. His tail is protruding from the blanket, the tip flicking and undulating. His hands are behind his head. And he’s staring at you intently, his eyes a pair of hot coals. You can just barely see his dark lips in the firelight. They’re sneering.

“What do you think you’re doing, simian?”

“You said I could share…..” You are simply too nervous to continue.

“I did, indeed. And you refused me. If you are wanting under here now, you must ask me quite nicely.” His voice is icy.

This doesn’t make you as angry as it should. Anger isn’t nearly as easy to conjure now that you are standing here, looking down into those flaming eyes, seeing that assessing intelligent gaze. You briefly consider sleeping outside.

“Well?” He snaps. “I have dreams to attend to, (Y/N). Have you anything to ask me?” His tone is patronizing now.

“Can I…….” You are now glad of the darkness. Maybe he can’t see how badly you’re blushing. “Can I share?”

“Share what?” he’s being deliberately dense.

You can hardly talk and your face burns as you splutter.

“Can I sleep with you please? You’re right. Its cold.”

“I suppose. But you’ll be removing those garments first. They’re filthy.”

You feel a little part of yourself die from embarrassment. But you kick off your thick jeans to stand before him in your shirt and underwear.

“That’s better.” His voice sounds smug as his tail raises, effectively pulling the blanket back, then pats the cot 3 times. Slowly.

You walk towards him. And you’re trembling as you crawl onto the cot with him.

#frieza #freeza #frieza x reader #long post #my writing

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qfantasydragon · 3 years

Text

So its the end of the semester and I have been writing Too Many Essays of academic bs and am probably over-analyzing this but its been bouncing around in my head all day so now y’all get to look at it so I can think of other things

Last night I was watching critical role’s narrative telephone and got to Widogast’s Web of Words and after about five minutes of laughing as the other cast members retold the story I had a lightbulb moment spawned, as I said, by too many goddamn essays

“Hey wait a minute. This seems suspiciously Caleb-as-a-volstrucker related.” And the more that thought bounced around my head, the more connections I found, so hear me out:

First off right at the beginning the story, he says “most think of it as a fairy tale to frighten children, but the wise know better.” We know from previous in-game discussion that the voltstrucker are mostly regarded as a spooky story or urban legend within the empire. Exactly the kind of thing you would use to entertain kids. But the smart and the higher up would know that the voltstrucker exist.

So my theory: the three children are Caleb, Astrid, and whats-his-face, Eadwulf, and boy does it mushroom out from there.

The parents told the children to “say their prayers, serve their king, and always walk in the light of the sun” (Liam). We don’t know a ton about Caleb’s parents, but we do know that they were very patriotic. There’s also a lot of talk about the Dawnfather, Pelor, in the first bit, who is neutral good according to the critical role wiki (thanks guys) and one of whose commandments is “deliver the light of the Dawnfather...with kindness, compassion, and mercy” (the wiki). He is also the god of agriculture and a popular focus of worship of the common folk (the wiki). So this is Caleb and classmates before Ikithon, living small town, commoner lives, still full of empathy/kindness/etc.

Then comes the leaving their prayers and going into the dark woods bit, which to me sounds like leaving home, and the way of doing things there, to go to Rexxentrum. Stepping away from the Dawnfather, away from the empathy/kindness thing and the common folk way of life. But at the moment it is still possible for them to return home, unharmed, unchanged. The line describing the woods, “so vast and full of mystery...the desire for knowledge beckoned them. They no longer walked in the light of the sun” sounds like Caleb wanting to learn more about magic and diving headfirst into Soltryce Academy, starting to lose sight of what morality his parents taught him.

Now the children are linking hands as they go through the woods, i.e., Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf becoming friends at the Academy. The counting-their-steps-as-they-go thing..well. I couldn’t find any information, but I personally would be very curious how many years the average student spends at the Academy and at what year Ikithon started training them.

Now the children meet the hag, who is described as being the land and is hungry. The being the land bit would mean the hag is representative of the empire, and the fact that she is hungry could represent the Empire’s hunger for power. She says she must eat in order for the land to thrive, i.e., the Empire must gain power in order for it to thrive. This can be done through straightforward battle (eating one of the children whole), but that would eventually cause unrest throughout the empire (our parents would surely despair). That leaves espionage, which is the route the hag symbolically takes.

(Campaign 2 spoilers and interesting side note: who have the might nein recently met who strikes harsh, terrible deals in exchange for double-edged results? a hag. who does Caleb choose to represent what’s going on with the volstruckers? a hag)

The children are frozen in fear (?) (i don’t speak german and the word used sounds like angst and it makes sense so im rolling with it), or the children are restrained as the hag steps forward with her “stone knife.” Hello Caleb being pressured by someone more powerful than him, strapped to a table, and crystals shoved in his arms, how you doing today?

Now the children start losing bits of themselves-- the first his brain, and his thoughts “were no longer his own.” This is Ikithon breaking one of them, im going to say Eadwulf for drama reasons, so that they where were nothing more than a tool, a weapon to be used as Ikithon saw fit.

The second child, and Liam uses female pronouns here and it makes sense so this is Astrid, loses one of her eyes and she “never saw true again.” This is fun because (campaign 2 spoilers) at this point Caleb has already spoken to Astrid and found her viewpoint completely in line with Ikithon’s, with ambitions to take his place one day. Loosing an eye messes with depth perception, or perspective, so Astrid’s perspective is wrong, but her thoughts are still her own as she still has plans outside of what Ikithon wants from her.

The last child looses his heart and “he never knew love again.” Liam uses those exact words and that is important. Its not ‘he could never love again’ which is what would make sense with the loss of a heart, its “he never knew love again”. It is Caleb’s own self-loathing talking. The lost heart is Caleb’s deceased family and all the trauma that came with that loss. Caleb, of the three of them, sees Ikithon clearly and his thoughts are still his own, but he no longer believes himself worthy of love and is a terrified to form relationships, to love, because of how badly that burned him (haha puns) last time.

Another interesting note: This scene occurred in a forest. The Vergesson Sanatorium, where Caleb and crew trained and where Caleb was imprisoned/held was in a forest. (Coincidence? I think not)

The hag says now the land will flourish and the wheat will grow. In other words, thanks to the sacrifice of the children, the empire will flourish and the common folk, the wheat, (see: connections to Pelor, god of the common folk, agriculture, light and goodness) will grow. She releases the children on the condition that they send her their children, and their children’s children and on down the line. Or, more children join the volstruckers, more children are warped and twisted and maimed so that the land, the kingdom, the empire will continue to grow. So that the common folk and the people of the light can continue, unaware that it lies on a foundation of blood and bone.

Throughout the story there is a recurring emphasis that these are children. That they are young and foolish, and yes they messed up but they did not deserve to meet the monster they did. They did not deserve what happened to them. Again, that is Caleb, at his core angry about what was done to him and his friends, and willing to do whatever it takes to set it right.

....

Like I said! Too many goddamn essays. I don’t know if other people have already made this connection or whether Liam O’Brien has confirmed it but I wanted to yell about it for a bit.

If it was intentional, that’s a lot of symbolism in two-ish minutes, and its amazing and incredible.

If it was unintentional, that was an amazing grim-brothers-esque fairytale and I loved it.

If any of y’all have actual social media and know the answer let me know please.

#long post #critical role #narrative telephone #critical role spoilers #critical role campaign two spoilers #caleb widogast #okay i have yelled into the void #and feel much better now lol #volstruckers #narrative telephone spoilers #widogasts web of words #widogasts web of words spoilers #this is the most fun writing ive had in weeks

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tawakkull · 3 years

Text

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 5

Muhasaba (Self-Criticism or Self-Interrogation)

Muhasaba literally means reckoning, settling accounts, and self-interrogation. In a spiritual context, however, it takes on the additional meaning of the self-criticism of a believer who constantly analyzes his or her deeds and thoughts in the hope that correcting them will bring him or her closer to God. Such a believer thanks God for the good he or she has done, and tries to erase his or her sins and deviation by imploring God for forgiveness and amending his or her errors and sins through repentance and remorse. Muhasaba is the very important and serious attempt of asserting one’s personal loyalty to God. It is recorded by Muhy al-Din ibn al-‘Arabi, author of al-Futuhat al-Makkiya (The Makkan Conquests), that during the early centuries of Islam, righteous people would either write down or memorize their daily actions, thoughts, and words, and then analyze and criticize themselves for any evil or sin they had committed. They did this to protect themselves from the storms of vanity and the whirls of self-pride. They would ask God’s forgiveness after this self-analysis, and would repent sincerely so that they might be protected against future error and deviation. Then they would prostrate in thankfulness to God for the meritorious deeds or words that the Almighty had created through them.

Self-criticism may also be described as seeking and discovering one’s inner and spiritual depth, and exerting the necessary spiritual and intellectual effort to acquire true human values and to develop the sentiments that encourage and nourish them. This is how one distinguishes between good and bad, beneficial and harmful, and how one maintains an upright heart. Furthermore, it enables a believer to evaluate the present and prepare for the future. Again, self-criticism enables a believer to make amends for past mistakes and be absolved in the sight of God, for it provides a constant realization of self-renewal in one’s inner world. Such a condition enables one to achieve a steady relationship with God, for this relationship depends on a believer’s ability to live a spiritual life and remain aware of what takes place in his or her inner world. Success results in the preservation of one’s celestial nature as a true human being, as well as the continual regeneration of one’s inner senses and feelings.

A believer, in his or her spiritual and daily life, cannot be indifferent to self-criticism. On the one hand, he or she tries to revive his or her ruined past with the breezes of hope and mercy blown by such Divine calls as: Repent to God (24:31) and: Turn to Your Lord repentant (39:54), which come from the worlds beyond and echo in his or her conscience. On the other hand, warnings as frightening as thunderbolts and as exhilarating as mercy are contained in such verses as: O you who believe! Fear God and observe your duty to Him. And let every soul consider what it has prepared for the morrow (59:18) bring the believer to his or her senses and make one alert once again (against committing new sins). In such a condition, a believer is defended against all kinds of evil, as if enclosed behind locked doors.

Taking each moment of life to be a time of germination in spring, a believer seeks ever-greater depth in his or her spirit and heart with insight and consciousness arising from belief. Even if a believer is sometimes pulled down by the carnal dimension of his or her being and falters, he or she is always on the alert, as is stated in: Those who fear God and observe His commandments, when a passing stroke from Satan troubles them, they immediately remember (God), and lo! they are all aware (7:201).

Self-criticism resembles a lamp in the heart of a believer, a warner and a well-wishing adviser in his or her conscience. Every believer uses it to distinguish what is good and evil, beautiful and ugly, pleasing and displeasing to God. Through the guidance of this well-wishing adviser, the believer surmounts all obstacles, however seemingly insurmountable, and reaches the desired destination.

Self-criticism attracts Divine mercy and favor, which enables one to go deeper in belief and servanthood, to succeed in practicing Islam, and to attain nearness to God and eternal happiness. It also prevents one from falling into despair, which will ultimately lead to reliance on personal acts of worship to be saved from Divine punishment in the Hereafter. [1]

As self-criticism opens the door to spiritual peace and tranquillity, it also causes one to fear God and His punishment. In the hearts of those who constantly criticize themselves and call themselves to account for their deeds, this Prophetic warning is always echoed: If you knew what I know, you would laugh little but weep a lot. [2] Self-criticism, which gives rise to both peacefulness and fear in one’s heart, continuously inspires anxiety in the hearts of those who are fully aware of the heavy responsibility they feel the anxiety voiced as in: If only I had been a tree cut into pieces. [3]

Self-criticism causes the believer to always feel the distress and strain expressed in: Earth seemed constrained to them for all its vastness, and their own souls straitened to them (9:118). The verse: Whether you make known what is in your souls or hide it, God will bring you to account for it (2:284) resounds in every cell of their brains, and they groan with utterances like: I wish my mother had not given birth to me! [4]

While it is difficult for everyone to achieve this degree of self-criticism, it is also difficult for those who do not do so [to be sure that they will be able] to live today better than yesterday, and tomorrow better than today. Those who are crushed between the wheels of time, whose present day is not better than the preceding one, cannot perform well their duties pertaining to the afterlife.

Constant self-criticism and self-reprimand show the perfection of one’s belief. Everyone who has planned his or her life to reach the horizon of a perfect, universal human being is conscious of this life and spends every moment of it struggling with himself or herself. Such a person demands a password or a visa from whatever occurs to his or her heart and mind. Self-control against the temptations of Satan or the excitement of temper are practiced, and words and actions are carefully watched. Self-criticism is constant, even for those acts that seem most sensible and acceptable. Evening reviews of words and actions during the day are the rule, as are morning resolutions to avoid sins. A believer knits the “lace of his or her life” with the “threads” of self-criticism and self-accusation. [5]

So long as a believer shows such loyalty and faithfulness to the Lord and lives in such humility, the doors of heaven will be thrown open and an invitation will be extended: Come, O faithful one. You have intimacy with Us. This is the station of intimacy. We have found you a faithful one. Every day he or she is honored with a new, heavenly journey in the spirit. It is God Himself Who swears by such a purified soul in: Nay, I swear by the self-accusing soul! (75:2).

[1] Translator’s Note: If one despairs (of Divine mercy) concerning his or her eternal life because of his or her sins, relief from Divine punishment is sought. Such a person then remembers and relies on past good deeds. However, this way is utterly inadequate, for only through Divine mercy can one be saved from God’s punishment and enter Paradise.

[2] Al-Bukhari, “Kusuf,” 2; Muslim, “Salat,” 112; Abu 'Isa Muhammad ibn 'Isa al-Tirmidhi, “Kusuf,” in Sunan, 4 vols. (Beirut, n.d.), 2. [3] Al-Tirmidhi, “Zuhd,” 9; Muhammad ibn Yazid al-Qazwini Ibn Maja, “Zuhd,” in Sunan, 2 vols. (Egypt, 1952), 19. [4] Muhammad Ibn Sa’d, Al Tabaqat al-Kubra, 8 vols. (Beirut, 1980), 3:360. [5] 7 In other words, all moments of one’s life are spent in self-criticism and con-stant awareness of what one says and does.

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imjeralee · 4 years

Text

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 17 - Leon with Flowers, Part 2

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell - here is chapter 17

Leon with Flowers

(Part 2)

…

["I don't know how to describe the places I was in today, the searing pain and torment of thousands and thousands of beings, myself with them, tortured to their breaking point and then beyond. I did not want to believe that regions of such unspeakable horror existed. I moved through layer after layer of anguish, descending into more and more primitive levels until eventually I reached a level I can only liken to hell itself. Excruciating pain. The suffering tears you apart until you've died a thousand times and can't die any more. Then you find a way to die some more."

- A Perinatal Interpretation of Frightening Near-Death Experiences: A Dialogue with Kenneth Ring, by Christopher M. Bache, Ph.D.]

…

It’s time for dinner and you are starving but unfortunately for you, Graves cannot cook even if his life depended on it and so he takes you to Bob’s Your Uncle in Circhester for a swanky three dollar fifty burger meal.

You stand beside Graves with your Rotom who continues struggling to get a signal; he isn't doing so well for some reason and you're beginning to think maybe he could be ill and a trip to the Pokemon centre might be needed.

Beside you, a father and daughter duo are ordering food at the counter adjacent to yours. The dad bears a striking resemblance to Rose and is extraordinarily loud as he orders from the menu whilst his daughter cringes and glances around, hoping no-one is staring at them.

Graves is unaffected.

“Yeah, she’ll have the, uh, Bob’s cheeseburger meal with the Bob shake-shake fries and a Bob soda. I’ll have a Bob’s triple cheeseburger with extra Bob special sauce, Bob large fries, a portion of Bob nuggets and the Bob spicy wings,” he says as he leans on the counter and stares up at the menu board that hangs off the ceiling; the lightbulb is about to give way and it crackles and fizzes weakly.

Is there anything here that isn’t ‘Bob’? you wonder to yourself as the cashier reiterates the order.

Even the toilet signs are labelled ‘Bobs’ and ‘Bobettes’.

The cashier punches the order in and Graves pays, then he grabs two Bob straws and some Bob napkins and Bob-BQ sauce. He tells you to search for a seat whilst he waits for the food.

You haven’t eaten at Bob’s Your Uncle since Sonia took you a year ago or so, and the food is yummy but greasy and mostly geared towards families and kids; you find a quiet seat away from a large family of six where the exhausted-looking parents deal with their screaming children who are playing with plastic Centiskorch figurines.

And Graves arrives in a few minutes with a large tray of food.

“Here we are,” he says, placing the tray down and rubbing his hands together as you glance at the two wrapped burgers, the fries, the nuggets and wings; he begins stripping the paper covers of the Bob straws and hands one to you, “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

He holds up two Centiskorch figurines wrapped in plastic. “They gave me these for free. One for you and one for me.”

Although it's been a while, Graves still treats you like a baby.

You want to decline but Graves hands you one and pockets his own, then picks up his large Bob burger, inspects it briefly before taking a large bite.

“How's your arm?” he grunts out.

"I'm fine. How was your talk with Rose?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, this is for you," Graves fumbles in his pockets before he pulls out an envelope for your taking, "I know you told me to look for the painting but we swept the entire area and found no painting made of human skin, hair and blood."

"Damn it. Rose hasn't contacted me for any follow-up nor has he mentioned anything regarding my payment."

"I covered it. You don't need to do a thing. I spoke to him about your contract and terms and conditions, also told him you're my goddaughter so we came to a mutual agreement. I managed to persuade Rose that he was being a bit too quick to penalise and you're still kids so you're bound to mess up and he agrees he's being harsh, so he says he understands your hard efforts and he says thank you for everything you've done, so he's forking out a bit more than what was on your contract. But I don't want you speaking to Rose anymore and he don't wanna talk to you either."

"I didn't mess up," you bark as you lift the flap and pull out a little piece of paper lodged inside. It's a cheque and the figure is huge. In fact, the sum is bigger than any case you've taken. Your eyes widen in their sockets at the extortionate amount and you gape at Graves.

"You did well," he says.

"This is hush money," you hiss, waving the cheque in the air.

"Just be glad you got some kind of compensation."

"What about Tanner and Cole?"

"They got paid too. The amount was less than yours, of course."

"Are you serious?! They got paid off too???" you exclaim. Graves merely blinks numbly and you growl in response, your fist curling tightly around the cheque, "I don't want it."

He narrows his eyes, puts down his burger and you know he's serious when the food is no longer his priority. Looking at you squarely in the eye, Graves jabs a finger at your direction and says, "Here's some advice: take the damn money."

"You don't understand-"

"No, I do understand. You're bitter and angry and you look like you're in the wrong. He used you and he's managed to shift it in his favour. He got away with it and I get how you're feeling, with the injustice of it all. But this is Chairman Rose of Macro Cosmos we're talking about and we have no proof of whatever shady business he was up to which you and I both know, and this is the best I could do. And I'm very sorry, but you need to accept it, okay?"

"But-"

"This is a life lesson. Learn from this."

".............Fine," you begrudgingly grunt under your breath after a prolonged and insufferable, tense bout of hesitation, and you angrily stuff the cheque into a random pocket of your bag and concentrate on devouring the rest of your meal.

The atmosphere has turned horrendous and as usual, it's because you and Graves are at odds some way or the other and an uneasy silence spawns between you and your godfather. Frustrated, you discover you may no longer have any appetite if you look at him any longer therefore you avert your gaze to the window where various passerbys with their Snoms and Bergmites brush past and Graves focuses ahead at the wall behind your head. Occasionally, he will clear his throat and grunt.

"I got a question," he suddenly says.

“What?”

“Are you dating Leon?”

You almost choke on a fry. “No.”

His expression scrunches with mild disbelief whilst you avert your glimpse to your lap and Graves raises a brow.

"I know that look. I know what that means," he says, but your lips remain sealed. "Alright, you don’t wanna tell me. That’s fine. It’s none of my business anyway. As long as you’re not doing drugs or smoking or whatever, I’m not going to pry.”

You suppose you can tell him, Graves being your godfather and all.

“Leon and I met in the Wild Area a while ago; this was before the Giant's Seat incident. He helped me with a case, and afterwards I warned him not to go near the Giant’s Seat due to the missing people. He somehow went there anyway and I saved him. He wanted to thank me so I had dinner at his house. I guess you can say it’s strictly business.”

“Business….?”

You nod. “Then I took Rose’s case and Leon came and-“

Graves waits for you to finish but you have frozen in your seat so he says, "And?”

“He came to save me,” you murmur, “That’s the first thing he did. He raced over to save me.”

He observes as a smile blooms on your face and you sigh. As you think about Leon, your smile widens.

"I know that look as well," Graves utters, brows raising a further time as he grabs a napkin and dabs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, it's about time you got yourself a boyfriend. And I'm damn relieved it's not that pal of yours, Jace. It's great that it's the Champion, I don't need to vet him."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a right to know and meet the boy you're dating. Your dad will be so worried-"

You and Graves blink at each other, before he sighs.

"You know, when you were unconscious, they said you called out for your parents a lot," he mutters, "I have a photo of them. I think you should have it.”

Placing his burger down, Graves wipes his greasy hands clean with a wet wipe before he pulls out his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and brings out a glossy print.

You take it off him after you settle your own burger down and wipe your hands. It’s a small photo of your mother and father sitting on a picnic mat with a baby bouncing on their laps. It’s you, and beside them are their pokemon: Ghastly and Sableye. You also spot a young Graves with a blonde-haired young woman to their left.

“Is that Ellen?” you ask, “your girlfriend?”

Graves raises a brow, surprised. “How’d you know?”

“I remember her.”

“I’m surprised you do.”

“I remember mum and dad mentioning her a few times. What happened to her?”

“She passed away."

“…I wasn’t aware. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“Car crash. It was a while ago, I've dealt with it.”

You wonder if this is Graves’ attempt to bond with you and your table grows quiet as Graves chews silently before he swallows down the rest of his burger.

“I don’t like to think about it,” he says when he’s finished, “…If she went to heaven or hell or not. I like to just think that she’s…well…that’s it. It’s over. You’re gone. There’s nothing. It’s…a simulation or something. I don’t like to think about what’s on the other side. I don’t want to think about returning to this earth. This is hell, I believe. This is punishment.”

Aware that you’re discussing with Graves about mortality and this is the most he’s spoken to you about the great beyond, you sit up properly in your seat for a change.

“There are accounts from those who experience NDE’s-“

“What’s that?”

“'Near Death Experience'.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, these accounts insinuate the existence of a heaven and hell. There are some who saw a light or experienced overwhelming peace, and then there are those who describe descending into an unending darkness and hearing the most inhumane noises known to man. And lastly, some saw nothing but darkness and a hoofed creature.”

“Good grief,” Graves chokes out, and he looks uncomfortable so you decide to stop.

“Try not to see it that way,” you add in an attempt to lighten the gloomy atmosphere, “life is too short. Make the most of it while you can.”

Graves wipes at his forehead with a clean napkin before he nods briefly. “Listen, kid, I’m sorry if you ever felt like I wasn’t there for you or if I didn’t do enough. I think about that night and I...I miss your father a lot. I miss your family. And I know you’re still mourning for them,” he says, “I know.”

"I-"

Rotom flies from your pocket and zooms into the air, grinning widely. "I'm baaaaaack! ZZzzzignal!!! Bzz bzz bzz! Zrttt! Oh my dayzzz, you've received five mezzagezzz and three mizzzzed callzzzz from Le-Le-Le-Leon!"

"Uh...Is your phone okay?"

"Yeah, he's just excited."

You grab Rotom and he allows you to check what Leon has sent you: he tells you he dropped by the hospital but you had left. He's been trying to reach you and he called Sonia but she doesn't know where you are either. You quickly type a reply, apologising for not being able to reply on time and that Graves had picked you up.

"Graves, can we go?" you ask, when you finish replying and Rotom moves to hover near your shoulder with a huge grin on his face.

Your godfather grunts under his breath. "Fine, let me finish the fries first..."

After dinner, it’s getting late and although you're desperate to go home, Graves asks if you want to stay over. Graves has a house in Wyndon and he does have a room for you should you ever decide to stay with him but you decline because you’re used to staying with Magnolia and Sonia. Regardless, he tells you the room is available for you should you ever need it.

He drives you to Wedgehurst, navigating his car over the bumpy road of Route 2 and he drops you off at the doorstep of the quaint house, parking the car beside the lawn; the front door subsequently opens upon your arrival and Magnolia comes hobbling out followed by Sonia, Poltea and Cutie.

You all share an embrace as Graves exits the car to open the boot to grab your possessions.

“Thank you, Inspector Graves,” Magnolia says as Graves waddles up with your bag slung over his shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” he says; he’s so tall he towers over your entire group.

“Would you like to stay for tea?”

“We already ate,” Graves says with a guffaw.

Everyone heads inside; Magnolia and Graves bring their conversation to the conservatory whilst Sonia helps you with your bag and you head upstairs together.

“You seem to be getting along better,” she comments as you climb the steps with the pokemon clinging to your shoulders.

“He’s trying his best,” you reply as Cutiefly nuzzles your cheek affectionately.

“Leon popped by earlier,” Sonia says, “He said he wasn't able to reach you and was dying to know if you were back home or not. When I said you weren’t, he left with Charizard. He looked really sad.”

"Yeah, I've had terrible signal problems all day," you reply, and Sonia raises a brow.

“I knew there was something going on between you,” she replies, before she flashes you a wide grin. “Don’t leave him hanging.”

“I already messaged him, Sonnie, don’t worry.”

Once you’re in your shared bedroom, Sonia plops down on her bed with a sigh and your shadow contorts in bizarre fashion; this can only mean one thing, and Gengar promptly emerges. He seems happier to be back home than in the hospital.

“Hey Gengar,” you say, whilst he swims around in the air, carefree. You rummage through your bag to find Mimikyu and Runerigus’ capsule and proceed to let them out.

Runerigus is the newest addition to your team and although you’re a little anxious to release him, Tanner has informed you he is a ‘chill guy’, which is a little odd to describe a pokemon but you take Tanner’s words to heart as the stone pokemon emerges before you.

You were under the impression that he would be quite a large and intimidating pokemon but he is in fact, shorter than Gengar who looms over it. From what you know about Runerigus, they're solitary pokemon who can live for many years and their bodies consist of the grey slabs pieced together by cursed shadow matter. Your team is growing bigger but nevertheless your pokemon gather round and Sonia leaps from the bed to stand behind you, peering over your shoulders.

“Oh, a Runerigus…Where’d you get him from?” she asks as Runerigus looks around his surroundings cautiously.

“From a painting made out of human skin, hair and blood,” you reply, and she shudders violently, “I heard he’s nice.”

“Okay….”

You focus on the pokemon and say, “Welcome,” as Runerigus exchanges glances between all of you, “I hope you like it here.”

Looking right and left with its single purple eye, it clasps its large hands together and nods. It appears to be trying to communicate as it continues shifting its gaze up and down until it spots Leon’s poster on your wall and appears stunned, glancing at his image. It shuffles over, its rocky body dragging against the floorboards and emitting sounds identical to a fork scraping on a plate; Sonia clamps her hands over her ears from the deafening noise.

It stops in front of Leon’s poster and turns to you, pointing at it eagerly.

“Ohh, I get it. You need something to haunt,” you say, and it nods fiercely. “Go ahead.”

It flaps its arms up and down energetically before it inspects Leon’s print from head to toe, then it proceeds to spring up and off the ground and dives for the poster; you and Sonia stare with widened eyes; instead of crashing into the wall, it dissolves inside and the poster ripples.

Leon’s eye, which was once a beautiful golden hue, converts to a brutal shade of violet.

“Are you sure about this?” Sonia asks, cocking her head and crossing her arms with her finger under her chin.

You nod as Runerigus looks around before his eye creases with content. “Yep. He looks right at home. I'm fine with that.”

“As long as he doesn’t peep on us whilst we’re changing, I’m fine too.” Sonia adds.

Runerigus rolls his single eye.

As the evening progresses, Runerigus returns to his capsule after hanging around in Leon's poster for a while, Graves bids farewell after he's chatted with the professor and returns home, Magnolia goes to sleep and Sonia asks if you want to go with her to attend some exclusive makeup event with Nessa that’s taking place in Hotel Ionia. You politely decline because you want to spend some time with your Pokemon.

Therefore, you are alone and left to your own devices and you haven't received any response from Leon yet and you don't know where he is or what he's up to. However, instead of waiting around like a lovesick Lillipup, you opt to be productive and since you’re no longer going to take on any cases for the time being, you make some edits to your homepage, outlining that you will go on a much needed hiatus.

You also begin packing away some of your tools, namely the Khira dagger and your talismans which you tuck away into a safety box that you keep under the bed.

With Graves’ photo, you place it inside the box where it joins a small stash of old, salvaged photographs.

One photograph depicts your parents on their wedding day and the other is the last photo you took together as a family: a trip to Dendemille Town with a rented RV. You rub your thumb gently over their smiling faces.

Another photograph contains yourself and Jace. Not only did you have a questionable hairstyle and fashion sense but you appear jaded with a timid smile whilst Jace is grinning and shaking your hand, marking the beginning of a long-lasting friendship. Considering how long you have been friends, it’s then you realise Jace isn’t exactly the best candidate to take over should anything happen to you and you will need to find someone else….but that’s a thought for another day, you suppose.

Next, you grab your old journal where you had detailed Ezra’s teachings and all the symbols and exorcism prayers he taught you. You flip through the notes you made on pronunciation, translations and all your trials and errors and your mistakes.

As you continue packing, you pull out your radio and dad's journal from your bag which you will continue to keep with you for now.

Although you're not going to take on any cases, you head to the Pokemon research lab with the pokemon to conduct some research on Mimikyu and her speech capabilities.

The walk doesn’t take long and recalling that people actively call you the Witch of Wedgehurst behind your back, it is uncomfortable to make eye contact with anyone along the way and you pull the hood over your head, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your garment and keep your head down.

Once you arrive, you unlock the door, head inside and meander to your work space.

As usual, your desk is rather dusty and your whiteboard is still in the same place where you had left it a while ago; the pictures of the missing gym challengers and the map of the Wild Area are still fastened over the surface.

Although you hesitate for a split second as you scrutinise their smiling faces, you quietly remove them and tidy the photos away in one of your drawers before you grab an eraser and scrub away your notes, bullet points and other various scribbles. Once the board is cleared, you use a black marker pen and on the newly cleaned space, write some letters of the alphabet on the whiteboard as large as you can and set up three chairs for the pokemon for your experiment.

Releasing them, Gengar and Mimikyu sit down whilst Runerigus hops up on the seat and his head almost hits one of the low-hanging lights which makes you grimace. Nevertheless, he clamps his hands together patiently and since he’s been under your care, he has been a rather docile pokemon despite living in a human skin slash hair portrait.

You glance at your pokemon one by one and smile. “Hi everyone, thanks for joining me today. We're not going to work on any cases for the time being so now that I have some downtime, I’d like to test your ability to speak. I’m aware Mimi can say a lot already, but I’d appreciate if everyone can join in.”

Everyone nods and you grab one of Magnolia’s wooden canes from the side, using it to tap the first letter which represents A.

“This is the letter ‘A’,” you pronounce it loud and clearly for them, “Mimi, I’d like you to go first. Repeat after me.”

“A,” says Mimi, with virtually no problem whatsoever.

“Good job,” you reply and Mimikyu giggles, wiggling two tendrils happily in the air.

Now it’s Gengar’s turn.

He struggles, clenching his teeth viciously before he grunts out, “Geng-ah.”

“Not bad. but try saying ‘ah’ first.”

”Ah-geng,” says Gengar, and Mimikyu lets out a snort of laughter.

“Runerigus?”

Everyone turns to the grudge pokemon next and Runerigus has been silent the entire time; however, you're amazed when he emits a rather high-pitched, grating shriek from somewhere.

“Screeeee……!!!”

You, Gengar and Mimikyu uncontrollably wince until he stops.

"Scree?"

“Interesting," you murmur under your breath, "And this is the letter ‘B’…Runerigus, do you want to have a go?"

“Screeeee……screeeee-eee-ee!!!” Runerigus shrieks wildly as he flaps his hands up and down. As though aware he is unable to properly pronounce, Runerigus blinks for a fraction for a second and tries again, “SCREEEEE!!!”

“Mi mi!!! Mi mi mi mimikyuu!” Mimikyu jumps up and down in her seat and rants heavily in response to Runerigus’ screeching, pointing her claws at him accusingly.

“Calm down, it’s not his fault,” you say, as tensions run high.

Poor thing, beads of sweat begin dotting the stone slab and so unfortunately, you agree he should stop.

It’s Gengar’s turn now, and he says, “Beng-ar.”

You take down notes in your journal, scribbling down how Runerigus has zero speech capabilities and Gengar can only say his species name with mild alterations despite possessing human teeth and a human tongue.

Mimikyu on the other hand, can pronounce the letters perfectly and proceeds to recite much of the alphabet with very little trouble. She tells you she learned some words when she watched TV whilst pretending to be some kid's toy. She smugly dances and happily twirls in her seat whilst Runerigus and Gengar are totally defeated and throws their limp gazes to the floor.

“Guys, it’s okay,” you try to cheer them up but they look at you sadly.

The pokemon are dejected despite your reassurance and a twang of guilt hits you in the gut until a gentle knock on the door captures your attention. Looking away from your unhappy pokemon, the door to the research lab squeaks open and a purple-haired young man enters the establishment with Charizard trailing after him.

You freeze on the spot and the atmosphere in the lab becomes intense in nanoseconds. Your heart jumps in your throat upon his arrival and he glances at his surroundings before his gaze lands on you as you stand limply by the whiteboard and once his golden eyes meets yours, you struggle with your breath as your cheeks grow warm, your gut clinching uncomfortably.

It's Leon.

He's here.

He's finally here.

You swallow down the growing lump in your throat as he carefully strides over with his hands behind his back.

He's in a new shirt. The muscles in his arms seem to bulge more than ever. His hair looks longer, more tame. Did he always smile at you like that? Did he always look at you like that? You are noticing these little things about him all of a sudden though you're unsure why.

“H-hi Leon,” you stutter out whilst you tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear that falls in front of your eyes, “What are you doing here?”

It’s happening. It’s happening all over again. The blushing, the stammering, the racing heart, the butterfrees dancing in the stomach. It shouldn't be happening, but it is.

And then you remember the almost-kiss.

As you fret on the spot, Leon says, “I-I came by the house but no-one came to the door so I...I thought I’d find you here.”

He's stammering too, his voice laced with nervousness.

It's not just you.

Leon anxiously steps closer, his light footsteps echoing audibly over the lab's pristine floor; he stops a short distance from you and shoots a quick glance at your pokemon in their little chairs in front of the whiteboard with all letters of the alphabet and chuckles, “What’s this? Pokemon School?”

“Um…Sort of. Mimi can speak human language so I wanted to test the others too...”

“That sounds interesting, how’s it going so far?”

“…S’okay,” is your timid reply as you clutch the cane to your chest with both hands and shift your gaze to the side.

He smiles warmly at you and as you dare to look up, your eyes meet for a second and simultaneously, you both look away. Whilst you hastily cast your glance to one of the bookshelves on the second floor, Leon throws his glimpse to a random potted plant in the corner.

Clearing his throat loudly, he stands with his hands gingerly placed behind his back. In fact, he’s been holding his hands behind his back the entire time. He appears to be puffing his chest out a little.

“I went to the hospital; I wanted to visit you but you weren’t there."

You nod. Your gazes meet but this time, you do your best not to look away and neither does he. “Yeah…I got discharged and Rotom couldn't get any signal until just there. Sorry.”

His expression lights up when he realises you do not look away and you witness him falter slightly on the spot under your piercing stare and he lets out a nervous-sounding laugh. "Ah, it's okay, there's no need to apologise. I took too long and couldn't find the time to go and see you. I should be the one apologising."

You shake your head.

There is another quiet moment between you two albeit not an uncomfortable one as you stand near one another, staring; Leon’s voice seems to have gone into hiding as you smile at him and his smile widens too before he murmurs, “I, uh…I wanted to give these to you."

He reveals his hands, slowly lifting them out and presenting a large bouquet of beautiful, multi-coloured flowers from behind his back.

Your eyes widen thoroughly; you were not expecting this at all.

Gengar gawks whilst Mimikyu blinks. Charizard wheezes and chortles and Runerigus flings glances between you and the Champion.

“Um, I….I hope you like them," he stutters, coughing into his fist briefly.

Leon has brought you flowers.

Choosing to lurk behind the plethora of florets, he does not see you gently reaching for the bouquet, and your fingers brush together accidentally; he stiffens all over as you wrap your hands firmly around the light pink cellophane wrapper before you gently lift it out of Leon’s grasp. He watches as your eyes sparkle with delight, the corner of your lips curling into a fond smile as you carefully run a finger over the petal of a delicate looking lilac flower.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur softly, “Thank you, Leon.”

His confidence fully restored by your words, Leon grins widely and he takes a small step forwards; however, he's also quick to change his mind, clearing his throat once more and returning to his previous spot. With freed hands, he removes his cap and cradles it gingerly in front of his chest, his messy hair sticking in all sorts of directions.

“I’m sorry, I would do this better if I knew how.”

"Do what?”

“Courting you."

You blink wide-eyed as your gazes lock together once again before you decide to bring the bouquet closer to you, covering as much of your face as you can behind the flowers.

“I didn’t know what you liked so I asked the florist for help,” he admits as he hides his lower face behind his cap, cheeks growing red.

You’re both hiding behind whatever you can get your hands on.

And he’s blushing again, which you think is cute but so are you; your face is also heating up uncontrollably.

“T-thank you, that’s very thoughtful,” you reply with a shaky but excited lilt embedded into your voice, “do you want to stay? I can make some tea….”

Leon’s expression dampens at once.

“………I can’t,” he almost groans aloud, “I have a busy night ahead.”

“Oh, well…maybe another time then.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“S-sure.”

“No problem.”

"Perhaps...you'd like to go camping with me again?"

"I'd love to."

"Great!"

"Just let me know when you're free."

"O-of course."

Once again, a sea of silence blankets the two of you until Charizard taps Leon on the shoulder and snorts loudly, his snout emitting short puffs of air. He jerks his head towards the door, growling.

“Right, I’d best be off now…I’ll see you,” Leon mutters, and you nod.

“Bye, Leon.”

“Goodbye.”

Leon returns his cap over his head, adjusting it properly; he stares intently at you and an immense bloom of joy swells within your chest as you clutch the flowers to yourself. Swept up by the longing depth of his gaze, you hide your face behind the flowers once again. Your cheeks are so hot, even the petals feel warm. He’s only forced to stop looking at you when Charizard taps him on his shoulder once more, indicating that they need to return to their duties.

"Goodnight," he says, with a widening grin.

"Goodnight."

Reluctantly, Leon turns away. As he makes his way to the exit, he will occasionally turn round and smile at you and Charizard will wave and you wave back; the flame pokemon waddles after his trainer and you watch as they both leave the lab, but not before Leon subjects you to one last look over his shoulder.

You’re finally able to breathe normally when the door closes behind them and Gengar and Mimikyu titter loudly in their seats whilst Runerigus slams his rocky tail against the floor with glee.

“Class dismissed,” you utter, and the pokemon are free to do as they please as you glance down at the bouquet in your hands.

Smiling, you lean down and take a quick whiff.

They smell heavenly.

...

#leon #dande #reader #reader insert #fanfic #fic #archive of our own #pkmn #pokemon #pokemon sword #pokemon shield #pokemon sword and shield #jeralee

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myhauntedsalem · 4 years

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The Most Haunted Mirrors in the World

Since 6000 BC, mirrors have been a common object found in most households. Apart from photographs, mirrors enable us to truly see what we look like from an outsider’s perspective. But what happens when a mirror shows you more than just your reflection?

What happens if a mirror shows you something frightening? Something you were never meant to see?

Over the last few centuries, people have started collecting mirrors not just for the sake of practicality, but for décor around their houses. And every once in a while, a person may stumble upon a mirror that could be considered haunted.

Often times someone will claim a mirror is haunted as a means of making profit off sites such as eBay. But occasionally, a person may come across a piece of glass that is really and truly haunted.

1. Twisting Inversions

Years ago, while at a cookout with his family, a gentleman named Juan heard a chilling tale of a haunted mirror from his cousin in Vercruz, Mexico.

One day, Juan’s cousin and a friend of his were shopping in an antiques store when he came across a large Victorian style mirror. The mirror was incredibly ornate, with a brushed silver frame. Juan’s cousin was drawn to it immediately and asked the shop owner how much it cost.

The shop owner told him the price, but seemed a little edgy afterward. He told Juan’s cousin that if he wished to purchase the mirror that he must make sure that it is always covered by a heavy cloth after the sun goes down.

Juan’s cousin found the man to be a bit quirky, but nevertheless promised that he would do as the owner bid. He purchased the mirror and drove it home in the back of his truck.

He arrived home in the early evening. After he found a space on the wall of his bedroom to hang it, he admired his reflection for a few minutes, then promptly covered it with a bedsheet. He felt a little silly doing so, but the shop owner had been so adamant…

Dusk approached. Juan’s cousin was relaxing on the couch when he began to hear a steady knocking sound as though someone was at the door. However, no one was there.

Puzzled, he wandered through the house, tracking the noise until he got to his bedroom. Chills ran down his spine as he realized that the knocking sound was coming from within the mirror. Slowly, he grabbed the bedsheet by the corners and pulled it off the mirror.

Inside the mirror was his reflection, but a reflection that moved entirely on its own. Juan’s cousin watched in horror as his mirror self slowly knocked on the glass surface, an eerie, leering smile on its face.

He moved to cover the mirror back up, but his reflection somehow managed to grab him, and attempted to pull him into the mirror itself. This surreal violence had Juan’s cousin paralyzed with fear. He fought to free himself, but his reflection was too strong. He was partially pulled into the mirror.

His fear escalated ten times over when he peered around. Within the mirror he saw his bedroom, but everything was inverted backwards. Juan’s cousin began to pray, and only then did he find the strength to free himself from the mirror.

He fell to the floor and immediately ran out of the house. He ran down the street to his friend’s house and stayed there until morning, too terrified to return to his home. When the sun rose, he and his friend grabbed the mirror and burned it in a raging bonfire.

Since destroying the evil mirror, everything has, thankfully, returned to normal.

2. Scratches in Oil

A young man who goes by the name of Nooko once discovered a mirror in an abandoned building not far from his house. The building was strewn with various trash and broken furniture, and it seemed that the only thing that was in perfect condition was a small, square mirror he had found up against the wall.

Nooko was studying art at the time, and had been interested in painting on a glass surface for some time. He brought the mirror home with him, thinking it would be his next canvas.

He laid out a brand-new tarp, and arranged his oil paints on the floor of his bedroom. For hours, he worked on the mirror, adding stroke after stroke until at last he was finished. On the mirror’s surface was a portrait of himself.

Happy with this work, Nooko carefully closed up his paints and crawled into bed shortly after midnight. The following morning, he opened his eyes and recalled what he had done before. Looking to the mirror, he was shocked to see that it had been altered over the course of the night. His portrait was still drying on the surface, but through his face was a series of long, deep scratch marks.

Had he somehow missed these marks when he first picked up the mirror? No, he had cleaned the surface before he had started painting. Puzzled, Nooko looked around his room, trying to discern what could have made the scratches. All of his supplies were in the exact place they had been when he had fallen asleep. He didn’t have any pets or siblings, and his parents would have never destroyed one of his pieces.

In addition to the scratch marks, Nooko also noticed substantial tears in the tarp. He searched his room thoroughly, but he could not come up with any possible theories as to what had caused such destruction.

He was scared. After the portrait finished drying, Nooko took the mirror and placed it in the shed in his backyard. It remains there to this day. Whenever Nooko needs supplies out of the shed, he always feels extremely uncomfortable, as though something foreign and malicious is present.

He hasn’t look at mirrors quite the same way since.

3. Victorian Evil

When Sotiris Charlambous and Joseph Birch found a large Victorian mirror in the dumpster outside of their London flat, they thought they had hit the jackpot. The antique mirror was quite beautiful, with a thick walnut border. They believed it would look great hung up over the radiator in their apartment.

But not long after they hung the mirror up, strange things began to occur to both of them. Sotiris found himself suddenly waking up in the middle of the night with stabbing pains shooting through his entire body. Joseph, usually a very happy twenty-year-old student, found himself feeling incredibly depressed and void of energy

At first, neither of them made any correlation between their mental and physical symptoms with the mirror. That is, until Sotiris decided to paint the walnut frame a bright silver. After that, their problems only escalated.

Joseph began to experience the same sharp pains that Sotiris felt during the middle of the night. Objects began to go missing, such as keys and documents.

And that’s when Joseph started noticing strange movement coming from the mirror. It began one day when he was alone in the flat. He had been walking down the hall towards his bedroom when he caught movement in the mirror’s reflection out of his periphery. Dark shadows seemed to flicker and move on the glass surface, even when Joseph stood completely still.

The two friends confronted their landlord about the mirror and soon discovered that it had once been his. When they asked if he wanted the mirror back, he quickly shook his head.

“I don’t want anything to do with that mirror,” the landlord said.

It wasn’t long after that the nightmares began. Joseph feared being in the apartment by himself—he was certain that something malevolent was there with him, draining him of his happiness and energy.

Sotiris began to theorize that something awful had happened in front of the mirror, and it had somehow managed to absorb the negative energy from the event. He became convinced that someone had once been murdered in front of its glass surface, and now the mirror brought nothing but discomfort and despair wherever it was.

When the radiator and landline phone mysteriously stopped working, the two friends begrudgingly realized that their troubles were only going to escalate. They decided to put the mirror on Ebay, with full disclosure as to what had been happening to them.

The mirror has since gone to the highest bidder, and the two friends are certain that a feeling of lightness and hope as flooded into their apartment once more. They hope that whoever has the mirror now is well trained in the paranormal and will not experience what they endured while the Victorian mirror was in their home.

4. A Family of Spirits

Most people who have a deep interest in the paranormal have heard about the infamous Myrtles Plantation in St. Francisville, Louisiana. Built in 1796, the house has become known as being one of the most haunted historical locations in the south.

But what some people may not realize is that within the haunted house lays a haunted mirror.

In the hallway, across from the large wooden staircase is a large, rectangular mirror with a gilded gold frame. The mirror has been within the house for well over two centuries, and many eerie stories have surfaced about it.

According to one story, Sara Bradford Woodruff, who lived in the house, along with her husband and children, during the 1820s haunts the house, and is said to be permanently trapped inside the mirror.

Tourists who take their picture in front of the mirror often find strange anomalies in their photographs—creepy looking shadows, or an array of orbs. Some people even claim that they have seen fingerprints and silvery apparitions standing on the staircase reflected within the mirror’s surface.

Some people believe the mirror shows nothing but ordinary reflections, but there are countless accounts of believers and skeptics alike who have seen something paranormal in its ancient surface.

Today, the Myrtles Plantation is open to tours and also serves as a Bed and Breakfast. If you decide to visit, be sure to have your photograph taken in front of the mirror. But be warned—you may not like what you see.

5. Into the Black

Greg Newkirk has always had a profound interest in the paranormal. Over the years, he began to research and track down various objects that others had deemed as haunted. Once Greg had collected a sufficient number of items, he, along with his wife Dana, formed the Traveling Museum of the Paranormal & Occult. Essentially, Greg and his wife travel around the country and display their supernatural finds for anyone who is curious.

A couple years ago, Greg was contacted by a young woman about a small mirror with black glass. The woman, who wanted to remain anonymous, stated that her mother had acquired the mirror during a psychic expo. Her daughter thought nothing of the purchase until her mother began to act very withdrawn and subdued. When the young woman confronted her mother, her mother claimed that it was the mirror’s doing… that it was inherently evil.

Skeptical, the young woman took the mirror home with her, concerned over her mother’s mental health. Despite not believing what her mother had said about the dark mirror, nevertheless she found herself feeling oddly uncomfortable and uneasy in her home. After a few short days, she contacted Greg and donated the mirror to the traveling museum.

At first, Greg kept his distance from the mirror—not because he was frightened by it, but because he didn’t want to be disappointed if nothing paranormal occurred. Often times, the museum has supposedly haunted objects donated to it, but nothing strange ever actually occurs. However, since it was newly acquired, Greg brought it along for their next tour.

One their first stop in Pennsylvania, a woman immediately picked up the mirror and gazed at her reflection. Within seconds, she had grown extremely pale and had set the mirror down, hastening to cover it up with a piece of cloth. When Greg asked her what she had seen, the woman replied that she had seen her own corpse in the mirror’s reflection. The woman then stated that the mirror was dark in nature and that she needed to go pray.

Confused but excited by such an account, Greg made it a point to carefully observe anyone else who grabbed the mirror. Some individuals only saw their reflection…but others had much more ghastly things to report.

Another woman in a different location also claimed to have seen her corpse. One man, a supposed diehard skeptic, stated that he had seen his reflection but that it had turned around and had walked completely out of the frame. Another woman claimed that when she looked at her reflection, her mirror image had begun to whisper ,despite the fact that the woman herself never once opened her mouth while gazing into the mirror.

Greg and his wife continue to tour with the dark mirror, but the paranormal enthusiast admits that he keeps the mirror covered when it resides in their home. He avoids looking at the mirror at all costs. The mirror itself seems to want to draw Greg in, but he has always resisted gazing into the glass surface head on. He has become convinced that whatever the mirror wants to show him, it will not be pleasant.

#The Most Haunted Mirrors in the World #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

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Down By The Lake - Part 5 (Final)

Summary: It was only meant to be a stolen moment between you and your lover Daehyun and ended with him framed for murdering your best friend. With the assistance of your aloof friend Inspector Bang, could you find the real culprit called The Pauper, in time to clear Daehyun’s name?

Pairing: Jung Daehyun x reader ft. Bang Yongguk

Genre: murder mystery / periodic au / horror-ish

Warnings: murder / death / dark content given the nature of the storyline

Down By The Lake will be shared daily at 10am NZST.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

When you opened your eyes, you expected to see the afterlife. And if seeing Daehyun’s face was the first thing you did when you woke up in heaven, then you were certain it had been worth it.

Until you realised heaven looked a lot like your chambers.

You were also not alone with the man you loved; instead, your room was full of many people. Groaning, you came to your senses as the pain settled in.

“This is not where I expected to be,” you croaked and Daehyun’s hand around yours tightened.

“This is exactly where you need to be,” he told you and you glanced at him before noting the look within your father’s face on the opposite side of the bed.

The elder shook his head tiredly. “You could have warned me. I almost lost the one person I hold the dearest.”

“My Lord, with all respect, would you have allowed Y/N to be the bait in the trap?” a deep voice enquired and angling your head around Daehyun’s, you spotted Yongguk sitting in a chair at the end of your bed. He had his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he perused a stack of reports. Finally, he glanced up and smiled warmly at you.

“Whilst I am certain my Lady has many questions as you all have comforting words to share,” Clare announced, ushering Daehyun up from his position beside you. She clapped her hands together loudly and even challenged your father with a stern look. “She is still a lady at best and one in which multiple men have spent a vast amount of time within the private quarters of. Now that you can see she has returned to us, I will ask of you all to leave at once.”

“But I have not-”

“She is my daughter and-”

“Very well, Y/N will bother me when she is ready to,” Yongguk finished, climbing to his feet and following the others forcibly being pushed to the exit.

You gave Clare a look and then sunk further into your bedding at her own harsh stare in return. You let out a heavy sigh. “Must I regain full health first?”

“That you must, my Lady.”

It was a week later when you were able to leave your bed. Aside from your father, who was graciously allowed to sit with you for an hour each afternoon, much to his chagrin and Clare’s reluctance, you had not seen either Yongguk or Daehyun since waking up.

And Yongguk was right; you had many questions to bother him with.

“I need to go out today, Clare.”

“You will not,” she ordered and you glowered at the lady maid.

“If I do not possess the knowledge I require by the end of today, I fear I will fall ill again from too much thinking. Will you accompany me or not?”

“I will, however, only to the parlour.”

“Why there?” you questioned as the woman smiled. “Clare, what are you holding privy from me?”

“Oh, you will soon see, my Lady.”

Walking slowly, and with the aide of Clare, you made it to the parlour room without much discomfort. Opening the doors, you gasped when you found what had been a space set up for conversation over cross stitch, now looked like an entirely different room. Two large tables sat in the middle of the room facing one another, stacked with reports and books.

And at either station sat your longest friend and your lover.

You reached to hold onto your head. “What on earth is this?”

“Our current headquarters,” Yongguk announced simply and you stepped into the room, Clare shutting the door behind you. Moving over to them, you came upon Yongguk’s table first. He was reading notes that contained rather graphic diagrams and you shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself. You definitely had endured your fair share of frightening experiences recently and were not ready for anything further.

Daehyun smiled at you weakly. “I suppose this is a sight you might have never expected.”

“It is, though it does perhaps answer one of my questions,” you replied softly, moving to see what was on Daehyun’s side. He also held similar files, though with a different case number. “You were never a stable hand by profession, were you?”

“I have been many a thing in my time, but I assure you, this is the role I am most capable in. I fancy your father may need to look further into the credentials of his employees after my less than stellar performance in the stables.”

Yongguk snorted. “At least you were incredibly equipped to have at least his daughter fooled.”

“Inspector,” Daehyun warned, and then grinned when Yongguk rolled his eyes. Daehyun then turned to you. “Say, would you like some fresh air?”

“Please, I have been trapped inside for too long.”

“Whatever happens out there, do ensure this time I am not needed for another re-enactment,” Yongguk warned and you bit your lip whilst Daehyun laughed heartily, ushering you to the doors that led out into the garden.

Once settled into your amble, you glanced up at Daehyun right as he went to speak.

“Y/N-”

“Daehyun-”

Sharing a gentle smile, you gestured for him to go first. He pocketed his hands and sighed. “I need to apologise and explain a lot.”

“Well, thankfully for me, my head has recovered faster than my side injury has, leaving me quite capable of listening to both.”

“I spend a lot of time undercover working for Inspector Bang. I have been a great deal of things and done even more than you can imagine. I was placed by your side for information. You attend the most events, as the only daughter and heiress to this family, and further, had the closest connections to everyone in the elitist scene. That was my primary role, to gather appropriate information to help with our investigation.”

“Yongguk knew it was someone within my circles?” Daehyun nodded and you closed your eyes. “Did he expect me to approach you as well?”

“He had not believed you would have any interest in me further than as an outside person to talk to. He knew of your past behaviour of going to the stables to let out your frustrations, however, that was all.”

“Did you plan for this?” you asked with your head down, unable to look him in the eye.

It would make sense, given his mission. You gave Daehyun an easy way in to garner your trust and potentially more information. With your apparent adoration for him, he could have gotten anything out of you had he worded it right. Though, as you thought over your time together before the night you were separated, most of it was conversation about yourselves and what a future between you would hold.

You couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. Was everything he shared with you just there to help the investigation along?

“I had not. Admittedly, I accepted willingly to grow closer with you, as it would help with our findings. Apart from being the worst stable hand, I was honest with you as much as I could be. There were times where I pleaded with Yongguk for me to leave. I grew vulnerable around you to the point I was worried I was in too deep to be effective to my role.”

“Should I believe this?” you wondered, continuing to walk on, stopping when you realised Daehyun had not. You examined his face, his expression uncertain. Returning to his side, you caught the first tear as it fell.

“Seeing you mere inches away from death frightened me beyond belief. I was willing to give up anything, even my own life if it meant you would stay earthbound.”

“You fool, I am still here so why are you crying?” you asked, feeling your own emotions rising behind your eyes.

Daehyun gave you a watery smile. “I am thankful you are still here. When we found your name on the top of the killer’s hit list right before Lucy’s death, I knew I would throw myself in the line of fire to save you.”

“Is that why you held me back from saving her?” you breathed and Daehyun shook his head.

“She was already dying and there was no way we could prevent it when we got there. I saw the angle he took. I did not want you to bear witness of her final moments like that.”

You nodded, gripping onto his shirt as you tried to settle your emotions. “Y/N, if I could have saved her, you know I would have, right?”

“I just wish we had been there sooner. I should have just asked to go for a stroll and not a swim.”

As you continued to talk over everything, you found that Daehyun had been taken away only to take refuge in Yongguk’s home. You stared up at him, speechless momentarily. “You mean when I was there…”

“I was in the adjacent room listening on.”

“Then you heard that I had held suspicions over you!”

He nodded. “I would have been surprised had you not.”

“As for the investigations Yongguk and I did?” you prompted and Daehyun sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“I, unfortunately, got spotted.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Yongguk saw me up in the tree watching on. You know, you were awfully close with him. Is there anything in the past between you both? I asked him many a time and yet he refused to answer.”

You smiled. “Then perhaps we should leave it like that.”

“Y/N!”

“I despaired over you!” you exclaimed, your frustrations mounting. “Here I was, wholly believing that I was saving your life and you were gallivanting around the countryside with us!”

“I would not go as far to stretch the truth and say I gallivanted,” Daehyun remarked and you let out a scoff, turning on your heel to walk away. “Now you just wait up a second!”

Daehyun caught you easily and you glowered in his direction. “And Yongguk! He must have had succumbed to fitful laughter with how ridiculous I was! I fear I will never be able to face him again with how mortified I am right now to be played by you both!”

“I very much so doubt that man can even laugh. I have yet to see him do such a thing in the past five years I have worked with him. Not even a chuckle!” Daehyun pointed out and you tried ever so hard not to fall trap to his amusing statement.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head, moving on with your complaints. “I was in danger and you both let it continue!”

“It was a risk, yes. However, you did agree.”

“Only because I believed you were framed!”

“Okay, so is this the part I get down on my knees in forgiveness?”

“You believe I could accept such a thing?” you wondered, looking away just in time as Daehyun dropped before you.

“It was a necessary evil and I do apologise for the grievances I have stricken you with,” he implored and you angled yourself ever so slightly to see his face. Daehyun reached out for your hand, gripping it fondly. “It was the most challenging time of my existence, I’ll have you know. I had to remain invisible in order to fool you and the killer. Even if I saw you most days, it felt as if I only did so from afar. I could do nothing for you and had to rely on others to protect you in my absence. I cannot explain how antagonising that was for me.”

“Did you know there was a separate killer?”

“We did have our suspicions. Yongguk knew I was out there waiting since Lord Wilsford had used the track to escape before and that was why he let you go with him.”

You gestured for Daehyun to get up, letting out a lengthy sigh before slipping your arms around his waist, surprising him. “I have a few requests, of course, if I am to accept your apology.”

Daehyun relished in your closeness, his arms embracing you snugly to him. He hummed for you to continue.

“Will you continue to be undercover?”

“Whilst it is a skill I possess, I do not believe it is something I will be asked to do often now.”

“Do I have to concern myself of you luring another woman if you have to return to such a task?” you continued and he pulled you back to arm’s length.

“You approached me first!”

Giving him a look, you began to repeat yourself. “Will you-”

“No, I will never. My heart belongs to only one person and I could never betray that love.”

You smiled, satisfied. “Will you leave me in the predicament that I currently am in?”

“Which is?”

“Well, I am in want of a husband. Is that a role you wish to obtain?”

Daehyun smiled, leaning into you. “You are positively a wicked creature. I was worried you were going to turn me away for good.”

“I merely asked for your assistance in making an honest woman out of me. My father believes we have-”

“No, he has been informed of the truth after a very intense approach on his behalf.” Daehyun laughed awkwardly, looking a little uncomfortable. “There was some time between your coming back to us, Y/N.”

You laughed, imagining the approach your father had taken. “Still, I shan’t wait for you forever. You will be busy with your new position and I may find someone else who takes my fancy. There will be a new stable hand-”

“Must I confess my endearment for you right now? In the most unprepared manner?”

“Whilst I would love to hear it all, I do wish to be courted properly.”

Leaning in to kiss you, Daehyun rested his forehead upon yours. “I will thank the Gods every day that you returned to me.”

“You told me I could not leave you yet.”

“Can I be selfish and ask that you never do until it is time for us both to see another world together?”

“Who else would I risk my life for?” you replied, leaning in to kiss Daehyun again. “My heart is yours.”

“And my soul will become one with you when we say I do.”

“I want to hear that right now.”

“We cannot have one nice moment, can we? Did you not just proclaim you want to be courted properly? That will require time and-”

You cut off Daehyun’s words with another kiss, smiling into the embrace as you did so. “This is a very nice moment, my love.”

“One of many, now that you are safe.”

“Safe? Why with you around I do wonder if that is a word I can use. I saw the case-studies you and Yongguk are working on. What kind of mischief are you going to get yourselves into next?!

Laughing, Daehyun nuzzled you with his nose and sighed. “I believe that anything with you has the ability to be much more frightening than those who I chase down.”

“Does it scare you?”

“On the contrary,” he murmured, holding your chin within his hand as he angled in for another kiss. “I am excited for what will happen next.”

_________________

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geeky-diary · 5 years

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Princess Justice: Part 2

After Princess Justice left, her presence still filled the room. No one could move, no one could speak, they could hardly breathe, fearing that she may come back and recant her mercy. Adrien found this situation to be ironic, as Princess Justice was just as breath-taking in her performance as Ladybug was, though for different reasons.

The first to break the empty void was Lila as a cruel, snide laugh protruded from her lips. The dread that had overcome Adrien had transformed into anger with the sound of the Italian girl’s laugh. How could she be laughing at a time like this? Was she actually happy about Marinette’s akumatization? Had she actually planned for Marinette to get akumatized? Questions about Lila’s allegiance and how malice she truly was started to invade his thoughts. He turned towards Lila, intending to interrogate her when Alya surged forward and slapped the Italian girl’s face.

“How could you? What has Marinette ever done for you to go and stab her in the back like this?” Alya screamed into Lila’s face. Adrien had a feeling that Alya was taking these recent developments pretty harshly. He couldn’t imagine the pain of watching your best friend succumb to despair and anger, unable to help and prevent the inevitable akumatization.

Lila’s laughter had died down, reaching for the spot where Alya’s hand had connected with her face. Her eyes hardened, glaring at everyone.

“You want to know why I did it? I did it because she was annoying, with her whole goodie-two-shoes act. Plus, she was always getting in my way so I had to get rid of her. Nothing more to it.”

Alya grabbed Lila by the front of her shirt and dragged the Italian girl out of the locker room, slamming the door behind her. Adrien was shocked that she hadn’t punched Lila after her crude remarks about her friend (he would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered it). Her entire body was trembling with rage and frustration. Air expelled from her lungs in quick, shallow breaths. He had never seen the Creole girl so distressed.

“You need to cool down Césaire,” Chloe said, finally allowing herself to speak since Marinette’s akumatization. She stood up from her spot on the ground and strutted towards the other girl, taking hold of her right shoulder in an attempt to stop her shaking. Then she turned towards Adrien and continued speaking, “And Adrikins you need to buck up as well. Honestly, you look like you’re about to puke.”

Alya snatched the blonde girl’s arm and pushed her away. “Why do you even care? You don’t even like Marinette!”

“You’re right, Dupian-Cheng’s not my favorite person to hang out with. But right now Hawkmoth has not only akumatized her, but is akumatizing everyone who is exuding any negative emotions. So while she might not be my favorite person, I know she wouldn’t be happy with the knowledge that anyone, let only her best friend, had been akumatized because of her.” Chloe retorted, crossing her arms over her midsection.

Realization sparked in the Creole girl’s hazel eyes. Then, taking a deep breath, she was able to steady herself again. “You’re right Chloe. Thank you.” She replied, her tone more sincere than she had ever used towards the other girl.

The blonde girl scoffed, her cheeks tinted in a light shade of red, “Of course I’m right, I’m always right. Besides Ladybug, along with my help as Queen Bee of course, will be able to change Dupian-Cheng back in no time.”

If Adrien had looked like he was about to puke before, he definitely felt he could hurl his lunch up now. With Marinette akumatized, there was no Ladybug to turn her back to normal. Sure, he as Chat Noir could possibly free her from her curse but he couldn’t purify the akuma without Ladybug. And at this point, he would be shocked if Hawkmoth didn’t already have the ladybug miraculous in his grasp, gleefully awaiting for the cat miraculous to be delivered. All he could really do was stop Princess Justice today. However, the akuma would then fly off and start creating an army of duplicates of Marinette’s akumatized self until she gave into her anger or sadness again. There wasn’t anything he could do to help fix the situation, he would only be delaying his defeat. What could he do? What should he do?

“Damn it!” Adrien shouted, striking the lockers with his curled up fist. His face fell into the grasps of his other hand. Was he really so useless without Ladybug by his side? No, there had to be something he could do to save her! But what?

“Adrikins, are you alright?” The blonde boy, momentarily pulling himself out of his torment, looked up to see both of the girls staring at him. Bewilderment was etched onto their faces, neither had expected him to have such an outburst. Having been so engrossed in his thoughts, he hadn’t even realized how frightening he must have been.

In order to calm them down, he gave one of his model smiles, saying, “Yeah Chloe, I’m alright. I’m just worried about Marinette, that’s all.”

It was a terrible lie, he knew, but what else could he say to cover for his actions. He just hoped that they would fall for it-

“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.” And Alya didn’t fall for it. He wasn’t that surprised. Her shocked expression had melted away to reveal the fierce gleam that she always got in her eyes when she was determined to get answers. “You are one of the most calm, level-headed people I know. And you bang on the lockers just now aligns more with a person who is mad rather than a person who is worried. So for you to get this mad over Marinette’s akumatization means that there is something you’re not telling us, so spill it.”

Adrien stood in contemplation for a minute, his green eyes never losing contact with Alya’s hazel ones. He didn't know what to say. He didn’t want to expose Marinette’s secret as it wasn’t his to tell. But he knew that any lie he told right now the Creole girl wouldn’t believe him. Conflict stirred within his gut and his heart, weighing what path he should take. Then he decided on a path. He only hoped that Marinette would forgive him.

“I don’t think Ladybug will be able to save the day this time.”

“Wh-why do you th-think that?” Alya was clearly startled by his response.

Adrien took a deep breath, “Because Marinette is Ladybug.”

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

Yeah, I did a part two!!!!!!!!! Sorry about taking so long to update, my life has been crazy busy lately and my computer screen got cracked so I wasn’t able to start writing this part out for a while. But I have decided I will continue this AU of mine.

For any people who are brand new, this is an AU based off of what would have happened is Natalie hadn’t started dying that I from @amazinglikely. Also, because you asked to be tagged in the update, I got you @inkshila.

If you haven’t already, please read Part 1.

Edit: Part 3 is now up!

Edit: Here’s Part 4

Edit: Part 5

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years

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Baby’s First Revenge Part Seven (Final)

Here it is, the last part to the Baby’s First Revenge story! I hope you guys enjoy it!

links to Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 can be found here.

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be here for you.” Charlotte grabbed Brandon’s hand in her own, smiling gently

“AND CUT! That’s a wrap!” Stepping closer, the director’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “That was fantastic, guys! Great job!”

Everyone in the cast and crew broke out in cheers, hugging and high-fiving each other as it spread that they had successfully filmed the last scene.

Charlotte and Brandon sighed with relief, their hands letting go as they grinned.

“Not too bad, Edith.” The boy chuckled. “Given a few more years of experience, you might even be as good of an actor as me one day.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Be still my beating heart.” Standing up, she started to walk away, looking for her parents.

“Hey, wait!” Brandon reached out, his hand hesitating and hanging in the air as if he had wanted to grab her arm to stop her, but changed his mind. Despite the pause, she heard him and stopped, staring at him with a curious expression.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… “ He swallowed uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “You really nailed this… I mean… It’s not even like you are Edith. It’s more like… Edith is like you.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. I mean, the character in the book was great, but you seem to make her a person, a real person with hopes and dreams. Until it seems like she’s more based off of you then you off of her.”

Charlotte smiled. “Maybe she is based off of me.”

“Funny. The book would have just been published around the time you were born.”

“You never know.”

“I guess, I just wish…” Brandon frowned, growing more uncomfortable. Looking frustrated at his pauses, Charlotte let out a long sigh.

“No offense, but get to the point.”

“Sorry. This is just going sound really stupid.” His face turned slightly red as he spoke. “I just wish that I could have done the same, and made the character Jordan real. I wish we could have been friends in real life like that, growing up together, looking out for each other, protecting each other.”

The smile slipped from Charlotte’s face, leaving a blank expression. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” A slightly distressed expression took the place of his previous embarrassed one. “I promised not to lie to you anymore, remember?”

“You want truth?” Charlotte’s voice was cold, almost unrecognizable. “Let me tell you the truth.”

Her hand reached out and grabbed the boy’s collar, pulling him closer.

“This story was based on true people. A little boy and girl. Growing up together, protecting each other. The ideal friendship you’re imagining.” She was whispering now, her eyes shining with a pain she couldn’t hide. “But that was a lie. She was the only one getting hurt to protect him, the only one who was trusting, helping, all while expecting nothing in return. The boy just took everything, giving nothing. And do you want to know what happened when he had taken all he could, and she was no longer useful?”

“… What?” Brandon’s voice cracked on the word. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear the rest of the story that was making tears form in his friend’s eyes. But he knew she needed to say it.

“He killed her.” A single tear tracked down her cheek, but she ignored it, never looking away from the boy’s frightened gaze. “He murdered her, and watched her die, a smile on his face.”

Charlotte released her grip on Brandon’s shirt, and stepped back.

“How do you know… ?” He trailed off, unsure of how to ask the question, afraid of the answer.

Charlotte walked off without a word.

“Great job, Sweetie!” Charlotte’s parents met up with her outside her dressing room. Her father swept her up into a big hug, a large smile on his face. “We’re so proud of you!”

“Thanks!” Charlotte hugged them both, enjoying the feeling of being with family. The conversation with Brandon just then had brought up the feelings of despair and regret from her previous life, and time with her parents was just what she needed to move past that.

“The director told us about the party to celebrate finishing filming tonight.” Her mom chimed in. “Do you want to go?”

Charlotte frowned. “That’s not something you typically invite kids to though, right?”

“Well, he said you would be more interested in the early half of the party, where there will be good food and a chance for everyone to tell you how wonderful you did. We can leave before your bedtime.”

Charlotte thought it over. “I guess that would be fine, as long as I don’t miss out on too much sleep.” She shrugged. “I need plenty of sleep if I’m going to grow up healthy.”

“…” Her parents passed a look between them and shook their heads.

“Remind me who the adult in this relationship is?”

Charlotte ignored her mother’s muttering, and looked up at her father, confused. “Wait, why are you off work today?”

Her parents had taken turns taking off of work to drive her to the studio, and today should have been her mother’s day.

“Well…” Her father looked slightly embarrassed. “I may have taken on a special… project at work.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “A project?”

“Tell her.” Her mother sighed.

“It’s not a big deal, just was sitting around with my coworkers, and happened to tell them about the terrible things the internet people had said about you…” He shrugged. “They were horrified, of course, and so we came up with a group project.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Your father and his coworkers have turned into a rabid dedicated PR team on the internet, promoting your movie and going after anyone spreading rumors about you. It’s basically a fan club.” Rolling her eyes, her mother continued. “Imagine my shock when I stopped by his workplace only to see a group of middle-aged men and women waving banners with your name on them, hunched over computer screens, celebrating catching Internet trolls.”

“…”

“Don’t worry sweetie.” Her father tapped a silver pin on his chest with a proud expression. “I’m the club president.”

“That… was not what I was worried about.”

“It’s okay.” Her mother whispered in Charlotte’s ear. “He’s just all fired up after those reporters cornered you in your dressing room the other day. He and his friends at work should calm down shortly.”

“What if…”

“Otherwise I’ll take care of it.” Her tone was final.

“Dad…” She smiled, looking up at the worried parent hovering over her. “You’re an idiot.”

“…”

“I love you!” She threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly.

“I love you too.” He hugged her back.

For the second time that day Charlotte cried.

This time�� they were tears of relief.

This life, this new life. It isn’t wasted. I have a family.

The party was in full swing by the time Charlotte and her family arrived.

“And here’s our star!” Mark Tuttle grinned and pointed at their entrance, leading everyone in a round of applause. Charlotte smiled at the director, waving her hand slightly until the attention turned away from her. Breathing a small sigh of relief, she was about to move towards the table with the drinks and appetizers on it, when she was stopped by Lacy.

“Charlotte!” The young woman shook her hand enthusiastically. “I was looking for you!”

Shaking her head slightly, Charlotte chuckled, taking her hand back. “Well you found me.”

“I wanted to talk to you! I’m the casting director for a new project, one that requires some talented child actors.”

Charlotte stepped back, shocked. “I’m not…”

“It’s obviously a very different project than ‘Searching for Silence.’ Less action and drama more of a fantasy adventure. But given your talents I know you could bring the film to a whole new level.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding something.” Charlotte held up her hand. “I was good in this movie because I fit the role well. That doesn’t make me a professional actress.”

“Really?” Lacy’s grin widened. “A five year old…”

“Five and three quarters.”

“…Almost six year old who can portray complicated emotions at the drop of a hat, including hatred, guilt, anger and grief?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re a freaking goldmine to any director.”

“I…”

“Just think about it.” Lacy patted her back. “Plus, you’d get to work with your friend.”

“Friend?”

“Brandon is being considered for one of the main roles as well! Wouldn’t that be great?!”

Charlottes gaze drifted over to the corner of the room, where Brandon was standing next to Peter, talking. Neither of them had a pleasant expression.

“Yeah…” her voice trailed off as a new unease took root in her chest. “Great.”

Brandon hadn’t planned on confronting Peter at this party.

He had just been standing nearby, pouring himself a cup of punch, when he heard the author complaining loudly.

“I know I wrote it, but I wish I had given the story a different ending.”

He gulped down the drink in his hand, slamming the cup on a nearby table with a frustrated expression. “What a stupid scene. Jordan and Edith getting along and having a happy ending!”

Brandon thought about the words Charlotte had said earlier, the pain in her eyes as she talked about how the boy Jordan had been based off of had murdered his friend. A sense of disgust took over him and he stepped closer before he had realized it.

“And how would you end it instead?” He interrupted, his sarcastic tone at odds with his innocent face. “Have Jordan betray the one person who has sacrificed everything to protect him? Now that’s a stupid ending!”

Peter’s face turned pale. “No one would want to live in the shadow of a girl like that forever. Perfect at everything she does. Mature, even as a child.” He snorted. “Anyone would snap eventually.”

Brandon thought about Charlotte. She was smart, talented, and much more mature than she should be for her age. He had always been used to being the center of attention, but whenever she was around, she outshined him. Should he resent her? Be jealous?

But then Brandon laughed. “No one is perfect, even if they seem like it.

And she wasn’t.

She was awkward at making friends, trying to talk about the weather and political climate with other five year olds. She tried to solve every problem by threatening it, and if that didn’t work by beating it up. She always jumped ahead without thought, without fear, never even considering the possibility of failure.

She wasn’t perfect.

“So, doesn’t change the fact that Jordan would be better off without Edith.” Peter argued back, a strange light in his eyes.

Brandon rolled his eyes. “Of course, who would want a dedicated friend who cares for you and supports you in everything you do?”

“Supports you in living in her shadow!”

“WHO CARES?!” Brandon threw up his hands. “Even if you’re in her shadow, at least you’re by her side! And if she’s stronger, smarter and faster… well I’ll just find the things that I can do, and help her the best I can. Because that’s what friends do!! They don’t worry about who’s better! They become better together!”

Peter’s expression grew cold. “You’re just a child.”

“And you’re an idiot.”

Brandon stomped away, not paying any attention to the threatening glare at his back.

“Here.” Brandon put a cup of punch on the table before Charlotte, who had been resting on the couch, lost in her thoughts. Her eyes flickered quickly towards him and then towards the drink on the table.

“What’s that?”

“It’s punch.”

“Why did you put it there?”

“So you can drink it?” Brandon shook his head. “And they told me you were smart.”

“Umm… thanks.” She reached out to grab the glass. “What were you talking to the author about?”

“Just stupid stuff.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

Charlotte stiffened, a memory from her previous life overwhelming her.

“Why are you grinning so much?” Charlotte asked, sitting down with a tired expression.

“Just stupid stuff.” Peter kept smiling, setting a coffee cup in front of her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Ugh. Thanks.” She took a sip of the coffee, making a face. “This tastes terrible! What did you do, make it with your feet?”

Peter scowled. “Sorry I’m not a world class barista.”

“I forgive you.” She chuckled, taking another sip with a wince. “If I wasn’t so tired and needed the caffeine…”

“You should get some rest. You’ve been working too hard.” The right words were coming out of Peter’s mouth, but something seemed… off.

Charlotte shook herself slightly, trying to focus on his question. “I can’t go to sleep yet. I need to check and see if there’s been a response from the publishers.” She grinned. “This book I wrote is pretty great, I think someone will buy it.”

“…” Peter stared at her silently. A headache started pounding at her temples. She took another drink of coffee, setting it down half-finished to rub her temples.

“What did you do today?”

He showed her a letter in his hand. Her head hurt worse, she had to struggle to read it.

It was a publishing offer.

Charlotte would have jumped up and cheered, thrilled to see a reward for all the late nights, all the hard work she had done. She would have given Peter a hug, thanking him for the terrible coffee again and the surprise of revealing the letter.

She would have…

There was just one problem.

The name on the letter was not hers.

Peter McAllen.

“You… you stole my book?” It was hard to talk, her lips were slightly numb.

Peter looked defensive.

“It wasn’t my fault!”

And so started the last argument she would ever have with him. The one that ended with her dying on the floor, while he looked on with a satisfied expression.

CRASH! The glass slipped through her fingers, splintering into multiple pieces as it hit the floor. Punch spilled out over her shoes, staining them red…

“Charlotte, are you okay?”

She looked over at the boy who reminded her of Peter, her face curled in a snarl. “Leave me alone!”

He stepped back, startled. He looked genuinely worried. Charlotte’s heart softened, and she was about to reach out and apologize, when her eyes caught on the broken glass at her feet.

Had she really been about to take a drink from a glass he had handed her? Was being poisoned once by someone she trusted not enough for her? Had she learned nothing?

Charlotte pushed past him, ignoring his hurt expression as she quickly found her parents.

“Take me home.”

Without asking questions they bundled her up and took her out. As she was being whisked away, she saw Brandon’s face.

Pain.

Confusion.

Fear.

Charlotte turned away, ignoring him, and let her father carry her out of the party.

Later that night, Charlotte sat on her bed, staring down at her hands. She felt slightly guilty at how she had left Brandon without a word, but it was hard to ignore the memories he sometimes invoked.

He’s not Peter. She told herself quietly, rocking in place. We’re friends.

Yes, but you thought Peter was your friend too, didn’t you, and look how that turned out. A awful voice in the back of her mind whispered back. Charlotte had no answer, and sat there silently, confused.

Tap, tap. A sound of something hitting her window.

Charlotte looked outside. There was a note taped to the window sill. Picking it up with trembling hands, she read the scrawl across the page, an all too familiar handwriting.

“I’ve taken your little friend. If you don’t want him to die then meet me at the secret base. Come alone.”

“Shit.” Charlotte whispered, the paper crumpling in her hand. “He knows.”

She always thought Peter might recognize her one day. They had grown up together, knew everything about each other. So many little signs, clues, only the fact that it seemed so impossible seemed to argue against him realizing the truth.

But he knew.

Otherwise why else would he tell her to meet him at the “secret base”? It was their secret growing up, an abandoned shed in the middle of nowhere, where they used to hide during the worst times growing up.

Straightening out the paper, she read it again, her eyes staying on the words “little friend.” Her stomach sank even further.

“Brandon.” She was surprised at the pain in her voice. Charlotte looked around her room with a defeated expression. All over the walls were pictures. Pictures of her smiling with her parents. Playing, laughing… living a new life.

She could lose everything. All the wonderful things she had gained by being reborn. Her childhood, her family, her home.

But she couldn’t let him die.

Silently she opened her window further, crawling out and running into the night. She didn’t hesitate, she knew this location better even then this house she was currently growing up in.

“Okay Peter.” She smiled , a humorless expression. “I’m coming home.”

“Charlotte.” His voice was the first thing she heard as she entered the shack.

“Peter.” She responded in kind, forcing herself not to react to the terrible seen in front of her. In the five years since she last saw this place, it hadn’t changed much. The sagging couching, the chipped tables. The barely functioning generator powering a small tv and a coffee maker. It looked exactly the same it had the day she died, in the very spot she was standing now.

Charlotte shivered, both from the cold draft and from fear.

Peter stood in the back, his eyes fanatical, staring at her with a triumphant expression. He held a terrified Brandon in front of him, who was too scared too move. He also held a gun to the young boy’s head.

“Let him go.” She spoke calmly, not wanting to startle him. “You want me, not him.”

“CHARLOTTE NO!” Brandon screamed out. “JUST RUN! I’LL BE OKAY!”

Peter started laughing, a disturbing sound that echoed through the cabin. Shaking his head slightly, he sighed, gesturing with the gun as he spoke.

“How cute. He’s actually trying to protect you. You of all people!” Peter snorted. “You and I both know you never needed anyone’s protection.”

“Let him go.”

“No.” He smiled. “He’s my insurance that you won’t do something stupid.”

“Seriously?” Charlotte spread her hands, sweating nervously as the gun swayed back and forth, keeping an aim on Brandon. “I’m five years old, how much damage could I do?”

His eyes narrowed. “Nice try. I might even believe you if you hadn’t shown off your skills with the stunt men. Besides, even if I hadn’t seen that… I know you’re perfectly capable of taking down me and anyone unlucky enough to go against you. I used to make money on you taking down guys twice your size in fights, remember?”

“Charlotte, what’s going on?” Brandon’s eyes darted between the two of them. “What’s he talking about?”

“Yes, Charlotte, why don’t you tell your little friend that despite his desperate attempts to be honest with you, you’ve been lying to him all along.”

“Peter…” Charlotte’s voice held a warning tone, but he ignored her, continue to talk.

“That you’re not the little five year old Charlotte that he thinks you are.” He laughed. “I can’t believe that you would actually play the part of the character based on yourself. ”

She watched carefully as he ranted, hoping for an opening.

“You’re the street trash Charlotte. The fighter Charlotte. The criminal Charlotte.”

“The Charlotte you murdered.” She whispered. “The Charlotte you poisoned when she trusted you.”

“MY CHARLOTTE!” His enraged scream filled the small cabin. “You deserved it! I did what I had to do!”

“Wait!” Brandon’s eyes widened. “That story you told me today, the one about the boy who betrayed and murdered the girl… YOU’RE that girl?! That means that he…” He trailed off, looking up at the man holding a gun to his head. “He betrayed you after you had spent your life helping him out, protecting him?”

“Showing off! Making me feel worthless!” Peter snapped back, but Brandon wasn’t listening.

“Oh no…” He turned pale. “The drink today, did you think… Plus, when we first met, you called me Peter.” He shook his head, his eyes sad. “Do I remind you of him?!”

“At first.” Charlotte admitted quietly. “Not anymore.”

“That’s a relief, I just...”

“SHUT UP!” Looking obviously frustrated at being ignored, Peter dug his gun into the boy’s head. “We’re getting off topic!”

“Hey! You’re ruining this important bonding moment in our friendship!” Brandon argued.

“I am holding the gun!”

“Still!”

“What do you want, Peter?” Charlotte interrupted. “I’m assuming you didn’t call me out in the middle of the night to tell Brandon that I reincarnated.”

“You are a perverse existence. A curse on my life.” Peter hissed, putting more pressure on the weapon in his hand. “I took care of you! You were supposed to stay dead! But you’re here, taking over my project from MY book!”

“That you stole.”

“And making me look like an idiot again!” He sighed. “I won’t do it. You have to be gotten rid of.”

Charlotte smiled at him. “Good. Let go of the kid and let’s try to kill each other.”

“I’m not that stupid. There’s your answer.” He looked down at the table in between them, and Charlotte’s breath left in a rush as she saw what he was looking at:

A coffee cup.

“No.” Her voice was filled with pain. “Not again.”

“Again.” He grinned. “We’re going to repeat the past, but this time, you’re going to stay dead.”

“Wait! What?!!” Brandon looked down at the cup, panicked. “Is that poison?! You can’t do that! Run away!”

“Oh, you little fool.” Peter tightened his grip on the boy. “I know her better than anyone else alive. She’s nearly unbeatable, but she had two weaknesses: First she was too trusting.” He shrugged. “My betrayal took care of that, but she still has the second weakness: She needs to save everyone.”

“…” Charlotte stared silently at her former friend.

“She has only known you for a short while, and she already can’t stand to let you get hurt. Not if she can save you.”

“NO!” Brandon started to scream, but Peter’s hand clamped down over his mouth.

“Now here’s the deal, Charlotte: You drink the poison, and I let the kid go. You don’t drink?” He tapped the gun against Brandon’s head. “Your friend dies.”

“You’ll never get away with that.” Her voice was flat, expressionless, her eyes never leaving the cup on the table.

“Probably. But he will still be dead, and you will never be able to live with yourself. Almost worth not killing you.”

“How do I know you’ll let him go?”

“You don’t.” His tone was cold. “But you absolutely know that if you don’t, he’ll die. It’s your only chance to save his life.”

“…” Charlotte reached out slowly, holding the cup between her hands. It was slightly warm, the weight unfamiliar to her. She hadn’t held a coffee cup since she had been reborn. Her head started to hurt, a phantom of a memory from a different life.

“Drink it.” Peter ordered, his eyes almost glowing in the dim light in the cabin. Brandon’s eyes were as wide as they could go, he desperately was trying to shake his head from side to side. Clearly he was trying to tell her to run, to save herself.

Charlotte smiled. She had definitely made a better friend in this life than her last. She looked down at the coffee, the bitter scent reminding her of her death, the anger, the frustration, the loneliness.

I don’t want to die.

She had a home in this life. Parents who loved her. A friend who would sacrifice himself to save her. She wasn’t the same Charlotte who died helpless on this floor, betrayed and alone.

She was more.

“OUCH!” Peter’s hand flew up, blood splashing through the air. Brandon had bit the hand covering his mouth, his teeth tearing through skin. Peter recovered quickly, regaining his composure and grabbing Brandon again to aim the gun at his head. His lapse had only lasted the briefest moment.

But it was enough.

CRASH!

The cup went flying through the air, striking Peter on the forehead as it left Charlotte’s hand at full speed. She lept forward, jumping on the table in front of him and kicking him in the chest, knocking him backwards. He tried to sit up again, but she had already grabbed the coffee mug, slamming it down on his throat. He choked falling back, his hands clutching his neck as he struggled to breathe. Charlotte knelt on his chest, her face grim, and reared backwards, her small fist clenched around the ceramic.

BAM

She broke his nose.

“That’s for kidnapping my friend.”

BAM

A tooth was knocked loose, flying through the air and rolling under a nearby chair.

“That’s for trying to poison me.”

BAM!

“And THAT’s for stealing my book and killing me in my last life.”

He was unconscious.

Charlotte found a rope in a chest nearby, and tied him up. She then began searching his pockets.

“What are you doing?”

She held up his cell phone. “Bingo.” She dialed a number.

“Hello? Me and my friend were kidnapped.” Her voice on the phone was a frantic sob, but her face stayed calm. “We knocked him out, but I don’t know how much longer we’ll stay safe! Please send help!”

She paused, listening.

“Yes, we know him, he’s working on the movie we’re in. His name is Peter McAllen.” She winked at Brandon. “He said I reminded him of a girl he knew growing up, and that he had stolen his book from her and poisoned her. He said because my name was Charlotte too that I was her reborn to curse him and wanted to kill me and my friend. Please send help! The address is…” She rattled off the address and then hung up, ignoring any attempts to keep her on the line.

Brandon shook his head. “You’re getting pretty good at this ‘acting’ thing.”

“Can you keep my secret?” She ignored his comment, asking the question anxiously instead.

Brandon smiled, grabbing her pinky finger with his own.

“What are friends for?”

They sat together on the front step outside, watching the stars and waiting patiently for the police to arrive. Charlotte couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“You know, I’m glad I got this second chance.” She stared up at the stars, slightly blurred through a vale of tears. “I thought I had a family in my first life… but I had nothing. This time, I have parents, friends… and that’s everything I could have ever wanted.”

“Plus you got revenge on the guy who killed you!” Brandon pushed the angry, gagged Peter who laid helpless on the ground in front of them with his foot. The man glared in return, but was ignored by the two children. “And you’re only five. What are you going to do now?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know… I hadn’t planned that far ahead.” She looked over. “Tell me about this new project you’re going to be acting in.”

“Did Lacy talk to you?!” Brandon looked excited, “You should try out for the part! Then we can keep working together and hanging out…” He trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

“I’d like that.” She smiled. “Acting was kind of fun.”

They both stayed silent after that, listening to the sounds of sirens in the distance. Charlotte let out a slow, sigh of relief.

She was alive.

And this time, she would live a life filled with friends and family.

This time, she would be happy.

#writing #baby's first revenge #story #part seven #violence #kidnapping #friends #familly #second life #reincarnation #second chance

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pinkykitten · 4 years

Text

The time in Summervale: 2

Warning: none

Specifics: y/n=your name, oc, oc fic, comedy, fluff, angst

People: athela (your mother), edward (your father), ruthy (maid), jakob (duke of linwyn), christopher (prince of linwyn)

Words: 3,560

Summary: In the fictional land of Summervale, 1700, you, the Duchess are made into an arranged marriage.This is the dream of your parents but certainty not the dream of a longing inventor like yourself. You are taught to be a lady but who wants to be a primp and proper lady when you can have fun and be yourself. You need to try to convince your parents this is not what you want or is it? How will it be seeing the Prince of Linwyn? Will you finally change your mind and side with your parents?

Authors Note: sorry if i havent posted in a while or posted this in a while ive just been very busy but im glad i found the time to write this cuz this is like my bby. i worked hard on this idea and the writing. i love how this is going the pace and everything lol this reminds me of the choice game. i hope u guys like this and im sorry if this sucks as always i got my inspiration from this story “the austrian suitor” by @headoverhiddles

“Come again I think I misheard you.” You gulped as you wish this was a nightmare and soon you would wake up.

“I think you heard me right. Today you are meeting your future husband. Prince Jakob, Duke of Linwyn. You met him before.”

“When? Wait that doesn’t even matter-”

“When you were about six years of age. I understand that was when you were a very young girl but you and him played for ages and you both looked so lovely together. This has been my dream ever since that day.”

“It may be your dream but not mine,” you muttered under your breath.

“Oh well please do speak up y/n you know I hate the mumbling.”

“I don’t even remember him! You never even asked me if this is what I wanted. Never got my input on the matter.”

“That is where you are wrong. I did too ask you. A few months ago during dinner I had asked you about him and you seemed to agree to the marriage.”

“Blast my stupid mind. Why must I always day dream?” You probably were thinking about inventions at the time of this conversation and did not remember it.

“Besides it is not your decision whether you marry or not and to whom you marry. It is your parents. That is how me and your father came together. It was an arranged marriage but as you can see me and your father are very happy and we love each other.”

“You two were the lucky ones. I know how this ends mother, and it is heart ache and despair. It is pain and sorrow. To put two people together that know nothing about each other is wrong. It will end in failure.”

“That is why your job as a woman and future wife is to make sure this marriage stays in place and lasts. You do what it takes.”

“So if this marriage fails it is my fault? And the whole world sees it that way?” You were flabbergasted to hear such horrid rules as a woman in royalty.

“Please sit my dear.” You did as your mother said and sat back in your vanity chair. “I know you are frightened as I was too but when you meet him you are going to never be apart. He is a good man and I know he is going to love you unconditionally.”

You felt like weeping right there. You didn’t want a husband. Maybe later but not in the prime of your life. You were still deciding on what purpose do you have in this life. It was too much. Your lips quivered, “mother I don’t want to get married. I do not know this person can’t you understand my side and let me choose who I want. Can’t you wait and let it be my decision. Please.”

Athela kissed your cheek, “I’m sorry but what’s done cannot be undone. He will be here any minute so please get ready. Ruthy make sure you cover those scars on her face, they are very ugly. Y/n, why have you not been using the creams I have given you?”

A tear fell down your cheek, you felt miserable. “I am not sure mother.” Your voice came out almost like a whisper.

“Well make sure you use it 3 times a day now that Prince Jakob is coming, we do not want him running away now.” She chuckled as she left your room.

You were used to this treatment and feeling unloved. You kept things bottled up inside never letting it spill. Your emotions were always hidden. You built a dam for your tears.

“My apologies your grace,” Ruthy said.

“I tried my hardest and did not succeed. That will forever be my greatest regret.” You stared at your reflection, hating what you saw. You were starting to feel disgust when you looked at your scars and bumps that littered your face. Not only that but you were hating what you were. You were being forced into something you did not want to do. You were letting yourself be dragged into this mess and you didn’t even put up a fight. This is your life, you were going to be stuck with a stranger for the rest of your life and there was nothing you could do. You - like many other times - hated your name and the royalty and wished it would all disappear.

“Why don’t I run you a bath? Maybe that will relax you a little,” Ruthy suggested.

As she was finished with that you got undressed and stepped inside. Goosebumps ghosted up your thighs, your stomach, breasts and arms. Even though you did enjoy a good bath it still didn’t make things any better. You sank yourself into the water, forgetting - just for a second - about all your worries. Ruthy washed out your hair and assisted you in getting dried. Again you sat on the vanity chair and Ruthy put powder all over your face adding extra to make sure everything was covered like your mother said. Your skin looked flawless and although you wished you looked like that it was not the truth.

“Now what to do with this hair?” Ruthy thought for a moment then snapped her fingers. “I have just the thing.” She brought back a diamond clip to scrunch up your hair. She put your hair up. Trying to cover the fact that a piece of your hair was shorter than the rest. “There we go. Good as new.”

“It looks beautiful Ruthy. Thank you.” You had wished Ruthy was doing your hair for maybe a cake ball or a convention about flowers but instead this was for meeting your future husband.

“Now, this is the dress her royal highness wanted you to wear.” Ruthy picked up a voluptuous dress that laid on your bed. It was silky and the color of baby pink. To your mother it was angelic, to you it was ghastly.

“Oh dear what an ugly looking dress.”

“Your Grace, maybe you should give it a try. Everything on you looks beautiful even if it is ugly.”

“Thank you Ruthy, you always know what to say about a terrible situation.” With the help of Ruthy you managed to slip the dress on. Everything was tight and in place. It looked as if you were to be married today.

You heard trotting of a horse and carriage nearby and you looked out your window. “Here they are.” You said in a monotone voice not even a little excited about your demise.

“Oh alright now remember your Grace to stand straight with your head held high! This is your moment to shine. You are going to remember this for the rest of your days!” Ruthy panicked but you can tell she was ecstatic for you. It seemed like this was for her rather than you. “Let us go!”

Ruthy walked out the room in a haste while you paused to take a look at your mixer on your desk. “You could of been my ticket out...”

“Y/n! Y/n! Where are you?” Edward, your father called out. His head looking every which way.

“I’m here father.” You walked behind Ruthy to finally greet your parents after the morning fiasco.

“Look at you my dear angel. How is your hair?”

“Well the mixer took one piece away but the rest is there.”

“Oh look at her Edward doesn’t she just look like a gem,” your mother gasped in awe. “I knew this dress would be perfect for this occasion.”

“I am very happy you all are having fun,” you said sarcastically.

“Aw cheer up dear,” Edward rubbed your cheek. “I hear this lad is very smart and a charmer. All the ladies fall for him.”

You rolled your eyes as the servants opened the door to your residence. It moved slowly because of its length. It was an enormous door that when closed sounded like thunder. It was a cream color with gold engraved in it. The large door opened and your parents walked with you in the middle.

“Smile or else,” Athela gritted through her teeth. She along with your father wore big smiles. You faked yours. Seeing the norm in this facade.

You all stood by the carriage awaiting.

“Are they ever going to come out?” You whispered in turn getting a slap on your arm from your mother.

The valet hopped out of the carriage and held onto the door but first he had to announce them. “Prince Jakob, Duke of Linwyn.” The valet opened the door and out came a tall, young man with brown hair. He came out of the carriage, buttoned his coat and looked up into your eyes. His eyes were light and looked so young and full of life. His lips were full as they formed into a smile. He had these boyish charms and a look of innocence yet sexuality. He was handsome! You were a bit taken back.

“See I told you he was cute,” Athela chuckled.

“Christopher Friss, Prince of Linwyn.”

“His father? I did not know his father was coming here too.”

“Of course. He needs to see if you are a good match for his son. Besides we have been friends with him forever.” Athela nodded her head forward.

Out came this taller man that was thicker in size. His hand that grasped onto the size of the carriage was big and had veins that were visible from working hard. His clothing style was impeccable. His hair was a light blonde but also with a hint of salt and pepper colors, slicked back and in a pony tail. His neck was thick like bark and his face was obviously older than his son. His strong, brown eyes looked at you and you were blown away. You could barely breathe and you didn’t know if this was from your corset or how he was looking at you. Your eyes widened and your lips were parted. You were bashful at seeing how handsome this man was. In that moment you wondered what his lips would feel like since you never kissed any one before. You were so innocent compared to him. He looked like he had been through war, he’s been through life, through the challenges. His tall body loomed over his son and the rest. You pushed back your hair as it became very hot in that moment. The Prince smiled as well. It was like floating on a cloud but then reality was setting in and you hated this moment. Your smile died and became a frown. In no way did you want this!

“Welcome, welcome old friends! You remember me and my wife?” Edward pointed to his wife. Jakob and Christopher greeted Athela. “And here is my daughter, Princess y/n, Duchess of Summervale.”

You took a step forward. “Hello your Grace, your Royal Highness. Please forgive me that I do not remember a lot of you two, but I hope we can make fond memories here.”

Jakob took a bow and kissed your hand, “pleasure to meet you after so long.”

“Welcome.”

Next came Christopher, the father. He was a tower compared to you. You had to look up to meet his eyes. Christopher took a bow and kissed your hand. It sent sparks coursing through your veins. He looked like a beast amongst you. You on the other hand looked like a little, fragile bird. You curtsied. “My, you have grown y/n.”

“Hopefully better but who knows,” you giggled at your own joke knowing you were much more prettier in the youth than now.

Christopher smiled, “you have grown into a beautiful young lady. Thank you for letting us into your home.”

You bit your lip as your eyes met the floor, too shy to greet his. He noticed this and his smile grew wider to something sincere.

“It is a great honor to have you here, Sir,” your voice sounded like a song to Christopher’s ears. A spark was sent off within him as well hearing you call him sir. It was your duty and his title but coming from you meant more to him. The time away from your mother and father was getting to become too long and the quiet seconds went away silent and very awkward.

“Y/n?” Your mother, Athela, called.

“Yes mother,” you twirled back to your place beside your two strict parents.

“Sweetheart,” Athela’s eyes kept going back and forth between Christopher’s, Jakob’s, and Edward’s. “Address our guests.”

Your father, Edward, grumbled, “yes, yes, yes. Please let us have lunch in the dining room.”

“We would gladly love that,” Jakob grinned whilst looking at you.

Athela made you stand by Jakob so you two lingered behind the group while the ‘adults’ talked.

“My, it really is a great pleasure to meet you after all these years.”

“Please Jakob my name is not my its y/n. Do remember who you are going to have lunch with,” you joked. Sending him into a fit of laughter.

“You have not changed one bit.”

“Sh*t! Do I still look like a 5 year old?”

Jakob’s eyes widened with you cursing. It was not in a duchess nature to curse.

“Please do not tell my mother, she would practically kill me.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

What you didn’t notice though was the way Christopher lit up with hearing you curse.

“I’m glad we have many days to be together. I want to know all about you.” Jakob played nervously with his fingers.

“I do not think so.”

“Of course I do. I want to know your hobbies. What makes you smile? What’s your favorite book? I want to know everything about you, I mean you are to be my wife. We should know our deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Oh dear you are not going to be amused with my answers. I am really normal and plain once you scrub off the whole duchess thing.” You passed the huge statue of your great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, phew. Passed the many, wide stairs that led to all the different types of rooms. Passed by the ginormous chandelier that looked like you grasped onto stars from the sky and planted them in your house. And walked onto the soft, dark red carpet leading into the dining room.

Jakob sat beside you while Christopher sat in front of you and your mother sat beside you while your father sat beside Christopher. He gave you a half smile as you sat. You were too busy looking at his perfect, handsome complexion you knocked the cup of water that was left for you. The coldness dripped down your dress and soaked it. You tried your napkin but it was soaked as well. Athela rolled her eyes at your clumsiness. You were terribly embarrassed!

“Here let me help you with that,” Jakob picked up your drenched napkin and started dabbing away at your dress. No one has touched you there before. Your face was becoming hot. You looked to see Christopher walking to the situation, angrily snatching the wet napkin from his son and giving you his dry, napkin.

“What was that about? I was only trying to help.”

Christopher glared at his son and with a low voice said, “you don’t ever touch her like that without her permission. She is a lady, you show her respect.”

You kept quiet and pretended you didn’t hear a thing. “Thank you,” you whispered to both men. Christopher handed you sweetly his cup of water.

“I am very sorry, your Royal Highness.” Edward said. “My daughter is very clumsy. Why this morning she was trying to-”

“Bread!” You yelled.

Everyone looked at you oddly but you were trying to dodge the morning fiasco.

People were eating, talking, getting down to business but all you wanted to do was think of a new invention. There has to be something out there that you could invent that could change someone’s life.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” Athela snapped her fingers to disrupt your day dreaming. “Tell them that one time you matched your best friend and that handsome very tall prince together. You were a match maker.”

“That was only one time mother. They were all over each other even before I suggested the thought of them being together.”

“But you still purposed it. Our daughter loves that stuff. Loves love and romance and marriage.”

You felt like shouting and disagreeing with your mother but what was done was done. You didn’t understand love since you didn’t truly feel it and you for one did not want to get married.

“Don’t you dear?”

You nodded as you played with your food.

“Tell them what you like, my love,” Athela tapped your shoulder.

With excitement running through your veins you almost squealed at that question, “oh where do I start! I love inven-”

Athela stomped on your toes and frowned at you. She hated when you talked about your love for inventing. She thought it was a waste of time and very unattractive.

Christopher looked worried as he knitted his brows.

“I love...makeup and beauty. My hobbies are shopping and buying,” you said with a drag.

“Oh my dear y/n you are just a doll,” Athela tapped your chin to sit up straight so as not to have a double chin.

“Jakob why don’t you tell duchess y/n about your love for traveling?” Christopher said while dabbing his mouth.

Jakob sipped his tea, “yes, indeed. My hobbies are traveling. I love going to different places, its like going to new worlds. Its so unique and inspiring others cultures.”

Your eyes lit up hearing his adventurous life style, wishing it was you. “Really? I never knew this. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been to Africa, China and many more. Every place I’ve been to has been so beautiful.”

“Wow.” You leaned your head against your palm. “What a life. I wish I could go.”

“Oh don’t be silly dear those places are so far away from here why would you want to leave?” Your mother wiped her mouth like a lady.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you one day,” Jakob whispered as he winked.

“And what about you, Sir. What do you like to do?” You raised your brow, asking Christopher.

“Me? I did not know you would be interested to know about an old man like me.”

“I want to know the most about both of you. You are our guest.”

“Well I enjoy books. I have a whole collection of books in my library.”

“Wait? You have a library? How big?” You were like a child in a candy shop.

“Bigger than a ship,” Christopher motioned closer to you.

“Oh my. Who is your favorite author?”

“Terry P. Whilliams, he wrote-”

“The Way of the World. I enjoyed the book so much and he is one of my favorite authors. He is just so-”

“Real.”

“And very truthful.” You clutched your dress.

“He wrote that passage that said how the sun and moon cannot live without each other. Without the sun there is no light, no morning. Without the moon there is no darkness, no night. He compared humans to that. Humans cannot live without each other. Humans love.”

You held your breath. Yes you read the passage but hearing it come out of his mouth made it so much more dramatic and moving. “Yes, I do remember that.”

Jakob scoffed, “boring! Sorry my father is such a bore.”

“Oh no he is very not that. I am a reader as well. I love reading about everything.”

“Remember what I told you,” Athela gritted through her teeth.

Christopher saw that and saw how sad your whole demeanor became. Your smile faded as well as your enthusiasm and you pardoned yourself quietly.

“I am excited for today’s masquerade ball. I haven’t been to one in a while and I feel as if I do need to let off some steam and enjoy the ambiance of,” Jakob inhaled, “my people.”

He was a party animal. Liked the setting, drinking, the ladies why of course, that was every young, single, mans dream and happy place. To you though it made you less attracted to him. You were an outsider, anti-social. Somebody who chose the comforts of her sad, pampered room rather than dance the night away with people who didn’t care about her.

“I’m glad, my dear.” Athela ate a piece of her salad. “You deserve it. Besides it is for you and y/n.”

“May I ask who will be attending?”

“A couple of y/n’s friends. Jamila-”

“Jamila will be going?” You asked.

Your mother nodded.

You wanted to shoot up from your seat. Jamila Hassan, Princess of Saad. She was your best friend. She was the only person you felt that understood you. She was like a sister to you.

“And also Lilo, Meera-”

You groaned hearing Meera. She was royal, snotty and spoiled. She loathed your guts. She was a hypocrite, and a liar. She was a terrible person. “Why mother-” You said no more when your mother glared at you again for what felt like the 50th time that evening. This ball was going to be way harder than you ever imagined.

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years

Text

No One Else Chapter 3: Turning Up The Heat

Source: @sherrykinss

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Read It On AO3

It takes three days, but the guy on trial is convicted. He gets two consecutive life sentences. It’s a stunning victory for the prosecution and it makes great headlines, which means that the DA, One PP, and a whole lot of people with “Chief” in their titles are happy. The big shots get to take a victory lap in front of the national press and the FBI, and they’re making the most of it. They find as many cameras as possible in time to make the evening news, and by five p.m. there are a lot of satisfied people around Foley Square. They take over Maxwell’s. Because it also happens to be a Friday, things get a little out of hand. Even Vanessa Hadid overindulges a little bit (to be fair, she hasn’t been sleeping or eating much, as usual for her during a trial) and Sonny finds himself standing in front of DA Jack McCoy’s table with Ms. Hadid’s arm around his neck. It’s uncomfortable in a number of ways, not least of which is that he’s a lot taller than she is, so his choices are to bend over or be strangled.

“This guy,” she enthuses to McCoy, planting a sloppy kiss on Sonny’s cheek. “He’s gonna be a star.”

McCoy is only marginally less uncomfortable than Sonny, but Sonny sees the comment register with him. “Well done, Mr. Carisi,” McCoy says.

Holy shit, the DA knows who I am! I can’t wait to tell Kate about this. He wonders again where Kate is, and hopes she’ll make the party. They’d decided to wait until the verdict came in for her promised post-trial visit, and she’s due any time. She didn’t know when she’d be able to leave the station, so the plan is for her to toss some clothes at Sonny’s apartment and meet him here.

Sonny sees Olivia Benson and Dean Porter through a break in the crowd. He wonders again whether there’s anything between them and has a split second to register their very friendly body language before the crowd blocks his view and Ms. Hadid drops an F-bomb. She’s not drunk enough to miss the looks on some faces at the DA’s table, so she mercifully lets go of Sonny to excuse herself to talk to someone across the room. Sonny excuses himself awkwardly and leaves the table, too.

He thinks he’ll say hello to Benson and Porter, so he’s making his way toward them when he spots Kate, just inside the door, looking helplessly around for a familiar face. Her hair is in a knot at the back of her neck and he really likes the way loose tendrils have escaped around her face. She looks so pretty standing there, he’s sure he would have noticed her even if she were a stranger. She’s wearing a casual dress made of some soft material in a muted green pattern he really likes, and he especially likes that the dress shows off her long legs and has an open neckline that is just slightly on the right side of appropriate. She sees him when he gets to within about ten feet of her, and slips around a group of people to meet him with a hug and a kiss. He wants to kiss her more, and he plans to, but first he wants to show her off.

Sonny leads Kate across the bar, which takes some time due to the raucous crowd, toward a table where some of his colleagues and a number of the support staff from his office are laughing and carrying on. Most of them are younger than Sonny and Kate are, but it’s clear they really like Sonny. He introduces Kate to everyone, a proprietary arm around her waist. When he gets to Mary Duderon, Kate tries to be as friendly as possible, making sure she knows that Kate recognizes her from their previous meeting. It doesn’t work. Mary minimally acknowledges her and doesn’t make eye contact. Kate sees a couple of guys standing close by exchange an amused look.

Sonny introduces Kate to them last, because they’re standing next to him, at the end of the circle of people he’s just introduced to Kate. She despairs of remembering any of their names, but these two guys she’s heard of, because they’re the guys with whom Sonny shares Mary as an assistant. The three of them have also bonded over the long hours and pressures of being fairly new ADAs.

Maurice Mikhail is the shorter of the two. He’s dark-skinned, but his ethnicity isn’t readily apparent from his looks or his name. His wide, open smile makes him look like a guy who is always looking for a laugh, and Kate thinks he looks just like Sonny’s description of him. Scott Lam looks a few years older than Maurice, and seems a bit more serious. His features have a definite Asian look, although he looks like he’s multiracial. He shakes Kate’s hand and looks into her eyes as he greets her. Somebody taught this guy nice manners, Kate thinks.

Sonny leaves Kate with Maurice and Scott and goes to get her a glass of wine. Maurice starts right in. He looks over his shoulder to see that everyone around the big table has resumed conversations among themselves. None of the individual conversations is discernable from the others in the din of the packed bar.

“So how do you know the Dude Ranch?” He asks, amusement all over his face as he tosses his head to indicate the table.

Kate knows he’s talking about Mary. Sonny has told her that, around the office, Mary’s surname has been turned into a nickname of sorts behind her back. Many of the more junior ADAs call her Sister Mary Dude Ranch, because she really does bear many of the stereotypical characteristics of the type of woman who used to be called a spinster, including the fact that she has several cats. But Kate is offended on Mary’s behalf and doesn’t appreciate the casual cruelty, especially toward a skilled woman whose job makes theirs possible.

“I beg your pardon?” She asks, her tone intentionally icy.

Scott breaks in. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an imbecile. He’s part of the DA’s program for special needs lawyers. What he means is, it seems like you know our assistant, Mary.”

Kate smiles at Scott, hoping that in some way, she’s sent a bit of a signal. “Oh, Mary. We met a couple of weeks ago. Sonny says she’s pretty good.”

Maurice elbows Scott in the side, and Kate revises her estimate of his age down a bit.

“She is. We appreciate her,” Scott says, ignoring Maurice.

They begin to ask Kate about her job, and their questions make it clear Sonny’s been talking about her. It’s also clear they have a lot of mistaken ideas learned from cop shows. They’re especially interested in Kate’s version of the story of how she and Sonny met. Sonny appears with drinks for himself and Kate just as Maurice is exclaiming, “I wouldn’t have thought Carisi had that kinda badassery in him.”

Kate is glad to see Sonny. She’s also glad to see a glass of alcohol with her name on it. Running into a gunfight to save Sonny made her less nervous than having to hold her own in a room full of strangers she wants to impress for his sake. Taking a healthy drink, she happens to glance over at the table of Sonny’s coworkers, and notices Mary glaring at her with an expression that reminds Kate of something. It takes her a second to realize that it’s the look on the face of a perp with a low opinion of women when she slaps the cuffs on. Kate shivers and turns away.

Sonny feels ten feet tall. He has just won his first big case – OK, he was only second chair, but still – and his bosses are pleased with him. His SVU squad is proud of him, too. He feels like he’s on his way, like he may have successfully made the transition to the DA’s office and, until this moment, he hadn’t realized how frightening that leap really had been. And then there’s Kate. He still can’t believe she’s here, back in his life, back in his plans, back in his arms. He hasn’t taken his arm from around her all night. Yes, he wants everyone to see his beautiful girlfriend. But it’s much more than that. It’s just so right that she should be here to celebrate this first big win with him. Having her by his side feels like… He can’t even explain it to himself. It’s like his life was VHS before, and now it’s Blu-ray. Or whatever comes after that. And he’s insanely proud when people recognize her name and comment on her reputation in the NYPD. It’s a very good night for Sonny Carisi.

They stay at Maxwell’s until after midnight, when the party has pretty much wound down.

Sonny and Kate flop down on his couch immediately upon finally making it to his apartment and pull off their shoes. They’ve been standing for hours, talking and celebrating and networking. They’re exhausted and, although they aren’t drunk, they have been steadily sipping drinks all night. For a few minutes, they just slouch, side by side, heads back on the cushions.

“That was… somethin’,” Sonny says. “I never saw so many mucky-mucks in my life.”

“No kiddin’. And they were all there to celebrate your win.”

Sonny chuckles skeptically. “A small cog in a big machine.”

“Bullshit. You were sitting right there at the prosecution table. You questioned - how many witness was it again? You’re a regular big deal, Baby. Get used to it.”

Sonny puts a hand on Kate’s thigh. “I loved havin’ you there tonight.”

Kate puts her hand over his and turns her head where it rests on the cushion to look at him. “I loved being introduced as your girlfriend.”

“Was that OK? I didn’t mean to get ahead of things…”

“I mean it, Sonny, I loved it. I wanna be your girlfriend. And I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“I already am, Katie. I’m yours.”

Sonny reaches for her and they don’t come up for air until quite some time later, when Kate has Sonny’s shirt open and untucked, and Sonny has Kate’s dress on the floor.

“Do you think you can stand any more good news today?” She asks, running her fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to get it back under some control. He is lying on top of her, looking down at her and playing with her hair, too.

“I dunno. It’s been –“ Sonny is on the point of making a joke when he has a thought. “Holy shit, Kate. Your transfer came through?”

“You’re making out with the newest Detective in Manhattan South Narcotics.”

For the next five minutes, Sonny stumbles through excited half-sentences, alternating with kisses and hugs, punctuated by excited shouts. He feels drunk in several ways, and finally has to sit up and hold his head in his hands, trying to assimilate all that has happened today. “This is too much. I feel like I’m havin’ a dream and I’m gonna wake up in the crib in the SVU squad room with midterms in a week.” He looks over at her. “And you in Brooklyn.”

“Nope. It’s all real. You’re a big shot and I’m a traitor to Brooklyn North. The guys stole everything that was in my locker and then filled it with paper from the shredder soaked in beer.”

Sonny laughed. “That’s cop love.”

“I know. I’m gonna miss them. But you’re worth it.”

“I’m gonna remind you of that when you’re in the middle of moving and I break something.”

The rest of the night is a happy blur. When they get to bed, Kate tells Sonny to lay back and spends what feels like hours touching, stroking, kissing, and licking him everywhere, all the while murmuring compliments and love. She gives him a spectacular climax, curling a finger inside him; Kate is the only woman he’s ever trusted enough to let her do that. Sonny has to smile at the memories evoked when he pulls her in to spoon with him and, together, they finger her to orgasm. It’s a compromise they made back in their Brooklyn days. She doesn’t always have to come; she likes the idea that sometimes she wears him out. It’s kind of a compliment, actually, if he can’t keep from falling asleep. But he has a thing about making sure she’s satisfied, too, and this way is quick and efficient, and they’re both happy. It takes him less than two minutes to fall asleep afterward.

*************

Sonny doesn’t find the picture of himself and Kate at Forlini’s. After a while, he forgets about it because Kate gives him a framed picture of them at Maxwell’s on the night of the verdict celebration. It’s a great picture, and it’s a reminder of one of the best nights of Sonny’s life. Unfortunately, it gets knocked off his desk and the glass gets broken. He assumes it was the cleaning people who broke it, and means to replace the glass, but just hasn’t gotten around to it yet. He has other pictures of them, too, as the desktop background and screen saver on his computer, so it’s not that big a deal.

Besides which, he has the real Kate, who will be moving to Manhattan this weekend. They’ve decided that “no pressure” includes not moving in together, at least not now. Neither of them really thinks they won’t be successful in picking up their relationship again, but it kinda makes sense. Besides, Kate was able to sublet a tiny studio apartment from a cop Sonny knows at SVU who’s just moved in with her girlfriend and has most of a year left on her lease. It’s more expensive than her one-bedroom in Brooklyn, but it’s not too bad, and she’s not expecting to be there much, if things go well with Sonny.

Sonny’s never been one to hide anything, and his friends at work don’t mind hearing about Kate’s impending arrival. Scott is married and his wife is expecting their first baby, so he’s kind of blasé about the whole thing, but Maurice thinks Sonny is the luckiest SOB on the planet. He sees Kate as somewhere between Wonder Woman and Beyoncé and, since hearing the story of how they met, has a little bit of hero worship going for Sonny, as well. The problem is Mary. Any time she hears Sonny talking about Kate, Sonny has to endure stony silence for the rest of the day. It’s annoying, but she does a good job, and Sonny doesn’t want to get her into trouble by complaining.

He did once try to talk to her about it. He asked her to have a seat in one of the chairs before his desk, closed the door, and sat on the edge of his desk, looking down at her. His intention was to be kind of fatherly, although she was at least his age. The look on her face as she gazed up at him was almost beatific, which made him even more uncomfortable that he had been to begin with. But when he began to explain that he’d noticed she sometimes became silent and standoffish with him – he’d decided not to mention Kate – she started to cry. He tried to console her while standing his ground. She looked at him with puppy eyes awash in tears and a trembling lip. He tried again, soft-pedaling as best he could. She wailed. He said maybe it was his imagination. She began to hyperventilate. He panicked, shoved a handful of tissues in her hand and began to apologize profusely and, in the end, promised that he, Sonny, would try to behave better in the future.

Sonny knows women. Sonny grew up with three sisters, and they’re all close. But for the life of him, he can’t figure out how to deal with Mary. So he doesn’t. Instead, he avoids talking about Kate when she’s likely to be around and tries to keep as much distance as he can. Which isn’t easy when Mary is in his office a hundred times a day, on one excuse or another, and brings him coffee and treats no matter how much he tries to discourage her. He tried telling her he was trying to cut down on caffeine. She brought him decaf. He told her he was trying to cut out sugar and carbs. She brought him horrible sugar- and carb-free treats he wasn’t even sure were actual food. But he had to eat them, because she checked. He saw her look in the trash to make sure he hadn’t just tossed anything. She is relentless. When he actually finds himself sprinkling crumbs on the napkin on his desk and going to another floor to throw a particularly horrible fruit bar in the trash, he gives in and casually mentions he’s back on caffeine, sugar, and carbs. It’s easier to just let her bring real coffee and real treats and just eat the damn things.

***********

Anything that can go wrong with Kate’s move does. For some reason, the moving truck company thinks she cancelled her reservation and doesn’t have another truck, which means she spends valuable time chasing down another available truck on no notice. The keys aren’t where the previous tenant left them, so she has to get a locksmith to make new keys. When she does finally get in, she’s hit with a terrible smell that comes from a dead rat under one of the windows. That is somewhat of a mystery, because the rat is well decomposed, but Sonny’s friend only vacated the apartment a few days before. Being so far behind schedule, however, Kate doesn’t have the luxury of time to worry about it. Especially since she has to get moved in before the sun goes down, because there is no electricity, and won’t be until at least the next day. Somehow, Con Ed is also under the impression that she cancelled her appointment.

A couple of Kate’s cop friends and their spouses help her and Sonny with the move, and they take it all in stride, which helps Kate stay calm. Besides, she and Sonny are pretty much delirious to finally be at this point. Neither of them has forgotten what it was like to be apart, aching for each other, trying without success to get over one another. There’s not much that can dim the joy of this day.

Kate finds herself staring at Sonny sometimes. He’s only gotten better looking over time. She decides she really likes the silver in his hair, and she’s captivated anew by his mouth – she’s always had a thing about his smile. He has the best smile she’s ever seen, and he’s smiling more than usual today. Sometimes he catches her looking at him with a sort of deer in the headlights expression, and it gets to him. She looks at him the way he feels about her.

They get Kate’s things moved and she takes them all out for pizza and beer. It’s been a good day, regardless of the problems. They laugh and drink to the future and it feels like Christmas morning. Sonny has a plan; he tells Kate he wants them to stay in her new place tonight. She looks at him like he’s lost his mind, but she can’t say no to him, especially today, and they go back to the little studio with no electricity, nothing unpacked, and the bed not even put together yet.

Earlier, Sonny put the box holding Kate’s bedding in one corner so he could find it again. He also took some candles out of a box marked “candles” and lined them up on the windowsill. Now, by candlelight, he pulls the mattress and box spring down from where they’re leaning against a wall and makes a nest of blankets and pillows. There, he makes love to Kate slowly and thoroughly by the light of one candle sitting nearby on the floor and it’s like electricity would only have gotten in the way of this perfect moment.

**********

It’s taken a while for Kate to get used to Manhattan South. They have a different way of doing some things, and she’s careful not to make any “that’s not the way we did it in Brooklyn” comments that will get her ostracized. Her partner is a good guy who seems to be happy enough to be partnered with her. He smooths some of the rough edges and teaches her what she needs to know without treating her like a moron. She thinks they’ll do well together.

She’s long since moved into her studio, small as it is, and for the most part she likes it. There are two things she’s not crazy about. First, she comes home sometimes to find dead things in there. Rats, mice, a snake once. And they’re always decomposed enough to smell. Which leads to the second thing. Someone comes into her studio when she’s not there. She’s almost sure of it. She doesn’t think there is any other way for the dead things to get in there; the apartment’s so small, she thinks she would have known they were there if they crawled in themselves. And things are just slightly off sometimes. A drawer messed up. Things moved on a shelf. A favorite picture of her and Sonny at Coney Island taken years before fallen to the floor and the glass broken. She spends more time at Sonny’s, however, than she does here, so she can’t be absolutely sure. So she doesn’t ask the Super to change the locks, or say anything to Sonny.

There’s not much that could make her regret the move, though. After three months in Manhattan, God knows she’s happy, and she thinks Sonny is, too.

She’s right about that. Sonny’s starting to wonder how long he should wait before he asks her to move in with him, or whether he should ask her to marry him first, or how this should go. He remembers their “no pressure” agreement, and he doesn’t feel pressured by Kate at all. But the agreement goes both ways, and he doesn’t want to pressure her, either. His sister Gina counsels patience. She says to wait until it’s been at least six months. She also gives him shit about being like a puppy when it comes to Kate, but it’s all just sibling teasing. All of the Carisis are glad to have Kate back.

Sonny feels like, even as hard as he’s working, his life couldn’t be better. Ms. Hadid is letting him handle arraignments and even motions now. From the beginning, she’s deferred to him when it comes to questioning defendants. She knows talent and experience when she sees it. He’s looking forward to sitting first chair at his first trial, which will necessarily have to be something small, but it’ll be huge to him.

The one dark spot continues to be Mary. She’s become overtly flirtatious now, in a way. She never calls him “Sonny” anymore. Now he’s “Sweetie” or “Honey” or “My Dear.” It’s totally inappropriate, but in every other way, she does a great job. It’s time to have another talk with her. It’s past time, actually, but he dreads it. He’s sure it will end up like the last time, but it has to be done. Between the treats and the nicknames and the fawning, if he doesn’t address it, he’s complicit or, worse, leading her on.

He chooses a Friday afternoon, because that way if she gets upset, she can go straight home and have time to recover. He says a prayer to St. Michael the Archangel as he’s waiting for her. A conversation with his assistant shouldn’t require him to ask a sword-wielding seraph to defend him in battle, but it does.

Mary walks into his office. Her pink dress is a bit oversize, like all her clothes, and does her figure no favors. She’s smiling the smile Sonny’s come to think of as creepy and she stands leaning against the front of his desk expectantly.

“Go ahead and have a seat, Mary,” Sonny says, getting up and closing the door. She watches his every move, her hopeful simper maybe burning just a bit brighter at the idea of being alone with him behind closed doors.

“You said you wanted to talk to me. What is it, sweetie?”

Sonny goes to sit back behind his desk. “Well, um… that’s just it. You and I are colleagues in a professional environment, and it’s important to behave that way. So I wanted to ask you to call me Sonny, not anything else, like sweetie, or honey.”

Tears well in her eyes and she goes first pale, then bright red and blotchy. “Don’t you like me?”

That question is wrong in so many ways, Sonny shouldn’t be prepared for it. But he is. He has actually role-played this conversation with Kate. They covered this precise question.

“Mary, I think you are very good at your job, and I appreciate working with you. I have no complaints at all, except that I would like you to stick to calling me Sonny.”

“But we’re friends, right?”

Another question he’s practiced. “We’re friends and professional coworkers. That’s how we should treat each other.”

“It’s that Kate, isn’t it? She’s jealous of us.” This one they didn’t practice. Sonny would not have foreseen the sudden venom in Mary’s expression and her voice. Her brown eyes were swimming in tears a moment ago, but now they’re narrowed and her lip is actually curled. Out of reflex, Sonny moves his hand to his holster which, of course, isn’t there anymore.

Right away, he recognizes that as the overreaction it was, and tries to take a deep breath and return to the script. “We’re talking about you and me here, Mary. The way you and I treat each other here in the office. All I’m asking is that you don’t call me anything except my name. OK? That’s it.”

The venom is gone as fast as it came, and now it’s time for tears. Tissues have been prepositioned on the edge of Sonny’s desk for just this purpose, and Sonny and Kate have decided that not reacting to the tears is the way to go.

“Sonny, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I’d never do that. I just really like you, and I like working for you, and I thought you liked me back.”

“I like you just fine, Mary. I’m just asking for this one thing. One professional to another.”

“Is that all we are to each other? After everything I’ve done for you?”

Sonny thinks about that robot in that old show that used to flail its arms and yell, “Danger, Will Robinson!” He had actually done that, sitting on his bed in his boxers, role-playing this conversation with Kate, who was wearing the shirt he’d taken off to go to bed. Kate had actually predicted this, word for word.

“We’re coworkers. I think we have a good working relationship. All I’m asking for is to be called by my name.”

She’s in full weeping mode now, having helped herself to the tissues placed before her. Sonny braces for hyperventilation, like last time. But instead, Mary does something that really creeps him out. She pulls herself together. After about three minutes of eye wiping and nose blowing, she looks at him with eyes that are red-rimmed, but calm. Still, there’s something there… The detective in Sonny wouldn’t trust a perp who looked at him like this. She’s angry. He’s sure of it.

“I understand. Maybe I shouldn’t call you by your first name at all. I know some of the assistants use ‘Mister’ or ‘Ms.’ I could do that for you.”

“Sonny is fine. I’m not a ‘mister’ kind of guy.”

“All right. Is there anything else?”

“No, that was it. I’m sorry you’re upset. I just want us to be appropriate and professional. That’s all.”

Mary gets up and leaves, that unnatural calm still pulled over her like a camouflage tarp. Sonny shivers.

***********

When Kate finishes her shift on Sunday night, her partner drops her off at Sonny’s office. Tom Hensler is a dedicated cop who enjoys ribbing Kate about dating an ADA, given the continual strain between the NYPD and the DA’s office over cases and evidence. In truth, however, he and Sonny actually get along well. Tom and his wife, Kelly, have been out together with Sonny and Kate a few times in the months that Kate and Tom have been partners, and they all have quite a bit in common. Kelly is a police dispatcher and mother of their three-year-old twins - little boys who, since meeting Sonny, constantly ask their parents when Sonny can come back to play with them.

Sonny is waiting just inside the building, having finished the work he’s come in to do and ready to go home. He gives Kate a smile that lights up her world and they begin to walk together to Kate’s apartment, enjoying the nice evening and just being together. Upon reaching Kate’s building, they can immediately smell something when they come in the front door. There’s no smoke, but it’s definitely a burning smell.

“Should we call the Fire Department?” Kate asks, concerned.

“There’s no smoke,” Sonny answers. “Let’s go talk to the Super.”

They knock on the door of one of the apartments on the ground floor, which is almost immediately opened by a thin, white-haired man in his sixties, looking as though he’s had a long day. “Oh, there you are. Let’s go take a look,” he says.

“Did something happen?” Kate asks, trading surprised looks with Sonny.

“You could say that. C’mon, let’s go.” The Building Superintendent steps out, yells back into his apartment, apparently to his wife, that he’s going upstairs, and closes the door. He leads the way down the hall to the stairs.

Sonny and Kate exchange another look. “Where are we going?” Kate queries, a bad feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

“Your place.”

“Shit.”

The door of Kate’s third-floor apartment is open and fans are blowing out the window, although it’s a cool night.

“We hadda get rid a’ all the smoke, so I hadda put fans in here, I hope ya’ don’t mind,” the Super explains, leading the way into Kate’s small studio, where a charred, series of bent springs and other unidentifiable debris fills a hole that comprises about half the mattress.

“What happened?” Kate shrieks. Sonny immediately begins looking around the room as though at a crime scene.

“I dunno. Weirdest thing. The fire alarm never went off. Abe Taylor across the hall smelled smoke, and he came out and saw it was comin’ from under your door. So he ran down to get me, and I ran up here with a fire extinguisher. But here’s the really strange part. The fire was already out before I got in. It looked like somebody put it out, everything’s all soaked.

“What’d the fire department say?” Sonny asks, in full cop mode now.

“Nothin’. We didn’t call ‘em. It was out. I tried to call you, Kate, but you didn’t answer.”

“That’s right! I’m sorry, I got your call, but I was in a briefing, and I actually forgot about it until right now. This is no accident. I’m calling the Fire Department.”

Sonny nods and starts asking questions of the Super as though he’s just naturally fallen back into detective mode. The Super has asked the other people on the third floor, but no one has seen or heard anything, and no one has seen a stranger in the building.

“They’re on their way. They’re bringing the whole show, I’m afraid. I couldn’t talk them out of it,” Kate says.

Half an hour later, the street is full of fire equipment and flashing lights, surrounded by onlookers who don’t stay long when they see there was no flame. Not even any smoke. Just a burned smell and a lot of people standing around.

Kate is rattled. She’s unflappable at work, but this is her home, and it feels like an attack. Sonny stays at her side, always touching her in some way – holding her hand or with an arm around her, sometimes just putting a hand on her back. She answers all the questions she can, but she really doesn’t know anything because she wasn’t there. There is one question, however, that both she and Sonny can answer. Neither wants to, but the answer is fairly obvious.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to do something like this to you?” The arson investigator asks, taking notes in a little notebook that Kate notices is covered with smudges that she assumes are ash.

Kate looks at Sonny, who looks back with an equally troubled expression.

“I think we do,” Sonny says to Kate.

“We don’t have any proof. We don’t know it’s her,” Kate replies.

“Tell me,” the investigator says. So they do.

Somewhere during their explanation of what’s been happening with Mary Duderon, one of the inspector’s technicians comes down the front stairs of Kate’s building, a bag filled with what looks like charred sticks in her hand. She holds the bag out to the inspector, who squints at it.

“Picture frame,” he says.

When he says that, Kate sees unburnt edges of the sticks, suddenly recognizing the sticks as being from the frame around the picture of her and Sonny at Coney Island. She feels sick.

“It’s taking some time to separate out, but it looks like there are two or three more. Looks like there were pictures in frames on the bed while it was burning,” the technician says.

Kate looks at Sonny. They both know there are, or were, a few framed photos of them scattered around Kate’s apartment, including a copy of the picture of them at Maxwell’s hung on a wall.

“Can I go look? I think they could all be pictures of the two of us,” Kate says, her voice weak. She doesn’t realize how tightly she’s holding Sonny’s hand, and he doesn’t mention it.

“Why don’t you let me do it?” He asks, wanting to spare her if he can. “I’ve probably been here almost as much as you have. I know what was there.”

“You can both go up,” the arson inspector says. “I want to know exactly what’s missing.”

Two framed pictures, one of Kate with her family and one of Kate and Ahmad Washington and the rest of her Narcotics squad in Brooklyn, still sit on a windowsill, untouched.

What’s missing is every picture of Sonny and Kate that was displayed in the apartment. All of them have been piled on the bed and set on fire.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #sonny carisi #peter scanavino #ADA Dominick Carisi Jr #ADA Carisi

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tk-writer · 6 years

Text

A Ticklish Situation. - a DR2 tickle fic

*WARNING: Contains Danganronpa 2 spoilers. Read at your own risk.*

~~~

Mahiru woke up that morning with a pit in her stomach.

After the previous days’ events, it wasn’t a surprise. The sight of Byakuya’s bloodied corpse was still fresh in everyone’s minds. Along with Teruteru’s nightmarish execution at the hands (paws?) of Monokuma.

Mahiru shuddered at the thought and quickly tried to put it out of her mind. She looked at the clock next to her bungalow bed. It was 5:30 am.

So much for getting a good night’s rest, she thought to herself.

Another image popped in her mind: Nagito in the old lodge. The previous day, he had been knocked out and tied up by Kazuichi and Nekomaru after attempting to sabotage the first-class trial. Some of the students had been assigned to check on him and provide him with meals. After all, they weren’t trying to kill him, just make sure that he didn’t mess with anyone else and cause other murders to happen.

Today was Mahiru’s turn. She was supposed to bring him breakfast, and presumably feed him, since his hands were tied.

She figured she might as well get it done early before everyone else woke up. This might help her avoid the shame and embarrassment that comes with a girl feeding a boy. She was nervous at the idea of being alone with Nagito, but knowing he was unable to move help to ease her nerves. In fact, the idea kind of aroused her in a way…

~~~

Mahiru approached the old lodge with a tray of rice and fruit. Seeing the decrepit building sent chills down her spine. She remembered the fresh blood on the floor, the darkness of the room after the power outage, the screams upon the realization of what happened…

Enough! She gave herself a mental slap in the face. If I keep thinking about it, it’s just going to make it worse…

She entered the lodge and found Nagito sleeping peacefully. How he could rest in such an uncomfortable predicament was beyond her.

Nagito was quite vulnerable in his current position. His hands were chained behind his back with no give whatsoever. His legs were tied with rope from ankles to knees, making standing up on his own impossible. He was pretty much immobile, with little ability to wiggle. Whoever had put him in this restrictive bondage had done so very well. Mahiru had another strange feeling of arousal rising within her.

He should really be more on edge… after all, he’s pretty defenseless right now.

She felt bad waking him up, but she figured he would be hungry anyway. She wasn’t sure if anyone had brought him dinner after last night. Trying to avoid awkwardness, she patted his head.

“Hey. Nagito. Breakfast.”

No response. He was out like a light. She gently shook his shoulders.

“Hellooooooo?? Wake up sleepyhead! It’s time to eat!”

Nagito’s eyes slowly opened, groggily at first but they brightened when they realized who had woken him.

“Ah, the Ultimate Photographer… what a pleasure it is to wake up to such an exquisite sight.”

Mahiru felt her face get hot. She wasn’t expecting that sort of response.

“Ah… don’t say weird stuff! I just brought you some breakfast, so you wouldn’t starve to death. We don’t want another murder after all…”

Nagito gave her a sleepy smile. Mahiru swore there was some mischief hidden within.

“Well of course, I wouldn’t want my talented classmates to fall into despair. That is, unless that would inspire hope within all of you. I just want to see you all succeed. I care more about you than I do myself, you know.”

“Ugh, enough of that already! I just came ‘cuz I felt bad that you’re… here all alone and can’t just eat whenever you want. So hurry up and eat!”

Mahiru turned her face away and picked up a bit of rice with some chopsticks, trying to hide her blushing pink cheeks to no avail. She shoved it in his face and waited for him to open his mouth.

But nothing happened. Mahiru opened her eyes and look at the strange boy. He still had the same mischievous grin on his face.

“Aw man… Sorry Mahiru, I hate to come across as picky, but I actually hate eating rice for breakfast…”

“Wh-what??”

Mahiru shot a look of astonishment at the white-haired boy. His face looked serene, as if he didn’t realize the position he was in. He gave her a cheeky smile.

“What do you mean you don’t like rice?? I was nice enough to bring you breakfast and now you’re telling me you don’t like it??”

“I’m sorry Mahiru, but I simple have no appetite for rice in the morning. Some toast sounds pretty good, though…”

Mahiru slammed down the chopsticks, to Nagito’s surprise. His eyes widened in response to her dramatic reaction.

“Listen, you! I made you breakfast out of the goodness of my heart and came all the way here just as a favor to you! So you better eat this, or else!!”

Nagito smirked. “Or else… what? You’ll leave me here to starve?”

Mahiru was taken aback. Was she even capable of that? She scoffed, trying to play it off.

“Or else I’ll make you.”

“O-o-h? And how will the Ultimate Photographer make me eat? Will you pretend that the chopsticks are an airplane, and fly it into my mouth like a baby?”

Mahiru clenched her teeth. She was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable the longer this conversation continued. Being alone with a weirdo boy was already painful enough, let alone feeding him like she was his mother or something. She just wanted to do it and be done with it, so at least her conscience would be clear. But how? Nagito was refusing to eat. There must have been something she could do… think, Mahiru, think…

Suddenly, a funny thought popped into her head.

A thought that triggered more arousal.

She looked at Nagito’s tied arms and legs.

A warm feeling grew somewhere deep inside her.

Mahiru’s smile widened.

“I have another idea, actually.”

Then she poked Nagito’s side. She wasn’t sure if she’d get a reaction because people are all different, and you never really know with these kind of things, but the result was instantaneous. Nagito let out a surprised yelp and jerked away at her touch.

“Oh-ho-ho… a little sensitive, are we?”

Nagito’s expression changed from peaceful to fearful almost immediately. It was as if he didn’t realize how vulnerable he was until this moment.

“Oh-h-h okay Mahiru, I get it, I’ll eat the rice, just-“

“Hold on, you’re not giving in that easily, are you? You were so stubborn before! I wonder… is it because you’re super ticklish, Nagito?”

Nagito’s body tensed at the word “ticklish”. Mahiru knew she had hit the jackpot. That arousal she felt earlier was only getting stronger… her usually friendly smiled morphed into a devious grin.

“For being the Ultimate Lucky Student, you sure are in an unlucky position... What happens if I do this?”

Mahiru poked her index fingers on either side of Nagito at random and was delighted to hear even more loud yelps from him. For the first time that she had seen, he was struggling intensely against his bonds. This must really have been torture for him.

“AH-HA-HA-HA! NOOO! AH-HA STOP!”

Mahiru gave him some respite to catch his breath. He heaved and continued to giggle slightly, which made Mahiru chuckle to herself. This could actually be a lot of fun…

“Alright big shot… you ready to eat?”

Nagito nodded vigorously, “Yeah I’ll eat! Just please, don’t do that again. I really can’t take it…”

He sounded quite desperate. Up to this point, he always spoke with such an aloof and calm tone of voice and came across as someone who was very put together (despite his delirious rantings). However, this Nagito was completely different.

“Oh, really? Why not? It’s just a little tickling! It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“Yes, it’s really bad! I’m extremely ticklish, I can’t stand the feeling for too long…”

“Is that so… mind if I test that?”

Mahiru didn’t wait for a response. She spidered her fingers all over Nagito’s chest and stomach, searching for the areas that gave her the best reactions. She started at his sides, then moved up towards the ribs and gently dug into the spaces between them. All the while, Nagito squirmed like a worm, his attempts to escape her claws futile.

“AH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! STOP IT! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA I CAN’T TAKE IT PLEEEEEASE!”

She ignored his pleas and deftly moved to his sides, wiggling them from hips to underarms and everywhere in between. Nagito desperately tried to flip over and shake her hands off him, but with the way he was tied it was utterly impossible.

He didn’t think it could get worse until Mahiru sat on top and started straddling him. Now, he had a lot less room to move and had no choice but to face her directly. Mahiru stared down, with a slightly evil smile, plotting her next move. Her heart fluttered at the sight of Nagito beneath her: frightened, meek, and utterly submissive.

“Tell me… where else are you ticklish?”

“N-Nowhere! That’s it! Please stop! No more!”

“Hmm, I don’t believe you. What about here?”

Mahiru dug her hands into his underarms and Nagito howled. This was obviously a very sensitive spot. What made it worse was the way he was tied, with his forearms stuck at his sides, so Mahiru sneaking her hands between them and his chest meant that they were trapped there and unable to shake off. Nagito acted as if he was being jolted by electricity. His shoulders thrust forward as if doing ab crunches, and he bounced up and down much to Mahiru’s amusement. The combination of her sporadic finger movements and her long, delicate nails were just too much to handle. Plus, the fact that he could barely move now with her on top of him made it even worse.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! AH-HA! AH-HA-HA-HA-HA! I CA-AH-HA-HA-HA-HA-NT! NOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-HA-HA!”

Nagito’s volume and intensity increased with each passing minute. Finally, Mahiru lessened her attack to gentle strokes on his belly. She lifted his shirt, exposing the warm, baby soft skin and the slight muscle definition in his abs. The cool air against the unprotected area gave him tiny goosebumps all over. Mahiru started drawing slow, little circles around his belly button and side to side from navel to ribs. Seeing his stomach tense and hearing his tittered giggles brought her even more joy. For Nagito, this still tickled like hell, but it reduced him to mere giggles rather than full out screaming.

“Now, now… just relax…”

Nagito couldn’t even try to form a response. He was still recovering from her underarm attack, and the gentle strokes on his stomach were still unbearable. However, after a few minutes he let his guard down and his hitched breathing began returning to normal. This was his fatal mistake.

Out of nowhere, he felt a visceral tickle deep within the muscles of his stomach. He screamed higher in pitch than he had the entire time. Mahiru was digging her thumbs into two agonizing spots on either side of his belly, right above his hip bones. The sensation was pure torment compared to everything else before. Nagito’s struggles began anew as he flinched back and forth in a futile attempt to escape.

“AH! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! MA-HA-HIRU! STOP PLEASE! I BEG OF YOU-AH NOT THERE! NOT THERE! NOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAAAAH!”

Mahiru knew she was pushing his limits, so she let up on her torture and gave the white-haired boy another break. She took a good look at him. His face was flushed bright red, probably both from embarrassment and lack of air. Sweat caused his silvery hair to stick to his forehead. His chest heaved up and down, covered in damp perspiration

Mahiru couldn’t help but stare. From her angle, Nagito looked quite docile. The skin on his chest was smooth as silk and pale as the moon. There was some evidence of muscles in his abs, although not enough to call it a six pack. She had never been this close to a boy, especially with so much of his skin exposed. She felt herself grow warmer, the earlier arousal reaching an all-time high…

In an instant, Mahiru snapped back to reality and threw herself off Nagito. She looked at him one last time, locking eyes with him as he gave her one last pleading look with his eyes. She gasped, realizing how adult the situation had become, and without another word grabbed the tray and ran out of the lodge.

Jeez, what the hell got into me?? She wondered as she rushed back to the restaurant. That was totally out of character…

It wasn’t until she arrived at the restaurant that she realized she never actually fed Nagito, the entire purpose of her trip. Damn it!

Luckily, Hajime was sitting alone at one of the tables. Perfect, I’ll just have him do it…

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