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what-if-queen-camilla · 9 months

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Chapter 30

22nd November, 1995

“Of course you can stay here, for as long as you want to!”, both Annabel and Simon kept promising the poor and completely nerve-wracked Camilla over and over again. She had arrived at her sister and brother-in-law's with Thea at around midday - and while her father, who, following her mother's death last year, had moved in with them as well, had immediately taken the little one under his wings, Camilla had had a good cry in her sister's arms. She wasn't usually one for being hateful but she had to admit that, after everything she had said in that goddamn interview on Monday, she did indeed hate Diana. "Why did she have to do that, Annabel?", she desperately asked her sister. "Wouldn't it have been enough for her to destroy my life? Did she have to go after my daughter as well? And now they want to do these bloody tests with her. I will not allow that, none of those people will touch my child!", she cried. "But maybe it's best to properly clear things up once and for all.", Annabel thought. "It's not like it's going to hurt or something. It's just a PCR test, it will only take a few seconds…" "It's not the test as such, Annabel. It's the humiliation of having to prove it. Being put under general suspicion. As if I was… just another… easy woman who once had an affair with the heir, now trying to foist a child on him. I had thought that, after the tapes, it couldn't possibly get worse but in fact it could.", she sobbed, and suddenly something she had completely forgotten about in between all the worries about Thea: Tom and Laura had most certainly heard the news as well and she owed them an explanation! "God, I need to call the children!", she said and hectically rushed over the phone, grabbed the receiver and dialled Tom's number with trembling hands…

"How dare you???", Charles screamed furiously at both his parents and slammed the door behind him so heavily that the walls of Buckingham Palace rocked and shook. His mother winced in scare and almost spilled some tea, while his father, being just as much of a choleric as Charles himself, immediately screamed back: "How dare WE???", he sneered, looking at his son as if he was some sort of a disgusting insect or parasite. "HOw dare YOU still look your mother in the eyes after you've brought such shame over the family, the monarchy and everything we have been building up over decades?! You're an embarrassment, Charles, you're a loser, you're good for nothing really!", he raged and though Charles had tragically been used to being bullied by him like that ever since he'd been a little boy, it still hurt him to hear these words, but he was determined not to let them get to him this time. His father had broken him too often, he wouldn't allow him to break him again. He had to stay strong this time. For Camilla and, above all, for Thea. "Philip, please, give us a few minutes.", his mother interrupted them, friendly but firmly and to his very surprise, and motioned for his father to leave the room and him to sit down next to her."Mama…", he started, clearing his throat, but The Queen shook her head. "No, Charles. Spare me all of your explanation, I don't want to know. Please just tell me one thing: is it true? Is Theodora your daughter?" She looked at him totally unbiased, only focused on the fact as such which sort of made it easier for him. "Yes, Mama. She is my daughter.", he confirmed, and couldn't help a little smile because it was the first time ever that he could finally, publicly say this. "She is my daughter and I'm so proud of her.", he added and the sparkle in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by his mother, who, however, stayed professionally as ever. "So then the result of paternity test will be positive.", she said. "Y-yes, Mama, it would be, but…" "No, Charles, there's no 'but'. Your country deserves proof. You want them to accept you, don't you? You need their support. And therefore, you need them to believe in you, to trust you. Too many lies have been told. Too many scandals. We cannot afford another one, that'd be the end of the monarchy." "But, Mama, this is not only about the monarchy, this is also about an eight-year-old girl who has just savagely discovered that the man whom she'd considered her father all of her life isn't her father but she's in fact the illegitimate child of the Prince of Wales! Isn't that enough for her to take for the moment? Can't we just leave her alone?" "Charles - I get that you're worried. But the test won't hurt. And if you really love her as much as you've told me, if you want her to be a part of your life, then please listen to your old mother for once in your 48 years and do this test!" Charles sighed. He couldn't remember having heard his mother talking like that ever before. She almost sounded… understanding. As if she really cared and wanted to help. Of course he wanted the public to accept Thea, of course he wanted her in his life… but would a paternity test really help? Then again, what other options did he have?

"So… we have a sister?" William asked, insecurely looking down on the floor, as if he couldn't look his father in the eyes. Charles had driven to Eton to speak to His eldest son right after he'd been to Buckingham Palace and though he was relieved that William had agreed to meet him at all, seeing him so upset felt like a stitch in his heart. He and Diana had their issues without a doubt but the boys had always been his priority and to find his eldest so visibly hurt and disappointed today, made him feel absolutely miserable. Carefully, he reached out and put his arm on William's shoulder, and much to his relief, he didn't jerk away from him. "Yes, William. You have a little sister. Her name is Theodora and she's eight." William nodded, biting his lower lip. "That means you've already cheated on mum… when I was four and Harry two?" It didn’t even sound like an accusation. It sounded as if he was asking completely innocent and peaceful, out of interest and genuine curiosity, but at the same time, heartbreakingly sad. And somehow, Charles thought, he had a right to know the truth. "I'm afraid, that was the case, yes.", he admitted, clearing his throat and pulling William closer. "Wanna go for a little walk?", he suggested, and William nodded in agreement. They put on their winter coats and went outside in the beautiful gardens of Eton College, where William had just started two-and-a-half months ago. "I haven't seen her since the interview.", he told his father, referring to his mother, once they had left the school building, adding: "It's not okay what she did, even if it's true what she said. That sort of stuff doesn't belong in the media." He had said all of this so convinced and confident and had sounded so mature that it almost scared Charles. He was only just 13 and shouldn't have to think of all of this nonsense… God, what had they done to their poor children? "He'd always wanted to make it better than his own father but apparently he'd messed it all up. "And you love Camilla?", William then asked, which took his father by surprise. However, the reply came quick like a shot: "Yes, very much so. She's wonderful." "And Theodora?" William looked at him expectantly. "Do you have a… picture of her? I'd like to see her." "Of course…", Charles murmured, in surprise but deeply touched, pulled a photograph of Thea out of his wallet from about two years ago and gave it to William. "That's about two years old, I'm afraid…" He explained, but William didn't mind. "She looks sweet.", he said thoughtfully, after a few moments. "Do you think I could meet her at some point?"

#king charles #queen camilla #royal family #royal baby #fanfiction #fanfic #queen mother #queen elizabeth ii #prince philip #duke of edinburgh #prince william #duke of cambridge #prince of wales

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dontspillthefrijoles43 · 4 months

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Lost hero XIII- Breisa

Crashed landing…why would a flying dragon land that way?

Warning: Minor injuries, broken ankle, teenagers being teenagers, demigods being clueless Word count: 1557 Summary: AHHHHHHHH! 💥Crash! .....I think I broke my ribs...

Likes ❤️, Reblogs🔁, and comments 💬 very much appreciated!

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Breisa used to have a habit of being clumsy and tripping.

She figured nothing beat free falling through the air at the speed of sound.

Far below she saw city lights glimmering in the early dawn, and several hundred yards away the body of the bronze dragon spinning out of control, its wings limp, fire flickering in its mouth.

A body shot past her—Leo, screaming and frantically grabbing at the clouds. “Not cool!”

She tried to shout. But the force they were falling at knocked the wind out of her lungs. All she could manage were short gasps.

Breisa had to think fast of the next best thing. She focused as hard as she could to try to levitate.

But the fear of being pulverized into the ground was just too much.

Something caught her arm and yanked her close—Jason and Piper.

Piper screamed “You have leveled out! Stretch out your arms and legs!”

As the fall slowed down, she felt power coming from Jason. Whatever he was doing was working—but they lurched up and down like on a bad carnival ride.

“Hav…get...Leo!” Piper yelled through the winds.

“...rough!” Jason shouted.

‘Wait what?!’ Breisa thought.

And they shot through the air like a bullet.

Then whump, a warm body slammed into Breisa—it was Leo. She grabbed him as best as she could but he still wriggled and sweared.

“Stop fighting!” Breisa shouted, “It’s us!”

“My dragon!” Leo yelled, “We gotta save Festus!”

An explosion rang below them. A fireball rolled into the sky from behind a warehouse complex, and Leo sobbed, “Festus!”

Jason’s face turned different colors of red and purple, he was straining himself too hard to keep them afloat.

They bounced like going down a giant staircase, hundred feet at a time.

Breisa's eyes were straining against the wind—she could barely make out a factory complex where Festus crashed. It was made up of warehouses, smokestacks, barbed-wire fences, and parking lots lined with snow-covered vehicles.

Jason groaned, “I can’t—“

And they dropped like stones.

They hit the roof of the largest warehouse and crashed through into darkness.

—

“¡HIJO DE PUTA!” Breisa swore.

She landed on, now smashed—wooden crates. Pain shot through her ribs.

Jason's voice called in an echo, “Where’d they go? Where’s Piper?”

“Ow, bro!” Leo groaned, “That’s my back! I’m not a sofa? Breisa?! Piper?! Where'd you guys go?!”

“Here.” Piper whimpered a few feet from Breisa.

“I’m right here too!” She forced herself up, and made her way towards Piper.

Breisa stumbled a bit but found Piper trying to get up from a metal catwalk. But her left foot was pointing the wrong direction.

“¡Aye güey!” Breisa winced and helped her sit up.

Footsteps rushed up the steps beside the catwalk.

Leo began to ask, “You two okay?” Then he froze as he saw Piper’s foot. “Ohh, no you’re not ok.”

“Thanks for the reassurance.” Piper groaned.

“You’ll be fine.” Jason tried not to sound worried. His voice failed him. “Do any of you have first aid supplies?”

Breisa rummaged through her bag—she found a bottle, pulled it up, and it read ‘antibacterial cream’. “Um, This could work? If the bone was sticking out..”

“Uh…” Jason turned, “How about you Leo?”

He dug around his tool belt, pulled some gauze and a roll of duct tape— which seemed too big for the belts pockets.

“How did you—” Piper tried to move her leg and winced. “How did you guys get those things?”

“Magic.” Leo and Breisa said in unison.

Piper raised an eyebrow.

“My sister gave me a magic supply bag.” Breisa explained. “It works.” She was pleasantly surprised.

“Magic tool belt.” Leo said, “I haven't figured it out completely. But I can summon just about any tool out of the pockets, plus some other helpful stuff.” He reached into another pocket, and pulled out a tiny tin box. “Breath mint?”

Jason snatched away the mints. “That’s great Leo. But can you fix her foot?”

“I’m a mechanic. Maybe if she was a car…” He trailed off.

“I think I can.” Breisa piped in. She tried remembering some of many first aid lectures from her aunt. She kneeled on the catwalk—slightly above Piper. “I’m going to need something to keep the pain away.”

Leo snapped his fingers at Jason. “Wait, what was that godly healing food they gave you bro— Rambo food?”

“Ambrosia dummy.” Piper said through gritted teeth,“There’s some in my bag, if it’s not crushed.”

Jason took her bag, and managed a ziploc bag with smashed pastry squares. He passed along.

“Here.” Breisa broke off a piece and fed it to her.

She relaxed a bit and demanded, “More.”

Jason frowned. “Piper, we shouldn’t risk it. They said too much could burn you up.”

“I’m guessing that should be enough for the pain anyway.” Breisa glanced at her awkwardly pointed foot. “I should set your foot.”

Piper didn’t look so relaxed anymore. “Have you ever done that before?”

“Oh yeah bunch of times.” Breisa lied. “Leo,got anything I can use as a splint?”

He found an old piece of wood and broke it in half. Then he handed her the gauze and duck tape. “Espero que sepas lo que estás haciendo.”

“I do…mostly.” She mumbled. “Jason, Leo— hold her leg still. Piper, this might hurt.”

Breisa counted to three in her head and snapped her foot in place.

Piper shrieked, and sucker punched Leo in an arm—who screamed in a higher pitch than her.

“Fuck off.” He swore, catching Breisa trying to hold her laughter in.

All together, they wrapped up Piper’s leg in makeshift splint.

“Ow.” She winced, “Maybe next time we shouldn’t set my foot before the painkiller? That hurt like a bitch.”

“That hurt? Geez, beauty queen!” Leo rubbed his arm. “Glad my face wasn’t there.”

“Sorry,” She said. “And don’t call me ‘beauty queen’, or I’ll punch you again.”

Breisa smiled, “You both did great.”

“We all did.” Jason passed Piper a water canteen. “Everyone else good? No server injuries?”

“Just some scratches.” Breisa waved off, but her side throbbed. She winced and clutched it. “Maybe a couple of bruises.”

“Definitely a bruised ego.” Leo was still rubbing his arm.

Jason handed both a piece of lemon squares.

It tasted like her dad’s arroz con leche. She felt the pain ease a bit.

Snowflakes fluttered through the hole in the roof.

Breisa just realized how old and abandoned this warehouse is.

Half broken tools around the floors and rusty machines. There were metals and wood materials in different directions. The place was tagged with graffiti.

“What happened to the dragon?” Piper asked. “Where are we?”

Leo’s expression turned sullen. “I don’t know with Festus. He just jerked sideways like he hit an invisible wall and started to fall.”

‘Hope you enjoy your trip demigod!’ The voice from the dream echoed. Breisa shuddered.

Leo pointed to the logo on the wall. “As far as where we are …”

It was hard to see through the graffiti, but she could make out a large red eye with the stenciled words: Monocle motors, assembly plant 1.

“Closed car plant,” Leo said. “I’m guessing we crash-landed in Detroit.”

Breisa wondered how he would have known that. But he was the mechanic, she would second guess him. “How far is that from Chicago?”

Jason spoke, “Maybe three-fourths of the way from Quebec? The thing is, without the dragon, we’re stuck traveling overland.”

“No way,” Leo said. “It isn’t safe.”

Piper nodded. “He’s right. Besides, I don’t know if I can walk.”

Breisa butt in. “Four people—Jason, you can’t fly that many across the country by yourself. I’m not even sure I know how to magic us there.”

“Right,” Jason said. “Leo, are you sure the dragon didn’t malfunction? Mean, Festus is old, and—”

“And I might not have repaired him right?” He puffed out his chest defensively.

Breisa put her hand on his shoulder. She gave a look to both of them.

“I didn’t say that,” Jason protested. “It’s just—maybe you could fix it.”

“I don’t know.” Leo sounded crestfallen. He pulled a few screws out of his pockets and started fiddling with them. “I’d have to find where he landed, if he’s even in one piece.”

“It was my fault.” Piper spoke suddenly.

“Piper,” Jason said softly, “you were asleep when Festus conked out, it couldn’t have been your fault.”

“Yeah, you’re just shaken up.” Leo agreed

“You're in pain. Just rest.” Breisa tried to put her at ease.

Piper’s guilt only grew. She looked like she wanted to say more but she swallowed her words.

Leo stood. “Look, um, why don’t you two stay with her? I’ll scout around for Festus. I think he fell outside the warehouse somewhere. If I can find him, maybe I can figure out what happened and fix him.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Jason said. “You shouldn’t go by yourself.”

“Ah, I got duct tape and breath mints. I’ll be fine,” Leo said, a little too quickly. “You guys just don’t run off without me.”

Leo reached into his magic tool belt, pulled out a flashlight, and headed down the stairs, leaving Piper and Jason alone. With Breisa.

“I’m going after him.” She stood up awkwardly, “Uh scream if any trouble.”

“Be careful.” Jason called.

Breisa gave a thumbs up and rushed down the steps. She took a deep breath and plunged out into the snow.

(A/N: Post again sometime again this month, sorry of my lack of motivation 😭, hoping to finish this fic before spring [April] . Hope you all enjoy this chapter :), did not plan on leaving another cliffhanger for too long)

#leo valdez #leo valdez x oc #poc oc #spanish speaking oc #hoo #heroes of olympus #lost hero #pjo tumblr #jason grace #piper mclean #Breisa Alessandro

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transcendersmedia · 11 months

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Systems for Emotions - Knife Sisters

In this blog post, I’ll take our game Knife Sisters (18+) as an example on how a game’s system is created to convey a story, and how the characters are chosen to play a part in that story. (Be aware, there will be spoilers!)

If you’d rather play Knife Sisters than read about it, one way to get it is through the Queer Games Bundle on Itch.io!

When we started working on Knife Sisters, I mainly only knew that the game would be about Leo, a 19-year old non-binary and pansexual person, sharing a flat with a few other people in a semi-large city. Leo was inspired by a real person who I spotted at the Pride Parade in Malmö. At a Pride Parade, many people are celebrating, but this person was standing alone, with broken angel wings, as the rain started to pour – and I got intrigued. Who were they? I couldn’t know, so I started making up stories in my mind. Eventually the fictionalized version of this person became the main character in Knife Sisters.

In the beginning of the game, Leo is portrayed to be indifferent and probably also a bit depressed. Then, the artist Dagger moves into the same apartment as them, and she claims to be part of the secret society Knife Sisters. She starts asking things of Leo, things that are sometimes really hard to obtain, such as getting blood from an innocent person. As the story progresses, the demands on Leo get higher and higher. But can Leo really do whatever Dagger asks of them, regardless of the cost?

The game’s set-up

The game is structured into six chapters, each of them spanning one week. The game starts with one of the last scenes, where Leo wakes up in their room, remembering nothing from the night before, just knowing something bad must have happened. The player then has to go back six weeks in time to find out what actually happened.

Each week/chapter in the game is also structured somewhat similarly, where on weekdays, the player uses Leo’s Diary to decide which people to hang out with, most often their friends and – later – lovers.

In the specific scenes, the player can make choices (mainly dialogue choices) that affect the outcome of the scene, which will also affect the overall outcome of the game, since some choices affect stats in the game. Each week, the player will play a couple of everyday scenes where they meet with different characters and try to meet Dagger’s demands.

At the end of the week, there is usually a bigger event happening, such as a party or a gathering of some kind, to have many characters in the game meeting at the same place, for instance a rave party or an occult fair that is a part of the story.

As you can gather from this, the set-up of the game is rather fixed. There is a limited set of locations and characters, and of choices you can make in regards to the characters. The temporality of the game is also somewhat fixed: Since you start with playing one of the last scenes in the story, we know this outcome will be there no matter what else changes in the story. But although there are set premises, within those, the player has the freedom to decide what will happen.

The choice of characters

As I previously stated, characters have functions within the game’s system. On each weekend in Knife Sisters, Leo can date one out of three characters: Naomi, Mo, and Vicki. They’ll have playdates, which I’ve tried to design to give the player lots of freedom when it comes to how these scenes will play out.

And then, each Sunday, Dagger invites Leo to her room for a ritual, during which she will introduce Leo to a new assignment, as well as evaluate the last one.

Meeting with Dagger is not something you can back out from. The storyline with her has to be considered the main story, and the dates with the characters are side-stories, even though they will affect the outcome of the main story.

Having the relationship with Dagger being the main story was a choice I made because I wanted this story to be about dependence, and the idea was to have Dagger wanting you to go into a rather dysfunctional relationship with her – and then have the other characters function as counterweights to that. Depending on how you play, you’ll move on a scale related to dependence and empathy, which will also constantly shift Leo’s mood. The dependence value is mostly connected to Dagger, whereas the empathy value is connected to how you interact with other characters – your lover/s and friends.

The choice of relationships

What I wanted in Knife Sisters was that Leo’s relationships would serve as a counterweight to the rather dysfunctional relationship they would have with Dagger. The characters would also represent different sexual practices that the player might want to explore, such as being a top, switch or bottom. Apart from that, the characters had some different traits, for instance one is a cis woman, one is an androgyne non-binary, and one is a femme trans woman. I didn’t give the player any opportunity to date cis men, which means that the game caters mainly to players that are interested in women and trans people. (There haven’t been many players objecting to this - maybe because the game is pretty clear about what to expect.)

Maybe it sounds cold to say that characters represent functions? I don’t think it is. That games are systems is just a fact, and characters in games will always be utilities in that system, but of course, that’s not everything they are! The main goal of relation games is to evoke emotions, and if characters were only utilities, that goal would be impossible to reach. So the game’s characters are both functional and portrayed as close to real humans as we can possibly make them.Knife Sisters is just one example of how relation games can be made. There are definitely flaws in the game’s design, and design choices we made sometimes had a bigger impact on the story than I would have wanted them to, but that’s what it’s like to make games. You can’t fully know what you’re making until it’s done and players start playing. That’s also the fun part! Let me know if you have experiences from playing or creating relation games. What did you learn from your experience?

#knifesisters gamedesign queergames indiegames

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jammin-media-medium · 4 months

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Political dark funny story thing idk

Henry kissenger is dead, taking his final breaths, after his life has flashed before his eyes, he's transported to the next world.

Youth and viggor restored to him, to his golden years,the best man he was, the best man he could've ever been. This must be heaven, he thought, and opened his eyes.

"Bollocks"

Forced through fire and flames by spike and spear by demons and the possessed, he was driven to a giant pile of buring coals, handed a shovel and told to dig, he tried to fight, he tried to run, he tried to hide and he tried to die, and he died and died and cried and cried until he picked up a shovel.

And so he shoveled, shoveled and shoveled his back in every swing, his arms in ever lift, burned and singed by every falling ember but once he found a rhythm it wasn't too bad,

burned by the coals and worked to the bone. At least he had something to do, time to think about his life as the centuries swing by, until finally the pile was low enough to see the peak

Wanting to be the ruler of whatever meek kingdom he possessed, he ran school boy like up the mountain of hot coals, his hand and feet burned black and blistered ,but now standing the tallest around, basking in his own glory.

looking down he saw another man digging the same pile of coals

Running after him, running for human contact, after years in silent, Henry tripped and fell down the hot coals, tumbling buring and rolling the whole way down until stopping and looking up meeting the man's gaze

Henry was meet with a look of shock, the man's mouth left a gape then quickly replaced with anger.

"are you Henry fucking kissenger" came a turnt respones, a meek yes was all Henry could manage after years of silence.

" I knew, I was a bad guy, I accepted my place in hell, but on the same level as Henry fucking kissenger, go fuck yourself, there must have been a fucking mistake ,YO JERRY "

The man ranted and raved paying no mind to Henry until a demon swooped in from smoke-filled sky's up above

jet black wings blowing gales of smoke into henrys face as it landed with a thud revealing a blood red body dotted with flecks of white bone, a sharp tooth grin and spoke with a broklin accent.

"Yo Mikey, what's up, what's all the commotion forrrr" the demon and mikey begain chatting like old friends, Henry guess after enough time anyone can be friends but his demon never spoke to him .

"There's no mistake mikey he's meant to be hear" the demon folded his arms

"fuck that, I'm going to make a complaint" Jerry pointing a finger in the demons face which huffed and started walking away

" if you wanna go do that you'd hav to go talk to the big guy down stairs......and you'd have to take HIM with you" the demon point at Henry using a thumb over his shoulder

Jerry spun on a dime and pointed at Henry " YOU, you're coming with me "

the man grabbed Henry by what reminded of his coal singed suit

"NO IM NOT " Henry finally managing to break his silence and started fighting back

Jerry pulled Henry in close "listen here you war criminal piece of shit, come with me now or I'll beat you to death. " ............

with that, the rage in the Jerry's eyes dissappeared, he let's go of Henry collar

A look of joy and wonder in jerrys eyes: "It's been so long I totally forgot I could do that "

Jerry began to beat Henry kissenger to death, when his limp broken body finally died Henry was born again, and died again, and again , and again until Jerry's skin was stained red by All of Henry blood, dotted with white with flakes of bone from the thousands of years bashing henry kissenger skull in, and when henry kissenger was finally truly broken, Jerry sprouted jet black wings and flew off to the smoke filled sky

Every time a war criminal dies

a demon earns their wings

#dark humor #funny #politics #political #writing #political comedy #shitpost

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sara78 · 2 years

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Family Don't End In Blood - Chapter 4

Summary: The time for school rolls around and Jensen has his worries about the reader overclocking herself. But it takes a painful turn and Jensen gets to learn more about her past.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x foster!daughter reader

Word count: 5,000 and some change

Y/F/N - Your friend's name

Y/H/C - Your home country

A/N: Sorry for the long wait!

It's been three days since you opened up to Jensen. You were honestly surprised to see him acting as if everything you told him isn't something weird, something he should stay away from. You appreciated it. He didn't want to run away, or at least it seemed to you that way. He didn't treat you like you're broken either. He was more cautious, but not dancing around you and making you think there's something wrong with you.

You and Jensen finished your filming around 5PM, which gave the two of you tons of free time. The weather decided to say no to your plans to go out to a park near Jensen's apartment and you had to go right back to it because of the pouring rain and the big storm that was approaching.

You were sitting at the counter when Jensen went out of the shower. You were humming softly, Jensen smiling softly as he walked up to you,

"Kiddo," Jensen hummed, making you turn around, "You in class?"

"Nope. We start at..." you looked down at one of the papers, "11PM our time."

"What are you doing then?"

"My uh, sister, she scanned all the books we need into PDFs for me. I'm just reading through them and looking for some extra materials."

"You didn't tell me you have siblings back home," Jensen said,

"Oh, I don't. Not in blood at least," you began, "Y/F/N and I met in high school. She's a wonderful being."

"I bet she is. She scanned all those books just for you. Not every friend, pardon, sister, would do that for someone," Jensen said, "You looking at math?" he asked, glancing at the laptop,

"Never too many math problems to solve," you said, Jensen smiling softly,

"You know that you need actual stuff for school, right?" he asked and you nod,

"I just thought I'd order some and get them delivered on set."

"Nah, you should get to enjoy a nice shopping. Pick out nice notebooks and pens and stuff. Come on," he said, "Imma drive us to get some."

"Jensen, you don't have to," she tried, "It's pouring outside."

"No, but I want to. Rain won't kill us, we'll be in the store," he smirked, leaving to change in his room.

Later that evening

"That was awesome!" you exclaimed, walking into the apartment, "I never saw a store like that," Jensen smirked, letting the bags on the ground and locking the door behind them,

"I wAnNa oRdEr," he mocked you, "I'm glad we got some stuff for you. Now you don't have to use blank papers and one same pen."

"Thanks for this, Jensen," you said, turning around, a smile on your face, "I never went shopping here."

"You telling me all that clothes is from Y/H/C?" you nod,

"I don't wanna spend money, and I have nowhere to put all of it anyways. I'm just gonna wait till it tears or gets worn out, or until I get my own place."

"You do need a new pair of shoes, though," he said, pointing out to your old ones, "I'm pretty sure your toes aren't comfy in there, " you giggled,

"That I do need. But some other time," you said, lifting up one of the paper bags, "Wanna have dinner?"

"You don't ask me that, kiddo," he joked, going to wash his hands, "Change! Your pants got muddy!" he called out after you and you giggled, leaving to change. When you returned in a pair of shorts and one of your worn-out shirts, Jensen was setting the plates on the counter. You walked to the kitchen and sat on the stool.

"Orange soda?" Jensen asked and you nod. He handed you a can of soda and a plate with some chicken wings,

"These look delicious," you commented, eyeing them,

"Dig in, kid. I'm gonna make some salad for me."

"Nah, I'll wait for ya," you said, Jensen grabbing some tomatoes to slice,

"Tell me, you okay with working here?" he asked as he worked on his salad, "I'm sorry you don't have your own desk and all."

"Jensen, don't dare to apologize. I was not expecting to be here with you in the first place, let alone have stuff like my own desk and all. I'm fine with this. Besides, I should dig into some deeper research for my own place soon enough. I've overstayed my welcome."

"You didn't overstay anything," Jensen assured you, "If I'm being honest, I love your company. Y'know, to unpack from the long day of filming. I didn't realize how lonely I was up until you began staying here."

"Will you tell me if I get annoying or anything?" you asked, looking up to meet his eyes, "Like, I know I'm a lot. And you don't have to deal with me. Just say it and I'll leave you be."

"Don't you worry about that."

"I was going to ask you - are you okay with me doing my stuff here? I'm gonna be in class when you're sleeping. I don't wanna wake you up or anything."

"There's something called ear plugs, first of all. Also, you are not going to sit in all 6, 7 or 8 of your classes. You would get zero hours of sleep."

"Jensen, I want to attend my classes," you whined,

"And I want you to have some rest before shooting for 12 hours a day or more."

"Jensen, it's important for me to attend them."

"Does attendance affect your grade?"

"Kinda. But with online school it might be different."

"Then you can attend maybe first two. Everything after that is a no-no."

"You aren't my dad, Jensen," you grumbled, taking a bite of your chicken,

"No, but I care about you all the same," he shot back, "And I'm not letting you exhaust yourself. End of convo."

"Sorry," you whispered, hearing Jensen's voice raise. He frowned, leaving his salad for a hot second and moving to you. His hand raised up and rested on your head, rubbing it gently. You sucked in a sharp breath but didn't move away. You couldn't help your shoulders tense,

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," you whispered, looking up to Jensen. He offered you a warm smile and rubbed your head for a few more seconds before going back to his salad,

"How's your family?" you asked, changing the topic and breaking the silence,

"JJ watched frozen three for the 11th time. I think I'll have to learn songs from that one if I want her attention," Jensen said, giggling with you,

"My favorite is frozen two though."

"You saw frozen three?"

"I'm not living under a rock, dude. Of course I did!" you exclaimed, Jensen sitting next to you,

"Well I will need help with those songs then," he said,

"I can't sing," you responded,

"You ever tried to?"

"I know I can't. Why try then?" you asked and Jensen frowned,

"I never heard you sing."

"Yes, because I can't sing and I don't wanna shatter any windows."

"Alright," Jensen sighed, sitting on a bar stool next to you, "Let's dig in."

Later

"It's almost time for your first online class," Jensen smiled and you nod, sighing,

"I'm not really sure what to expect."

"You scared?" Jensen asked,

"More like anxious," you admitted, "All of the professors had to learn to use technology just for me. I don't think everyone was excited to do it. I feel bad for doing this to them."

"Don't feel bad," Jensen began, "You told me this was their idea, so I guess that they knew this was the way it's gonna roll," he said, "You want me to stay?" he asked, making you look up at him, "I won't be on camera. I'll just be here."

"I... You really don't have to," you said, Jensen yawning, "You're beat from the filming. Go, sleep."

"I'll stay for the first one," he said, making you glance at him, "Just to be here for you and give you some silent support. I promise I'll go to bed after the first one. But only if you promise me you go to bed after third one."

"Okay," you nod, Jensen smiling. He glanced behind you and through the window, making a disgusted face,

"That storm is going to be a bitch," he commented, making you turn around just in time to see a lightning hit,

"Yeah," you said,

"Hey," Jensen caught your attention again, "I just realized - what are we gonna do about the sleep situation?"

"Nothing?" you asked, "I go to sleep after the third class."

"No, I meant the nightmares," Jensen corrected himself, making you sigh,

"You're not staying up all night long for me or whatever you thought of."

"I didn't plan on it, but you can come to lay with me in my room after you're done," he offered and you gulped,

"I... I don't wanna wake you up or something. I-I'll just stay in my room."

"You won't wake me up. Just come after you're done, I don't mind. You know I'm here for you, day and night," he said, smiling. You nod, your look lowering down. Jensen's hand raised up once again and began massaging your head. You sighed, looking up to meet his eyes,

"Your nightmares are better," he commented,

"Yeah," you whispered shyly, the laptop screen lightning up and you turned your head, looking at the screen. Jensen stopped with the motion and went to sit on your left. You took a deep breath and entered the call.

45 minutes later

"I think your teacher's a bit lost," Jensen commented, "Seemed like he's off."

"Yeah, my physics teacher is like that. I'm fairly surprised that he even learned how to work zoom," you teased, Jensen giggling with you, "Thanks for staying, Jensen. You can go to sleep now."

"Alright. You okay for the rest of the classes?" he asked and you nod, "You gonna join me after?" you sighed, "Come on kiddo. Either that or I stay up with you and go with you to bed," you groaned,

"Negotiator at its finest. Fine, I'll join you."

"Hey, I'm not forcing you."

"I know. Its just..." you sighed, "I feel safe with you. I guess having you close does something cause my brain kinda goes into the mode where he doesn't want to throw nightmares at me when you're close. I'm sorry you have to put up with this."

"Don't apologize, kiddo," Jensen smiled, the laptop screen lightning up again, "There goes class two."

"Yeah," you smiled, "Night, Jensen."

"Good luck, kiddie. Don't stay for all 7 of 'em or I'm gonna kick your ass," he said, making you giggle,

"You aren't scary. Like, at all," you teased, Jensen throwing you a bitch face, "I promise I won't. Now shoo, go sleep."

Three days later

Jensen was not looking forward to you attending your classes today. You came home at 9, both of you were on set for 14 hours and you were beat. But you insisted that you were clear and fine. You could see obvious protest in Jensen's eyes as you tried to assure him that you can attend your classes and were actually quite surprised to see Jensen give in and believe you. Well, there wasn't much to believe. He was right when he said you were tired. You were. But school is just as important as your job and sleep. This schedule really has been hard on you. You're also sure Jensen let you be because he knew you at least got quiet, quality, peaceful sleep every night. The length of it he might not like, but one step at a time, he said.

3rd person POV

Jensen was awoken by a piercing cry. He shot up in his bed, turning his head to see the empty side of the bed. He was out of his room in seconds, seeing Y/N sitting at the counter, gripping the edge of it with all she had as he looked somewhere forward, eyes blown open.

"Kiddo?" she turned around, slight layer of sweat on her forehead. He came up to her and she gulped, looking back at the laptop.

"I-I gotta enter the call, I-I-"

"No, hey," Jensen made his way next to her, "You gotta breathe for me, kiddo. Come on," he tried, "In, out..." they repeated the drill a couple of minutes before she leaned against Jensen's side, "No more school for you today," he said, about to turn the laptop off,

"No!" she exclaimed, "Please, it's just English."

"You need to rest, kid," Jensen said, "You haven't showered either. Go, take a quick shower and I'll talk to your teacher, let her know that you're done for the day," she looked up to meet Jensen's green eyes,

"But-"

"No arguing, okay?" Jensen said, "Go," she sighed, sitting up to collect her stuff. Jensen got a gentle hold of her hand and guided her off the stool, "I said go shower. I'll take care of everything else," he said and she gulped, nodding and leaving the room.

Jensen sat and joined the zoom class, seeing a young woman appear on the screen,

"Hello! May I ask who I'm talking to?" she asked,

"Yeah, I'm Y/N's friend."

"No offense, but aren't you a bit old to be her friend?" she countered,

"Y/N can't attend any more classes today. We had a packed day of filming and she fell asleep waiting for this one, so I sent her to bed. I just wanted to let you know."

"Oh, alright. Tell her that the recorded lecture will be posted for her in google classroom."

"Thanks, and have a good day."

"You too!" she squeaked and Jensen ended the call, turning the laptop off,

"Too old to be her friend," he grumbled to himself, "You're not paid to stuck your nose where it doesn't belong," he commented, packing Y/N's stuff in the drawer and letting the laptop charge in her room.

Your POV

"Hey," you whispered shyly, entering Jensen's bedroom,

"Your English teacher is a nosy little thing, you know?" he asked and you laughed,

"Yeah, she needs to know everything," you sighed, "She made a comment, didn't she?"

"Told me I'm "too old" to be your friend," Jensen scoffed, "I am old but I'm cool so bite me," you laughed,

"I'm sorry she called you old. But yes, bite her, that part I agree to."

"You didn't tell me that your teachers film their lectures for ya," he began, "Which means that you don't have to attend live ones at all. You can watch the recordings whenever you need to."

"Yes, but I don't want to fall behind, procrastinate till like the night before the test. I used to do that but back in the day I didn't have a daytime job, so."

"Why didn't you tell me about that?"

"I..." your look fell to the carpet, "I-I don't want someone else to tell me what to do. I wanna go to school and work. And I wanna make it work out. Bunch of kids my age do it. I can pull it off too."

"A bunch of kids work a part time job though. You're working a full-time job with no strict work hours. You're putting in too much work on set and in school and it's not healthy. I won't tell you what to do. I will look out for what you do though, and intervene if you do something that doesn't go in your favor."

"Why, though?"

"Cause I care about you. I don't want you to burn out and get sick. I get it, work and school are important, but so is your health. Both physical and mental."

"Like this now?"

"Correct. You fell asleep, didn't you?" you nod,

"It was lunch break for them, 20 minutes. I..."

"You had another nightmare," Jensen said, sighing, "Have you ever shared what they're about with someone?" you shook her head,

"Nobody knows I have them in the first place. Well, nobody besides you."

"How long have you had them?"

"My entire life?"

"No, I meant this frequent."

"Oh. Ever since I came here, so what, 3 months? Maybe 4?"

"Shit, kid, you can't bury that stuff," Jensen gulped,

"Who says I can't?" you smirked, "You can do anything you want."

"Don't go all philosophical on me now," Jensen teased, "And don't play Dean's game."

"I'm not playing Dean's game," you responded, "I don't want to share cause people don't like broken shells. If I want to have people in my life then I gotta shut up about my own problems, man up."

"Those people you have only when you shut up, they're not friends. They're fake. Real ones are the ones that stay when you speak up. The ones that help you and support you. You don't need a fake bunch. You need a few close ones. That's so much better, trust me. And I'm not telling you that you can't have some hang out buddies and stuff. You keep 'em at arms length, yeah? But you let a few very special people in there," he said, pointing his finger to her heart. You looked down, gulping,

"Everyone leaves, Jensen. Everyone will leave me. I just love to have people around, even if they're fake. Not for attention or anything. Just... I don't like being alone. So if not talking about my shit makes them stay, I'm down. It's not like I'm a talkative person anyways."

"That's wrong approach, kiddo. Wanna know why?" you looked up again, "Because at some point, you'd want someone to understand you. To make you feel better. To listen to you, to offer their shoulder so you can cry on it. And a fake bunch of faces won't do that. They can't understand what's going on with you cause they don't know. And you say, if they knew then they'd leave. That's not what you deserve," you sighed, playing with your fingers,

"I-I don't know who to believe," you whispered, "Cause everyone seems like a nice person, until they aren't."

"That's what life is. You make mistakes, you lose, but you also win, smile."

"Seems to me like I'm getting bad time for next ten lives," you huffed, "I'm tired of this. I'm fucking tired and I just want to be numb. I want to feel nothing cause then I won't care about what people think of me, how they hurt me and break me. I don't want to feel because I'm tired."

"You know, I'm a sensitive guy. Kinda like you," Jensen sighed, "Was it always good for me to be that way? No. Did kids in school love me for that? Fuck no. Did it help? Fuck no doubled. But I kept trying until I met people who love me for that. I learned that I'm not the problem. That I am who I am and that I should not change for anyone's sake. They didn't have to love me. It was their choice. And you do that too. Despite the fact that you're tired, you're still fighting. That's brave."

"No it's not," you sighed, "It's just..." you shook your head, "I don't fucking know what is this anymore. I used to fight for my family, for people that don't want to hear about me anymore. I used to think that they loved me despite everything. I knew they didn't know who I really am, but I thought that they would still love me. That they would support, understand, let me be. But I was so fucking wrong."

"You didn't tell me anything about your family."

"I didn't, because it's beyond fucked up. But I wanna tell you, cause I know you have three little kids back at home and I want you to know that even if they don't show it or say it a lot - you mean so fucking much to them and they will always desperately want their mom and dad to understand. So you promise me right fucking now that you'll try to understand. Both you and Danneel. I don't want another kid living through what I had to live through. The pain and the guilt and... Everything. And I know so much kids have it even worse than me and I can't help every single kid but... Just try your hardest to understand them. Even when they fuck up, even when they seem to be doing the wrong thing. Please," Jensen smiled softly, nodding,

"I promise," he said, "Can I tell you something?" you nod, "I understand you too."

"You don't know the tiniest bit of it."

"No, but I'm sure you didn't decide to come here because you can or whatever."

"She wanted to control my life," you gritted through your teeth, "My mother wanted to live her dreams through me," you looked up, tears in your eyes, "Her plan for me was to finish bio, be a scientist. Send me to Russia to work there. She planned out every little thing about my life and I was tired of it. I left because I didn't want her to control my life. I wanted her to understand that I'm not here to pursue her dreams but my own ones," silent tears rolled down your cheeks and Jensen's heart shattered. He raised his hand, his thumb wiping the tears away gently, "And I didn't think of leaving at first. I was bluffing, just wanting to see if she's going to drop the fucking ball and let me breathe for once. But she didn't. Soon enough, every time I mentioned leaving, she would introduce me to a nice, thick belt," she gulped, "Soon enough I learned her trigger words. She stopped, but then, there's a B on my report card and there it goes again. When she saw me packing she..." you looked down, gulping, "She destroyed me," your voice cracked, "Broke me beyond repair," you looked away, shaking your head, "I couldn't stand up. I barely made it to Y/F/N's car before I collapsed."

And just like that, it's out. Years and years of crap piled up in you just got out in a few sentences. Of course it's not that simple. Of course there's more to it. There'll always be more to it. But you didn't want to dump this on Jensen. You didn't want him to know. But what you didn't want to do in the slightest is to make him cry. Which is exactly what you did. You looked up and saw tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Fuck," you breathed, tugging your pajama sleeve down and raising your hand, "I didn't mean to make you cry again. I'm so fucking sorry," you said, wiping his tear away. Jensen shook his head, catching your hand in his gently,

"K-Kiddo, don't ever fucking apologize," he breathed, "Fuck, I..." he looked down, "I don't know what to say, fuck. To be disappointed is one thing, but what that bitch did, that... That's not healthy."

"She was always kinda insane," you shrugged your shoulders, a sad smile on your face,

"S-She beat you before that?"

"Every once in a while. Especially when she'd come from work pissed. I was her punching bag. Quite literally."

"Fuck, kid," Jensen breathed, "Why didn't you ever report her?"

"And who's police going to believe? Me, or a disabled mother?"

"Disabled?"

"She's 80% deaf on both her ears. She's always winning everything because of that. I stood no chance. She'd blame bruises on me falling or getting hit on the training or would make some shit up. She's a manipulator, Jensen."

"That fucking bitch deserves to rot in hell," Jensen growled, "Wait," Jensen gasped as he came to the realization, "Your nightmares. Are they about her?"

"Yes. I'm so fucking scared of a person I'm supposed to trust. She's still tormenting me in my dreams and it hurts so fucking much. She scarred me for life and I won't ever be able to scrub it clean, get rid of that fear. She's engraved in my brain, my blood," you sobbed, your hands going up to hide your face. You couldn't stop the wave of pain that hit you. You began crying and Jensen moved closer, wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you to his chest.

"I'm here, I'll keep ya safe. You're so far away from there, she won't hurt you here," he tried, sniffling,

"She's in my head!" you exclaimed, clutching Jensen's shirt,

"I know, I know. Wounds take time to heal, kiddo. It's not easy but all wounds heal in the end."

"Y-You think?" you asked, looking up to meet Jensen's eyes,

"Yeah, kiddo. Trust me, everything does. It is going to sting once in a while when it heals, but that's okay."

"I-I don't want to remember. I-I don't want to be fucked up!" you wailed, Jensen squeezing you to his chest,

"I know it hurts now, but, to live through that, it makes you strong."

"No! It makes me a fucked up mess."

"Nobody said fighting is easy. What I said is that you'll leave the fight stronger."

"I-I'm scared, Jensen," you murmured and you felt Jensen's arms loosen their grip on you. It hit you that he wanted to leave you, and instead of letting him go, you wailed his name and grabbed the back of his shirt, "Y-You promised not to leave!" you exclaimed, Jensen immediately hugging you tightly,

"Shhhh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I thought you got scared of me-"

"N-No. Jensen, no," you shook your head in his chest, "I-I, no. D-Don't leave, p-please."

"I won't, I won't, I'm right here, okay? I'm right here," he tried, squeezing her closer, "Listen to me now, okay?" you nod, fisting Jensen's shirt, "Imma promise you something. That is - as long as my arms are around you like this, nobody's gonna hurt you. I promise, right here and right now, I'm not gonna let anyone lay a finger on you in any harms way. You feel scared, in danger? Come to me and I'll hide you, tuck you away and won't let anyone come your way."

"W-Why, Jensen, why do this?"

"Cause you're just a child and you don't deserve to go through all of this shit alone. You're a fierce kid, but everyone needs to be with someone who cares."

"Why care about me?" you looked up, "I'm a broken shell."

"You're not a broken shell, kiddo," Jensen began, hand going to wipe your cheeks, "Because you wouldn't be like this if you were one. You would be numb, wouldn't care less. Everything you feel is valid, but you have been burying it deep down for quite a while and it's gonna take time, tears, nightmares and more tears to bring 'em all up. That's fine. I'll always be here for ya, kid. To hold you, talk to you."

"I-I," she hiccupped, "N-Nobody h-held me like this."

"Are you okay with it? You're not scared?" you shook your head,

"Safe," you whispered even so gently and Jensen nod, smiling softly.

His phone buzzed and he looked for a hot second. He sighed and squeezed you closer. You could still feel quiet tears rolling down your cheeks and you looked up at Jensen only to see tears too. He hurts because of you. But he doesn't want to leave you. At least it seems like he doesn't want to.

"Y-You should sleep," you stammered after you felt yourself come down from your high, going to move away from Jensen's hold. You wiped the last of your tears with the back of your hand and looked away from Jensen, embarrassed to be the way you are, at the same time trying to deny your mind that was going million miles per second,

"So should you," Jensen countered, "Come on. Crawl over there," you shook your head,

"No. We have a-a early call a-and I kept you up. I'll just go do some homework. I-I can't sleep now anyways."

"You don't have to sleep but you will close your eyes and rest 'em for a while," Jensen instructed, "We don't have an early call tomorrow," you looked up to Jensen, "Looks like that storm from three days ago is making a fabulous return. We're having a big storm in the following days. Filming's delayed and we're staying at home, to be safe. We might just run out tomorrow to get some food, but the storm should pass in about three days."

"How are we gonna make up for filming schedule?"

"Filming on weekends," Jensen sighed, "Not my favorite one, but if I want to have a few days off every once in a while and be with kids for their birthdays that's how it's gonna work," he began, watching you lay down on your side, as Jensen himself mirrored your movement, "So, since we're stuck at home for at least three days, you can have good 8 hours of sleep and have time to work on your schoolwork. Plus, we can run lines if you want to."

"Really?" you asked, Jensen nodding as he made sure you're all tucked in,

"I haven't shown you my Cas voice yet," he smirked,

"I heard it on a convention once," you giggled,

"Oh, it's more spicy now."

"Yeah, cause of what happened in "Despair"?"

"Maybe?..." he squeaked, your head dropping on the pillow as you giggled. Jensen smiled back sadly, "Do you want to talk with Jared about this?" he asked, making you look down, "Look at me," he tried, urging you to look back up, "My mouth is sealed shut. I am not going to go and spread anything around, okay? But I think that Jared can help just as much as I can. Only thing is, do you trust him?"

"I do," you nod, smiling sadly, "I just didn't want to dump it on him, y'know? He's got his own demons to battle. Fuck, you have your own too. And I... Sorry."

"Don't apologize," he shook his head as he laid down, his hand going up for your head, "There's nothing to apologize for," he added, massaging your scalp,

"You don't have to," you whispered,

"I want to."

"Thanks. For all of this."

"Thanks back."

"Night, Jensen."

"Night night, kiddo."

Tags: @linki-locks11 @crasmuna

#jensen ackles #supernatural #spn #jensen ackles fanfiction #reader insert

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not-xpr-art · 3 years

Photo

Destiel - Amalgamation (mixed media drawing) ~

(01/2021)

(a drawing of dean & cas inspired by edvard munch’s painting called ‘the kiss’, featuring a quote from hannibal: ‘you and i have begun to blur’, done in a mixture of pens and pencils)

#artists on tumblr #supernatural fanart #destiel fanart #destiel #traditional art #mixed media #drawing #amalgamation #spn fanart #supernatural #deancas #dean winchester fanart #castiel fanart #art #artist #this is also in part inspired by byzantine art (cos ... gold?) & these rly cool angel statues #which hav these broken wings? and i just thought 'damn that'd look cool in an artwork' so here it is lol...

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Wings of Change

AO3

I was in a Remus mood and this happened.

...

He was sore. God, he was sore. Not that it was unusual for him to be sore. He got into all kinds of mischief and life-threatening scenarios every day. His imagination wasn’t nearly as tame as Roman’s usually was, blood and guts and death, oh my!

It wasn’t an uncommon sight, him bloodied and staggering down the hall to Janus’s room, or the living room, grin wide through red stained teeth, needing help patching himself up. Janus always grumbled and made a fuss about it, but with his extra arms he was fast, and always tenderly gentle, scolding him good naturedly the whole time.

Once Virgil would have helped as well. He was almost better at it than Janus, his fight or flight making him eerily good at assessing injuries, which ones were serious, which ones needed cleaning, which ones needed tending to first. But more than that, he often stopped Remus before he went that far to begin with, appearing in the shadows of the imagination and dragging him home, or teaming up with him to defeat the day’s monster, making sure they both stayed relatively safe.

Once he might have had Roman, watching his back, moving together as one, not needing to speak to understand the other’s movements. It was a well-rehearsed dance, one that was more familiar than breathing, one that brought to the surface a strange sort of quiet, in his mind, a soft silence reigning for a few precious hours, afterwards.

But they had left. And he was used to pain. Pain of dislocated limbs, the sting of disinfecting wipes, the bubble of iodine, the wheeze of cracked ribs. Once Roman would have healed him with a snap of his fingers. Once Virgil would have stopped him from getting hurt in the first place. But now there was only Janus, to piece him back together after.

And then the wedding happened.

And Thomas, more importantly, Patton, admitted that Janus was right. That their thinking was too black and white, that deception wasn’t everything Janus was, that his advice and opinions mattered. He would have loved to lurk behind the television and watch, but he had other business to attend to.

That business being Virgil.

He’d slowly creaked open the door, knocking softly on the door frame to alert Virgil to his presence. Now was not the time to scare the storm cloud. Virgil was already scared enough as it was.

“go away.” Came the muffled response, tempest tongue tinging it dark and growling, the shadows of the room darker than ever, and if he were anyone else, standing in there for more than a minute would have him corrupted beyond repair.

But he was Remus, intrusive thoughts, dark creativity, and anything the room could show him he’d already imagined himself, and though it was unpleasant, he knew they didn’t matter. Because Virgil was curled up under a pile of blankets, his shaking visible even from the doorway, the fear strong and visceral.

“Easy, storm cloud. It’s just me.” He murmured, stepping inside and letting the door close shut behind him.

“Oh goodie. All my worries are soothed.” Virgil snarked, voice trembling, and Remus let out a small huff, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t tell exactly what was going on, out there with Thomas, but he could feel the negativity roiling out from the living room, and knew Virgil was overwhelmed, trying to process it all, absorb it all, disperse it all. They were overwhelming him, and no one had even deigned to check on him, choosing to ignore him.

Thomas had chosen to ignore him. Remus knew that was hurting Virgil the most. That he hadn’t been called. That they hadn’t wanted him up there. That he had told the truth, bared his soul, and now Thomas wouldn’t even look towards his spot on the stairs. Carefully, Remus laid a hand atop the lump under the blankets, stroking his thumb in small, grounding circles, nothing more than a light touch. Virgil shuddered, but didn’t shift away.

“why are you here? Shouldn’t you be using this time to wreak havoc, or something?” He laughed again, a soft, warm sound, not his usual cackle. The kind of laugh only Janus and, once, Virgil, were privy to.

“I could. But even I know that would only make everything worse, and you’re already dealing with enough bullshit right now. I don’t need to add to the pancake pile of misery.” He stilled as the blankets shifted slightly, Virgil’s dark eyes peeking up at him, eyeshadow streaking down his face, more raccoon like than ever. “Let me help, kit?” He asked softly, Virgil’s eyes searching his for a long moment, before he nodded minutely, shifting to make room for Remus.

He didn’t hesitate. He slipped under the covers, Virgil squeaking as he slid in behind him, pulling Virgil onto him, his head resting on Remus’s chest, their legs tangled around each other, Remus’s head resting atop Virgil’s as he gently ran his hands up and down Virgil’s arms to ground him, humming softly, slowly absorbing and siphoning some of the anxiety and fear and negativity from Virgil, into himself. Virgil let out a soft sound, halfway between a whimper and a sigh, and he shushed him, pressing a kiss to his head.

“Y’know you don’t hav ‘t Rem.” Virgil slurred, eyelids drooping closed as the stress leaked out of him, his anxiety returning to normal levels as Remus took the extra.

“It’s ok, kit. I can handle it. You’ve already done enough, for today. Later I’ll go up there and give them a piece of my mind, for making you so miserable.” He smiled at Virgil’s small laugh, the emo pressing closer to him, and Remus wrapped his arms around Virgil, holding him carefully close. “Get some sleep, Vee. I’ve got you.”

“m’kay. Ree? ‘M sorry. I… missed you.”

…

That was when it had started. It was small, at first, and he attributed it to his usual bumps and bruises, a sore back was rather tame compared to what he usually dealt with, of course. Still, he took it slow that day, choosing to rabbit hole down youtube, instead of wreak his usual havoc. He was still coming down from the effects of all the anxiety he’d absorbed in Virgil’s room, after all, and he didn’t want his creations getting away from him and doing actual harm elsewhere.

But the pain only grew.

Soon, his whole back was sensitive and tender to the touch. It hurt to bend, to stand, to move, to stretch. Even resting against the couch was a no go, any kind of pressure on it hurt like hell, made him bite his lip to contain the hiss trying to escape his lips.

But he suffered through it in silence. Sometimes, he thought Janus knew something was wrong, his gaze lingered on Remus for a moment too long, he watched a little too closely as he shifted so his back wasn’t against the back of his chair, a small wince when he laughed, a forced smile here and there, Janus could see through them all, but he didn’t ask.

Virgil was almost as bad. He’d lived with them, after all, and he was almost as sharp as Janus. After the wedding, he’d been visiting more often, which meant at all, really, but once a week turned into near daily, as Remus made sure to make him feel welcome, and Janus started warming back up to Virgil, started to close the icy abyss between them.

It was Virgil who apologized first, to Janus. It was stuttering and slow, and a bit rambling and incoherent, but that didn’t matter. Janus knew what he was trying to say, could feel the sincerity of it, and before Virgil had even finished, he’d swept him up into a hug, using all of his arms, Virgil melting against him with a quiet sob, repeating the same soft words he’d said to Remus after the wedding for Janus.

“I missed you.”

…

Objectively, Remus knew the others had wings. The light sides, that is. They didn’t appear in the videos, of course, only actually manifesting in the mindscape itself. He knew Roman’s were delicate monarch butterfly wings that he usually kept folded carefully against his back like a cape, and that he loved their look but hated how fragile they were, always having to be careful not to rip the paper-thin membranes. A hint towards the fact that Roman wasn’t as strong as he said he was, that he was, in fact, easily broken. He’d been allowed to feel them, once, it was like touching a cloud, soft dust coming away on his fingers in oranges and blacks, and no matter how much they had fought and scuffled in the imagination he had never once even dreamed of going after Roman’s wings, though they were his obvious weak spot. One clean shot of an arrow, one stab of a spear, one slash of a sword, would be all it took, but despite what they all thought, he did have some morals, and he would rather kill himself than steal flight from Roman. So, wings? Off. Limits.

Patton’s wings were the incredibly soft looking, the fluffy wings of a mourning dove. Soft tan and black speckled, with a smooth cream underside, he roosted the most of all of them, fluffing up and resettling his feathers frequently, a self-soothing habit that made the moral side even more adorable than he already looked.

Logan’s were the smooth, almost blue black and white speckled sharp wings of a peregrine falcon. He usually kept his primly tucked against his back, though if you sat near him, sooner or later they would stretch out, resting against whoever was near. He’d never admit it, but he loved it when the others stroked his feathers, preened them, while he read or studied or planned out a schedule. It helped focus him, and he found that touch easier to reach out and ask for than hugs or other kinds of touch.

And Virgil. Virgil, whom had switched sides, had grown so much, had started letting them back into his life, had earned his wings through his hard work, his steady determination, through his acceptance. And they were beautiful.

He complained about them, of course, more often than not, but Remus could see through the grumbling protests, to the pride underneath. Because he’d gained the magnificent wings of a Scarlet Macaw. They were a brilliant red, green, yellow, blue rainbow, and spread the widest of any of the side’s wings, the most powerful in flight, though Logan’s were, of course, the fastest.

He’d been so self-conscious of them, at first. They’d grown in after the accepting anxiety videos, making Logan theorize that they were earned when a side was truly accepted. He’d avoided their calls for three days, after they came in, terrified out of his mind, before he couldn’t resist the pull of the summons anymore. But they’d all fawned over them, asking if he knew how to care for them, patiently teaching him how to groom them, broaching the topic of letting someone else help. It took a lot of time before he let that happen, before he trusted any of them enough to even come near his wings, to stop flinching whenever anyone reached towards him, pressing them tighter than was healthy against his back more often than not, cramping them painfully. But he got there.

He wasn’t all that surprised, even, when Janus came out of his room, not long after the whole wedding debacle part two, electric boogaloo, swearing up a storm, furious as all hell, dark black wings in disarray, just a splash of vibrant yellow marking the top of his coverts.

“Yellow headed blackbird. Nice.” He commented idly, Janus simply giving him a withering stare, before pulling on his gloves and heading upstairs, no doubt to rip into the light sides, not that they could change it back. It was the mindscape’s decision, and there was no going back. At least Virgil would commiserate. “At least they go with your theme!” He called, laughing as he heard the door slam.

…

In retrospect, he was an idiot.

To be fair, he was always an idiot. He was sure the others would argue against that statement, which made a soft, fuzzy feeling grow in his chest, that nearly numbed some of the excruciating agony wracking his body.

He’d been laying on his stomach, chin propped up on his hands, idly playing with some new software on his laptop. It used the camera on the computer to register where your eyes were looking at the screen, and used his eyes as the pen to draw. It was a good way to keep himself distracted, it took a lot of focus, but he’d gotten sucked in pretty quickly, excited at the prospect of trying out new styles and techniques.

So, he didn’t notice, at first, the now normal ache that had been going on for the better part of two months, starting to consolidate into lines of pain on his back. He gasped at a sudden shock of fiery heat, momentarily breathless. He moved to sit up, to try and grab a heating pack, or the heated blanket he’d snatched from Janus, which had seemed to help, but the movement sent another shock of heart rending agony through his chest, and he fell back to his stomach on the bed, hands fisting the blankets as wave after wave of piercing, soul shattering, mind numbing torment wrenched through his marrow.

It was fine, it was fine, it was manageable, he could handle this, he’d had worse, he could deal with this, figure out the rest later.

It felt like his back was aflame. He could feel sticky wetness soaking his shirt. He could feel his muscles pulsing and pounding, could taste copper in his throat, could hear his pulse in his ears, and he realized distantly he was screaming, unable to stop, tears leaking down his face, all he was aware of, all he could feel, was the lightning tracing itself down his back, burning brands into his shoulders, like he’d been mauled by a dragon, like burning, breaking, pulsing, pounding, rushing, breaking, desperate agony.

With one final pulse of flaming excruciation, he felt his back split open, the pain recedes slightly, gasping in air as his scream died on his lips, shaking from the force of his desperate, gasping sobs.

He heard footsteps pounding down the hall. Heard his door slam open, but he couldn’t look up, his knuckles white against the blanket, his teeth grinding so hard he was surprised they hadn’t already turned to nubs, and he let out a sharp, short yowling gasp as someone touched his back, trying to flinch away, the movement sending black spots across his vision. He felt a soft touch against his forehead, cupping his cheek, and he managed to blink his vision clear, surprised to see Patton’s pale face, eyes huge behind his glasses.

“hey… da…d” He managed weakly, closing his eyes against a sudden muscle contraction, barely stifling his scream to a whimper, unable to even joke as he normally would.

“Remus. We are going to help. What happened?” Logan asked, and he gasped in another breath to try and steady himself.

“Dunno know, f-or once. W-was just… dr-awing. Been s-ore, two m-onths.” He answered, unable to stifle a cry as Logan attempted to move his shirt. “Pl-ease. Hurts, please…” He didn’t know what he was asking, exactly, just that he needed it to stop, he couldn’t think, it just had to stop!

“Hey. It’s gonna be ok, ok? Just… Logan’s gonna take care of you. It’s gonna hurt, but he’s helping, ok?” Virgil, kneeling on the bed before him, covering his clenched fists with his hands, gently rubbing circles on them, pressing their foreheads together. “it’ll be ok.” Then Logan pulled up his shirt, and he screamed, blacking out.

…

“Oh. Oh Remus.” Roman gasped, face paling as he took in the red that covered his back, the two deep, pulsing slits on either side of his back, running from his shoulder blades to the base of his back.

“what… what is this?” Janus asked quietly, eyes wide, Remus’s scream still ringing in his ears. He’d never, never heard Remus sound like that, scream like that, a true, piercing, pained scream.

“two months… that was… that was the wedding. When… when Thomas accepted the dark parts of the mind.” Virgil said softly, not moving from his place close to Remus, not willing to let go.

“it’s his wings. Lo, it’s his wings! They didn’t… they must not have formed right. They’re stuck.” Patton, voice shaking and horrified. “they’re trying to get out.” Logan inhaled sharply. He could see it now, the new muscles moving and shifting underneath the skin, the wing joints struggling to free the new appendages, pulling at the rest of his skin, making the slits wider.

“I need to manually free them, or there may be permanent damage to both his wings and his spine. It’s not going to be pleasant. Patton, can you go heat up some water and bring me some soft towels? Roman, go get the first aid kit from under the sink. We’ll need the bandages.” They both complied with a lingering look back at Remus, who was trembling, moaning softly in his uneasy unconsciousness.

“What do you need from me, Logan?” Janus asked, eyes meeting Logan’s, who adjusted his glasses.

“Help hold him down? I don’t know if he has the strength for it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to thrash or lash out. I certainly wouldn’t underestimate it from him.”

“I’ve got his arms.” Virgil said, startling them both. They hadn’t realized he was paying attention. Logan nodded sharply, and Janus climbed onto the bed, pinning down Remus’s legs. Logan pulled on latex gloves, taking a large breath, before carefully reaching into the leftmost slit.

Remus did thrash weakly, falling still after only a moment, though soft whimpers escaped his lips, breath gasping and stuttering, Virgil ceaselessly murmuring to him, trying to convey safety. Slowly, Logan navigated the crumpled wing out into the open, feathers matted and sticky with blood. The other was a bit trickier, it seemed to be caught on something, and he winced as he had to painfully wrench it to get it out, concern growing as Remus didn’t react to the movement, even his whimpers ceasing.

“Good. That went well.” Logan mumbled, looking up as Roman and Patton reappeared in the doorway, faces paling at the bloodied wings. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I hope.” Only Janus and Virgil caught those two mumbled words, as Logan ushered the two over.

“Each of you take a wing. We need to stretch them out to their full length to try and get circulation going. Cleaning them thoroughly with the warm washcloths and water should also help in that department. Once we get all the viscera off, we can work on grooming. I’m going to attempt to clean his back and asses the total damage to it, I expect he’ll need stiches up and down his back, once we get the bleeding staunched.” Logan explained, already dabbing at Remus’s back with the cloth, relieved to find most of the bleeding had already stopped, it was mostly dried blood coating his back.

“Virgil. You don’t have to keep going.” Janus said softly, catching Roman’s attention, who was working on Remus’s right wing.

“I do. I… all the times, he’s helped me, I have to at least do this.” Virgil answered, eyes closed, a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead.

“what do you mean? What are you doing?” Patton asked, not looking up from his work.

“He’s absorbing Remus’s pain. Taking it on himself so Remus doesn’t feel it. Remus can do the same, and often did, helping when Virgil’s anxiety was at unsustainable levels.” Janus explained, pushing back his hair before replacing his hat.

“Virgil-“

“I’m fine, ok? He’s the one who needs help right now.” He snapped, the room falling into a tense, focused silence as they all worked, carefully dabbing, sewing, straightening, trying to get his wings into any semblance of normalcy.

Virgil just prayed that they’d still be usable. Two months. Two months, it must have hurt like a son of a bitch, and Remus hadn’t said anything! He was supposed to be the observant one, the worry wart, he was supposed to expect things to go wrong and keep an eye out for when they did. He should have known, should have realized, after Janus got his, that of course Remus wouldn’t be far behind. Especially after he’d helped him, when no one else had and he knew, knew, in his soul, that Remus helping him that day was what shifted everything. It was his fault, Remus was like this because of him.

“It isn’t your fault, Vee.” Janus murmured, sitting down beside him, setting his gloves aside. “I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t think it was this severe. He hid it well.”

“He always does. He’s an actor, remember?” Virgil mumbled back, letting himself lean back into Janus’s embrace, letting the silent tears slip down his face.

“We’re finished.” Logan said, wiping sweat away from his brow, cleaning up the washcloths and repacking the first aid kit, leaving it tucked under Remus’s bed. “I’ve sutured and bandaged his back, and it should heal up nicely, given time. His wings will need daily stretching, it may be hard for him to flex them to their full length on his own, given their extensive cramping, so we may need to help him hold them there. But the overall condition of the wings themselves is encouraging. Given time, he should be able to fly and they should have no lasting permanent damage.” Patton let out a deep sigh, sinking to the floor in relief, arms wrapped around his knees. Roman sunk down beside him, pulling him into a hug, Patton wrapping his wings around the both of them.

“Thank you, Logan.” Janus said softly, teasing his fingers through Virgil’s rainbowed feathers, feeling him melt against him with a shudder.

“Of course. I would suggest we all go get some rest. I would expect him to stay sleeping for quite a while, given the amount his body needs to heal. I’ll check on him this evening, to change his bandages, but he should be alright. Virgil, you can stop, now. He should be in a relatively minimal amount of pain, now.” Logan added, shooting a quick look at Virgil that held an entire lecture, and Virgil sighed, letting go, slumping further against Janus at the exhaustion washing over him.

“alright. Let’s go, Pat. I’ll keep you company.” Roman helped Patton to his feet, hesitating a moment, stroking Remus’s new wings gently. “Get well soon, Rem. I can’t wait to fly with you.” He murmured, smiling once at the others as he departed with Patton in tow.

“I’ll be going as well. I know there’s no use in trying to convince either of you to leave, though I would encourage you both to try and get some sleep as well, especially you, Virgil.” Logan said, nodding sharply once in farewell, closing the door behind him.

“They are stunning. I expect he’ll be pleasantly surprised, at how they turned out.” Janus mumbled against Virgil’s back.

“We match, kinda. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.” Virgil replied, smiling as he felt Janus’s laugh against his back.

They were beautiful. They shimmered like gemstones, sparkling and shifting iridescence. They started off a sparkling amber, before fading into a soft yellow, then glimmering green, which shifted into vibrant reds, bright oranges, deep blues, at the slightest shift of the light. They were relatively small, compared to the other’s wings, but that was natural. They were easily recognizable as hummingbird wings, rather fitting for the ever-energetic chaotic side. Logan had carefully shifted them so they were tucked against Remus’s back, in the position that would cause as little discomfort as possible, though no matter what he did, they were going to ache a bit.

“He’s going to be ok, Vee.” Janus murmured, wrapping his wings around Virgil, cocooning him in dark softness and warmth, something that never failed to put Virgil at ease, and soon enough, he was drifting off. Janus yawned himself, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, knowing he’d regret falling asleep like this in the morning, but he couldn’t help it as his eyes drifted shut.

…

He was sore. But less sore than he’d been in weeks. He shifted, wincing at the dull ache that came with it, before realizing he felt something soft and light against his back, against his skin. He knew, before even opening his eyes, he knew.

He should have figured it out sooner. Should have realized, and maybe he had, but he’d hoped he was wrong, been in denial, because why would he have gained wings? He hadn’t done a thing to earn them, he didn’t deserve them, maybe he should just cut them off himself, before the others saw them and started asking questions.

“Remus.” Well shit. There went that plan. He managed to crack his eyes open, looking up at the slightly blurry face of Janus. “You do deserve them. You have earned them. Everyone was worried about you.” He winced, Janus always could tell just what he was thinking. “only when you’re lying, to yourself or to others. Which you are doing now.”

“I’m not. I don’t deserve them, they’re probably horrible anyway, ugly and twisted and unusable and good for nothing, just like me.” He mumbled, looking away as he felt Virgil take his hand.

“They’re beautiful, Ree. I promise, they’re none of those things. Logan said you’ll need to stretch them and build up strength, but you’ll be flying in no time. Take a look, yeah?” He agreed grumblingly, letting them help him to sit up, legs dangling off the side of the bed. Carefully, Virgil grabbed hold of one of the wings and stretched it out to its full length, Remus’s breath catching as he stared, incredulous. Slowly, he reached out, running a hand through them, marveling at their softness.

“I’m gonna let go. Try and hold it here, okay?” Virgil asked, and he nodded. Virgil let go, and for a moment, it stayed extended, before it slowly curled against his back. With a small shake, Remus ruffled and resettled them, wincing at the tug moving them caused.

“That’s good, Ree. That’s really good.”

“I… I’m really gonna be able to fly?” Remus asked, voice small and almost afraid, and instantly, Virgil wrapped him in a hug, letting Remus tuck his head against his shoulder.

“Yes. We’re all going to help teach you, help take care of them, help take care of you, and we’re all going to be there for your first flight. I promise.” Janus joined in, hugging Remus from behind, careful of his wings, a steady weight against his back.

“You’re going to be a magnificent terror of the skies, Remus.” He let out a small laugh at that, hiccupping on a sob that escaped his lips instead, as he pressed tight into his best friends’ arms, both of them murmuring reassurances and encouragements and compliments, and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere, anywhere else.

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ibijau · 4 years

Text

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Xichen puts his new plan into action. Nie Huaisang is unsure how he feels about that.

As soon as he sits down, Nie Huaisang opens his fan and yawns from behind it. A double reminder for Lan Xichen that he doesn't want to be here, even with better tea, and also that some people know how to properly appreciate him, as proven by this perfect fan.

Lan Xichen doesn't take the bait. He serves tea without even a glance toward the fan even though it annoyed him so much last time. He sits, elegant as ever, and pushes a cup of perfect tea toward Nie Huaisang.

"Is there any chance we might play Go today?" Lan Xichen inquires in a resigned tone.

Honestly, Nie Huaisang doesn't know why the other boy still asks. Aside from that one time, they've never played again. His best guess is that it's just a habit at this point, and those Lans are nothing if not fond of their routine.

"Not in the mood," Nie Huaisang says with another yawn. He doesn't bother with excuses anymore, knowing Lan Xichen just accepts his refusal each time.

"Then I have another suggestion for a way to pass time," Lan Xichen announces, his usual empty smile a little more nervous than usual. "I'd like Nie gongzi to show me how he paints."

"I'm not interested in a lesson," Nie Huaisang retorts, fanning himself.

"I am. I want you to teach me."

That's such an unexpected declaration that Nie Huaisang gapes for a second and stills his hand, certain he must have misheard. When he sees the corner of Lan Xichen's mouth turn up in a more real smile, anger takes over surprise.

"Lan gongzi is mocking me," he accuses. "I thought that would have been against the rules of Gusu Lan."

The smile on his fiancé's face drops.

"Is it so hard to believe that I like the way you paint?"

Nie Huaisang shrugs. "Lan gongzi paints so perfectly, what does he have to learn from anyone, least of all from me? If you're so desperate for conversation, at least pick something believable."

Lan Xichen frowns.

"I'm not lying."

"Of course not. That's against the rules as well, isn't it?" Nie Huaisang taunts with a smirk.

"I'm not lying," Lan Xichen insists, rising up, "and I can prove it."

It's the first time he wastes some of their oh-so-precious time together by leaving the room. As he watches Lan Xichen hurry to the back of the house, toward the bedroom, Nie Huaisang idly wonders if it's something he could denounce to Lan Qiren. He eventually decides he doesn't want to deal with that old man. Besides, Lan Xichen does still have some blackmail material of his one, so it's best not to annoy him to much. He returns soon enough anyway, and drops a small stack of papers on the table.

"I like the way you paint," Lan Xichen says, his face red. "And since I cannot figure out how you do it, I wish for you to teach me."

Rather than to answer, Nie Huaisang gapes at the paintings presented to him, what appears to be a half dozen copies of the rabbits he gave Lan Wangji. He hesitantly grasps one and inspects it closely, a small frown forming on his brow.

"You made those?" he stutters, looking up at the other boy who's still standing. "But they look like… You paint so well, why would you try to copy me?"

"I like the way you paint," Lan Xichen repeats with unexpected intensity, his face turning even redder.

"But you told me I should stop painting, last year. I haven't forgotten that."

"It was… it was wrong of me," Lan Xichen sighs. "I worded things very badly that time, and I thought that it'd be selfish of me to encourage you to paint. If I hurt you, I'm sorry."

Nie Huaisang blinks dumbly, unsure what to make of that.

"How could it not have hurt me?" he huffs, holding his fan closer to his face to hide better. "Being told to give up the only thing I love, of course it hurt. But… you made these? Really? They're…" he hesitates, and lowers the fan to peek more easily. "Well, they're not bad, but they're not really good either. You're better than that normally."

At last Lan Xichen sits down on the other side of the table, grabbing one of the paintings to glare at it.

"I know they're bad, I just can't figure out how you make your lines flow like that. And I know it's not just that one painting, everything you do is like that. That fan you made, with the birds on a branch? I've tried to copy that as well."

"You guessed I painted that?" Nie Huaisang gasps.

"Of course. You have a very distinctive style, I'd recognise it anywhere."

It's Nie Huaisang’s turn to blush, and again he hides behind his fan. It's quite the shock to realise that all this time, Lan Xichen was maybe sincere about wanting to see his work. Since he lacks formal training, he's just assumed that of course his paintings would be seen as inferior and Lan Xichen was mocking him by faking interest.

Nie Huaisang glances toward the incense stick. Surprisingly, there's still a good chunk of it left.

"Get us paper and ink," he orders. "And… bring those birds as well, then."

For a second, Lan Xichen is so still that Nie Huaisang fears he offended him, or that he really was being mocked all along. Quickly though, a large smile breaks on Lan Xichen's face, bright and warm and so happy that it sends Nie Huaisang’s heart racing.

Lan Xichen looks like a different person when he's smiling for real.

While Lan Xichen prepares some ink for them, Nie Huaisang checks the other paintings he brought back, the one copied from his fan. These are better, which he points out.

"I think so too," Lan Xichen admits, "but it makes no sense. For those I had to work from memory. They don't even look that much like your fan."

Sadly, Nie Huaisang doesn't have that fan with him today. He brought the one from his mystery admirer, which for the first time makes him feel a pang of guilt. It is the prettiest fan he's ever owned, and he carries it most of the time these days because it's too beautiful not to show off, but that can't be pleasant for Lan Xichen.

Not that he cares what's pleasant to Lan Xichen, he has to remind himself. Having his paintings appreciated doesn't erase all the rest.

"Paint one now," Nie Huaisang orders.

"Wouldn't it be better if you painted one so I'd see how you do it?"

A few moments ago, Nie Huaisang would have bitten off his own tongue and choked on it rather than to give in to any of Lan Xichen’s requests, just to spite him. As it turns out though, it’s a little harder to hate his fiancé when he doesn’t have that stupid fake smile on, and at the moment Lan Xichen looks sincerely earnest and curious. It's not a bad look on him. Nie Huaisang barely needs to consider his options before he grabs a brush and starts painting the first thing that comes to mind. It is not his most refined work, not by far, but considering he’s working from memory and trying to keep this quick so the incense doesn’t run out, it’s not so bad either.

“A nightingale?” Lan Xichen remarks. “It looks very lively. Its wing, though…”

“It was broken when I bought her,” Nie Huaisang explains. “It still has an odd shape, but she can fly mostly fine.”

Realising just how much information he’s allowed himself to share, and knowing how pets are forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang braces himself for some negative remark. None comes.

“Nie gongzi has an eye for detail,” Lan Xichen says instead. “And a hand for them, too. You did this so quickly, and yet I’m sure anyone who has seen your bird would recognise it. It's amazing.”

"Careful, excessive flattery is against your rules," Nie Huaisang grumbles.

"I'm not…"

"Just try to copy it," Nie Huaisang orders, shoving the brush in his hand. "It's a simple one, you should find it easy."

Lan Xichen pinches his lips before putting on that empty smile again, for which Nie Huaisang is grateful, since it removes any possible confusion. When he looks like an inhuman jade statue, Lan Xichen is easy to hate.

Not that Nie Huaisang really has time to think about that. All his focus is on Lan Xichen's elegant hand as it holds the brush and tries to copy his little bird. As expected, Lan Xichen's movements are perfectly controlled, slow but well assured, his strokes light and flowing… But not enough. When he lifts his brush, his copy isn't bad, but it looks stilted and heavy, especially compared to the original.

Nie Huaisang glances at the incense stick. It's still burning, meaning he won't be saved from having to give an honest critique.

"Are you perhaps unused to drawing animals?" he cautiously asks.

"I usually do better than this," Lan Xichen replies dejectedly. "I'm only this bad when I try to copy you."

"Hm. Maybe if you went a little faster? Your movement are a lot slower than mine."

"I wouldn't control the brush as well," Lan Xichen protests. "I'd probably make mistakes."

"Probably. But that's half the fun, isn't it? Making mistakes and trying to see if they don't look nicer than the proper thing…"

Lan Xichen stares at Nie Huaisang as if he's gone mad. In turn, Nie Huaisang can't help tensing. Trial and error is how he's learned to paint, since he's never had the advantage of a teacher. That, and copying every piece of art he could get his hands on. But of course that's not the right way to do it, of course that's stupid, of course it's…

"You're the teacher," Lan Xichen says without a hint of mockery in his voice. "I'll try it like that."

Nie Huaisang’s face grows hot at being called teacher. Thankfully Lan Xichen doesn't appear to notice, too busy starting another copy of the nightingale. It's worse than the first. It's starting to be fun, actually.

"Try to keep your gestures lighter," Nie Huaisang advises, resting his chin onto his hand as he watches Lan Xichen be bad at something. "You're still trying to control it too much."

"I'm doing my best!"

"Your best should be better than that. Lighter, more relaxed. Yes, like th… ah, that line was almost good. You'll get there."

Lan Xichen pouts as he looks down at his disastrous attempts.

"I think I just can't do it the way you do, Nie gongzi," he sighs wistfully. "I'll have to content myself with admiring your work."

Hearing Lan Xichen admit that he thinks he's failing at something is more delicious than a sip of Emperor's Smile. That he would be bad in comparison to Nie Huaisang is better than a whole jar of wine. Ascending to godhood wouldn't be half as satisfying.

Riding that high, Nie Huaisang decides that just this once, he can afford to be kind to Lan Xichen.

Jumping to his feet, he walks around the table and comes to sit next to Lan Xichen who startles at the sudden proximity.

"What… what are you doing, Nie gongzi?"

"Showing you how I do it," Nie Huaisang explains, covering Lan Xichen’s hand with his own so he can guide him, since apparently just explaining isn’t enough.

The reaction to his touch is immediate and intense.

Lan Xichen flinches violently at the contact and drops his brush so suddenly that it rolls on the table, staining both his failed studies and the bottom of Nie Huaisang’s nightingale. They both freeze, equally surprised by what just happened. Lan Xichen recovers first.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, tearing a piece of paper from one of his sketches, vainly trying to blot this mess, as if that’s ever going to work. “I didn’t expect… You took me by surprise and…”

Nie Huaisang grinds his teeth and shrugs. “It’s fine. I should have known better.” He glances at the incense stick, and finds that at long last, it is all gone. It feels like it burned an eternity and a half today. “I’ll be going.”

Without a look for his fiancé, Nie Huaisang gets back up on his feet. As he wipes some imaginary dust from his knees, he briefly wonders if he should grab the painting of his nightingale before he leaves. In the end he decides against it. Lan Xichen ruined it, he can keep it and make more bad copies of it, if that pleases him.

“Nie Huaisang, wait!” Lan Xichen orders, although if it were coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like a plea. “I really didn’t mean to…”

“I’ll see you next week,” Nie Huaisang cuts him, stomping toward the door. “Good day, Lan gongzi.”

Ignoring Lan Xichen’s protests, he strides out of the house and heads for his cabin. He had planned to meet up with Jin Zixuan to tell him what a disaster this new meeting with his fiancé had been, but now it doesn’t feel like such a funny idea anymore.

It was stupid of him to lower his guard and forget for a moment that Lan Xichen is what he is. Just because the other boy said a few nice things about his paintings… Nie Huaisang feels pathetic that this was all it took to almost give his fiancé a second chance. In the end, he’s still nothing more than that idiot kid from last year, so desperate for the approval of someone who will never give it.

It was stupid to ever think things could get better.

Lan Xichen might appreciate his paintings, but he still clearly hates everything else about Nie Huaisang.

#xisang #worst engagement au #jau writes #Lan Xichen tries and messes up: the fic #but at least he's trying? yay him?#also I kinda want to do a jin zixuan pov next but lol fuck if I know what might happen there

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sonicringbond · 3 years

Text

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 51

Well, a lot happens in this scene, though it took me forever to put it together due to all sorts of problems on my end. Unfortunately I’m a horrible proof reader so I hope the events flow and don’t feel wasted. So, instead of panicking and throwing a fit about it, I’ll let everyone dive right into...

The hanger doors folded out and a chill wind rushed into the belly of the Skyskipper, Zooey’s coral red airship. Normally it served as home for Zooey, Tails, and Rosy, but when they first found a red star ring it became their base of operations, including for Sonic and Mighty. As Claymore’s Banquet unfolded below, it also served as an observation platform for the Engineers, who Zooey had forged a strong alliance with while sky racing using Sonic and Tails’ planes; the Tornado and X-Tornado. Today though, it was Sonic at the controls of the Tornado, with Rosy blissfully on his lap in the now cramped cockpit.

“I kind of feel like I should have taken Tails’ plane.”

“Don’t be like that, Sonic~♥,” Rosy giggled and Sonic rolled his eyes before looking out at Zooey who was preparing to man the deployment arm for the plane.

“You ready to bail if things go sideways?”

“Not too far. Besides, the Ring Gate Beacon is working perfectly. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting back here.”

“Then we’re off!” Rosy shouted excitedly and thrust a fist cheerfully in the air.

Sonic smirked as he dodged Rosy’s enthusiasm and began throwing switches as he started up the silver-winged, red biplane. With Rosy’s arm up in the air though, he noticed a light blinking from under the cuff of Rosy’s glove. “We got a call, kid. How about you say hi to Tails while we head out.”

“Yay!”

Bringing her arm down and trying not to get in Sonic’s way, Rosy depressed a button on the wrist device she wore. “So, is this Mighty or Tails!~♥”

-Oh~! This technology is amazing! It’s a lot more advanced than what we installed on my ship.-

“Blister?” Rosy asked confused. “Why do you have–”

-Don’t worry about it Rosy-lass,- Gill’s voice came across the wrist radio next He also seemed to quickly change his mind. -No. Definitely worry about it, Rosy-lass. That knight is more trouble than we realized. But we got in contact with Tails, Mighty, and the koala before he took them out of here. Tails insisted that we get their stuff and meet you at the stage. He’s worried Rosy-lass. Real worried, especially after I told him that Claymore sent most of his autogolems into the catacombs. He insists that your lad is going to need to stop someone. We don’t know who, but Claymore called him a Ring Mage.-

“Ix!” Rosy declared with surprise.

“You don’t know that,” Sonic countered, but Rosy did not even puff up her cheeks as she countered him. She attempted to wear a smile for him though.

“Just call it my girlish intuition.”

“Right,” Sonic replied offering her a more comforting smile before flashing Zooey a thumbs up. “We’re good to go, Zooey. Send us on our way.”

“Just come back please. Sonic, Rosy. And make sure you bring Tails and Mighty with you.”

“You got it!” Sonic promised Zooey as she activated the launch arm, and the Tornado was lifted out of the airship.

“We’ll bring our new friends too,” Rosy cried out as the Tornado was released and fell away from the airship. “You’ll love them!”

~Normally I would love flying sitting in Sonic’s lap while he pilots his plane. Tee-hee~♥ This might be my first time. I don’t think we ever have. But the thing is… Well, something isn’t right.

~I know Sonic doesn’t believe in destiny. He believes in forging his own path. But the gods are real. I don’t remember, but Sonic I’m sure does. The Rings will always remember, and he can create Ring Bonds, so he surely does. I know we must have met a few. And this scene as we fly past the other airships and towards the main cathedral, it looks like something they would do.~

The scene before Rosy was ominous, even as it was beautiful. From the complex of towers that made up the main cathedral of Tower Point, the spire of the main one was aimed straight at Yoluku above. Behind it, the sun rose into the morning sky, and began to set behind Yoluku. An upside-down sunset and the spreading of an ominous smile.

Beyond the clouds that adorned the blue sky, an eclipse night began to fall, and the stars came out to watch the banquet below, the red crack in the sky splitting their number.

It was a sight that many below marked as the beginning of the end of the world. Claymore the Purple however would not stand to let Yoluku win. With Tails, Mighty, and Draw with Mote hiding in his coat, trailing him, Claymore descended a massive stairwell that took him and his contingent of autogolems onto the stage that overlooked the main plaza. Compared to the three-meter-tall suit of armor, the stage looked small. Looking up as he did past the tower and to where Yoluku mockingly watched the festivities, it was Claymore who looked small.

“Ho!” Claymore shouted out in victorious triumph, challenging the small planet in the sky to face him. “This is why we host this Banquet my good people! To show you that as long as even one Knight of the Order of the Sword stands, foul Yoluku is but a harmless bauble in the sky. It is only those that would carry out Yoluku’s will that you need fear. And one comes to us now!”

Turning his attention, and in turn that of the gathered masses to the skies, Claymore eyed the Tornado as it weaved through the airships.

~I bet the scene from the stage is amazing! But it’s getting hard for me to pay attention. The Gear Star Ring that sometimes replaces my left iris is back, and it hurts so much. I guess that means the gear is turning, so something big is about to happen. Or maybe Saber the Red is here.

~It’s really hard to say what is going on though. I just hope it isn’t as bad as it sounds like Tails thinks it is.~

“Hey kid, are you okay?” Sonic asked noticing Rosy clutch at her shoulder, and her cards within the shoulder puff of her leotard.

Rosy didn’t hear him though. Her cards were freezing, and there was a voice creeping through her skin whispering in her ears.

It’s alright. You can still have fun. There is yet still plenty of fun to be had…

“Amy!” Sonic yelled and shook Rosy from her stupor.

“Oops!” Rosy apologized and stuck her tongue out. “Sorry. I think something was trying to talk to me. But I’m here!”

“And so are we,” Sonic let Rosy know that they had landed.

“Aw~! I missed you do a flyover didn’t I!” Rosy whined as Sonic playfully chucked her from the cockpit. “Ack! What was that for!”

“You were taking too long, and got a little distracted,” Sonic smirked as he flung himself from the cockpit and glared across the stage. “And I don’t think our host is willing to wait much longer.”

“Ho!” Claymore shouted and looked taken aback as Rosy took Sonic’s offered hand and helped herself up. “You would treat the medium under your care so carelessly. You are no knight Ring Mage!”

“And what about you, Sir Buckethead,” Sonic countered. “Attacking people out of the blue to kidnap little girls–”

“I’m not a little girl!”

“–and kidnapping her friends when that fails,” Sonic continued ignoring Rosy’s rebuttal. “That doesn’t sound much like a knight either. Or maybe I’m just out of the loop and you guys don’t put much stock in being honorable anymore.”

Pulling free the finger he had started scratching at the inside of his ear with, Sonic looked at it a moment before blowing on it and walking away from Rosy. She didn’t wait at the plane and took up pace behind Sonic as he approached the towering autogolem.

“You would challenge my honor? Ho!” Claymore laughed. “You are brave Ring Mage, but your friends remain unharmed.”

Motioning out with a hand, Claymore displayed where Tails, Mighty, and Draw were in shackles under autogolem watch. Mighty offered Sonic a shrug as Sonic’s look begged to know why he hadn’t broken free. Draw just looked irritable, which was almost expected of the young koala. He knew he was in trouble, but there were some naiveties that he still possessed that kept him from panicking. Tails was not so fortunate.

“Tails!” Rosy cried out, the obvious fear and dread on her best friend’s face tearing at her heart. “Just wait right there! Sonic will have this cleaned up in no time!”

“There’s no time to wait!” Tails yelled back. “I’ve been reading since I got here, and if what I’ve read is true, if we don’t stop the Ring Mage in the catacombs below the city, the Near Lands will be blown apart and absorbed into the Far Lands! Rosy! The whole Near Lands are a Red Star Ring!”

“What…?” Rosy asked confused, but still trembled at the implications of Tails’ words.

The statement even gave Sonic pause and he looked out at Tails questioningly. “Are you sure about that Tails? I’ve already used two of them. I would think I would have noticed.”

“How would he have found that out from books in the cathedral?” Claymore’s stunned question answered Sonic’s question and he turned an angry glare back onto the knight.

“You had a problem like this stirring, and you came to pick up our fight,” Sonic nearly snarled.” I don’t think you have your priorities in order, Sir Buckethead.”

“You underestimate the armies of the Preservers,” Claymore countered and drew his sword. “A Ring Mage who would challenge me to battle and is in possession of a medium is a far greater threat!”

“Your wrong!” Rosy interrupted and held a hand to her heart. “Sonic doesn’t hurt people unless they’re already hurting others. You took our friends because you wanted to take me. You wanted to know if I could hear Yolk saying something. You obviously want to protect this beautiful world. That makes you like Sonic and all of us then. Ix though… Ix won’t stop. He told me the world has to be righted. That he has to find to his friend no matter what. That once he does that the world will be returned to how it should be. If he’s here and he can affect everywhere and the Red Star Ring these lands are built on, everyone’s homes… then you have to let us stop him!”

“And how can I know you can be trusted, Lady Medium?” Claymore challenged Rosy’s pleas. “Do you think me blind to the Yoluku Device in your eye? Even now Yoluku could be whispering in your ear–”

“If that’s Yolk then please tell them to get out of my head!” Rosy yelled as she squeezed her hand tightly around her shoulder.

“Rosy! Don’t tell me…?” Tails’ panic shifted as he saw the pain clear as day on Rosy’s smiling face, as well as her trembling knees and the water vapor that flowed out of her sleeve. “Rosy! You have to put your cards down, or at least give them to someone else!”

“You remember that too, huh, Tails?” Sonic remarked and surprised Rosy.

“Sonic? What are you talking about?”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve had a god messing with you through your cards, kid,” Sonic spoke, fighting to keep his anger in check. To help, he turned again towards Claymore, a ready recipient of his ire.

“I wanted to wreck that tin can you’re wearing and reveal the fairy I’m pretty sure is hiding inside,” Sonic began before turning his back on Claymore and walking away, a guiding and protective hand on Rosy. Looking back as he returned towards the Tornado, he continued with cocky anger, “but it looks like you’re getting my help whether you want it or not.”

“I will not accept the aid of a puppet of Yoluku,” Claymore countered and took a step towards Sonic and Rosy, reaching for them with his empty hand.

“I figured you’d say that,” Sonic shrugged as he tossed Rosy into the cockpit. “But fortunately, I’ve already planned for it.”

Sticking his fingers in his mouth, Sonic whistled and made quite the show of the signal to action. Looking back at Claymore one last time, he smirked and wagged a finger. “And I’m no one’s puppet. My only master is the wind that blows free!”

-----

And we survived XD I hope the scene flowed well, and I’ll do my best to make sure the rest of the Season 1 finale is good. As you can probably guess by this text, at the time of this commentary I haven’t written it yet. Things have been pretty crazy, and hopefully are less crazy when this posts. Still, I’m really hoping I have a great finish in store for everyone! Wish me luck!

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Scene 51 · CLEARED Party Crashing, to be continued

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Insatiable (From “Final Fantasy XIV”) - Vocaloid Version – Azina, Masayoshi Soken – Insatiable (From “Final Fantasy XIV”)

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

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m42-fr · 5 years

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Some Breed Headcanons

Just a couple of breed headcanons I use in my AU. Some of the headcanons are mine, and some come from other users! Some of this may be actual canon that I’ve thrown in my notes to remember, but am too lazy to double-check. ‘Read More’ added because it is looooong.

BOGSNEAKS - Bogsneaks have some of the most dominant genes of all dragons. Were a Bogsneak to mate with a member of a different breed, the hatchling would almost certainly have dominant Bogsneak traits, especially the crests. - Bogsneaks can’t change the muscles at the base of their fins, but they can style their crests by trimming them, using molds to make them grow a certain way while young, and by heat treating them, among other things. In modern day [Deadlock AU], synthetic fins were all the rage for a long while and are still popular in places with the proper technology. - Bogsneaks can smell with their tongues. Their sense of smell using only their nostrils is rather weak. - Bogsneaks have an inflatable sac on their throat, which they can use to make loud noises like frogs. The screeching can sound like anything between a squeaky door and a deflating balloon.

COATLS - [Deadlock AU] Coatls once had a native tongue, but years of genetic modification have created two variants: Old Coatls and New Coatls. Old Coatls have the ear structure of their ancestors, and lack the ability to clearly discern common Draconic. They speak the native Coatl language almost innately, and struggle to understand others. New Coatls are more common, and have been modified to have an ear structure like that of other dragon breeds, allowing for easy communication. Old Coatls and New Coatls do not tend to get along well and have a difficult time understanding one another. New Coatls have extreme difficulty learning the Old Coatl tongue.

FAES - Faes are the only breed who can hover mid-air, fly backwards, and fly upside down. Their large wings allow them to glide as well as hover.

IMPERIALS - Imperial biology is incredibly active, leading to its inherent instability. This state of life allows them to heal very quickly and live for incredibly long periods of time, but it also renders them the most vulnerable to cancers and other deadly mutations and genetic disorders. This is the same reason they form Emperors. Multiple severely injured Imperials, or even clinically dead Imperials, may still have some living tissue that attempts to heal itself by stitching to other living Imperial tissue. This makes Imperials the only breed who can be administered full-on limb transfusions.

MIRRORS - Mirror crests are typically rigid, though muscles at their base allow them to be flared out or pulled in to express emotion and signal to other members of the pack. One of the first signs of ill health are floppy crests, as the cartilage supporting them loses its strength and flops downwards. Floppy cartilage is also a common birth defect. - Mirrors are the most endurant of any dragon breed, capable of running for hours on end. They have a stunningly high metabolism to fuel this, and must consume the most food per pound of their body in comparison to any other breed. - Mirrors prefer to travel and hunt in groups with their own kind. A group of Mirrors is called a pack or a horde depending on the social structure. Hordes are the most common and consist of a motley group of individuals with no real leader. Packs have a defined leader or leading group who keeps the rest of the pack at bay and directs them. - Mirrors are one of the least talkative breeds, and they often find excessive talking to be a nuisance. They communicate primarily with body language and sound. The noises they can make range between hyena-like cackling and whooping to high-pitched screeches and howls. In modern day, they have a habit of inventing hunting languages that rely on hand signals and sounds to communicate things like, “Prey is going that way!” and, “Fall back!” - Mirrors consider a mouth of bared teeth a challenge, though others call it a smile. A friendly Mirror smile looks more like a smirk. - Young Mirrors are called pups. - Mirrors are surprisingly good diggers. They bury anything they want: food, camps, noisy neighbors, and even themselves if they really want to sleep in. - Mirror’s stomachs are churning cauldrons of pestilence, and they are capable of eating just about anything they set their eyes upon. Their vomit is considered an incredible biohazard and can often infect those it falls upon, and, in rare cases, give them acidic burns. - Mirrors can use their tails as whips. [Deadlock AU] Modern weapons utilizing this technique often involve some sort of stinger, sticky object, or even a downright taser strapped to a string that’s then secured around the tail, so Mirrors can whip their tails and strike prey at a distance to disable it or bring it closer. - Mirrors breathe primarily through the gills behind their arms, allowing them to breathe even while neck-deep in prey. As they have no nostrils, they can otherwise breathe primarily through their mouths. Many Mirrors have custom-tailored apparel to allow the gills some room to breathe. The entry point of the gills are a series of small holes just above the collarbone, which act as nostrils. - Mirrors cackle and whoop like hyenas when excited and happy. - Mirrors regenerate teeth throughout their lives, like sharks. It is not uncommon for them to lose teeth when biting into something, and a Mirror with multiple missing teeth is somebody who has recently survived a number of fights. Sometimes, they break off in soft foods for no real reason. It’s quite obnoxious.

PEARLCATCHERS - Newly-hatched Pearlcatchers, called cubs, have separated jaws like snakes, which allows them to comfily vomit up their pearl. In adolescence, the jawbones fuse together, losing their ability to separate. However, their throat and stomach muscles remain flexible and elastic, which means that Pearlcatchers are immensely good at performing carnival tricks like sword-swallowing and eating contests. - When faced with the prospect of danger and death, Pearlcatchers begin to salivate unconsciously and generate the ‘memory nacre’ to vomit up, so they can add their last moments to their pearl. If they manage to survive the encounter, they often wind up with so much nacre in their mouth that it begins to drool, leaving a shimmering trail behind them. This is one of the reasons why Pearlcatchers are such legendary cowards - a predator could follow their tracks and hunt them down. - A group of Pearlcatchers is called a parliament. - Many Pearlcatchers pride themselves on two things: their pearls and their manes. The latter is an especially large undertaking, as they style it in all sorts of ways - dreads, braids, mohawks, and they may dye it different colors too. It is a truly egregious act to let one’s mane get dirty or messy. [Deadlock AU] In the wasteland, many Pearlcatchers prefer to shave off their mane entirely rather than let it be soiled by sand and sludge. - Pearlcatchers may have more than one pearl throughout their lifetime if they happen to be the sort with many impactful experiences or an exceedingly long lifespan. They can start a new pearl at any time using nothing but nacre as a base, and may choose to do so if their current pearl is getting too large. - Alternatively, they may choose to re-swallow their current pearl (no small feat - occasionally accomplished by breaking it into pieces), where it’s broken down into nacre and regurgitated. A part of this nacre, believed to be a mixture of all the memories of the past pearl, is used to make the new pearl. In this way, they ‘compress’ their memories. - The color that nacre solidifies in depends on the emotions the Pearlcatcher felt during the creation of the memory. The darker the new layer is, the less happy the Pearlcatcher was in the memory. Dark pearls are often considered ‘dirty’ and dishonorable, so Pearlcatchers who have recently had a bad experience will vomit the nacre up in a hidden corner and leave it to dry. Some individuals have ‘bad memory pearls’ for this explicit purpose. - They consider Tundras to be the worst of dragon breeds, because they constantly forget - forgetting is a crime to those who remember all.

RIDGEBACKS - A male Ridgeback’s snout is used for defense. It was once used for impressing females, but has since fallen out of use for its impracticality. As a protrusion of bone that never stops growing, like rodent teeth, it must be periodically filed down to prevent it from growing too long. Some Ridgebacks choose to saw it off entirely to make their lives easier. Female Ridgeback’s snouts do grow too, but not nearly as fast as male’s, making it a rare sight to see a female with a long snout. - Ridgebacks molt their spines about once every season, or four times a year. It’s an itchy and time-consuming process, and often leaves them in a bad mood. The shed spines are very hard and sharp, and are often carved into jewelry or affixed to the tips of spears. - The bases of Ridgeback’s snouts have large clusters of receptors sensitive to electricity. Though this is a little more developed in males, the receptors are located in the point extending outwards past the nostrils, which is a trait found in both sexes. This allows them to seek out electricity with relative ease, as well as partially predict weather and lightning storms. - Many Ridgebacks clip their large thumb talons so they don’t get in the way of delicate motor skills. - Ridgebacks traditionally have scratching posts, usually rocks or trees, somewhere in their lair for them to regularly file down their talons and snouts on. This is a noisy and time-consuming process, and a part of their regular grooming routine. - It is theorized that the Ridgeback’s natural aversion to water was purposefully programmed to help them avoid flash floods, for they’d seek high ground and shelter the moment the rain started falling. They most commonly have fears of drowning, and many of their nightmares center around being trapped underwater. Those hatched under the Tidelord’s influence do not have this quirk.

SPIRALS - Spirals are naturally agile, and are excellent in supporting battle positions due to their ability to dodge blows at lightning speeds. [Deadlock AU] They are the only breed capable of intentionally dodging bullets, and this has earned them a somewhat mythological reputation on the battlefield. - Spirals have the most cartilage of any breed, so their bones don’t come apart when they’re twisting around.

TUNDRAS - [Deadlock AU] As the planet’s temperatures have risen, many Tundras make a practice of periodically shaving off their coats, leaving nothing but a thin silky layer behind. Some males choose to keep their manes behind, as they’re useful in protecting the neck from the bites of predators, but such a choice is rare.

- Growth of the winter coat is triggered by prolonged low temperatures. Tundras who live in warmer climates may never see their winter coat. - Tundras tend to braid their fur to prevent it from getting tangled in knots. - Due to Tundra’s intense sense of smell, young pups often become easily distracted and follow their nose into dangerous situations. - Tundras are the closest breed to mammals. They still lay eggs, but are otherwise respectively mammalian: they grow fur, and, more importantly, they secrete milk through a series of small nipples on the torso. Tundra milk is a light ivory in color and tastes very fatty. - Some Tundras have a rapid bone growth gene that makes their canines develop into oversized fangs, like sabertooth cats. These often need to be filed down on the regular, lest they break apart with wear and tear. WILDCLAWS - Hatchlings have a habit of imprinting upon their parents, leading to strong familial bonds. Hatchlings who do not imprint on their parents often lose much of their natural instincts, such as that to duel and engage in the hierarchy. Such loners are typically regarded as outcasts, though may be allowed to live on the fringes of a clan if they prove themselves worthy. - Wildclaws tap their talons on the ground to show annoyance and to serve as a threat. - Wildclaws have invented several forms of martial arts, many of which involve kicking out the feet to slash at opponents with their talons. - Wildclaws often break off their horns and talons in the midst of battle. This is seen as a good thing, because they grow back quickly, and common myth holds that they become thicker and sharper every time they regrow. It’s a grave insult to call one, “Brittleclaw,” because it implies that they have so little battle that their horns are as flimsy as paper. - Wildclaws are the best runners, but one of the weakest fliers. Their wings are flared out for intimidation and challenge purposes, and flared wings are seen as a sign of confidence and occasionally a challenge depending on body language. - Wildclaws love to pounce on their prey. They may use their wings to prolong the glide and gain speed in the air to hit their target harder. - Wildclaw skulls are surprisingly thick, and they use this to headbutt one another during duels. The first part of a duel always consists of headbutting one another and locking horns, and fighting to get loose. (Often times, they separate by snapping one another’s horns). Once they untangle, one either backs down, ending the duel there and leaving with their life intact, or they leap back into the fray and enter a deadly dance of talons and teeth. - Wildclaws have flexible throats and stomachs, allowing them to swallow food whole. They often do this when on the run. - Wildclaws have crops, from which they can regurgitate things. - Wildclaws are excellent climbers, and they often hook their talons into gaps in rocks and bark to get a better grip. - Wildclaws can raise and lower their crest of head-feathers.

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ask-them-bois · 4 years

Text

Hurt Him Some More, pt2

The descendant was no help; hurting him clearly didn’t work to draw Ruthless out, so he was going to have to go bigger.

Forsaken dropped the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it with his boot, watching as the punk and deranged thief strolled down the street together, hand in hand. Unnoticed, he followed behind.

They turned into a narrow alley, and he quickly did the same.

As he turned the corner, though, he pulled up short at the sight of a robotic hand, the palm glowing with power, and the blade of a dagger, the steel burning white as it hummed with magic, in his face. Both were pointed towards him, waiting.

“What the fuck d0 y0u want, Alastr?” Incoding snarled. Forsaken took a step back, startled.

“How-”

“Stumpy peg legs d0n’t make well f0r sneak1ng up 0n pe0ple.” Incoding scoffed, “N0w tell me what y0u want bef0re 1 bl0w y0ur bulge 0ff.”

“I want to know w£r£ Ruthl£$$ i$.” The pirate answered steadily, one hand sliding inside his trenchcoat to grab his pistol.

“Yeah? S0 w0uld 1. He packed up and d1tched t0wn f0r a wh1le.” Incoding hissed. He glanced at Decaying, whose eyes were glowing slightly. “Maybe 1f we k1ll h1m, Ru w1ll c0me back faster. What d0 y0u th1nk?”

“Th- m-gal_d_n and l-viathan ar- d-stin-d t_ war, but it is th- m_nst-r in th- d--p, which rag-s against th- light, that will swall_w th-m up. Th- drag_n must liv-, but it d_-s n_t m-an w- can’t clip its wings.*” Decaying rambled.

(The megalodon and leviathan are destined to war, but it is the monster in the deep, which rages against the light, that will swallow them up. The dragon must live, but it does not mean we can’t clip its wings.)

Forsaken blinked, bewildered. “What th£ fu€k ar£ you talking about?”

Incoding chuckled, his palm growing brighter. “He has a p01nt. H0w sh0uld we d0 1t? H1s eye? H1s leg?” He asked Decaying, ignoring the bronzeblood. Forsaken hissed, pulling his pistol out and cocking the hammer.

“Don’t £v£n think about it,” He warned, aiming the pistol at Decaying’s face, “or I’ll blow hi$ brain$ out.”

“He d0esn’t have any bra1ns f0r y0u t0 bl0w, s0 g0 ahead.” Incoding laughed. Decaying nodded.

“Th- mind ran away and whisp-rs cam- t_ play.” He agreed. Forsaken’s lip twitched, his finger shifting to the trigger. Incoding’s palm grew brighter as he did, though, and he froze.

“Sh00t h1m, and there w0n’t be en0ugh 0f y0u left f0r the rats to chew 0n.” Incoding said warningly, his voice eerily calm. Forsaken hesitated, weighing the odds.

There was a tense few seconds, before Forsaken lowered the gun slightly. “... Fin£.” he rumbled, before he flicked his wrist to the side and shot Incoding instead.

The sound shattered the air, reverberating in the narrow alley and making the bronzeblood’s ears pop. The bullet ripped through the metal plating on Incoding’s chest, which began to spark and pop; the inner workings were shot, no pun intended.

Instantly, Incoding felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he’d been punched in the windpipe. He crumpled to his knees, gasping. Sweeps ago, his lungs had been so badly burned that he needed the robotic parts to keep them working properly. And like popping a balloon, the bullet broke the mechanics that kept them from doing so. The fan stuttered and began to whistle, the blades bent and broken.

“C_dy!” Decaying dropped beside his boyfriend as Forsaken backed away. Incoding clutched his chest, gulping what little air he could get. Decaying looked up sharply, his teeth bared at the pirate.

Grabbing a second knife from his belt, he stood up and advanced. Forsaken, rapidly backing away now, fired blindly; once, then again just to make sure.

The first bullet sang off the concrete ground and disappeared.

The second found a mark, right in Brigan’s left shoulder. Rust-red blood bloomed from the wound and instantly soaked the thief’s shirt, but he barely seemed to notice.

His blades swinging, he lunged for the pirate, but Forsaken threw himself sideways. “Do you r£ally hav£ tim£ for thi$?” He asked, almost casually, “Your pi$$blood $eem$ to b£ €hoking.” Decaying whirled around to look at Incoding; as he did, Forsaken turned tail and fled, laughing.

Decaying glanced after him, then ran to his partner. Dropping the blades, he fell to his knees beside him. “C_dy?” he asked softly, his eyes wide and scared.

Incoding had fallen forward onto his hand, his robotic one pressed against the chest plating. He wheezed, his face yellow and sweat pouring down his brow. “1′m 0kay.” He panted through gritted teeth. The tips of his metallic fingers pulled back to reveal various tools as he fumbled with the plating. He ripped back the protective covering, revealing the wires and gears inside. “1 can- get 1t w0rk1ng aga1n, just- just g1ve me a sec-” His words came out stagnantly as he fought to breathe.

“What can I d_?” Decaying asked, trying to push down the feeling of panic. Incoding hissed in pain.

“Fuck, yeah, 0kay. Can y0u reach 1n there and grab- grab the th1ng?”

“Thing?” Decaying repeated, looking down at the confusing mechanics.

“The- fuck- the th1ng, 1-” He shook his head, his oxygen-lacking brain refusing to give up the word he needed. “Fuck 1t. here.” he pulled his palmhusk from his vest and shoved it at his mate. “Call C0rden, he- he can f1x th1s. He’ll walk y0u thr0ugh 1t.” He rasped. As Decaying took the phone, Incoding suddenly fell forward, his arm giving out.

Decaying made a startled noise and grabbed him, pushing him back up. He pressed him against the alley’s wall, the goldblood slumping against the stones with relief. His vision was getting blurry, he noted faintly as he watched Decaying scroll through his contacts.

“Y0u’re hurt.” Incoding panted, realizing the red blur on his mate’s sleeve was blood.

“But I will n_t di-.” Decaying shrugged as the palmhusk began to dial.

While it was ringing, Brigan shifted closer and took Incoding’s hand. Incoding squeezed it weakly, managing to smile a little before he closed his eyes.

#hurt him some more #pt 2 #the forsaken #the incoding #the decaying #ruthless deepbite #story time #blood

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stusbunker · 5 years

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Known: Crowley and the Queen

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Female OC, Dean x Demon!Reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Flashbacks ahead, note the dates! I try not to repeat information you already know, but please ask if something doesn’t make sense! xoxo Stu

Warnings: Demons, pain, blood, show level violence, angst, arson, possession, Trails!Sam, Slow Burn. Each Chapter will have its own warnings, because I am generous like that.

Earth Date: May 1, 2013

Location: US Hwy 56 just South of Dodge City

The scene at the diner was something Chloe couldn’t drive away from fast enough. The bodies littered among the debris as if there was an explosion, all slumped on the floor, thrown from their booths or stools. There had been no bomb, no gas leak, no grease fire. It was arson and it was covering something much darker than her seasoned hunter’s eyes could see. Unable to find all the pieces to put the puzzle together, instead it crumbled apart with each connection. There had been sulfur and before the security tapes were fried, a man grabbed a waitress’s face and her eyes melted with his touch.

The Fire Marshal was certain it had been tampered with, that it was a trick of reflection and camera flares. CC allowed the bewildered investigators to have their elaborate hoax of technological malfunction, because if they knew that Angels had massacred a restaurant full of people, they would be no better off. And those people wouldn’t be any less dead. There were only two hunters that she knew ran with an Angel, though she hadn’t heard much about him since Dean had gotten out of Purgatory. Calling a friend with news like this usually required liquid courage, plus the bullshit detector of face-to-face conversation would do to ease her growing concerns. That was why she was driving East; she was going to see what the Winchesters knew about what could bring both Angels and Demons to another godforsaken Biggersons’.

At least that was the motivation she had accepted from your silent nudging.

No one was home, the obviousness hitting you like a ton of bricks, made from disappointment and uncertainty. You were so close to seeing Dean again and then it was like you were trapped in a dream. What were you going to do with her now? Since she first expelled you, you strained to stay quiet, while watching and waiting. Only every so often you would send her a message or prompt her to act. The pull to drive East, the quick jump to the Winchesters when Angels were involved in the destruction; all just teensy suggestions on your part. You didn’t want to scare her, and you certainly did not want to draw attention to her from her fellow hunters. Possession was like torture: you just had to keep at it until you found all the chinks in the armor. Along that vein, you let Chloe work herself out of the predicament as you quietly continued to establish yourself in the back of her mind.

Chloe tapped at the sealed door with the steel toe of her work boot in mild annoyance. She knew hunters and those with a home base generally were gone only as long as they had to be. She could lurk in town, wait out the infamous black Chevy or she could try to get a straight answer from them over the phone. They were all liars at the end of the day, and though she had been through enough with Sam and Dean to trust them both with her back on a case, she doubted they would sell out their Angel buddy, if he was even involved.

In a stubborn fit, she stomped back to the cab of her pick up and made herself as comfortable as possible. Her dreams were broken memories and loops of unsuccessful hunts. She secretly kept score of her kills, assists and rescues. Some people had titles and some people saved diligently for the future. Chloe Collins viewed success on the backs of dead monsters, souls put to rest and exorcised demons. She may not be as famous as those boys of John’s or as resourceful as Bobby Singer had been, but she was a damn professional. You got a sour taste in your mouth when you realized how she would handle it once she found you out. You stopped yourself from spiraling in empathy, the taciturn emotion had you dulled as day broke.

Just after sunrise a jolting bang on the old rusted hood woke Chloe with a start. Knife raised like a slasher movie villain, she waved Dean off as he perched against his forearms on the cold metal window frame.

“What brings you around these parts?” He lifted his scarred chin to speak through the crack in the window.

“Don’t you ever sleep? Give a girl some beauty rest before you start grilling her, Winchester.” Chloe yawned into her wrist, if looks could kill Dean would have needed another resurrection.

Dean. It was really him, just beyond the slab of metal and plate of glass. He watched her amused with a glint in his green eyes. They were so bright, something about natural light and the surrounding foliage hit you unexpectedly. For all the beauty of the Earth, an old melody chimed in your thoughts as you saw him, your final torture, for the first time in true flesh and blood.

“Come on, Cease, you’re camped outside my front door, you’ll give a guy a complex if you don’t fess up.”

“God forbid, but this isn’t about you and your precious ego, Dean.” She huffed, scooting down the bench seat and out of the driver’s side door. Dean chivalrously held it open as she stretched, he tried not to notice as her shirts rode up to show a sliver of her thick waist. “So, that kid you’re looking for? Who else is on his trail because a whole Biggersons got roasted and I’d bet my granddaddy’s blade that it was Angels.”

Dean squinted at her now, “You were in Sante Fe? Yesterday?”

“Not a bad drive this time of year.” She noticed how he hadn’t invited her in and how he seemed to be blocking her from the door, intentionally or not it was a tell. You hated to admit it, but she was right to question his actions.

Dean nodded, still wary. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but that wasn’t us. Sammy and I just got back from the Two Rivers Casino, North end of Colorado.” He was giving her his best schmooze face, and CC was not enough of a morning person to play nice. “And thanks for keeping an eye out, but don’t worry about Kevin, we got him back.”

CC watched him carefully, “Oh, sure, I’m going to buy you were off on a boys’ gambling weekend with your lost prophet when we got Angels killing some two-dozen people?” She kept her tone level or tried to. Dean didn’t flinch, but he lowered his voice.

“Look, CC, I’m up to my eyeballs in otherworldly crap. Once Sammy figures out his next hurtle, thanks to Kevin he’s got somewhere to start, I’ll worry about Angels. Right now: I’m at my limit worrying about slamming the doors of Hell.”

Your heart raced, or Chloe’s raced for you. It felt like a silent jab at your presence. You didn’t know where to nudge her next. Luckily for you, her instincts were good, allowing you to sit back, and try to keep up with their dynamic.

“How’s Tweedle Dumb handling it?” She asked, the shift in conversation loosened his mask and you saw him, the real him. Vulnerable and battled-hardened, it had only been a few Earth years, had he really lived so much?

“You ever gonna stop with the nicknames? He was just a kid,” Dean’s face cracked into a reminiscent smile.

“Shit, what did that make us then?! Nah, it’s good to remind you boys where you stand,” Chloe teased back, resting her shoulder against the bed of her truck. They both felt the impasse, a few lingering glances shared between them before she decided to be the one to move it along. “Who’d’ve figured things would have gotten to such a scale back then?”

Dean huffed, an almost chuckle as he nodded. “You miss the old days?”

“Yeah, maybe, sometimes. I mean, there’s people we lost, and they should be remembered. But I guess, there wasn’t much else to miss?” She scrunched her face in a playful grimace. “If I get hung up on what ifs, then I’d just be working myself into a corner.” Chloe yawned again, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. “Look, I’ma head out, y’all are busy and I need something to kill after yesterday.”

You saw it then, the nervous energy that had been holding Dean together, lighten ever so slightly along his shoulders and jaw. He didn’t want her hanging around, despite the momentary waxing nostalgic. You hoped you could search through her memories later and find just how those nicknames started. They had a past, nothing as absurd or tragic as yours and Dean’s, but something that needed to be understood all the same. If you were to stick around, if she was as receptive as you needed her to be.

CC tipped her head, her messy bun lolling off the top of her head, giving Dean a squint, which led to a wink. “Well, if you need some Wings bent or some back up, you know my number.”

“That I do. Thanks for checking in,” Dean held out one of his arms for a quick one-armed hug. She was on the taller side, chin resting on his shoulder with minimal tip toes, the closeness of their bodies was dizzying. You hadn’t experienced physical affection in decades. Dean smelled like old leather with a perplexing layer of musty books over a rich, if faded spiced cologne. And before you could truly appreciate it, the hug ended. Chloe opened the ornery door of her battered truck to climb into her next endeavor.

“Nice ride, how long have you had her?” Dean asked, admiring the old bruiser of a truck.

Chloe rolled her eyes, “A few months. Beats the alternative.”

“That it does. Take care.” Dean patted the door and CC replied with a genuine smile. She turned in a wide arch, headed back on to the service road that led away from the Bunker and into Lebanon. Every part of you wanted her to turn around, to hug him again, to throw herself at his feet. Anything but this parting akin to a limb being severed, something that you had experienced enough to pinpoint with absolute certainty the relative emotional to physical trauma. He could have said no, could have sent her packing, but he also could have said yes.

But there was no justification for any of those daydreams. The Winchesters and the prophet, Kevin Tran, were working to lockdown Hell. Crowley had lost his shiny bargaining chip turned fount of information. Any demon with an ounce of loyalty would return immediately to their post and seek an audience with the King. Unfortunately, the only being you held dearer than demonkind was slowly disappearing behind Chloe’s battered fender. What the fuck did that make you?

Dean was going to kill Cas. Then Naomi and Cas again for good measure. If Chloe had pieced together what happened in Sante Fe, then other hunters would too. He didn’t know if they could link the carnage back to Castiel specifically, but his involvement was damning enough. Why was he so hard to steer true? Dean didn’t know if he was more angry or disappointed. It smarted when Cas left him and took the Angel Tablet along. After that betrayal and now another thirty dead people; Dean didn’t know what to do with the Angel anymore.

He loved the guy, but could he trust him again?

Earth Date: December 4, 1929

Location: Hell, Accounting and Acquisitions Department

He felt her eyes on him as she sauntered through the row of desks, pencil pushers along one edge and fast-talking used car salesman along the opposite. She was unimpressed with his promotion, second in command of the department. Abaddon was an ancient demon part of a regime that had seen its time come and go and was impossibly able to cling to power. While Crowley was a new upstart, barely a demon two centuries. He thought she was an entitled, outdated snob, she found him a trashy bamboozler. It was hatred at first sight.

He had brought in half a year’s worth of deals in a month, the human world falling into financial crisis had the more pragmatic people turning to the Crossroads instead of taking a walk out of their office building windows. With unrest across Europe after the Great War, her side of the coin remained just as dazzling. Hell was fully invested in the 20th Century, it was just a matter of what kind of power men craved, political or financial. Abaddon liked to watch humanity squirm, while Crowley stole their souls and their wives’ knickers and they thanked him for it.

She left the office floor without a word to the young salesman or his superior. He wouldn’t see her again until sometime later after he had cleaned up quite nicely.

Earth Date: May 6, 2013

Location: One of Crowley’s Mansions, Somewhere along the East Coast, USA

Crowley sat at his desk with the seventh book in the Supernatural series, finding that he hadn’t moved since picking up the fifth novelization of the thorns-in-his-side’s conquests. He detested that he was so easily lost in the stories, the voices ringing out in immature familiarity as Dean and Sam searched for their wayward father. If Crowley wasn’t at risk of being put out of business by the dynamic duo, he might have been routing for them. Past them, at least. Now he was just casually making a kill order with the names of the Winchesters’ tiny victories neatly in line for the slaughter.

Because if anything could get those flannel clad codependents in line it was an existential crisis over a cleared or potentially negatively balanced moral scale. Damsels in distress, were just a means to an end in this carefully crafted scenario. Always two steps ahead with innumerable pokers in the fire, Crowley relished his new game. But it wasn’t a game it was hostage negotiation, a potential all-out war on the Winchesters if they followed through. That was a rather unlikely if.

Earth Date: May 14, 2013

Location: Hell, Welcome and Reception Platform

Abaddon was expecting a search and seizure, she got a genial smirk and a wave through by the guard. It had been only fifty-five years and somehow everything had changed. The meatsuit drew more attention than her presence and she quickly grew more disgusted the further she stepped into the executive level of Hell. Crowley, unsurprisingly, was not in his office or on his thrown. He seemed to keep a varying schedule between Earth-side operations and below ground bureaucracy.

“Color me not surprised,” she retorted to his secretary. “Playing with Hunters like they were his toy soldiers.”

It was time to redecorate and redistribute their focus. It was time for Hell to be Evil again.

Earth Date: May 15, 2013

Location: Ashland, OH

Chloe yawned into the back of her wrist, the streetlights glaring against the quiet street as she hurried back to her truck. The vamps’ nest had been cleared out in a hurry, one or more of them had gotten her scent and either skipped town or were stalking her this very second. She made a beeline for the rear of the vehicle, making a cursory perimeter before yanking the creaky door open. Nothing lurking behind her tires or in the bed, as she pulled herself into the driver’s seat a shooting star burst through the sky.

Chloe closed her eyes and made a wish, something both whimsical and pathetic: ‘Please don’t let this be my last wish, may I have the time to make it to better things.’ The truck bed shifted with a sudden, if graceful, distribution of weight. An unnerving chill ran up the length of Chloe’s spine as she started the engine. She adjusted the mirror, purposely giving the vampire a flash of her steely eyes. She gunned it, letting the tires scream against the county road, the creature’s strength protecting it from the kickback as she slammed on her brakes.

You snarled against the predator’s confidence, it bared its teeth in the moonlight, seen through the angled reflection via Chloe’s eyes. She slammed the shifting arm on the steering column, flying into reverse Chloe whipped the truck into a Y turn, throwing the vampire’s center of gravity off before flying back toward its nest. One more reckless shift and grinding of brakes and the vampire flew out of the bed. Chloe’s smugness was well earned, she reversed for the coup de gras, smearing the vampire against the crumbling pavement. As she took up her machete once more, severing what was left of the monster from its remaining skull, its dark blood streaked across her boots and hubcap. A shimmering in the gruesome liquid caught her eye and she looked up to a harrowing sky. Thousands of shooting stars were crashing to Earth as an ominous pit opened in your collective stomach.

She had gotten her wish, it wouldn’t be her last, and you knew that taking it as a positive was not necessarily a rational way to spin this outcome.

Location: South Western New York

Dean barreled down the backroads with Sam in the backseat, the falling Angels an afterthought as he pushed Baby to her limit. Sam. Please, God no, not now, not like this. ‘Damnit why did you leave him alone with Crowley for so long Dean?!’ His father’s voice still echoed through his thoughts, when he messed up. When he put Sammy in danger, John always resurfaced. Dean inhaled a forced breath and blinked, letting his foot up lightly as they flew over an abandoned railroad crossing.

The tighter he held on to the steering wheel, the quieter Sam became.

Sam?

“Sammy?!”

tags: @dontshootmespence @mrswhozeewhatsis @smi727 @sassykayla255 @dxr-supernatural-fanfic @supernaturalboi @dumbthotticus @eve05glee @veroinnumera @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @forgettingthoughts @shokushuhime-stuff @fanfictionrecommendations-com @soullesscollection-world @igotdressedthroughthemess

Next Chapter: Friends in a Fix

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ascensionstories-blog · 7 years

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Zap #2: School Days

Wow, she’s beautiful, Collin thought as eyes caught on Sammy Dunne. She had long, brown hair and bright blue eyes, and his heart started thumping loudly against his chest as she sat next to him in Physics. Say hi, you dolt, you can do it — just one word, “Hi!” He said, a bit too loudly, and she turned a raised eyebrow to him. She was wearing the school uniform, an orange sweater over a blue button-down and a skirt, and he the same, with the addition of pants in place of a skirt. He wondered if she could hear his heart beating too. “I’m Collin,” Collin offered. He had had a few classes with Sammy before this semester, but he could never be sure if she remembered him. Easily forgettable, Collin thought to himself, at least it’s endearing.

“Sammy,” she replied, turning back to her desk. Her hair had fallen along the side of her face and she moved her hand to brush it back. And there it is, Collin decided, the last time I’ll ever talk to Sammy Dunne. He knew it as an absolute certainty: when girls told you their names then looked away, that was it. He began tapping his pen on his desk. His eyes wandered over to Sammy, who was staring disinterestedly at the board. His pen tapped louder. She didn’t look. He sighed and looked at the board in front of him; the teacher — a dull man, balding with glasses — spoke in a monotone voice as he motioned with chalk to the board. Collin’s eyes began to wander back to Sammy once again. Her cheek was in her cupped hand, and her eyes had slowly drifted shut. Immaculate, Collin thought.

Whether by association or chance, his mind began to wander towards Starlight, the hero who had impeded him less than a week before. The heroine had worn glasses to cover her large blue eyes, and styled herself with a different haircut, but he realized then that it was, definitively, the same girl. A small spark began to awkwardly dance around his hand, which he had to force under the desk to not be noticed. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, he thought quickly as the electricity continued to surge, what do I do? Oh my god, of course, my luck, the prettiest girl in the goddamn world is on the other freaking side of the heroic spectrum. Maybe, MAYBE, he reasoned with himself, she’ll see the truth behind it all one day, and then she’ll join me and we can work in tandem. And then we’ll fall in love and get married. Oh, that would be delightful. Of course, that would require her talking to me, which, of course, she’ll never do.

Just then, Sammy’s phone began to shriek out into the classroom. The entire class turned to look at her, except for Collin who already had been looking at her. She jumped awake, and reached for her phone, checking the message. Her hand shot into the air. “I’m sorry, Mister McKay, I need to be excused,” as Mr. McKay looked at her inquisitively, she explained, “superhero business.” She did not wait for a response, but grabbed her bag and ran out the door, Collin’s eyes following her out. I wish villains got to do that, Collin lamented to himself. I wonder what’s going on that would immediately necessitate her, he then thought. She’s fairly new, and it’s not like the hero gang around Northridge is unpopulated. I mean, sure, we’r no New Monmouth City, but to resort to pulling a newbie out of class? The bell rang after a short time, as it always does, and he grabbed his pack and began to head home.

His walk home was not particularly long. It was a short walk down Booker Street, past the Bakery that always smelled like fresh icing, across the Pons Footbridge, and then just down Laker Avenue. The trip usually took around twenty minutes, so as he walked he would sketch some designs for costumes or robot ideas. Super-villainy, he knew, was not something that could be achieved simply by having super powers. His brother always told him that an unprepared villain is the worst thing that can happen to the world. So Collin was always preparing, whether it was his speeches or designs or practicing with his powers. As he crossed the footbridge he remembered how proud Matt had looked at him after he accidentally blew up the toaster with his powers. “Now you know not to do that again,” he had said, and Collin had blushed and cried. But he had never blown up the toaster after that day.

It was immediately as he turned onto Laker Avenue that he recognized something was wrong. His hands reached into his bag to grab his mask — at the very least — but, upon understanding the situation more wholly, he dropped his bag. New potholes had formed in the street from where Starlight’s energy blasts had missed their target, and other scuffs and breaks along the pavement looked to have been made from various collisions and smacks against the pavement. He looked further down the road and he saw that there were people actively engaged in a fight. Running down to get a closer look he saw Matt, wearing his trademark navy overcoat and mask, fighting with the superheroes of Northridge. There was the Black-Hammer, the super-strong, super-dumb superhero, who donned an all-black spandex costume covering himself from head to toe, with small eye and mouth holes cut out. His arms and legs were plated with steel to give him an extra oomph (as he liked to say, anyway). Next to him was Insecticide, an older female hero who dressed in a green sweatsuit with small bug-like wings attached to her back that let her fly. She could also control flies — or something — as far as Collin knew. Fighting alongside both of them was the young, beautiful Starlight, and, seeing her in action was both dazzling and hilarious. Although her powers seemed strong and she was undoubtedly the prettiest person he’d ever seen, it was quite obviously her first week. Her attacks missed widely, causing incredible property damage, and she struggled to coordinate with Black-Hammer and Insecticide, who had been working on their teamwork for years now. Then again, so had Matt.

Matt was not like the other villains of Northridge, and, as far as Collin was concerned, he was the only super villain in the area. Black-Hammer charged at him, throwing his fist at Matt’s face; Matt refused to dodge it, letting the super-powered man’s punch connect. As it made contact, the force behind the punch fell away, leaving the two men standing there, staring eye to eye. Matt raised his hand and flicked the hammer’s chin; the hammer soared through the air, forming another pothole in the ground of Laker Avenue. Ha, idiot, Collin thought. Matt was better known by his villain alter-ego: Momentum, based on his ability to absorb and reassign the momentum of things that touch him. Black-Hammer moaned in his pothole. He was out of commission.

Insecticide tried next, with Starlight providing backup, but as she charged in, an energy beam from the beautiful young heroine collided with her backside, forcing her collapse at the feet of the super villain. Momentum then turned his eyes to Starlight, who, Collin was sure, began shaking in her boots. Go, Matt, go! He silently cheered for his brother, while holding some contradicting feelings in seeing the future love of his life about to get pummeled. As she began to back away, Collin noticed the sky getting markedly darker. A slight rain began to patter against the ground, juxtaposed with the brightness of the random energy beams that Starlight shot to deter Matt’s pursuit. Of course these blind shots did not work, but, as Momentum moved to grab the girl, a bolt of lightning cut across his path, searing his hand.

Collin looked down at his own hands. Am I doing this? He wondered. No, my subconscious can’t be that in love with this girl, he decided. The winds began to pick up with the rain, turning a sunny day into a storm in under a minute. Thunder boomed in the sky, as more streaks of lighting shot down around the couple fighting. Collin stared in amazement, wondering what divine force could possibly be doing this, when a final burst of lightning collided with the ground, and, in the smoke it left, stood a girl. She was around his age, as far as he could tell from the distance he was at, wearing a white, button-up T-shirt with what looked like some small black insignia across the chest, and a black and white skirt. She wore boots that were once white, but now had faded into a murky color through overuse. The girl in the lightning wore no mask, revealing large brown eyes, and a small-but-cute face, which matched her stature as she stood just above five feet tall. She wore a small bow in her hair that was half-white, half-black.

By the time he was done noticing her, he hadn’t had time to notice that Matt was hovering in the air, seemingly being carried by the winds. He struggled against it, but there was nothing he could absorb. He was trapped. The small girl laughed a tiny laugh as she brought her hand down with the thunderclap, and a bolt of lightning collided against his brother. All Collin remembered next was the screaming. His brother’s skin looked chard as it began to sizzle and smoke. Collin covered his face in horror as he saw his brother struggle to look down at the girl, as he was still being carried by the winds. “Who are you?” He managed in a soft, broken whisper.

The girl responded in a confident voice that was a little higher than Collin would have thought. She looked Momentum in the eyes and said, “I am the Menace.” She hoisted him up, higher into the winds. “And you are going the Chamber.” With that the two of them were gone, leaving two collapsed heroes and a star-struck Starlight on his street. The young heroine turned to him.

“Did you see that?” Starlight — Sammy — asked.

“Y-yeah,” Collin said, feeling an incredible mix of emotions while trying not to break in front of a super hero. “Yeah I did.”

“I can’t believe we got to see her in action,” Starlight said. “Wait, I know you from class,” she realized. “Cameron, right?”

Collin stormed into his house, quite literally sparking in anger and self-hate. I should have done something, he scolded himself, letting loose large quantities of discharge throughout his house, I should have stopped her! He kicked a cabinet in his kitchen and heard a large crash from inside. Goddamn it! He stopped trying to restrain himself and his powers ran rampant throughout the kitchen, shutting of the fridge and leaving scorch marks throughout the property. I’m a freaking moron, he reminded himself, getting distracted over pretty girls doing hero things; I’m not a hero, I won’t be a hero, and I won’t be with her.

That was when he realized: of all the plans he had, he had never once envisioned a situation where Matt would not be here with him. His electric rampage stopped immediately. He was alone in the house. His eyes surveyed the damage he did, the broken lamps, the scorched furniture, and the destroyed Tupperware. He almost screamed, until his eyes drew upon the toaster in the corner of the kitchen. It had been left untouched. He took his pen and notepad and began to write.

#menace #zap #chapter #chapter 2 #short story #super hero #cute #funny #fiction #writers #school #read #reading

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imreszekeres · 7 years

Text

for the anon that wanted all 100

1. Name- Ash! 2. Age- 18 3. City that you live in- fear, usually 4. What do most people not know about you?- nothing really, i compulsively release useless information about myself 5. What do most people know you for?- being fat and annoying 6. Hobbies- makeup, youtubers, sleeping, writing, drawing 7. What are your passions?- writing 8. What do you search for in a significant other?- i really Really need to be understood, and someone who is patient is nice too 7. What are you most proud of?- I hav gone to State and gotten within the top 10% in my Journalism competitions, which puts me in the top .08% of all high school students in my state. :-) im good for some things 8. When was the last time you had a significant conversation with someone you love?- every day when I talk to @pizzasteveofficial <3 all our conversations are significant 2 me 9. Have you ever collected anything? What was it?- I collect my tears in a jar and store them, then shower in them every night 10. List 10 things off of your bucket list.- I want to get married in the snow, have a daughter, get a Heartagram tattoo (at least one lol), write a successful book, and.. idk what else :0 11. What was the last thing you learned?- jesus I dont know, you learn sth new every day! hard to remember 12. How many relationships have you been in?- um.. 7 I think i feel like im forgetting one tho. I wont name them obvi but i think im forgetting one? i feel like ive been in 8 oh well 13. Turn ons- validation 14. Turn offs- being alive 15. Favorite food- frozen yogurt! I like the vanilla or white chocolate flavor with looots of toppings 16. Favorite drink- Coke 17. What is the best birthday gift you have ever received?- i dont really know! I dont remember a lot of my birthdays for trauma reasons so 18. Are you optimistic or pessimistic?- pessimistic by far lol 19. Do you sleep during class?- its happened a handful of times, I try not to bc I HATE missing work its annoying 20. What is the most expensive thing you own?- myself?? jk its my laptop 21. What is the cheapest yet most useful thing you own?- a 1 dollar ELF blending brush. yall those things are bomb please go buy some! 22. How many times a day on average do you check your phone?- that number does not exist holy shit 23. Text or call?- TEXT BLEASE I HAVE SUCH BAD HEARING 24. Opinion on long distance?- it can work! ive done it a lot of times. distance has never been whats broken a relationship for me, not directly anyway 25. What is your definition of success?- success is when you’re happy. you do not have many worries, not the kind that keep you awake at night or make your tummy sick anyway. You have people that love you and, if you died, you’d be remembered as a good bean 26. Favorite song?- right now im really diggin “Hate (I Really Dont Like You)” by the plain white Ts 27. Favorite artist?- HIM!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 28. Celebrity crush/crushes?- Ville Valo ALWAYS lmao hes my god 29. When was the last time you read for fun?- like last month 30. Favorite flower?- roses 31. What is the best gift you could receive right now?- a plane ticket to Connecticut and like 1000 dollars 32. Any guilty pleasures?- pop... music... BUT LIKE THE GOOD KIND U FEEL? I DONT LIKE STUFF FROM THE LAST 2 OR 3 YEARs... 33. What is one thing you would like to change about yourself?- my weight, and that sounds so shallow but it. is taking a toll on me. 34. What do you search for in a friend?- someone who is like me! 35. How many times have you said "I love you" in the past month?- not enough 36. Where did you last go other than your room/home?- school.. 37. Why do bad things happen to good people?- because life isnt fair 38. In your opinion, what hurts more? Being left out or being stabbed in the eye?- what the fuck being stabbed in the eye have you ever been stabbed in the fucking eye? because i havent and i can already tell you that if my friends were talking without me and then someone stabbed me in the fuCKING EYE I WOULD BE JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE PREOCCUPIED WITH BEING STABBED IN THE E Y E 39. How many green shirts do you own?- none lol 40. Do you like anime?- sure! I dont watch it rn but i dont watch anything rn, haha 41. What do you invest the most time in?- sleeping,, 42. What was the name of the last book you read?- Rebecca :3 very gud book 43. What's the difference between loving and liking someone?- when ur main squeeze gets a hair cut and u still wanna suck their dingus u love em, thats it sorry i dont make the rules 44. Where are you most productive?- i dont.. know what this is asking lol I’m most protective over my romantic partners. As much as I’d love to say im most protective over Sarah, nothing compares to how “troll guarding his treasure” i am w/my loves.......... *eyes @my crush* 45. List 3 things you enjoy doing with friends.- talking shit abt rude ppl, playing vidya gaem, and talking abt life 46. List 3 things you enjoy doing alone.- watching makeup tutorials, watching lets plays, and thinking about everything and anything 47. Do you believe world peace will ever exist?- absolutely not. theres too many people on the earth to achieve that 48. Do you have any allergies?- Not to anything specific but i get them really often seasonally. i get them pretty much every time the weather changes :( 49. When was the last time you cussed at someone?- i mean.. every day of my life so like 50. What was the last promise you made?- idek dude 51. What was your last dream about?- IT WAS SO WEIRD IT WAS ABOUT MY CRUSH’S MOM? I DREAMT THAT SHE WAS A DEMON WHO STORED HER EGGS IN LITTLE PORCELAIN JARS AND THAT MY CRUSH HAD AN EAR INFECTION AND WE WERE IN A SNOWY VILLAGE IDK DONT ASK ME its weird bc my crushs mom is so sweet... 52. If you won a trip to Hawaii and you could take 5 people with you, who would those 5 people be?- i would literally only take Sarah bc i hate everyone 53. How many countries have you visited?- ive never been outside the US 54. What is your favorite medium of art? (Music, dance, painting, etc.)- writing :-) 56. When was the last time somebody complimented you?- those nice anons i got yesterday/the other day! 56. If you switched bodies with someone, how would you recognize yourself?- what do u even mean? youd know bc youd be like THIS ISNT MY BODY 57. Do you consider yourself mature?- kind of, yes 58. How many days in your life do you think you have wasted on tumblr?- too fuckin many 59. What is your favorite quote?- “Worship Satan!” -Ville Valo (no but rly any HIM lyric is my favorite quote, theyre so beautiful,,,) 60. If you started a new religion and you had to create 3 rules or commandments for your new followers to live by, what would those 3 rules be?- dont hurt ppl unless they hurt u, dont touch ppl unless they want u to, and respect gender/sexuality 61. What is your greatest accomplishment?- going 2 state! 62. Do you believe in the death penalty?- yeah i actually think it should b used more lol, kill all rapists and p*dophiles :-) 63. What are your goals for life?- i just wanna b happy, man 64. What do you think your soulmate is doing right now?- being a fucking idiot, probably 65. If you could live anywhere, where would you live? The place can be in an imaginary, fantasy, or the real world.- CALIFORNIA LMAO IM SUCH A SUCKER FOR CALIFORNIA AND I NEVER EVEN BEEN THERE 66. What were you like in 2013?- awful but also really sweet... then again i wasnt TECHNICALLY the host so lol 67. Do you have a job?- no :( i cant drive 68. Tell us a story about your childhood best friend.- she was an abusive bitch who took out her parents hating her on me the end 69. If you could change one thing about society, what would it be?- i would make discrimination a way more serious crime than it is taken for rn. ppl who discriminate should b put in jail 70. How many all-nighters have you pulled before?- just one when i had to install the sims and it took 6 years 71. Is tumblr your favorite website? If not, then what is your favorite website?- my fave website is youtube 72. What is the craziest thing you would do for a million dollars?- suck a dick, i guess 73. Does money equal happiness?- not all the time but it sure can 74. How many times have you experienced true happiness in your lifetime?- never, i dont think 75. How many times have you experienced true sadness in your lifetime?- too many times 76. What is the funniest joke you have ever been told?- you know that joke abt the blind man at the beginning of Crazy Rap? yeah thats fucking HILARIOUS 77. When was the last time you looked at the news?- this morn :0 78. If you could say one thing to the world, what would you say?- im gay 79. What is your favorite animal?- RACCOONS!!!!!!!!!!!! 80. If you could earn a million dollars by pretending to be dead for 3 years, would you do it?- i mean sure lmao nobody would b upset about it so 81. What is one thing that everyone is bad at?- being a human. 82. What time do you normally sleep? How many hours of sleep do you usually get?- i usually go to bed at 10 and get like 6 or 7 hours 83. Does age necessarily equal maturity?- not at all! 84. What is your favorite clothing store?- hot topic lol 85. In the winter- beanies or gloves?- gloves b 86. Would you rather have wings or a fish tail?- wings?? why would i want a fish tail 87. If you had the power to erase one person from the world so that nobody remembered him or her except you, would you do it?- absofuckinglutely. 88. What do you fear the most?- being like my rapist. thats a little too deep than i like to go but im being honest, thats literally my biggest fear Ever 89. How many digits of pi can you recite?- 3.14 lmfao i hate math 90. If you could travel back to one year and relive it again, which year would it be?- 2004. I would stop it before it happened. :-( 91. Describe yourself in one word.- stupid 92. Describe your last victory.- i woke up today w/o killin meself 93. What is the weirdest thing you have ever seen?- bendytoots cucumberpitch’s face 94. What is something you will never forget?- prom.. something rly nice happened 95. Would you rather forget all of the past or remember everything in vivid detail?- forget everything. please 96. Have you ever broken a bone before?- nope! 97. Is it harder to love or to hate somebody?- probably harder to love them lol 98. Coffee or tea?- coffer 99. What are some little things that you do that have changed your life in a positive way?- I dont overdose on a constant basis in a BPD-fueled rage any more so thats good 100. How many hours have you spend on tumblr today?- probably 1 or 2?

#ask tot ag i guess #i didnt mean to get so negative in this lol im fine i swear #chitters #text heavy//

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dracimalfoy1988292 · 3 years

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Ocho

Elizabeth was stuck at an in-between. She had told Tom before she would help him learn magic but didn't follow through. But now, some twisted part of her actually wanted to. As he stood across from her in the dusty cupboard, his warm breath gave her chills on her neck.

"I will do it."102

He seemed impressed with her answer. "Will you really?"

She nodded slowly.

"I want you to meet me tonight in the Common Room," Tom told her. It wasn't a command like he usually had said things. He looked like he genuinely wanted her to meet him.

"I'll be there," Elizabeth smiled without knowing, which she quickly hid. Tom liked her smile. Her two front teeth were bigger than they should be and it made her different. All of the other girls that had thrown themselves at him were slender, had no flaws whatsoever and were as others would say "perfect." Tom didn't like anyone, especially them. However, he particularly enjoyed Elizabeth. She had small freckles on her cheeks. His chest seemed to tighten when he saw her. One time she dropped all of her books in the hallway; he wanted to help, but he couldn't. He didn't know what he felt but he knew it made him weaker.152

"I'll see you tonight," she whispered and then nodded, leaving him alone in the cupboard.3

When she got back to the table, her friends scanned her suspiciously. "Why did you go so long?" Melissa wondered.

"The door was jammed," she lied simply as she sat down again.

"Couldn't you have used magic to open it?" Pevlos raised an eyebrow.

Elizabeth realized that was true. "I haven't got my wand on me," she held up her hands and everyone seemed to accept that.

"I should get going, I have to study for the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam," Pevlos stood up after kissing Melissa goodbye. After he was gone, Matilda snapped to realization.

"Melissa! We haven't any dresses!"

Melissa looked confused but then acted surprised, "Oh, no! We don't!"3

"Oh, but we don't want Elizabeth to come along on our boring dress shopping trip," pouted Matilda.18

"I can take her back to the castle. We can study for midterms there," Joshua stood up, throwing his coat around his broad shoulders.

"Okay," Elizabeth smiled.

The floorboards cracked behind them. They all turned and saw Tom.

"Enjoying ourselves are we?" he sneered, mostly towards Joshua. He looked back to Elizabeth, whose smile unwillingly returned. She couldn't describe why she felt the urge to be around him.6

"What are you doing here, Riddle?" Joshua stood closer. Tom towered Joshua by far, but he wasn't as physically strong.27

Tom only scoffed, "Watch yourself, Corrington." He shoved past him and drew nearer to the door. As he turned to exit, he gave a small forced grin, no, an upturn of the corner of his lips, to Elizabeth.3

"Watch yourself, Corrington!" Melissa mocked in a cheesy low voice, making fun of Tom. The three snickered, but Elizabeth watched through the window as Tom strolled down the street in his long coat.40

Elizabeth waved goodbye to Melissa and Matilda as they ran off to the only dress shop they hadn't been to. Joshua opened the door for Elizabeth.

"I hope they find dresses. The ball is rather soon isn't it?" she made conversation.

His eyes strolled over to her, "In exactly a week if I'm correct."

"Yes," she said a bit quietly.

They walked, puffs of visible hot breath escaping their mouths every few seconds. Joshua lowered his head as the snow whipped at their skin.

"Are you cold?" he asked.4

"A bit." It was much colder than back home in Virginia.216

"Do you want to go back the castle?"6

She nodded. Elizabeth saw Tom turn a corner. She wanted to follow him desperately but she couldn't forget about Joshua. They sky was gray and the fluffy snow had turned to stinging bullets of ice.2

"I was thinking...you know, because I haven't asked anyone yet, would you, perhaps...like to attend the ball with me?" he stopped walking and looked down at her with a sanguine gaze.

Elizabeth felt overcome with joy. "I'd be happy to," she smiled at him.65

He smiled down at the ground and brushed some snow off of his head. Joshua was a truly stunning creature. Elizabeth had no idea why he liked her. The two strolled through the thick, compact snow, which crunched under their shoes.37

"Do you really think Riddle is planning something?" Elizabeth oddly felt uncomfortable addressing him by his last name. The snow picked up and they both walked quickly to obtain shelter under a wooden awning.

He rubbed his bare hands together. From his long silence, an unpleasant aura formed.

"I think he's been acting rather queer lately," Joshua intoned. A cloud of warm air puffed from his mouth as he spoke. "Then again, he always is. But this time, it's different...this time, he wants something, and not for good reasons."148

"What is it you suppose he wants?"3

He shook his head, "There's no way to know, nobody has ever been close enough to know anything more about him than his name."3

"He really doesn't have anyone?" Elizabeth couldn't imagine going all of these years without having anybody.2

"He's never admitted to having a relationship with any girl, a friendship with any guy, or even being an acquaintance with anyone. Riddle knows how to play people, especially the professors. He has all of the girls wrapped around his finger. Us guys don't like him, but we're honestly too afraid of him to act any differently. You don't seem caught up in his business, though, that's what I like about you," he tilted his head with a loving smile.73

But she was. Elizabeth was as wrapped around his finger as Walburga was. She wanted everything to do with Tom. Her eyes looked at Joshua. He was such a good person and she was so...fake. Everything she expressed and said was fake.10

"You haven't...talked to him, have you? Besides that one time after breakfast?" his tone grew serious with every syllable.

She really didn't want to lie to him, but she had to. "No, I haven't, not really," Elizabeth tried her hardest, to be honest.

He raised an eyebrow and crooked his head down, "Not really?"

This was the first time she couldn't lie. She didn't know what to say.

"Elizabeth?"

"I hav-"

A loud eruption cut off her answer, nearly perfectly. A large pile of snow fell off of the awning above them and collapsed in a large pile around them, as well as the awning itself crashing down. A piece fell on Joshua's arm. None hit Elizabeth.115

"Oh god, I think my arm is broken!" he removed the plank from over his limb.235

"We have to get back the castle, quickly," Elizabeth helped him up and they both walked at a quicker pacer to the carriages, where they rode back in silence, with the acception of a few unwanted whimpers from Joshua.18

When they arrived at the castle, they nearly ran to the hospital wing where they were greeted by Madam Dautly who examined his arm after he sat down on a bed.

"You should go, child, it's a nasty break and we haven't the magic to heal them quickly," Madam Dautly looked up from the twisted arm.19

Elizabeth's stomach lurched at the sight of it. Her muggle friend, Charlotte had broken her leg in kindergarten. It was awful and everyone could hear the snap.24

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Elizabeth tried not to look at his arm, which was turning purple.4

He nodded with a clenched jaw, for the pain prevented him from speaking. With that confirmation, she walked out of the hospital and down the stairs. For most of her way, she saw nobody, but then came across the blond haired boy that had led her to that mysterious room only recently.1

He saw her but said nothing. She half expected Tom to be leaning against the wall beside him, with his jacket hung over his shoulder and a smug grin pulling at his lips. Only, he wasn't.12

She passed Dumbledore's office, and took notice of the large feather, as she did every time. By the time she passed through the stone door of the Slytherin Common Room, she felt oddly at ease. Tom was no where to be found and all of the school was in Hogsmeade

She sat down at the couch by the fire. She took notice of a book laying on the ground. She picked it up. It was a black book and the title was in a language she couldn't understand, as was the rest of the pages inside. Out of curiosity, she flipped to the back cover.54

Property of T.M.R.87

"T.M.R....." she read aloud, taking in the script.21

"Beth," Walburga walked up the stairs and Elizabeth snapped the book shut. "I didn't know you came back."

"I did, Joshua broke his arm and we had to." She tried to hide the book under her coat.

"I was actually just leaving to go down there. Are you staying or did you only drop Joshua off?" Walburga asked.

Elizabeth shook her head, "No, I'm staying here, I have to study."

"Alright, well if you change your mind, I'll be getting fit for a new dress."

"I thought you bought one yesterday?" Elizabeth said, skeptical as to why she needed another.

Walburga laughed, "I have a dress for before the dance, you know, for the party?"

"There's two events?"

"Yes, you can borrow one of my dresses I suppose, go see what you find. I need to head out before Bartans closes," she wrapped her coat around her.

"I'll see you for dinner," Elizabeth waved goodbye. The book was firmly gripped in her sweaty palm.

She said back down and opened the book again. The letters "T.M.R." written in black ink stood out against the pale white paper. The rest of the pages were covered in neat handwriting that wasn't close to any language she knew.

"...minden muglik meg kell halnia ... ők nem tartoznak a világon . A Maryn lány segíteni fog ..."245

Maryn. That was her last name. She flipped to another page.

"...én szórakoztatja ez a lány , azt akarom , hogy hívd fel a nevét , de azt mutatja, gyengeség ... Elizabeth Maryn már erősebb ... azt meg kell szerezni a varázslatok..."76

There it was again. Her full name. Who was writing about her? And what language was it...

Tom strode down the stairs. That boy had a broken wrist that was hexed to break over and over for a day. He wouldn't get in the way of talking to the girl anymore. Everything was as planned.12

He spoke, "Pureblood," and the door opened for him. His eyes landed on her. She was sitting by the fire...reading something. Could it be?...no, he thought it had been in his pocket.3

"What are you reading?" he demanded and Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her own skin.

"Just a book I found, it was on the floor..." she began explaining.

He circled the couch until he stood in front of her, the warm fire crackling behind him. "May I see it?" he titled his head.2

"Is it yours?" she countered.

He snatched the book out of her hands and flipped to the back cover. Tom Marvolo Riddle. T.M.R..

"Where did you find this?" Tom barked with a clenched jaw.50

"I told you, it was on the floor when I sat down," she spit out, "Is it your book?"

"What items are and aren't mine don't concern you," he put the book in his pocket and began walking away again.

Elizabeth stood. "Why am I in it? What language is that?"32

"Goodbye, Miss Maryn," he turned his back.4

A sudden anger filled her. She wasn't going to be pushed around like this anymore. Elizabeth stood up and tried to spin him around by pulling his shoulder. With a forceful turn, he grabbed her wrist and held her against the wall, his body only inches from hers.139

"Do not, ever, touch me again," Tom had hatred in his eyes. "Do you understand?" she nodded and he let go, disappearing up the stairs.110

She sunk against the wall. He was absolutely terrifying. She didn't know why she let him do that. Whenever he was around her, she'd just freeze. Now that she had formally agreed to opening the darkest part of her mind to him, she wouldn't have anything left to taunt him with. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned her head back against the carpeted wall.

"Maryn, what are you doing?"24

He lurked down the stairs. Elizabeth looked up and their eyes met. Had he not remembered what he had done only minutes before?79

She stood. "Why are you like this? Nearly ten minutes ago, you hurt me and now you act like we're friends? What goes through your mind?"8

He looked at her and his face relaxed. "You...you're crying," he walked closer and Elizabeth raised her hands involuntarily to wipe the unwanted tears away. Instead, Tom softly brushed them away for her; he didn't know why he done so, and quickly tore his hand away, her warm tears still on his thumb.169

"I don't know why I am how I am..." Tom began, looking at his hand where the small droplets glistened in the firelight. "I don't like Corrington because he is good to you. I want to do the things he does, like make you smile and laugh. I know how your heart races around him, not from fear, but from joy. I won't ever be able to do that, I won't ever be able to love."340

Elizabeth was speechless. What he had just told her was more than she had wanted to know.

"Love makes me feel weak. I can't be powerful if I'm held back by feelings. All I want to feel is power...but when I'm around you, I want to feel other things." He looked as if every word he spoke was hurting him. "I've only known you for a short time, but I know I want to feel something towards you...and it makes me angry that I can't," he turned his face around so she couldn't see him. "Does that answer your question?"189

She took out a trembling hand and raised it up to his face, gingerly touching his cheek and turning him to face her. Elizabeth stared into his eyes with such focus. "You can feel these things, anyone can." Her hand shook as it held the sharp line which was his jaw. She didn't know how he'd react, but she didn't care.34

He raised his hands and put them on the two sides of her neck, and began drawing her towards him. Elizabeth thought he was going to kiss her. Their lips only were separated by the smallest sliver of air.64

"I can't," he drew back, letting his arms drop to his side.141

Elizabeth remembered what Dumbledore had said. He would become the reason of dark times among the world. If she could make him feel, could he avoid doing so?55

"Are we still meeting tonight?" she asked.9

His eyes filled with confusion and a million thoughts raced through his mind, "Yes." Tom walked up the stairs without another word.

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